#writeblr life week

[blissfullyunawares]

How would you use today’s word?

Leave a line below! 👇🏼

If you liked this post, follow along for writing prompts, helpful tips, and words like this. ✏️

Looking forward to serving you inside my writing community! 💕

[marlynnofmany]

Ya like cheap ebooks? It's a great week for folks who are into that sort of thing.

"Read An Ebook Week!"

(You'd think they'd call it "indie authors hawk their wares at a discount" week, but I figure that just doesn't roll off the tongue in a festive manner.)

Anyways, all of my ebooks are half price here. Aliens, robots, gods and cyberpunk; take your pick.

March 2-8, 2025!

[minimallycreative]

me: *opens a doc*

my brain: hey, wouldn't it be a perfect time to catch up on all your missing sleep?

me:

my brain:

me

my brain:

me:

my brain: hey so—

me: FOR GODS' SAKE, LET ME LIVE

[thewordsarestuckinmyhead]

A week. That’s all I’m giving myself. A week from now, my WIP will no longer be a WIP and will just be a W.

[medievalkyrie]

I can finally work on my book again! Freedom!!

[so-many-ocs]

*crawls out of word document coughing up blood* you should see the other guy

[bananaguyboi]

idk how to spark the fire within me- I truly need that spark.

My passion for writing is fading, and I want it back in my head.

[starry-sophrosyne]

staring at my writings rn and I feel genuinely awful. i think it's mainly/entirely in part to it being that time of the month, but STILL; it's not bringing me any satisfaction to write like it normally does, nor do i have any genuine motivation to continue writing my drafts. i can still force myself to work on my drabbles because i still inherently want to, deep down in my soul - that's how much i love writing - and i can still write words and detailed phrases that are probably similar to how i write normally; descriptions that others will support and admire like they always have, but I just don't like them all that much. They're not bad, it's just, they're not written with any passion behind it.

I get it can't be helped, but I really don't want to put my writings down, because I'm scared. I'm scared that this exhaustion will be permanent, that I'll put these drafts aside and then never touch them again. I'm scared that this weariness, that I have put back into my bones over and over again, will not come out this time. I'm not crazy right? This isn't a dumb worry to have, is it? This is an actual fear for me, not just for my blog writings, but for all of my future writings too. I'm genuinely scared of burning out and I don't want to be.

No matter what, I think I genuinely have to stop writing. Wasting hours of my life writing stuff while feeling like an empty shell, while it provides me no joy doing so, is almost as horrible of an idea to me as never writing again is. So i'll do it; In order for me to be actually happy with anything I produce again, I'll put the pen down and pray my spark comes back to me, but man, i'm praying to whatever fucking gods there are out there, please don't let me lose the one thing I have left. Even this was a struggle to write.

[inkedwingss]

Quick tip from the art/lit world

Drop the need to impress and shock people with themes or bad words and porn. Not only because of how deeply desensitized our society is: drama, horror, gore, sex, drugs & rock'n'roll and similar genres or other tragic, violent themes do not hold any inherent value, not on their own.

The reason a director from Czechoslovakia will talk about the horror of war using pigeons on a mushroom trip and it's going to be exceptional is because it makes sense to him first. I can use all the same elements he did and my work will be shit. There is always reason and context for creation. Reason and context. Why and how you make what you make.

The worst thing you can do as an artist or writer is try to impress others. It will show. Mature people can spot that miles away. Drop the hard themes you know nothing about. Stop listening to the internet 13-year-old kids who never leave their rooms trying to help you (or charge you to help) you write about such a complex and stigmatized theme as drug abuse, for example.

Go inwards for wisdom. Go to your own heart chambers, be quiet and listen. It will tell you what you need to write about. Be honest, raw and wild. But first, try to understand what those words really mean in the current context.

With all my love, Iva.

[inkskinned]

it is all chaos and entropy. the thing is that the chaos and entropy make it beautiful and lovely.

yes, it's true that nature and the universe are uncaring and unspecific, and that is terrifying. i have lived through some of the unfairness - i got born like this, with my body caving into itself, with this ironic love of dance when i sometimes can't stand up for longer than 15 minutes. i am a poet with hands that are slowly shutting down - i can't hold a pen some days. recently i found a dead bird on our front porch. she had no visible injuries. she had just died, the way things die sometimes.

it is also true that nature and the universe are uncaring and unspecific, and that is wonderful. the sheer happenstance that makes rain turn into a rainbow. the impossible coincidence of finding your best friend. i have made so many mistakes and i have let myself down and i have harmed other people by accident. nature moves anyway. on the worst day of my life she delivers me an orange juice sunset, as if she is saying try again tomorrow.

how vast and unknowing the universe! how small we are! isn't that lovely. the universe has given us flowers and harp strings and the shape of clouds. how massive our lives are in comparison to a grasshopper. the world so bright, still undiscovered. even after 30 years of being on this earth, i learned about a new type of animal today: the dhole.

chance echoing in my life like a harmony between two people talking. do you think you and i, living in different worlds but connected through the internet - do you think we've ever seen the same butterfly? they migrate thousands of miles. it's possible, right?

how beautiful the ways we fill the vastness of space. i love that when large amounts of people are applauding in a room, they all start clapping at the same time. i love that the ocean reminds us of our mother's heartbeat. i love that out of all the colors, chlorophyll chose green. i love the coincidences. i love the places where science says i don't know, but it just happens.

"the universe doesn't care about you!" oh, i know. that's okay. i care about the universe. i will put my big stupid heart out into it and watch the universe feast on it. it is not painful. it is strange - the more love you pour into the unfeeling world, the more it feels the world loves you in return. i know it's confirmation bias. i think i'm okay if my proof of kindness is just my own body and my own spirit.

i buried the bird from our porch deep in the woods. that same day, an old friend reaches out to me and says i miss you. wherever you go, no matter how bad it gets - you try to do good.

[blissfullyunawares]

How would you use today’s word?

Leave a line below! 👇🏼

If you liked this post, follow along for writing prompts, helpful tips, and words like this. ✏️

Looking forward to serving my writing community! 💕

[marlynnofmany]

Preferred Speed

(Related side project: Prank War!)

~~~

The cargo bay was full of people and packages. This was, they told me, how things used to be in the old days.

“Only four deliveries to the same location is simplistic,” Zhee declared with a flick of his antennae. “There were days when we had six or seven, and Sunlight or Mimi would be sent out too.” He flicked his antennae in a different direction at the missing honorific. “She wasn’t the captain then.”

“Sounds busy,” I said. “Was that Pockap’s idea?” I’d only spent a short time under the previous captain’s leadership, but I didn’t have much positive to say about it.

“Among other things,” Zhee agreed.

“Hey Zhee, we’ll get back to the ship first!” announced Blip with a wide grin on her fishy face. Blop did stretches behind her, next to a hovercart carrying a heavy-looking crate.

“You will not,” Zhee said with serene confidence. “I will be here well-rested long before you appear.”

“You say that now!” Blip bantered back. “But I think you’ll find us lounging on the ramp when you return.”

Blop finished his stretch and threw a mischievous glance at Paint. “We definitely won’t be the last to arrive.”

“No fair,” Paint complained, clutching her own small box to her chest like a scaly child. “You all have longer legs than me.”

I said, “I could give you a ride if you want. I have the hoverbike.” (I did. I was looking forward to it.)

Paint regarded the old-but-serviceable machine like an untamed horse. “Maybe?”

I brought up the map on the handlebar screen. “Your spot is along the main road, right? That’s an easy stop on the way to the observatory. And your package is small enough to carry while you hold on.”

“Isn’t there room in the storage compartment?” Paint asked hopefully.

I didn’t even have to look. “Nope. Mine barely fit. If we could get both in there, Captain Sunlight probably would have just had me deliver both.”

“Both what?” asked the captain from the doorway, hearing her name.

I explained, “I’m going to give Paint a ride to deliver that package, since she can carry it while it won’t fit in the bin.”

“I see,” said Captain Sunlight. “Very resourceful. And very brave of you, Paint.”

Paint sighed unhappily. “It sure is.”

Mur followed the captain in, chuckling. “Better you than me. Enjoy the speed.”

“I can drive slowly if you want,” I told Paint.

Paint stood as tall as she could, which wasn’t very. “No, I don’t want to hold you up. Regular speed is fine.”

“Great to hear,” said Captain Sunlight with a clap of her scaly hands. “Everyone take your places; we’re about to land.”

We all got ready. Blip and Blop maneuvered their hovercart to be near the front; Zhee shouldered in next to them with his bundle worn like a backpack; I got onto the hoverbike and Paint reluctantly climbed up behind me.

“Have fun!” Mur called with a wave of a blue-black tentacle. “I’ll be doing meal prep with Eggskin, thinking of you.”

I could hear the scowl in Paint’s voice. “I hope it’s something stinky.”

The intercom chimed with the landing tone, just in case we were distracted by bickering or something. A subtle change in engine tone, and we were there.

Captain Sunlight opened the bay door. Blip and Blop scrambled out, yelling cheerfully after Zhee when he used their hovercart like a springboard to jump ahead.

While they all ignored the captain’s reminders to be careful, I drove down the ramp at a sedate pace with Paint’s hands clutching my shirt, and we were out into the alien city.

This was a nice-looking one. Very sunny and clean. The spaceport was right next to a public thoroughfare, which felt weirdly trusting after the tight security at some other places we’d visited. Apparently all the screening for ne-er-do-wells was handled before landing here, or they just didn’t expect any trouble. Either way, it looked safe and pretty, with single-story architecture that reminded me of sandcastles made of porcelain. Everywhere were rounded walls with domed tops, tapering from the bottom like someone scooped the material together. Then turned it glossy white with lots of intricate patterns, and translucent bits where it got thin enough for the sun to show through. Most of the pedestrians were either Strongarms or Waterwills, and I wondered whose culture had come up with the design. Maybe both together.

I was maneuvering the hoverbike onto the convenient skyroad that passed over those pedestrians, and thinking idly about whether there was a different word for people who walked without proper feet, when I noticed how tight Paint’s grip had become.

“Should I slow down?” I asked over the wind. “Or would you rather walk after all? I can pull over.”

“I’m okay,” Paint said, a little tense. “Pretending we’re on the ground. I don’t have to look. Enjoy your crazy human death wish.”

I laughed and shook my head, but didn’t bother to argue. She wasn’t going to enjoy speed or heights no matter how eloquent I was about it.

So I did enjoy the ride, on the nice wide skyroad made of a transparent material that was probably a Waterwill design. Most of the single-person scooters and bigger buses hummed along slowly, though there was plenty of room to weave past them and admire the view of the city while I did. Those porcelain walls got really colorful farther out, and most of the walkways were tiled in colorful squares.

Much too soon, the map showed Paint’s destination up ahead, and I took an off-ramp down to a lovely little public park. There was even something like grass, though the vegetative lumps that passed for trees didn’t cast much shade.

“We’re here,” I told Paint. “Your location is right over there.”

After a pause that was probably Paint prying her eyes open and taking in the surroundings, she let go and said, “Oh good. Thank you.”

“Package okay?” I asked. Hopefully it hadn’t gotten squashed.

“Yes, it’s fine. I’ll meet you back here, right?” She slid shakily off.

“Sure thing,” I agreed. “Shouldn’t take me too long. Enjoy the sun after you drop that off!”

Paint smiled the honest smile of a cold-blooded lizardperson under a warm sun. “I will!” She trotted off with a wave, and I zoomed up the onramp back into the sky.

I drove much faster this time, and it was great. The road got even emptier as I reached the edge of the city, which, for our purposes, was conveniently close. The observatory rested on a hill outside of town. I wondered if the telescopes and whatnot inside had trouble with the city glow, but when I looked for streetlights, I only saw little downward-facing things that I’d taken for security cameras. Maybe this city didn’t glow much at night, at least not in an upward direction. Pity we were doing the delivery now and I wouldn’t get to see it. Though, I reflected, I’d likely enjoy this skyroad less in the dark.

The road sloped down to meet the ground when it ran out of buildings, and I zipped past more tree-lumps on the way up to the observatory. It was built out of porcelain too, looking extra thick and sturdy.

An Earth-style doorbell seemed very out of place, but it was at knee height on me, so that tracked. I rang it and got the package out of the storage bin.

A thick chunk of wall pulled inward then slid to the side with a thud. “Hello!” said the client, a Strongarm with vivid red coloring and a pointy squid head like Mur. I glimpsed another in the background that was a roundheaded coral pink, and much less chatty than this one. “Thank you so much for the delivery! I hope the drive went well? No traffic or accidents or whatnot?”

I handed her the box, which was large but lightweight. “No, it was nice and easy. Nothing to slow things down, and the view was lovely.” This delivery didn’t require a signature the way most of them did, so I wasn’t sure how much conversation I was in for now that my job was technically done.

“Good, good,” she said, juggling the box with a random assortment of tentacles. “Oh, is that one of those really fast vehicles? I could never! I hope they pay you enough for the risk.”

I smiled. “The pay’s just fine, and it goes at a good speed for me.”

“So bold and daring. Here! Take this for your troubles.” She set the box inside, then grabbed a little bag that looked like commercial snack food. “These are the best, and I just cannot stop eating them. You’ll do me a favor by taking a bagful.”

From inside the room, the other Strongarm yelled, “Give two.”

“Yes, quite right. Have two.” A second bag joined the first.

“Thank you,” I said, accepting them graciously. The label held a posing Strongarm that suggested I check with Eggskin’s species database before trying any. Their food was usually pretty compatible, but I wouldn’t want to be wrong.

“My pleasure! Have a lovely day, and a safe drive back!” She waved three tentacles and fairly pranced back inside before slapping the door close button. Even after it shut with a thud, I could make out her excited voice talking about the package.

I put the crunchy snack food into the now-empty storage bin, and sped off down the hill.

There was nobody out there, so I upped my speed from “reasonable” to “enjoyable,” and made it back to the park in no time flat.

“That was fast!” Paint said as she scampered over. She’d actually been lying on one of the lower tree-lumps like a fence lizard soaking up the sun, which was adorable and not something I was going to comment on.

“Yup, and I even got food as a tip.” I opened the bin and showed her a bag.

She grabbed it in delight. “These are the best! Pockap used to get them, and he’d never share!”

“Help yourself,” I said. “I got two.”

Paint made delighted noises and opened the bag to crunch a mouthful happily before folding it into the storage bin and settling into place.

I caught a whiff of seafood, like low tide during the peak of summer. Maybe I wouldn’t bother asking Eggskin if I could eat it.

“All set?” I asked.

“Yes,” Paint said decisively, getting a solid grip.

I scooted the bike gently toward the ramp. “You can have both bags. If Mur likes them too, you could bribe him to trade with you on the next delivery.”

“Ooh,” Paint said. “Thank you. I might do that. Or I might just eat them.”

“Your choice,” I said, then zoomed up onto the skyroad. I tried to go slowly, but I was pretty sure Paint closed her eyes anyway.

~~~

Did I mention the Prank War?

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[inkwell-chronicles]

People wish to nature the heart, while I wish to nature the mind.

However, when you nature one, you often nature the other

[etoilesetcafe]

“Do you know what punishments I've endured for my crimes, my sins? None. I am proof of the absurdity of men's most treasured abstractions. A just universe wouldn't tolerate my existence.” ― Brent Weeks, The Way of Shadows

if there is a just universe, my sins would paint its sky crimson, and my tears would drown its land...

[videogames-i-wish-were-real]

Videogames I wish were real #37

A cozy and laid back MMO game where instead of the usual battle classes, the classes are all about crafting, gathering or selling products or services. All the combat classes that would normally be available to players (paladins, archers, wizards, etc) are only available to npcs.

You can choose a crafting related occupation, such as the artisan class, and then pick a certain subclass and become a blacksmith or a tailor, or the catering class and become a baker or a chef or open a small café. In order to avoid unfair competition, when setting the price of a product there would a be a minimum and maximum price range for every product. You can also open a shop to sell your wares directly to customers, as well as hire npcs to help you gather resources or to manage the shop while you are away/not playing, although you will need to pay them a fair wage and they'll get a day off a week.

If you'd rather go for a gathering class you can become a miner, woodcutter, farmer, angler, etc, and sell your produce to shops and merchants. Since some of those occupations would require you to abandon the city to gather materials, if you intend to go to a dangerous area you can hire adventurer npcs to act as your guards, or if you want to venture into an unknown area, you could spend money in a map, or pay a cartographer to chart a map for you.

And if you wish for a more adventurous occupation that allows you to travel through the world, you could always pick jobs such as mail carrier, merchant, archeologist, cartographer, etc.

Besides hiring npcs to help you run your store or act as bodyguards when you explore dangerous parts, you can also befriend and even romance and marry them, and if you cultivate a strong enough platonic or romantic relationship with an npc, they might offer you discounts, sell you rare items, gift you stuff or even offer to help you for free.

Player level is tied to the occupation of a character, if you switch to a different job you've never tried before you'll start at level 1. Whenever you get bored of a certain life, you can just switch to a different one or create another character.

Similar games that actually exist: Fantasy Life and Fantasy Life i: The Girl who Steals Time (suggested by @fantasy-life-fan), Palia

[sunnytaimi]

Most days I can pass for a normal human being except when my brain suddenly remembers that I'm a writer and generates an idea and now for at least five business days I have to go on Very Long Walks to mentally check out and brainstorm and I have to frantically roll over in bed at 12am to write down a line that Just Came To Me and I have to forget that I used to do anything else in life other than obliterate my keyboard until this idea stops holding me hostage ugh the burden of talent