Tag: writing

I’m convinced that the only reason cats can’t fly is because they don’t want to. They’re close enough anyways with their flexibility and zero fall damage and their strange combo of can climb anything, can stick to anything, can fit into anything. If cats really wanted to fly, they’d find a way, and I am both terrified and curious to see how they’d do it.

Helloo if u don’t mind me asking, at what age did u start writing? Anddd were you always this eloquent ?

Hello! That is very difficult for me to answer. I know my first stories must have been from when I was 12-15 which is quite the age range but I honestly do not know anymore. My output varied hugely over the years; sometimes nothing for months, then an unfinished short story. I have never written a whole book – I have a few ideas that feel like a big universe to me, a whole world, and that demand to be paid attention and love to, but they are not nearly ready. I give them and myself that time. I was very self-conscious when I was younger and many stories never touched paper, just staying in my head.

I find it hard to talk about my writing history, strangely, because I used to feel insecure about others going “I started at 3 and wrote my first book by 10″ (slight exaggeration, forgive me).

Then one day I decided well, a badly written story is better than no story, so from that day on, I began writing down every idea no matter how terrible it seemed. That must have been around 18-21. 

But writing is an ageless discipline. You can start at 20, at 30, at 60. It WILL take time to improve. It just does. Talent is nice but it only gives you a headstart, or a map in your hand, or nice shoes, but constant work walks you along the path and navigates your journey. I’m very flattered and blushing by you calling me eloquent… but no, I was not always. My first stories were as cliché as they come. Some still are. Some are only to others. Some days I think any word I touch is garbage and I forgot how to string a sentence. English isn’t my native language and sometimes it’s a purring kitten, sometimes a beast I’m forced to tame. I’m really happy you see my work as eloquent; I did not consciously try to make it so, but if it sounds elegant and native, then this made my day and probably my whole year. Thank you!

me at 3 am, lying on an iceberg stretched on a picnic blanket, eating mangoes and asking the stars: how to trust people & make friends & be loved without having to reveal anything about myself ever

deseng:

moami:

if you find bones in the forest, sit a bit and listen. they are old and have some good stories to tell. maybe they’ll teach you a spell or two, or explain where the water on our planet came from.

if you find bones by the ocean, run. don’t look back. run, faster, faster. the sea may love you but there are nights where she knows neither mercy nor science, and the bones warn you only once.

boi if you find bones call the police i hate this website so much

this is a piece of creative writing, in case you couldn’t tell from the fact that real bones don’t usually go hey lil’ mama lemme whisper bony secrets in your ear or warn you of the incoming tides like a calcified weather frog.