This Is Advice I've Given Friends Directly Before And I've Probably Also Posted It But I Really Like

this is advice I've given friends directly before and I've probably also posted it but I really like giving it so here it is potentially again: do not create something for an imaginary bad faith reader.

there will always be someone who finds fault in your work. there will be people who read the messages on it wrong. there will be people who will take every compelling aspect about your work off of it so they can put in their own.

you cannot make art for these people.

you will never write a story that is free from criticism. you will never draw a piece that everyone finds appealing. you will never compose a song that everyone enjoys hearing. you cannot, fundamentally, set out to create something and only think of how you can avoid someone not liking it.

because, and this is key, there will be someone who sees every angle of your story and feels its intent in their heart and gushes to their friends about it. you will draw someone's favorite art and they will make it their phone wallpaper because they want to see it every day. someone will fall in love with your song and loop it on their way to work because it gets them through the day. and THOSE are the people your work is for. THOSE are the people you have to care about, because they love what you make for what it is - because it's itself.

if you set out to create something and file off every sharp edge, prune every thorn, you will be left with something fragile and weak, and it will be fragile and weak for the sake of someone who does not exist but that you were scared of anyway.

sharing art is complex and tangled and powerful, and anything you care enough to create deserves to flourish as itself. get sillay.

farewell nano!

whoops i missed week 3! it was a little sporadic but had some good days in there. i worked through the last of the prewritten scenes from bitter & sweet and wrote a bit of poetry as a last shout of the day to keep up my streek

week 4 started slow (depressive episode caught me) but picked up towards the end. i fell in love with a new baby from the one series of writings that got very little attention (not my magical destiny my beloved) and wrote almost 3,000 words for them, smashing through a good chunk of my goal right as nano ended

i am so happy with my nano experience. it was so great to write consistently (with only a little fudging of the numbers. spending a week with family almost kind of missed three days but shhh) and I'm very proud of myself for pushing through. i didn't hit the goal (not even close, really) but i beat my expectations! hopefully I'll be able to keep it up and have a solid narrative plan for the next one. here's to keeping this up through december!

Total words written: 15,797/50,000

Average daily word count: 509

Snippet: Aforementioned new blorbo (Sofia) at Kodi's apartment narratively before nmmd

Eventually, we moved to my sofa. It was blue and well-loved. I had picked it up off the side of the road when I moved into my apartment. Taking its fraying cushion covers as a sign, I stripped and replaced the fabric with my own taste. It served the dual purpose of fitting my living and dining room better and removing the stink imparted from one too many nights on the street. I sat against the arm and Sofia was cross-legged in the middle, a throw pillow in his lap. It was pitch black by the time either of us thought to check the clock. “Care to stay for dinner?” I offered, seeing that it was now past 8 o’clock. “I have leftover beans from last night and a few too many packets of tortillas.”

i hope you write (i hope we both write)

Not My Magical Destiny part 5

Intro <<previous (part 4) 

the end :)

A college student dressed in all black walked through the door. His hair brushed his ears, half black and half terrible auburn. Chains and blunt spikes lined the seams of his dress pants. A strained smile pulled at his face, dimple creasing by his temple. I stood from where I was restocking the desserts: roses, poodles, and other puff pastries.

“Welcome to Purebread Pastries, what can I get for you?” I greeted brightly.

I had never seen anyone’s face drop faster. Tears welled in his eyes, which I noticed were already red-rimmed. Empathy flared in my chest, unbidden but welcome. 

“Oh, hey. How about a cupcake, on the house?” I suggested, desperate to cheer this person up. “For here or to go?”

He sniffled and nodded, jerking his thumb towards the door before pointing to a blueberry tart sprinkled with edible gold glitter. It was one of my favorites to make and eat. I added it to the box with the pastel cupcake.

Walking over to the cash register, I asked, “Anything else?”

He started to shake his head but stopped with a look in his eye I couldn’t place. He spoke for the first time since setting foot in the bakery. “Would it-” His words rasped to a halt. He cleared his throat, wiped his eyes, and tried again. “Would it be weird to ask for a hug?”

I set the box to the side and stepped around the counter. “Not at all,” I said, stretching my arms out. I twitched my fingers forward. 

The force he slammed into me sent me stumbling back. My ribs felt like they were cracking from his warm embrace. Given he didn’t seem to want to let go, I leaned into the hug. He smelled like biblichor, reminding me of an old library with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Before I closed my eyes, my gaze caught on the wallpaper singed from the kitchen fire not too long ago. 

He stepped back, hands lingering on my shoulders for a moment. I let him be the one to continue the retreat.

Finally on the other side of the counter again, he murmured, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” I said brightly. “Here’s the receipt. Have a good one!”

As he stepped away from the counter, he seemed reluctant to leave. He took his desserts to a green-clad woman who seemed to be his companion. The pair seemed to be in their own little world, oblivious to how loud they were in the near-silent bakery. I had nothing better to do, nothing better to think about, so I listened in.

“They don’t remember me, Envy,” he whispered, choked up.

The woman, Envy, placed a hand over his. She said, “It’s for the best. I wouldn’t have wanted the favor I called in to go to waste.”

“There’s nothing I can do, is there?”

Envy shook her head. “You shouldn’t try. Chastity’s magic is not something to be messed with, especially with something as potent as a memory wipe. They were already unstable as it was.”

What a strange conversation. I hoped that the desserts they bought would help. At least the generous tip would go towards my college funds and possibly also the reinvigoration of my ultimate frisbee endeavors.

“I don’t know what I’ll do without them. I’ve never… never done anything…” Some quiet emotion broke off whatever the boy was trying to say.

Stiffly, the woman slung an arm across his shoulders. He curled into her embrace, desperate. 

The conversation trailed off, and the boy seemed more lost than ever. If I was to describe heartbreak to someone, I would show his face. He opened the door, letting his companion out first. He paused in the doorway, looking back at me.

“Goodbye, stranger,” I called. “I hope you feel better soon.”

He never introduced himself to me, not when he walked in, not after hugging me.

“Goodbye, Kodi.”

He closed the door behind himself, resting it shut, lingering on the steps. His shoulders rose and fell unsteadily. Every step he took away from the bakery seemed more unsure than the last, but he continued on.

Under my breath, I whispered to the retreating figure, “Goodbye, Gabriel.”

<<previous (part 4) 

In honor of asexual awareness week I have made more jars!! All ace identities are valid and deserve to be seen. I love my ace fam 🖤🤍💜

Asexual

Aroace | Gray Ace | Fraysexual

Lithosexual | Reciprosexual | Cupiosexual

Orchidsexual | Aceflux | Quoisexual

Some of the colors aren’t the best, but I did what I could. If anyone has any requests for other ace spec flags in jars for this week, shoot me an ask! My only limits are complexity - I’m truly sorry to my demi siblings. Triangles are too hard.

Could you reblog this if you enjoy seeing your writer friends ramble about their wips on your dash?