I used to go on writing sprees. 10k, 20k, whatever I could get out. And I’d walk away that day feeling proud and invigorated, and ready to take the world by storm the next day when surely I’d have the same results!
Ha! Hardly. The next day usually began with a sense of exhaustion followed by harrowing depression followed by spiraling mayhem and a prediction of a writerless doom. And I began to resent words. And writing. And what made it special to me in the first place.
Actually. Scratch that. I do resent it. Present tense. Writing wasn’t (isn’t) fun anymore.
Until I decided that I was going to do the bare minimum.
Which means every day (except for weekends, which I have off) I have to write at least two pages.
That’s it.
What does that mean?
It means every day, preferably after a walk with my dog, I have to sit down with my tea and write two pages. It could take ten minutes. It could take an hour. But two pages must come out of my system. Not 10k, 20k, 30k words.
Two pages.
But what happens if you’re on a roll and you want to keep going?
Too fucking bad! Two pages. That’s it.
BUT WHY! IF YOU’RE ON A ROLL-
Reader, have you ever seen a guilty writer? The sort that go to Tumblr or their friends and says I haven’t written in so long because it’s so hard and i’m not good enough and I wrote 20k that one time but this time nothing will come out which means I’m losing my tallent, my drive, my future and and and and and-
(aka me.)
Turns out, that can’t happen if my limit is two pages. Two. Pages. I can’t look back and say that “one time I wrote 20k and this time I only wrote 1k so I must be a failure”. There’s no failing for two pages.
Granted, the first day I did it was one of failture. I told myself it was nothing. Two pages wasn’t enough. Two pages wasn’t hardly anything. Two pages was trash. And then the next day, when I wrote two pages, the feeling dulled. And a tiny little voice in my head peeked around the corner and said huh! you haven’t written two days in a row in a long time!Wow! Good for you!The bare minimum allows me to sit back and say “I’m really happy with myself because I wrote two pages!”
And that’s what I’ve been doing for the last few days.
They’ve all been different little stories. Little snapshots of my life, day to day. Each of them is two pages. But two pages is manageable. Two pages is plausible. Lately, I cooked up a short story that’s bound to be ten pages. It’ll take me five days to write. Why?
Two pages. Period.
And instead of staring down a huge number, I’m able to limit myself, stop where I am, tell myself I succeeded, before going on to live my life.
I want to work on not being a guilty writer, one step at a time. And yes, one day I probably will extend that limit. Maybe when I want to write a longer book, and I’m ready to move forward, I’ll extend whatever I have. Because I’ll be ready, then, to move past limits. But for now? Two pages is just fine.
I think I’d convinced myself for a long time that the bare minimum wasn’t enough. I have to do everything now! I’d chastise, in the midst of yet another apocryphal self-flagellation. I have to get it done or else I’ll be nothing but a failure! That might be the Speedy J-Walking New Yorker in me. Or it might be a human trait that we’re all too hesitant to talk about. Who knows.
I’ve started to get on my own soapbox about it all, though. Shouting through a paper cone that the bare minimum isn’t failing. Doing nothing is failing. But doing the bare minimum? That’s something. Which, I guess, doesn’t make it bare or minimum at all.
So yeah. Guilty writers, artists, students; bare minimum. That’s all you should ask of yourselves. Whether that’s a paragraph, a page, a sentence, a word. Put it down. Keep it there. Walk away. You have lives to live and sitting inside, vomiting your guilt onto a keyboard is certainly no way to continue it.
“This is your daily, friendly reminder to use commas instead of periods during the dialogue of your story,” she said with a smile.
“Unless you are following the dialogue with an action and not a dialogue tag.” He took a deep breath and sat back down after making the clarifying statement.
“However,” she added, shifting in her seat, “it’s appropriate to use a comma if there’s action in the middle of a sentence.”
“True.” She glanced at the others. “You can also end with a period if you include an action between two separate statements.”
Things I didn’t know
“And–” she waved a pen as though to underline her statement–“if you’re interrupting a sentence with an action, you need to type two hyphens to make an en-dash.”
“But – “ she paused – “Remember to put a space on both sides of your dash.”
Ginny being the one who gently succeeds in convincing Harry to leave Dumbledore’s body just by the touch of her hand. (6th book)
Harry being the one who, just by a shook of his head, convince Ginny to stop arguing with her family in order to stay safe. (Not that she was happy about it). (7th book).
I think these 2 moments help me to visualize their relationship as a married couple, years later. Support, respect and understanding from both sides, no words needed. Just a touch or a glance was enough.
I put on my sunglasses, to hide my swollen eyes, over my tears. I cried all my makeup off. Went inside to have a milkshake. I don’t know why. I wanted something to drink as I figured out what I would do. I got a soda and a milkshake. Medium. The cashier looked at me and with a line around the corner of the counter he rushed away from the counter “Hold on “ he yelled to a coworker.
I filled my soda and went back and saw him looking all over. I go up and he gets close and says “I made it a large”.
That was seriously enough for me not to do it. His kindness. Someone went out of their way and as I went back in my car to cry I realized I could muster through a few other days. A few more weeks. Then I came down from that panicky high of anxiety, depression, and pain. I finished my shake. And it was enough time to let me feel better. I… I’m alive. I’ll make it through.
Try and be nice today. Tomorrow. Something as much as a smile. It helped so much.
Thank you man at McDonalds.
The milkshake saved my life
I hope you all can read this and remember to be kind
The smallest of gestures can save a life. My Mum answered her phone when I called and I am alive today because of that.
I’m glad you’re here.
It’s a phone call, a milkshake, a friend.
I feel like I shouldn’t keep reblogging this but when I do more people see what kindness can do…. I don’t know. Love everyone as yourself.
“i don’t
think this pen helps with my creativity, I gotta buy another one”
This is the
third notebook I bought this month I need to s t o p. I don’t even write in
them anymore
That
overwhelming feeling when you found the perfect song for your work
One-word
horror story: titles
Sequel to
one-word horror story: summaries
“I know
exactly how to start and finish this…I just…need to figure out how to bridge
them…”
Me while reading an older work: what the fuck are
you talking about 🙂
Me while reading a recent work: what the fuck are
you talking about 🙂
Physically
stops myself from using fucking as an adverb…again
Hello,
constant self-doubt, my old friend
That one
song you listen to on loop when writing a scene that by the end of writing it you’re
already sick of the song and ready to fight anyone if you have to listen to it
again
Me while writing a character intelligent in
something im not: what the fuck should I talk about 🙂
Writing for
a fandom and seeing people make passive-aggressive posts about fanfictions as
if fanfic authors are fandom slaves
why are
tenses so fucking difficult
That
feeling when making a playlist for your wips
Writer’s
block is so fun huh
Daydreaming
about your wips
“is ‘fuck’
a curse word during the 1700’s”
Thinking of
the dialogues/banter and not noticing that you’re saying it out loud until you
see someone giving you a weird look
“im
self-projecting too much aren’t I :)”
Looking for
writing tips and following none of them because ‘you have your own style’
Someone
seeing your google history and wondering if you’re a murderer because why the hell do you have ‘how to hide dead
bodies’ in there
Not knowing
how to feel when people are liking more the thing you half-assed than those
stories you shed tears writing
This is a
ridiculous idea but would make an interesting story
Me while writing: im never gonna be
good enough I cant im horrible I should give up – | me when I finished something: I am god no one can stop me now I
will take over the world | repeats cycle
Spends three hours researching about lamps
That one
person you want to impress. You know, them.
Writing dialogues: okay, good, so
poetic, much majestic | writing
descriptions: the sky is blue and the water is blue too because of it
“wait,
fuck, I already used this scene in my other story”
Me while writing using my third language: im using this
word correctly right
Me while writing using my first language: im using this
word correctly right
I thank god
for the creation of thesaurus
That
conflicting feeling when you read someone’s work and it’s really good, so so
amazing that you’re both inspired and envious and you feel bad for feeling
envious
I have 167
ideas and im writing none of them
Don’t
listen to that voice in your head that’s telling you you should take a quick
break when you’re on a writing roll. Just don’t. It won’t be a quick break.
When you
have the time to write but you choose to do other things that there’s really no
need to do
Like me
writing this post
And you
browsing tumblr
Open a document
now
Write
Your wip is
waiting for you
And it’s
gonna be amazing and all so worth it
So don’t be
too hard on yourself.
Someone out
there fell in love with your style. Someone out there will fall in love with
your style.
with all this cursed child bullshit i wanted to make a list of things to remind people who cedric diggory really was bc cc is bullshit and it is NOT how he should be remembered
cedric diggory tried to call a rematch for a game he won bc harry fell off his broom bc of dementors and he didn’t think that was fair
cedric diggory was the first one to congratulate harry on geting the firebolt
cedric diggory defended harry when his dad bragged about ced winning said game
cedric diggory had a unicorn hair wand core which is know for literally being the least likely to turn to the dark arts
cedric diggory’s wand was made from ash
“The ideal owner (of an ash wand) may be stubborn, and will certainly be courageous, but never crass or arrogant.” (x)
The ash tree symbolises sacrifice, sensitivity, and higher awareness. Likewise, the wand wood should reflect Cedric’s sacrifice of his life, and his sensitivity to Harry’s welfare by helping Harry figure out the clue to the Second Task. (x)
The ash tree’s characteristics resemble the ones of Cedric: open-minded, tolerant, social. (x)
cedric diggory told the hufflepuffs to stop bulling harry
One side of
Cedric’s face was covered in a thick orange paste, which was presumably
mending his burn. He grinned at Harry when he saw him.
“Good one, Harry.”
“And you,” said Harry, grinning back.
cedric diggory told harry about the egg because it was what was fair
cedric diggory smiled at harry before the first task
cedric diggory warned harry that krum and fleur were catching up during the second task
cedric diggory told harry to ignore amos when he was pissed that harry was getting all the triwizard glory
cedric diggory was crucio-ed by krum during the third task but still sent up red sparks so that krum wouldn’t be attacked by anything in the maze while stupefy-ed
cedric diggory told harry to take the cup
cedric diggory argued with harry james potter for 41 lines about how harry should take the cup
cedric diggory helped a limping harry walk to the triwizard cup by holding him up so they could share fucking eternal glory together
cedric digorry died with his wand out ready to fight along side harry
cedric diggory’s last wish was for harry to take his body back to his family
“I liked Diggory,” said Krum abruptly to Harry. “He vos alvays
polite to me. Alvays. Even though I vos from Durmstrang.’
fandom as a whole is migrating away from a mutual appreciation of a story and towards an endless cycle of nitpicking and discourse and frankly that’s just Exhausting
Its just an endless stream of “you’re doing it wrong”. You’re reading this wrong, you’re appreciating this character wrong, you’re appreciating this character too much, you’re not appreciating this character enough, its not enough that I don’t like this pairing but it’s wrong to like it, you’re enjoying this wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.
Stop talking and start doing: My Fallout Shelter for my Tumblr blog 