Reblog If:

Reblog if:

- You support recovery.

- You support those in recovery.

- You support seeking help.

- You want  people to seek help.

- You think everyone is beautiful, regardless of their weight.

- Even if you yourself, aren’t seeking help or are in recovery, want others too.

Missing you comes in waves and tonight I am drowning.

Unknown

When you are considering fashion or beauty standards in the world that you're writing, remember that beauty and fashion standards are totally context-dependent, change quickly, and are often fairly arbitrary.

I think about eyebrows. We went in the U.S. from wanting pencil thin eyebrows to wanting thick eyebrows in my lifetime--which means that I went from my eyebrows being "manly" to them not being without actually doing anything.

If thin is beautiful in the world you're writing--why? If lighter skin is beautiful in the world you're writing--why? If straight hair is beautiful in the world you're writing--why? If showing more or less skin is beautiful in the world you're writing--why?

So consider the rest of the world that you're writing in. If certain fabrics are rare, those might be seen as more fashionable simply becuase there is a scarcity of them. If it's a world where being a farmer or outdoor laborer is seen as patriotic or virtuous, maybe being tanned, callused, or muscular is seen as beautiful for everyone.

But also a lot of our beauty standards have racist origins. Colorism in a lot of countries is a direct result of European imperialism. In some Western countries there is a preference for small noses and a dislike of larger noses that are often associated with, among other groups, the Jewish community. Enemy groups are often viewed as less desirable, and so people with associated features are often viewed as less beautiful.

At the same time, you have views on things like eyebrows and blush placement and bangs and peplums and high-waisted pants and jewelry and piercings and tattoos that are frequently changing based on a whole host of cultural reasons.

There are a lot of ways that you can go with fashion and beauty in your worldbuilding, but sticking with the beauty standards of the world you're writing in often ends up feeling out of place in the story.

4 Great Motives for Writing by George Orwell

George Orwell:

From a very early age, perhaps the age of five or six, I knew that when I grew up I should be a writer. Between the ages of about seventeen and twenty-four I tried to abandon this idea, but I did so with the consciousness that I was outraging my true nature and that sooner or later I should have to settle down and write books. Putting aside the need to earn a living, I think there are four great motives for writing, at any rate for writing prose. They exist in different degrees in every writer, and in any one writer the proportions will vary from time to time, according to the atmosphere in which he is living. They are:

(i) Sheer egoism. Desire to seem clever, to be talked about, to be remembered after death, to get your own back on grown-ups who snubbed you in childhood, etc., etc. It is humbug to pretend this is not a motive, and a strong one. Writers share this characteristic with scientists, artists, politicians, lawyers, soldiers, successful business men – in short, with the whole top crust of humanity. The great mass of human beings are not acutely selfish. After the age of about thirty they abandon individual ambition – in many cases, indeed, they almost abandon the sense of being individuals at all – and live chiefly for others, or are simply smothered under drudgery. But there is also the minority of gifted, willful people who are determined to live their own lives to the end, and writers belong in this class. Serious writers, I should say, are on the whole more vain and self-centered than journalists, though less interested in money.

(ii) Aesthetic enthusiasm. Perception of beauty in the external world, or, on the other hand, in words and their right arrangement. Pleasure in the impact of one sound on another, in the firmness of good prose or the rhythm of a good story. Desire to share an experience which one feels is valuable and ought not to be missed. The aesthetic motive is very feeble in a lot of writers, but even a pamphleteer or writer of textbooks will have pet words and phrases which appeal to him for non-utilitarian reasons; or he may feel strongly about typography, width of margins, etc. Above the level of a railway guide, no book is quite free from aesthetic considerations.

(iii) Historical impulse. Desire to see things as they are, to find out true facts and store them up for the use of posterity.

(iv) Political purpose – using the word ‘political’ in the widest possible sense. Desire to push the world in a certain direction, to alter other people’s idea of the kind of society that they should strive after. Once again, no book is genuinely free from political bias. The opinion that art should have nothing to do with politics is itself a political attitude.

It can be seen how these various impulses must war against one another, and how they must fluctuate from person to person and from time to time. By nature – taking your ‘nature’ to be the state you have attained when you are first adult – I am a person in whom the first three motives would outweigh the fourth. In a peaceful age I might have written ornate or merely descriptive books, and might have remained almost unaware of my political loyalties.

Looking back through the last page or two, I see that I have made it appear as though my motives in writing were wholly public-spirited. I don’t want to leave that as the final impression. All writers are vain, selfish, and lazy, and at the very bottom of their motives there lies a mystery. Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist or understand. For all one knows that demon is simply the same instinct that makes a baby squall for attention. And yet it is also true that one can write nothing readable unless one constantly struggles to efface one’s own personality. Good prose is like a windowpane. I cannot say with certainty which of my motives are the strongest, but I know which of them deserve to be followed. And looking back through my work, I see that it is invariably where I lacked a political purpose that I wrote lifeless books and was betrayed into purple passages, sentences without meaning, decorative adjectives and humbug generally.

Published in Gangrel, No. 4, Summer 1946

More: George Orwell