#writingheals

[tanishaganguly]

What is happiness? Why does it feel so distant? It’s as if I almost grasp it and it runs even faster every time, leaving behind shades of melancholy.

The world seems blurry and cold. Tingling through the skin. Everything feels wrong. How do I tell to what extent my throat hurts from screaming and begging to the universe that doesn’t listen.

I keep on running and running, mile after mile, I slow down to walk and then I stop to catch for a breath. I look back and I notice that it’s all empty, a vacuum that fills up the chest kind of empty. I run away from it all, finding peace in a lonely space, unlit by the moon.

I ask myself where is that burning desire I once knew of, a feeling beyond the realm of words?" Where is that feeling of joy? Of ecstasy that is so fleeting like a mirage, that comes but sprints away.

Where is me now? Who am I?

//tanisha//

[queencryo]

would give it all up to be a driver for a minor noblewoman (widow) (vaguely western-european) stuck with her in the coach after i was forced to release the horses: this is the worst storm in decades, not even my paw coulda kept these posting-station horses calm through the peals of sky-splitting thunder.

We came to a stop in the middle of the road, the churned mud of the road eagerly assisting the coach's brakes. I'm completely drenched by the time I enter the cabin to report that we'll not be going anywhere, not that that isnt already clear. Plenty of Ladies like this, they would howl and beat at me for getting the road's mud into their carriage. but not mine: she worries only of the mud's water, and my hair's water, and my clothes' water, and how these all offer ample avenue for the night's cold to pierce my frame.

And pierce it does: now that the exertion of driving is ended, i am alarmed at how the cold has already convinced my body to take its side over mine, chattering and shivering so I can hardly understand it when my Lady pushes a parcel of cloth toward me. Its dry, she says, and she'll turn her back while I replace sodden roughspun with dry linen. after a moment of shivering hesitation, she does while i do. The fit is odd, in style as well as cut. She's plush where I'm paucious, I'm fowl bones failing to fill out sheep's skin. I keep the comparison to myself. I cough, and she turns, and she smiles. Says this frock suits me. The blood rushing to my face warms it, almost enough I stop chattering.

We start making the carriage a little warmer, lining the door with another of her dresses. It is a summer cut, too thin to keep the chill from your skin; cladding the coach door, though, it keeps the worst of the wind at bay. And once my cloak mirrors it on the door's opposite, the cabin changes. Less now a channel whose seams the wind can run through unabated. A haphazard little down, and we the rabbits.

And like rabbits, we huddle together. She has a great fur cloak, surely a gift from some earl or czar or other title. It's warm, utterly so, and so is she. The thought of her as a sheep was untoward, but I can't help but think of it again now. I had tried to avoid touching her for propriety, but she had insisted. Wrapping her arms around me like a child, but I was so cold I hadn't stopped her as she encompassed me. I'm not cold anymore, but I stay in her soft embrace nonetheless. She doesn't evict me, and I do not bring myself to ask why.

She asks me questions, about my family and my trade, about horses. It takes time, but soon I ask in turn. We have little in common, but that's an object of fascination rather than deviation. She's never horsed a shoe, I've never ridden in a coach. Her brother is a bore, mine is dead. Before we know it we are talking like friends, conversation passing between us like the present situation was the comfortable norm rather than the best way to avoid death by frost.

I don't know how long we talk, but in time the night in the cracks of our den turns from dark to pitch, and the rain calms from diluvian to quotidian. Our conversation slows with the rain, we sit in warm silence. I look up from a rambling story about my grandmother, and the lady is sleeping. Her snoring is just audible over the rain, and my heart flutters to hear it. I pull myself closer into her, and sigh through my smile.

I close my eyes, and sleep. I am warm.

[habibisagi]

me every time i am reminded of the fact that my old writing when i first started that is NOT a representation of who i am today in the slightest but is simply a past version of myself that has died for growth is out there reblogged somewhere on tumblr

[writingforhealing]

So a possible diagnosis along the lines of "more intelligent than others"...

What does that even mean when it feels impossible to think most of the time? I could potentially be very smart if I wasn't always exhausted? My brain functions better than most people except for in reality? It feels like the ultimate "scores good, does bad in practice".

[palmolli]

WRITIJING PROMPST WRITINGH PROMPTSSSSSSSSSS

SO... UH, I SUCK AT FINISHING THINGS, SO I HAVE COME TO THE CONCLUSION THAT WRITING ONE SHOTS WILL BE BENEFICIAL FOR MY WRITING ABILITIES AND MY INABILITY TO LOCK IN!!!!!!!!!

[ao3feed-janeausten]

Maid of Drama

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/aAcPWgY by WritingHeals Overprotective Charlotte needs her sister’s wedding to the wrong man to fail, while disgraced professional tennis player turned clueless wedding planner Sidney needs it to succeed. Only one of them will prevail, jeopardizing whatever might be between them. Words: 7613, Chapters: 3/?, Language: English Fandoms: Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Charlotte Heywood, Sidney Parker, Alison Heywood, Diana Parker (Sanditon) Relationships: Charlotte Heywood/Sidney Parker, Charlotte Heywood & Sidney Parker Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Rivalry, Enemies to Lovers read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/aAcPWgY

[iheartceeavenue]

Quirky Tip #4 #writingtips #characterdevelopment #writerslife #writingh...

Talking to your characters out loud can reveal all sorts of secrets and quirks you never knew about them. Just don't let anyone catch you; they might think you've lost it! 

[2truehearts]

GOODODMRNGIN!!! HOW R UUU?? im just chilling n writinggggg trig to get into writing againis hard oml

EEEEE I'M DOING OKAY!!! I'm currently trying to write a,,, um,,, questionable fic (I blame alexis/j ily ma sdjdfsfbjhs) AND THAT'S GOOD!! I'd recommend reading fanfics to get a grasp on how you want to write (aka writing style, idioms, formatting) !! good luck on getting into writingh again babe <3

[maybelovesamystery]

its 8.45 on another Thursday in October

and I’m writing about you again

you. who always loved the autumn.

the golden auburn of the leaves

falling gracefully into your chestnut hair.

the sunset walks- dusk and dimming by 7 p.m.

the orange glow reflected among the streets

was heavenly, ethereal in your company.

I can’t help but think softly of you in it

elegant, ecstatic energy

skipping and parading beside me

as though these desolate lanes were our runway.

we would rendezvous in private- woodland crooks and crannies, between the sheets at the warm glow of candlelit nights, street corners kept our secrets safe.

sweet lips like cinnamon buns and pumpkin spice lattes and that soft admiration in your eyes- a childlike wonder- a twinkle that lit up at any and every magical opportunity as we explored the autumn-sprinkled city.

this time i may not have you.

but at least I’ll still have the memories.

- autumn glows as it burns brightly and fondly reminisces 

m.w.

[yearninginpeace]

I started writing when I was twenty. My first book came out when I was thirty-five. But I never expected that it would happen quickly.

David Sedaris

[michellewithwings]

[tanishaganguly]

While reading the book 'Ikigai' by Hector Garcia and Francesc Miralles, I realised that there are words, beautiful words, words that cannot be translated but can be felt, words that are supposedly difficult to express but important to reflect.

Natsukashii (adj.) Japanese | pronunciation- nahtzkah-shee

Meaning- Of the small things that take you back to a happy time; not a nostalgic feeling to return to the past but an appreciation of the good times. (https://justalittlejapanese.com)

While returning home after a long tiring day, you sit in a corner, connect your earphones and the music just hits you right, easing things for you just like a comfortable blanket wrapped around you.

Remember, the day before your exams, that you almost loose your nerves, your mom keeps calling you for lunch and you are almost on the verge of shouting, you see she cooked your favourite meal.

You know, you just performed on the stage and your adrenaline is still rushing high like a train, your teacher comes and gives you a tight hug and says, "You did great!"

That feeling when you are in a space encompassing unknown people and you rest your head on your best friend's shoulder and she slowly swirls around your hair.

How about the time when you made those little mental health and feel good notes after hours of surfing through pinterest and pasted in your room to make some days better or maybe bearable.

That bitter sweet feeling of taking the last bite of the food that you kept at the end. Just you and your food in silence.

When you go to someone's and they have a dog and you soon become each other's favourite, the dog hugs you, licks your face and sleeps on your lap and you go on talking about it for days on end, and yes that is a brag.

//tanisha//

[ao3feed-janeausten]

Maid of Drama

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/zGmFHML by WritingHeals Overprotective Charlotte needs her sister’s wedding to the wrong man to fail, while disgraced professional tennis player turned clueless wedding planner Sidney needs it to succeed. Only one of them will prevail, jeopardizing whatever might be between them. Words: 5376, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English Fandoms: Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Charlotte Heywood, Sidney Parker, Alison Heywood, Diana Parker (Sanditon) Relationships: Charlotte Heywood/Sidney Parker, Charlotte Heywood & Sidney Parker Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Rivalry, Enemies to Lovers read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/zGmFHML

[nidhird]

Sometimes words evade me

I’m left grappling in my mind

Without the means to express

I feel trapped inside

The loneliness is crushing

with the weight of unsaid words

The silences scream out

wanting to pour out on paper

Feelings long to bleed in ink

And when finally my hand

touches the pen

My heart is drenched

in poetic rain.

[maybelovesamystery]

journal entry i

I found our lost memories today

Scattered in the melodies of our songs

Sparked upon me in a random series of notes

Lyrics that haunt me

Ringing in my ears still

And I remember the ways we would laugh and dance and smile

So full of ecstasy and life

With rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes

But now alone I lie so desolate

And cry in colours of blue

In dusted rooms with floorboards that creek

Reminding me of all the times you would stumble home from work so late

In such fine efforts not to disturb me

And now each time my heart stops as I imagine you have returned

But it is just the ghost of you

Never ceasing to haunt me

Perhaps I have died and now reside in hell

And this is their way to torture me

m.w

[yearninginpeace]

Standing in your garden, the moonlight streaming in through the branches of the willow

i gaze at the starry sky as a warm breeze rolls over me

Like your breath in my ear, from times long gone

Your hands in mine as we moved to the melody of silence

Reborn in the darkness, we embrace, letting go, your lips on mine

Whispering in my ear, sweet nothings making my foolish heart jump

Losing myself in your essence i hold u tighter against me

Like the rope around my neck

My final thought of your warm embrace as i join you under the tree where you hung

~trashandpoetryy