Got A Full Cup Of Coffee And Some Motivation. Let’s Do Some Writing

Looking for Writeblrs!

Turns out when you create a whole new account, your dash is pretty sparse. I also just wanna make some friends XD SO. If you write about about any of these things, please reblog this or otherwise interact so I can check out your blog!

⁕ Women-centric Works ⁕ Fantasy ⁕ Horror (especially gothic) ⁕ Mental Illness ⁕ Non-human Characters ⁕ Sapphic Characters ⁕ Chronically Ill Characters ⁕ Various Shades of Morality for MCs ⁕

Not sure if the blister on my toe is the last straw or a sign of things to come

Inspired by yesterday’s storm “Water dripped from the trees as if the world was a wet rag wrung out and hung to dry.”

yk what i hate though. is when i find a meme and im like THIS IS SO [cool intimidating mutual i never talk to] I SHOULD SEND IT TO THEM but then i remember ive never talked to them ever and so i cant just like give them a meme out of the blue and so the meme just withers and rots in my camera roll 😔

That moment when one of your MCs makes a decision you hadn’t planned on and now you both have to live with the consequences of her actions

Writing Prompt #409

“Only the wisest, the most skilled, and the most valiant may enter this guild.”

“So then why is he here?”

“Well…those with vast riches may also enter. Really, we just require you to possess some sort of superlative.”

paraskevidekatriaphobia

(noun) Defined as the fear of Friday the 13th, Paraskevidekatriaphobia was first coined by psychotherapist, Donald Dossey. Possessing an unreasonable fear of this day and date, Dossey says the only way to cure oneself of such paralyzing thoughts is to learn how to pronounce the word and you are cured! Next Friday the 13th will fall on March 2015 and again this November, which makes it a rare occurrence taking place three times in one year! Creepy! Hopefully your verbal acrobatics will help you remedy this fear. (via wordsnquotes)

My Big Fat Deadly Wedding

My Big Fat Deadly Wedding

So this is week 6 of my word prompt challenge. I based it on the image above. Still having a hard time meeting my word count goals. I love the touch of humor in this one though… The wedding had been a grand gaudy affair. My mother and my now mother-in-law had planned the whole thing. There wasn’t much you could do against two queens. My new husband and I were simply there. I was just glad that it…

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              The yearly ritual began with a simple cup of coffee and the sunrise. Mornings were already feeling a little cooler. The woman breathed the salt air in deep and relaxed, almost meditating. The blue-jays in the nearby sycamore chased each other with a joyous freedom. She wondered if they could feel the change in the air too. Finally ready, she set her mug down and strolled across the deserted street. Her few year round neighbors were all still asleep or already off to work. Leaving her sneakers on the wooden fence, her toes felt sand for the first time in two months. A cool breeze played with her hair. The beach was welcoming her home. She made her way down the worn path that would soon be a memory. Her feet alone weren’t enough to fight off the inevitable build-up of sand. The drooping fence would soon be the only marker to the entrance. Coming over the last dune, she surveyed the unsanctified land. Under the scattered debris, the sand glowed yellow white. The city sent people out to clean the beach but there was always a lot of trash they missed. She didn’t really mind. In fact, there was pride in the growing bag of soda cans and hot dog wrappers she held. Halfway through, she had to shed the light sweater that she’d put on in hopes of it being cooler. It would be soon enough. Her patch of the beach wasn’t large, but it always seemed to attract the messiest people. She made sure to walk the whole thing. Reconsecrating it with her joy alone. It was only after erasing all evidence of the summer people, that she sank onto the warm sand. The ocean sparkled in the sun. Gulls dove into the surf and flew away with the small fish they’d caught. The tide rolled over her bare feet. She accepted the water’s blessing. This moment was what she’d been dreaming of. The ritual complete, she could finally relax. The silence wrapped around her like a blanket. She had only ventured here once during a seasonal siege. The noise had run her off before she could even touch the sand. There was no too loud radios or children playing to break the peace, now. Tomorrow, after the first swim of the season, she would bring her sketchbook and work on her newest masterpiece with her toes buried in the sand. The beach would be her’s until next summer’s invasion.

The Beach               The yearly ritual began with a simple cup of coffee and the sunrise. Mornings were already…