The Fun Can Be In Your Draft Where You Write Without Restrictions. Its Where You Surprise Yourself And

The fun can be in your draft where you write without restrictions. It’s where you surprise yourself and get excited as you create something from nothing.

The fun can be in the rewrite where you find new words to tell the same story. It’s where you make scary into frightening, sad into heartbreaking, amusing into hilarious. It’s where dull words begin to sing.

The fun can be in the editing where you can see what can become of your baby. It’s where words of encouragement can enlighten you in unexpected ways. It’s where suggestions and criticism help you learn. It’s where a fire can be lit within you.

There is no fun in your attempt to be perfect. It’s where nothing is gained but an unfinished piece. Do not take the fun away from writing by biting off more than you can chew when the fun is why we started writing.

After a lifetime of being a writer, of sitting down to the blank page and making up words, I can now say, with definitive clarity, that writing is exhausting.

I think, because it’s an art and a craft, and we have this idea that it’s somehow a calling and “fun” and not “real” work, that it isn’t demanding or exhausting or draining.

I’ve been writing for 30 years, and while sometimes I’m on a roll and it all just flows naturally, the usual process is a struggle. And I can struggle in a million different ways on the same day. Even a day that flows can be filled with struggle before and/or after I hit that flow. 

Writing is real work. It is exhausting. It is draining. It is also rewarding. But that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t take a toll on you.

I’ve written nearly 20k words in a week, and I FEEL it. It has taken a huge amount of energy and focus, and was prepared for it.

You are not a machine. The words don’t come out of nowhere. Brain work is real work. It takes energy and focus and sometimes you have to fight yourself the whole way to get the words out. We might not be lifting I-beams and building houses, but we’re working. 

Please remember to take care of your body and your energy and your self. Take breaks. Give yourself credit for how far you’ve come, even if you don’t think it’s far enough. Count the times you are struggling to write as part of the work, not your failure… because this IS part of the process. Staring out the window is part of it. Walking around and getting a drink. Glaring at your work because it’s not going in the direction you want it to. ALL part of writing.

Writing is hard, and it’s not just about putting cool ideas down on the page. 

Cyanide

For my last meal, I requested a shiny green apple and a marble bowl of cherries. They quirked their eyebrows at it. One of the guards cracked a smile I think. "What, no steak? No bucket of fried chicken? Hell, you didn't even ask for a pound of strawberries." "I wouldn't want to go out without this figure." I even flexed for them. "Fucking Christ, you've lost it. Flipping that killswitch can't fry that brain anymore." I shrugged, smiled, and watched them walk away. Minutes later, they brought it and left me to my devices.

I turned the apple in my hands, grinning at myself in the reflection of fruit wax. Even the bowl was right, black veins in white stone. All it took was a moment, one bite and I was gone, crunching away with the largest piece my almost unhinged jaw would let me take. My chin dripped with juice, but I chewed with my mouth closed. I wasn't an animal for God's sake. I chewed in a neat ring around it, carving the best of the meat from this meatless thing. I didn't care about the bits caught between my incisors. I gnawed and punctured the flesh with my canines, vampire sucking the juice out. At last, I dug the seeds from the core, cooing and saving the one with the root spouting. A life to begin where mine was to come to an end. Perhaps they'd plant it for me. I took the others in my fingers and shoved them in my pocket. I imagined taking the leftover pieces, the bit of the top with the stem, the part of the bottom with remnants of flowers, the core, the pile of bones out in my hands, tossing them out to feed the birds. At least, I imagined birds, sparrows, cardinals, even bluejays. A nice crow to come return the favor. I wiped my face on my sleeve, smiling at the sticky residue.

I took my chair and leant in the far corner of the room for the cherries. It wasn't a throne, but the recline would do enough for my mind to forgive the discrepancy. I lifted the marble bowl and carried it to my makeshift throne. I made a scene of them all, dangling each over my open mouth like some cartoon king. I couldn't help the laugh that escaped my empty throat at the halfway point. If only they could see me. But I was on a timer, they said, so they didn't have to sit back and watch my every move. Still, I put on a show, just in case. I continued my routine, dangling, chewing, spitting the stones in the stone bowl. The irony, or was it serendipity? I doubt they'd know.

Soon it wouldn't matter. At the end of it all, I had stones, seeds, and time. So I dumped the pits out and started smashing. Hammering away one after the other. I cringed at the cracks in the cherry seeds but they would do. Crack, shatter, collect. One pile of shattered stones. The marble bowl worked as a hammer, and I almost felt bad for wasting its rich life for my last act. But what else was it doomed for, other than to sit on some granite island contained in white walls and an open floor plan? At least here, things were quiet when all was said and done. I swept the seeds into my palm, sighing at the dust and dirt they'd gathered. Does no one take pride in their work anymore?

I lay down in the center of the concrete floor. One after the other, I dropped a seed from my clenched hand into my open mouth, chewing it into a paste before swallowing. I admit I grew impatient and started dropping pairs of them at once, though never more than two at a time. When the last of the cherry seeds had been ground up by my molars, I chewed the apple seeds for good measure and a little variety. I took the sprouted seed in my fingertips "One day, you'll be a home. I'd like to see it. With your leaves in the wind, a nest in your branches…" I folded the sprouted seed in my hands and rested them on my stomach. Letting my eyes close, I imagined straining my neck, open-mouthed, to a mother with a delectable bug paste she'd chewed for me. I felt her beak in mine, dropping the meal down my throat. What I wouldn't give for a pair of wings. A song to sing on the breath of the morning.

Except I wouldn't have breath for that much longer. Soon they'd come knocking. And my neck would be in a noose. Or a needle in my arm. No…no that wasn't it. Were they gearing up to shoot me full of holes? Maybe they'd slit my throat. No, too messy. I remember that much. No they…they'd press a big red button launch me into space. No, wait. Not a button. A switch. Killswitch. Fry my brain. Fry my brain up like chicken, but no they wouldn't eat it. I wonder what happens after. Whatdotheydo with my body? Duzzit go… do they burn it up? Do they bury it? Ashes, ashes, I'm already down. And out. I hope God doesn't punish me for stealing death from the executioner.

Source for more facts follow NowYouKno

A road has no special qualifiers. It connects point a to point b.

A street connects buildings together, usually in a city, usually east to west, opposite of avenue.

An avenue runs north south. Avenues and streets may be used interchangeably for directions, usually has median

A boulevard is a street with trees down the middle or on both sides

A lane is a narrow street usually lacking a median.

A drive is a private, winding road

A way is a small out of the way road

a court usually ends in a cul de sac or similar little loop

a plaza or square is usually a wide open space, but in modern definitons, one of the above probably fits better for a plaza as a road.

a terrace is a raised flat area around a building. When used for a road it probably better fits one of the above.

uk, a close is similar to a court, a short road serving a few houses, may have cul de sac

run is usually located near a stream or other small body of water

place is similar to a court, or close, usually a short skinny dead end road, with or without cul de sac, sometimes p shaped

bay is a small road where both ends link to the same connecting road

crescent is a windy s like shape, or just a crescent shape, for the record, above definition of bay was also given to me for crescent

a trail is usually in or near a wooded area

mews is an old british way of saying row of stables, more modernly seperate houses surrounding a courtyard

a highway is a major public road, usually connecting multiple cities

a motorway is similar to a highway, with the term more common in New Zealand, the UK, and Austrailia, no stopping, no pedestrian or animal traffic allowed

an interstate is a highway system connecting usually connecting multiple states, although some exist with no connections

a turnpike is part of a highway, and usully has a toll, often located close to a city or commercial are

a freeway is part of a highway with 2 or more lanes on each side, no tolls, sometimes termedexpressway, no intersections or cross streets.

a parkway is a major public road, usually decorated, sometimes part of a highway, has traffic lights.

a causeway combines roads and bridges, usually to cross a body of water

circuit and speedway are used interchangeably, usually refers to a racing course, practically probably something above.

as the name implies, garden is usually a well decorated small road, but probably better fits an above

a view is usually on a raised area of land, a hill or something similar.

byway is a minor road, usually a bit out of the way and not following main roads.

a cove is a narrow road, can be sheltered, usually near a larger body of water or mountains

a row is a street with a continuous line of close together houses on one or both sides, usually serving a specific function like a frat

a beltway is a highway surrounding an urban area

quay is a concrete platform running along water

crossing is where two roads meet

alley a narrow path or road between buildings, sometimes connects streets, not always driveable

point usually dead ends at a hill

pike usually a toll road

esplanade long open, level area, usually a walking path near the ocean

square open area where multiple streets meet, guess how its usually shaped.

landing usually near a dock or port, historically where boats drop goods.

walk historically a walking path or sidewalk, probably became a road later in its history

grove thickly sheltered by trees

copse a small grove

driveway almost always private, short, leading to a single residence or a few related ones

laneway uncommon, usually down a country road, itself a public road leading to multiple private driveways.

trace beaten path

circle usually circles around an area, but sometimes is like a “square”, an open place intersected by multiple roads.

channel usually near a water channel, the water itself connecting two larger bodies of water,

grange historically would have been a farmhouse or collection of houses on a farm, the road probably runs through what used to be a farm

park originally meaning an enclosed space, came to refer to an enclosed area of nature in a city, usually a well decorated road.

mill probably near an old flour mill or other mill.

spur similar to a byway, a smaller road branching off from a major road.

bypass passes around a populated area to divert traffic

roundabout or traffic circle circle around a traffic island with multiple connecting routes, a roundabout is usually smaller, with less room for crossing and passing, and safer

wynd a narrow lane between houses, similar to an alley, more common in UK

drive shortened form of driveway, not a driveway itself, usually in a neighborhood, connects several houses

parade wider than average road historically used as a parade ground.

terrace more common in uk, a row of houses.

chase on land historically used as private hunting grounds.

branch divides a road or area into multiple subdivisions.

How the setting looks in my head:

How the description comes out on the page: