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[writtenbykiki]

My latest cartoon for @GuardianBooks.

[writtenbykiki]

Types Of Writer’s Block (And How To Fix Them)

1. High inspiration, low motivation. You have so many ideas to write, but you just don’t have the motivation to actually get them down, and even if you can make yourself start writing it you’ll often find yourself getting distracted or disengaged in favour of imagining everything playing out

Try just bullet pointing the ideas you have instead of writing them properly, especially if you won’t remember it afterwards if you don’t. At least you’ll have the ideas ready to use when you have the motivation later on

2. Low inspiration, high motivation. You’re all prepared, you’re so pumped to write, you open your document aaaaand… three hours later, that cursor is still blinking at the top of a blank page

RIP pantsers but this is where plotting wins out; refer back to your plans and figure out where to go from here. You can also use your bullet points from the last point if this is applicable

3. No inspiration, no motivation. You don’t have any ideas, you don’t feel like writing, all in all everything is just sucky when you think about it

Make a deal with yourself; usually when I’m feeling this way I can tell myself “Okay, just write anyway for ten minutes and after that, if you really want to stop, you can stop” and then once my ten minutes is up I’ve often found my flow. Just remember that, if you still don’t want to keep writing after your ten minutes is up, don’t keep writing anyway and break your deal - it’ll be harder to make deals with yourself in future if your brain knows you don’t honour them

4. Can’t bridge the gap. When you’re stuck on this one sentence/paragraph that you just don’t know how to progress through. Until you figure it out, productivity has slowed to a halt

Mark it up, bullet point what you want to happen here, then move on. A lot of people don’t know how to keep writing after skipping a part because they don’t know exactly what happened to lead up to this moment - but you have a general idea just like you do for everything else you’re writing, and that’s enough. Just keep it generic and know you can go back to edit later, at the same time as when you’re filling in the blank. It’ll give editing you a clear purpose, if nothing else

5. Perfectionism and self-doubt. You don’t think your writing is perfect first time, so you struggle to accept that it’s anything better than a total failure. Whether or not you’re aware of the fact that this is an unrealistic standard makes no difference

Perfection is stagnant. If you write the perfect story, which would require you to turn a good story into something objective rather than subjective, then after that you’d never write again, because nothing will ever meet that standard again. That or you would only ever write the same kind of stories over and over, never growing or developing as a writer. If you’re looking back on your writing and saying “This is so bad, I hate it”, that’s generally a good thing; it means you’ve grown and improved. Maybe your current writing isn’t bad, if just matched your skill level at the time, and since then you’re able to maintain a higher standard since you’ve learned more about your craft as time went on

[writtenbykiki]

A poem: Or words that need out of me in a specific order.

While the banan bread bakes I will make a pot of tea I will sit with a hard to read book in my lap And I will pray to the small gods I will ask them to come home to rest All around us so that We can be free Of the big things, the big gods That consume the world. The big gods consume because they are afraid. Hungry and scared they take everything Here with the small gods our bellies may be full our hearts may be free our minds may be still So while the banana bread bakes I will pray to the small gods.

[writtenbykiki]

Book Review: Behold the Monster

The book is "Behold the Monster: Confronting America's Most Prolific Serial Killer" by Jillian Lauren. The book is about a journalist and her relationship with serial killer Samuel Little. She opens the book with her past. An event so similar to what Little put his victims through that she feels a connection. Now, I am not a reviewer. But my thoughts are that this is written by someone close to many marginalization's, not part of them. My problem stems from the writing as though she understands them. It became clear in the chapter about the death of the one trans victim. While I can appreciate the chapters that are written from the point of view of the victims as an attempt to further humanize those less dead victims, it misses the mark. Those chapters try too hard to understand poverty, or addiction, or trans-ness. In short it was a book written by a white person for a very specific subset of white women. I rate this a 2 and a half out of 5.

[writtenbykiki]

Of Moon and Leaf DAY 1 (narrative gameplay)

I begin my day by the low fire, with a hot cup of tinsane and my journal. I jot down my dream fragments and memories. Perhaps they will help me understand what has happened in the world that has us living like this. Many of the other forest folk don't remember their pasts or history either. As though we all just woke up one morning with our skills and knowledge how to use them but little else. Anyway, my dream this day was of a fire that swept through the woods, clearing much of what was and leaving only the burned charred bodies of the trees. I was caught in the fire and I ran and I ran and I ran until I found a lake. I knew the only way to save myself was to leap in. But the fear is strong. The fear of falling is greater than my fear of fire, it seem. Soon the fire is too close and I have no choice and so I leap. Into the cool water and I keep sinking and sinking and sinking. I wake up struggling with my breath. {Author note: every day I roll for three words that form my dream fragments and then I flesh them out. I left out "beginning" as I feel this is going to be where we uncover the story. } After my dream journaling I do a bit of meditation to ask the spirits what the day will look like. Today they only sent me the words Stinging, trickery, and ancient. We shall see where these words appear. I gather my belongings and leave. Along the way I make a discovery. Along a hillside that has fallen down upon itself is a half hanging half burried flag. Still attached to the pole, the whole thing having slid down the flag is faded and the colors not colors anymore. I do not know the country, or the peoples this would have belonged to. As I walk a forest spirit reveals itself, I startled him out from his watching me. He reared up and away in a sparkling haze of spirit dust and dandelion motes. I caught barely a glimpse Not a moment later another spirit was spotted by me. Up in a needle tree and waiting for me. I think they have been watching me. Just before I decided I was tired of being watched I found a new plant. This one is bulbous with lots of rounded leaves that are fleshy. The leaves are purple and ooze a sticky orange sap. The plant sits low to the ground and consists of five to seven of these leaves surrounding a larger bulb in the center. I go home and test the plant. It tells me it's properties are hide and heal. But as yet I can make little more than a tinsane that restores me a small bit. I shall remember it when I need a healing tea. Tomorrow we explore more. (Readers: If you would like to share your drawing of my terrible description of that plant I would love that. Remember you can play along, by downloading the PDF of Of Moon and Leaf. )

[writtenbykiki]

Of Moon and Leaf gameplay Session 0

Every good TTRPG needs a session 0. I am opting to play this as though my character has a memory loss. And am uncovering the past and the history of the world around me. To begin Of Moon and Leaf we need to establish who we are. We are a wanderer of the forest. Our goal is to explore the forest around us and learn more about the plant life and the power the plants have. We will meet forest spirits and guardians. What is my home in the forest like? Imagine a hobbit hole but all above ground. Rounded corners and edges. My home is one large open room with my wash room/toilet room behind a small partition on the back wall. My bed is built into the wall and is surrounded by shelves. On these shelves I keep books and potions and supplies. My kitchen is on the wall opposite the bed (as opposite as round things get) and is a wood burning oven with a clay built cook top. More shelves of course. And a large sink. The sink is required for washing all these plants I find. There are windows of course. And two large comfy chairs. A large wood table is work space and gathering space. But it is a simple home. Full of warmth and comfort. I have been left gifts from the ancestors. My favorite of these, the most useful certainly, are my spider linen gloves. These are silvery and soft. Spun from spider webbing. they are almost indestructible they are very useful while harvesting the more dangerous plants of the forest. I have a bound egg. Slightly larger than a chicken egg, and bound very tightly with black silk thread it is probably an ancient spell. It does not smell and is much older than I. And finally I have a wooden key. I have yet to find the door or chest that this key goes to. But I keep looking.

[writtenbykiki]

Of Moon and Leaf Gameplay

Good what ever time of day this post finds you. I have been playing a solo RPG called "Of Moon and Leaf" (it's pay what you want and very charming). I think what I want to do as a way to push my writing, is to more thoroughly explore my play session here. Basically, I will narratively write out each session after I have played it. One of the charming things about this game is how it is both drawing/painting and writing. I am not a great artist. But I invite you to join in if you would like to draw up any of the finds in the came. I also encourage you to find the game and explore it yourself.

[writtenbykiki]

A horrifying mushroom

[writtenbykiki]

Taya, Between Today

She could feel the curtain slide closed behind her. Not soft like a curtain should but firmly like a sturdy door. She looked behind her to make certain it did close. No one needs to deal with a Gumberoo or worse. Before her was a long hallway. Impossibly long really. There should be nothing much beyond the curtain but wall and then street. There was just hallway. It was not lit. But her eyes were made for the dim light of hidden places. Taking fives steps forward then turning slightly to her left and taking five more steps she came to a doorway. Tay knocked softly and hoped that the guard was on the other side. It would suck if she had to stand here long with this pile of books. Time stretched and she sat down the box and took out the book String had ordered for her. She cracked the spine and dove in. She was on the third chapter when the door opened. "Taya Of the Hill Folk, you know you are not to bring back undeclared items. I cannot let you through until you declare." Startled by the guard, she thought this one was called Horner, she slowly closed the book and stood. She then picked up the box and cleared her throat. "I, Taya of the Hill FOlk, Declare this box of books from the human folk to be mine and mine alone. I declare this collection of herbs and teas to be for the GrandMar and they alone. All other straggling things are on their own." She said loudly and firmly. Horner nodded and swung the door open wider. Crossing over the threshold Tay felt the world tilt and become her world. The colors deepened and the light became something more of an ambient glow. The light was so similiar to the light of a rainy fall Seattle morning and yet so different. In Seattle the light came from the sky, here it just was. This doorway as at the back of the Day Market of the West. That was the thing about the paths. They came and went to similar places in their worlds. If Tay waited she could have gone to the Night Market. But that was not where she was needed. Thanking Horner she picked up her box and headed into the chaos of a fae market. Her first stop was for chestnuts. She was starving. They weren't as tasty as the steam buns but they did the job. Next up was to find GrandMars tent. Which was always near the center and always lit like a small city. Today the top of the lime green and pale blue tend was topped with a weather vane that reminded Tay of a skyscraper. Which probably meant he knew she was coming. Good. She wanted this over with. If he were to prolong her exile, she wanted to take her books and go back as soon as possible.

The front of the tent was open. Folk milled about waiting for their turn to enter and have audience with GrandMar, the defacto mayor of both Day and Night Markets of the West, and of the Western Edge folk. Here he settled disputes or created them, set rules and guidelines and just generally made things work. Mostly. Most regular folk never got an audience with him. No one ever really wanted an audience with him. As Tay approached the guards saw her and crossed their absurdly long spears (all show and zero function) to prevent her entry. "Halt human, you have no place here" Tay straightened her back and carefully set the box down. She dropped her glamour and the guards dropped their comical spears. "I am Taya of the Hill Folk and I have been summoned by the GrandMar. To deny me entry is to deny his wishes." The guards slid to the side and bowed deeply. Taya walked past them and entered GrandMars tent. Inside was vast. One huge circular room with a raised circular dias in the center. On the dais was a throne. Or what the GrandMar treated as a throne. The truth was, as most things were, much more complicated Taya approached the dais. "Grandmar of the Western Folk, I, Taya of the Hill Folk am here at your request. I have returned from the exile you sent me to. I do not come of my own accord." She spoke loudly making sure the whole of the tent heard here. GrandMar turned his attention to her and smiled. He looked like little more than a fishmonger. Long stringy grey hair, that framed the wizened face of an old man. But GrandMar was not old, not a fishmonger. He was a powerful and dangerous fae lord. Who had the power to control much of the lives of the fae he ruled over. Today, for the first time in a long time that included Taya.

[writtenbykiki]

Taya, today

Taya stood at the corner of Pike and 2nd and looked toward the bay. She had wandered all over this town and this might be her favorite view. The bustle of Pikes Place Market and all the tourists was a new kind of energy for her and she loved it. She thought she could stand here just above it all and watch it forever. And she might just get the chance if she didn't pay attention to the world around her.

Down the hill she went. Her first stop was Left Bank Books. String was working today. They seemed to be there a lot lately. "Hey Tay, We got that book you wanted back in. I saved you a copy." String said, not even looking up from what they were reading. Tay mumbled thanks and headed up the stairs. Stars, she loved the smell of old wood and brick and books. The way it seemed to mingle with the salt of the bay. Maybe she would stay here forever. She did take her time browsing. She didn't want what might be her last time in here to be hasty. She wanted to savor the feeling. The community that the shop had built around it. The books themselves. The radical ideas that were so foreign to her when she first arrived. Eventually she went to the counter with her arms loaded. "How on earth are you getting those home, Tay? Want me to grab Marco to help?" String asked. Sounding both awed and concerned. They began to ring up the stack. "It's like you are stocking your own shop" "String, I have to leave Seattle for awhile. I don't want to. I just want to take a part of you all with me." Tay started to choke up. She hadn't expected that. Those feelings of loss and sadness were new to her. Sort of . String looked at her with empathy, "I hope I am always with you in spirit. You deserve peace and kindness" It was just like String to say what Tay needed to hear. They handed back the stack of books. "We will be here when you come home." That sent Tay over the edge and she openly cried her way out of the shop and down to the Market. She found her favorite Chinese place and ordered steamy buns. She knew that wasn't the name, but the lady at the counter always knew what Tay meant. Her last stop before the last stop was the Chinese herbalist. Just a few herbs she knew GrandMar would want. She threw in a box of that expensive tea that she liked. Tay might as well have some comforts too. Finally there was no more putting it off. She headed to LionHeart Books. "Welcome in" said a voice from the stacks when the bell dinged. "Bargain books are half off today" Tay knew the voice belonged to Dara, a part time high school student. And that meant the curtain was open. No getting away from it now. "Dara, it's me, Tay. I need to go to the back. I am sorry. I know you hate that. Last time. I think" Dara's head popped out from behind a bookshelf. "Eh... it's whatever, just make sure you close the gate. Last time someone went to the back they let in a Gumberoo. Did you know those haven't been seen this side in decades? I don't have the energy to clean that shit up today." Tay smiled. That was really the perfect note to leave Seattle on. Mythical creatures who weren't myth. She went to the very back of the store. A curtain with a note pinned to it "Employees only All others will be fed to Bigfoot" in blocky script covered a doorway most would assume was a storage room. Hefting her large box of books and herbs closer to her chest, Tay sighed and walked through.

[writtenbykiki]

Drabble List #8

75 prompts to write drabbles or longer stories.

"Just one of those days, I guess."

"This makes it easier to identify them."

"Have you ever had friendship bracelets?"

"Feel free to walk all over me."

"You're the one stirring the pot."

"I feel like you don't actually believe me."

"What a tragedy this is."

"This will be permanent."

"Oh well, nothing I can do about it now."

"The media is lying to you - and so is everyone else."

"Just gonna pretend I didn't hear that."

"Silly me to assume you would care."

"You should clean the mess you make."

"My life is amazing, it really is."

"Nothing to complain here."

"I can't believe that we finally made it."

"Thank you so much for this opportunity."

"Mark my words, this will not end cute."

"Have you looked in the mirror lately?"

"You look hot, mama."

"Can you bail me out? Please?"

"What a silly thing to say."

"So, this is it? Really?"

"It will never be truly over."

"That is a fascinating tattoo that you have."

"You're going to jail for this."

"What a dramatic exit."

"I know your friends."

"A seat will be assigned to you shortly."

"Here is a list of all the ways you are wrong."

"We should talk about what happened."

"Do you have your ticket ready?"

"I'm sorry, but our personal goals just don't match up."

"The boxes are all labeled incorrectly."

"Well, you should've listened to me."

"Tragic. That outfit is a disaster."

"I'm sitting front row. I always do."

"Oh you silly little thing."

"What is your star sign?"

"I'm not who you think I am."

"Can't say I'm that surprised."

"Truly legendary."

"Please, sing for me!"

"You are a true party pooper."

"No means don't even try."

"I want to find my soulmate."

"Just forget what you heard."

"Why does this always happen to me?"

"Let's go out for a cheap dinner."

"I don't want to hear about it."

"This must be a joke. Not very good one."

"A list of all the times I was right."

"I can't control my dreams."

"Finally, some common sense."

"Throw me under the bus while you're at it."

"What a wonderful surprise."

"Poor judgement is what it is."

"I was just defending myself."

"Fine, but this will be the last time."

"Oh, that's too bad."

"I will take that as a yes."

"Did we meet before?"

"Sell me your story."

"What's the point in all of this?"

"I couldn't see what actually happened."

"Can you lend me some money?"

"So start from the beginning."

"Truly, a flawless plan."

"I haven't done this in forever."

"Let's have some fun."

"What an icon."

"Make me believe it."

"It's an investment."

"There will be an extra fee included."

"Let's go back. Nothing to do here anymore."

Drabble List #1|List #3|List#4|List #5|List #6|List #7

Have fun creating and writing!

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[writtenbykiki]

Fenwren part 1

FenWren part 1

Fenwren was impressed with the tarp she had picked up from the caravan. The old man selling it was vague as to where he has come by it, which Fen used as a bargaining tool. He was, however, certain it was a "mushroom tarp". Fen had no idea what that meant. She selected it because it was the color of damp dirt that collects in the tree roots.

Now huddled under this "mushroom" tarp at the base of an ancient oak she still wasn't sure what it was, but she was sure it worked. The ground under her was dry and not a single drop had snuck into the lean-to she had constructed. She had set this up weeks ago, on one of her trips back into the city. Fen had hidey holes all over the countryside. Most were like this, tarp or pine boughs laid in a lean to or simple covering. All well back from the roads and animal paths. All well hidden from all but the most dedicated tracker. They were stocked with little but hard tack and potable water or something harder. And lately they were more home than home.

 Being on the run was complicated this time around. She had to make frequent trips into Millfeld. Usually she stayed away for a month or seven and would return to hurt feelings, but little more. This time she needed people to see her in Millfeld. She needed them to know she was not hiding and not looking for a fence. (Though as a fence why would she look for one?) What Fen could not do is let people find her in her regular haunts. When word got out that the Duke had had several personal letters stolen, talk immediately turned to who would have the nerve to steal from someone like the Duke. Fen had nothing but nerve. She certainly didn’t have the Duke’s letters. However, Fen knew that if the Duke was upset about letters written TO him being stolen, the information in the letters HE wrote must be interesting. It took two weeks of diligent work to determine who the Duke might be writing to. She took a leap of faith though. It paid off. The letters she found were indeed written by the Duke to a commoner (a haberdasher by trade) and were not just salacious but also contained more state secrets than Fen would have expected. Worried that this could be a trap, she simply waited. Letters in hand, of course. FenWren had been in hiding (such as it is) for about two weeks now. The original letters were stolen nearly a month ago at this point. Still, she waited. Making sure that certain people saw her running books for Checker’s, or playing shells down by the market. Activities the guards may notice and want to talk to her about. Not hiding. Into town for a day. Out for three. Into town for an afternoon. Out for a day. And so on.  Every day she was in Millfeld she would spend time at the MillYard Square, where the royals and politicians and wealthy went to be seen and heard. She had gathered that the Duke had taken to his bed. The stress of court and all.

[writtenbykiki]

Library of the Dead

By T. L. Huchu What a beautiful and melancholy read. I mean sure... when your main character is a ghost whisperer, melancholy is sure to follow. This was different. This is the melancholy we get just living. The sadness of struggle. It was a good read and I will read the next in the series soon.

[writtenbykiki]

“Hello, kitten-“ “Ummmm… human sir? That is an eldritch being. Not pet. Do not touch.” “Look, it’s fine. If it looks like a cat, it is a cat.” eldritch purring sounds

[writtenbykiki]

Does he know part disordered

The flight back was uneventful, which only fueled the anxiety growing in Ruth's chest. That letter, that warning... who and where did it come from? Even if it was Jemma, why would Jemma turn on her? What on earth had she done to inspire that .

[writtenbykiki]

Does he Know part 3

Ruth's hands were shaking as she read the letter. Her stomach was sour and she could feel the walls closing in. Did he know? DID HE KNOW?! What was more concerning for her was that someone else knew. She was not so worried that Scott knew. He was easily swayed and persuaded. If he knew before now, that just meant he had sorted it out on his own and had chosen the wisest course of nonaction. If someone were to tell him now, however. That would prove a problem. If he found out now, she could lose everything she had worked on for these last 10 years. All the set up and all the planning... gone. Not that the planning had been going to plan. She wasn't nearly as good at this as her father. He was a master at the game of the grift. True, his work was mostly within the cult he was helping build. Hers should have been too. Unfortunately love had gotten in the way. unfortunately it wasn't scott she loved. This was turning into a trap. the trap of a perfectly ordinary life with a man she didn't love.

[writtenbykiki]

Does he know part 1

Ruth arrived to work late. Most mornings she was there on the early bus and would have had time to sort the mail that came in the afternoon before. But this morning she arrived with barely enough time to get her reception station up and running before the first calls came in. The rather larger pile of mail sat on the corner of the reception counter through a very busy morning. It sat through lunch. The mail for this day arrived at it's usual time and was placed carefully on top of the pile. She sighed and knew that both days worth would have to wait until the next day before she could address them. But she also knew that if her boss saw two huge piles of mail sitting out on the counter where anyone could see it or go through it, she would would be in some sort of trouble with Elise the office manager. So as she was straightening her desk at the end of the day she simply stuck the stack in a drawer in her desk. Ruth didn't think about that stack of mail again for months. For so long in fact that when she left the job, the stack was still unopened in that drawer. As she cleaned out her desk she simply swept all that mail into her bag. Two months after she left the company she received a phone call from an old co-worker. Asking about an old client and their payments. Asking why they might not have been paying their bills. Ruth reminded them that she no longer worked there. Any troubles they may be having are not her problem. This became a pattern. A stack of mail she didn't want to deal with. A new job every few months. New bosses and sad clients. The rat race was for the rats. Good thing Ruth had the soul of a rat. People started to take notice of the rapid job changes, and the missing payments, and the missing mail. And they started to notice that Ruth made sure her friends weren't all friends. Not that it is unusual to have seperate friend groups. Ruth just made sure that there was zero overlap. Going so far as to change names. That was what caught the eye of Ellie. Ellie had a memory for names and places. She could file away things and retrieve them with astounding speed. When Ruth referred to an old classmate as Myra and then again, when telling the same story, as Maria, Ellie took notice.

It was a good thing she did. Ellie soon discovered that beneath the artsy creative exterior was a grifter. What confused Ellie was that the grift was friendship. It was odd, frustrating, but never truly terrible. That is until Ruth made a mistake. She left letters sitting on her desk in the art studio she was sharing with others. A large stack. Ruth had asked Ellie to pick them up for her. Ellie noticed several business looking envelopes and a fair few that looked like payments. Just another thing to file away, in case.