This is a pointless post, but feel free to despair along (or tell me about your writing projects)

Heyo!

I feel like I haven’t heard from anyone on wordpress in pretty long. Are you guys still here? I hope you’re doing well.

Me? I’ve been frustrated, haunted by an unrelenting writing/ reading slump. The rest of my life has been chaotic and overwhelming, but in times of quiet I still feel desperately stagnant. I’m too busy to pick up a new hobby, and the very little free-time I have has been going into keeping my sanity intact. It’s a period that will pass along, so until then, I’ll keep my head up.

I’ve talked about this quite a few times here, but I miss having something major to work on, a big project or a long story, that, although challenging, does not confront me with the unbearable stress of my creative bankruptcy.

But what about you, reader? Is there a craft in your life that makes it a little easier to wake up in the morning?

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Two thousand friends and another update you don’t really need

Hello!

So my blog’s hit two thousand followers recently. Thank you so much! I have been doing none of you justice, but I genuinely appreciate your time and kindness. There’s really nothing as gratifying as knowing that someone’s enjoyed what you’ve created, so I’d still be happy if just one person cared to read this blog, but I guess I’m two-thousand times as grateful now.

Currently, I’m as writing-blocked as I always have been. My last post, Soft callings , was actually written as part of a twitter activity. I asked my followers to send me emojis and used them to write tiny stories. This was my favorite.

(I have around 10 more requests but I’m so creatively bankrupt to the point where I feel like a joke saying that I write for a hobby)

Have a great rest of the day, friendos 💓

Hearts in tribulations

I’ve been anxious for about as long as I remember.

I really have; and whether I owe it to my blood or to a wrecked gut-brain connection I don’t know.

At seven I was anxious about a war suddenly breaking, and at twelve about death, my own and others’. At twenty-three, I doubted that I’d ever be loved; I felt lacking and wasting away, always giving too little for the life flashing by. I felt unworthy and undeserving, and guilty about the blunt pain that had always been nagging.

These worries have been life-long companions, and they’ve aged me far beyond my years. They took away beauty when it presented itself, or my ability to see it, at least, and the joy of youth along with it. When you’re anxious, you’re just waiting for all your happiness to end.

“Weak,” people have called me, or “crybaby.” But as much as I’ve grown to hate being a crier, I know it’s a problem far beyond weakness. It’s the result of a heart worn out by worry for months and months, then shoved into a point of breaking.

In my 24 years, these fears were never realized. Hadn’t been, until last month.

It came as numbing bad news; it wasnt unexpected. I’m anxious, I’d dreaded it, but then it actually happened. I heard my pulse in my ears, and the muffled sobs of my aunt across the line. It had happened.

I’ve had my sorrows, as unworthy as I’ve felt of them, being blessed with more than I can thank for. But this one is a sharper pain, like shards of glass tearing at my insides. I cried more that I ever had, my tears streaming against my wavering will. I let them; it’d left no strength in me to fight.

It’s been a month now, and I think I’ve been learning to mend; to grow around it, to grow against it. They’d called me weak, but I’ve become the pillar, and the steadfastness of the big sister finally emerged. I’ve become one to be told the truth raw, as seemingly harsh as it could be, no longer sugar-coated, because maybe, I’m a little stronger than I’d expected.

In all honesty, I think could be a little proud of that. So bear it, heart; don’t fail me now. Don’t fail us now.

This is sorrow like I’ve never felt, but I have faith somehow, that happiness will follow, something so profound that it’ll piece it all back together. The trial has begun, so bear it, brittle heart of mine, bear it and brave the journey.

إن شاء الله.

The life and writing update you don’t really need

Hello!

So my family’s gone abroad for a vacation, and I decided to stay home. In a community where you’re expected to live with your parents until you’re married, that quiet is more daunting than I thought it would be. Home’s generally quiet anyway, and although I’m not explicitly lonely, it feels like this kind of change gives way to some unnecessary thoughts to barge in.

Work has been overwhelming, and I cannot believe that when I’m finally (legally) able to take a couple of weeks off, I can’t find the right time to do it until the end of APRIL. Yes, I am on the verge of tears.

(Emphasis on verge, since today’s payday)

But writing has been going well, although I don’t know how my pace slowed down this much compared to when I was writing my first little novella (undisclosed, that was cringy as heck ughh). I really need to think up a new title for Constellations if I want to extend it.

I wrote a character introduction piece for my sea witch who isn’t actually a sea witch, she’s just that well informed. There’s something about writing people of color that can serve as my main motivation to write.

(Yes, I am a person of color too, but the people I write are often from other races. There’s so much to learn when you research that, even if you’re not sticking to our real life cultures when you’re writing up your own world)

I think I’m gonna post that under character intro and a flower prompt series I’ve been thinking of doing, one that includes the meanings of flowers or what they signify.

Heck yeah, science people don’t play.

Thoughts on Constellations a thousand friends

To the thousand followers of this blog, and to everyone who took the time to comment or like, thank you! I hope my pieces, short and chopped as they are, continue to provide some value or inspiration to you.

Now, I’ve never been a fantasy gal (nervously looks back to obscene amounts of true crime content). I guess starting one shocked me into writing Constellations after a writing block that lasted too long. If you haven’t read it yet, give it a shot and let me know what you think about the Woodwose, about the story, and/or about Constance. I’ve considered expanding into an online novella if people showed interest in it, but still a bit reluctant.

I found myself exploring the Woodwose and his past, and Constance with her adventure and the world they live in, and the creatures in it. Hey, this might actually grow into a series of novellas, not just one, if I magically gain the commitment that beats how worn out I get by writing up 1500 words (and a beta-reader, I must magically gain a beta-reader). And yes, “Constellations” is only a placeholder title that I decided on before self-doubt managed to seep in and toss the story in the trash.

I’ve also been trying to find good online short stories, things to draw inspiration from (and to force myself to read outside my typical genres). If you’ve written one, feel free to post a link to the full story, a chapter, or an excerpt. Anything is fine as long as it isn’t NSFW.

Thank you all for the thoughts and encouragement again. I’ll be looking forward to receiving your feedback!

Downs and downs

I’ve been in a complete writing slump.

With both my magazine column and my story, I’ve only been drawing blanks.

The words won’t flow, and I’m starting to think that I could be the least creative person on this planet. And to make matters worse, I’ve been unable to even look at my own writing, trashing ideas, notes, and my self-confidence every time I open a draft.

As for my column, I decided to go with a more scientific topic, which will give me less space to be cringy. Did you know that 2021-2030 has been named the Ocean Science decade by the UN? The little nerd inside me is ecstatic.

But my story, well. I hate it. Not the concept of it (it’s a piece of sea fiction with a strong female lead. Wait, I just noticed the ocean theme overlap), but where I’m going with my plot (spoiler: nowhere)

And yes, the setting is difficult to write and needs an awful lot of research (and the consumption of even more nautical fiction, yay!) but friends, what even is storytelling? The number of dead-ends and their discouragement companions that I’ve met over the past several months is sad.

I tried storytelling guides and plot-building tools, but I’m still struggling. And sometimes, it’s better to receive a direct point of view. I know that writers face this, and the more experienced ones have overcome plenty of times.

So, let me know how you break your way out of a writing block that feels like it isn’t planning on leaving anytime soon. Please?

Illumine

There’s something incredibly happy about being someone to you.

It is not a priority to be a priority for someone to remain in their life. I’ve always believed so. You will definitely mean more to some than to others, but to be content is to know your worth.

I think that that, I’ve finally achieved.

What had snapped me back to reality was the realization that I don’t mean to someone I hold so dear as much as they mean to me. And it really isn’t as bad as I thought.

I had spent long avoiding the fact, too proud to admit even to myself that I wanted to matter. But it suddenly became all right. I would like to matter, yes, but I only have to matter to the person I’m sure to stick by for my entire life: my own self.

The confrontation eased the loneliness. Took it away, even. I am, very contentedly, no longer willing to put effort into gauging my intangible worth to others. It is not an equation to be balanced, after all.

A change of heart is still certainly sad. But it is a part of growth, a part of life.