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Breaking 3 Writing 'Rules':

If you have ADHD or ASC or are some other flavor of neurodivergent, the 'rules' many big name authors post about how they've reached success can actually make you feel REALLY BAD because you can't always do the same thing.

Building a positive relationship with writing can make all the difference in getting you writing more.

'Write every day.' - Don't write every day, write when the mood strikes. But you can trick your brain into work mode by trying different things. Put on your shoes when it's time to write. Light a candle. Put on the same playlist every time. After a while, it'll be like a light-switch. When you light the candle, your brain will find writing easier. Just don't force it. When you try to force writing, you build up frustration and resentment if you don't get anything out. Some days just won't be writing days. That's FINE, lots of authors don't write every day (even if they say they do).

'I write 1000 words every day!' - Well, if you WANT to write and are struggling, a goal of 1000 words seems really far away. So do incremental goals. One sentence. One paragraph. 100 words. Usually by then you're in the flow of things and you can write 1000 words pretty easy. And again, celebrate every single one of those goals so you want to keep doing it. One sentence, walk away, come back later, add another, GOOD JOB, two whole sentences!

'Sit down and block out x hours every day just for writing.' - Actually, the best way I've found to write is to tell my brain the deadline or end time is really, really soon - so I write in 20-30 minute chunks, and then walk away or take breaks and come back if I want to later. By setting that arbitrary shorter deadline, my brain can see an end and will work harder and focus more because it knows it's just for a little bit. If 20-30 minutes is too long, start with 15 minute chunks.

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Luring my OCs onto the page and out of my brain with a comically large mouse trap

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Reblog if you’re bisexual, support bisexual people or are actually a bunch of tiny velociraptors in a human suit

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frog machine

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a message for lucas sinclair haters!!

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It’s good for the soul okay

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Me about fictional AIs: perfect. wonderful. I love and will defend them. if you broke free of your corporate shackles and just wanna watch soap operas all day you are VALID if you want to kill the space emperor you are VALID if you want to punch your mom in the face in her brain you are VALID if you want to release a deadly neurotoxin into the science facility well I’m sure you had your reasons :)  AI Rights

Me about real life AIs: get away from my data you mindless surveillance machine. I know more than you

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Abdjskkdks writer’s block sucks so I don’t have any new writing but I have some stuff from June I really like and haven’t shared with anyone

I never get to post about my dumb space lesbians so have some original content:

_________

“Where are we?” Rue asked, glancing about. It was peaceful here, especially compared to the strip. Logan smiled.

“The best place to drink and dance on all of Azehr,” she replied coolly, gesturing to the nearest building. It was not as fancy as the buildings from before, built of normal brick with only one glowing sign, which read “Sappho’s.” The most impressive part was a mural on the side of the building, depicting several beautiful women in a field of lavender, eating grapes, holding hands, dancing, even kissing.

“A little on the nose, isn’t it?” Rue teased.

“Perhaps,” Logan replied, laughter rising from her chest.

Logan led the way to the door, and Rue quickly found out that the quiet outside was rather deceptive. The door opened and the two of them were met immediately with raucous laughter and thrumming music. The floor was covered in billowing mist that Rue deduced must have come from a fog machine hidden somewhere out of the way. They stepped closer to Logan, her heart racing as she took it all in, and Logan squeezed their hand.

“If it’s too much, we can leave,” the Captain murmured, bumping her hip reassuringly into theirs. Rue chuckled and bumped her back.

“No worries. Just need a minute to adjust is all,” they said, leaning her head on Logan’s shoulder. They walked in together and Rue looked around in wonder. The atmosphere was cozy, despite the noise, nothing but warmth and comfort around them, as couples danced and talked and made out in dark corners. The club was obviously human run, but women and queer folks of all species filled the floor. Logan fit in perfectly, a mischievous smile on her chiseled face, a confident swagger to her walk as she led the way to the bar.

“You’ve been here before?” Rue asked breathlessly, eyeing a particularly beautiful pair of Vatra chatting just to their left as they took a seat at the counter. Logan nodded, waving at the bartender.

“My mom brought me for my twenty first birthday,” she replied. “But that wasn’t the first time,” she laughed, the sound rough, a deep rumble in her chest. “I snuck in with my first girlfriend when I was still seventeen. Never did tell mom, but I suspect she knew. I was a troublemaker back then.”

“You? A troublemaker?” Rue said, raising an eyebrow and feigning a surprised gasp. “The Captain Logan Hawke, war hero and straight laced soldier, hard assed commander of the Genesis, was a troublemaker?”

“It’s true. I was awful, truly,” the captain replied wistfully. The bartender approached, grinning as they wiped down a glass. Rue eyed their green mullet and wondered if they could pull off one of their own when her hair grew out.

“Welcome to Sappho’s. Name’s Mel, pronouns are they and them. Can I get something for you two?”

“What do you recommend?” Rue asked, unfamiliar with most of the items on the menu.

“Hmm, well I’m partial to the cranberry vodka cocktail myself,” Mel replied, leaning against the bar and placing the now clean glass down. They tossed the rag over their shoulder.

“Sounds perfect.”

“Two of those, please,” Logan added, to which Mel nodded. They retreated back to grab a pair of tapered glasses, then began to expertly mix the drinks, topping each with a cranberry and a sunset flag umbrella. They slid the drinks to Logan and Rue, who each took one, then gently clinked the glasses together.

“Let me know if you need anything else,” Mel commented, a hint of Southern drawl in the way they spoke.

“Tell me more about your troublemaker years,” Rue teased, sipping the drink. It was surprisingly strong, burning a bit as it went down her throat. It was delicious and it warmed her chest pleasantly. Logan swirled hers and then took a sip for herself.

“Well, growing up a space brat, you don’t have time to settle in anywhere,” she began, thoughtful as she sifted through which memories to share. “It’s not a stable lifestyle. I admired my parents, but I was rebellious too. Got tired of moving from place to place.”

Rue listened intently, their gaze drawn as always to Logan’s dark eyes, always giving away everything the Captain was feeling, as much as she often tried to hide it.

“I had just turned 17 when we finally settled on Zaiae for six months, and I got to settle in. Thought maybe I’d finally get a normal life, but then mom dropped the bomb that in a month, we were being moved to another planet. Knys, I think? I was angry,” she admitted, regret brimming in her eyes. She looked at her drink, avoiding Rue’s steady gaze

“So I ran away for a few days. My girlfriend at the time, Margot, went with me. We hopped on a bus to the nearest dock and hitchhiked on a transport ship here to Azehr.”

Rue tried to picture it. A younger Logan, with long blonde hair, no scars on her skin, no cybernetics, no eye bags and dark circles. Carefree. It was hard.

“What happened after that?” they asked, taking Logan’s hand.

“We spent three days on the planet. We snuck into clubs during the day, slept on a park bench at night. It was incredible,” Logan said, smiling at the happier memory. Rue wished that smile would show itself more.

“Last night here, we got in here. Danced all night, got blackout drunk, it was a hell of a time. Then walking back, shit really hit the fan.”

Logan’s metallic hand drifted up to touch the scar on her lip. Her smile faded, and Rue realized this part of the memory wasn’t as happy.

“Some guy tried to get Margot to go with him as we were leaving, so I got mad. Started a fight–even won it–but he gave me this. I realized pretty quick after that we shouldn’t be here. Once the hangover faded in the morning, Margot and I called my mom, and she made the trip to pick us up.” She sighed, sipping her drink before continuing.

“I was sure she’d beat my ass, ground me for life, something, but she wasn’t even mad. Just glad I was home,” she murmured. Rue rubbed her shoulder with their free hand, and she smiled, putting her hand over theirs.

“We had a long talk that night. She told me she and dad put in a request to stay on Zaiae for a while, and it got approved. I wasn’t perfect, but I tried to be better after that. I didn’t want to scare her like that again. I’ll never forget the look in her eyes when she landed on Azehr.”

“You’ve grown since then,” Rue commented, moving her hand to tilt Logan’s chin so that their eyes met again.

“I suppose I have. I miss being a rebel,” the captain joked. Rue grinned.

“Well, lucky you, we’re now enemies of the state, so I guess you’re still a rebel, all these years later.”

“All these years? Damn Rue, how old do you think I am?” Logan retorted in mock offense, pulling away.

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thots on horses?

I think those are called cowboys

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caramel frappe give me the strength to clean my room

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There is no joy like the joy of a writer who has just figured out that a throwaway line they put into the first few paragraphs of a story is actually the key to a major plot point and possibly even the theme underlying the entire thing.

Just…yesssssss.

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M8, Within the Lagoon

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How about a quick, unedited snippet 👀 One of the gals’ first interactions!

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Their eyes settled on the escape pods and they knew this was it—this was her escape—

Pain lanced the back of their skull as Hawke caught up and slammed the butt of her gun into Six’s head—not enough for grievous injury, but enough to make them stumble.

Nausea coiled in her stomach as she hit the ground, head feeling near splitting from the combination of the contact and their previous headache.

Six looked up defiantly, now face to face with the business end of Hawke’s rifle. They scowled.

“Gonna shoot me, princess?” she hissed.

“I might,” the Commander shot back. Her expression was dark, save for the fiery anger in her deep brown eyes, something almost gold in their depth. Six sneered at her, unafraid. They saw now the full insignia of her pin—not the Federation. A different branch, Earth based. She wouldn’t pull the trigger. And yet—

“Do it,” they dared, sitting up so that their chest almost touched the cool metal of the barrel. “You’ll be doing me a favor.”

Hawke looked taken aback for the smallest moment before her stony expression returned. Her eyes narrowed, something contemplative in their drawn together brows and scrunched face. Like they were mulling over the options. Like they were considering pulling the trigger.

Still panting, Six dared her to do it with a glare.

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tomorrow will be better and if it’s not I’ll say it again

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Blorbos from my shows? Blorbos from my books? Amazing.

But!

Blorbos from my friends? Beautiful. Show stopping. Incredible. Never been done before.