writer-artist-thinker-reader

When I write in my actual journal, I usually start it with something along the lines of “Well, another week has passed and dealing with the same shit.” or “Today is Wednesday, and I haven’t written in a while.” I’m writing as if my journal actually understands what the hell I’m talking about when it
Begin writing with the following sentence: “That was the time he stopped believing ———-.” That was the time he stopped believing all was going as planned. It wasn’t his fault although others close to him would later say it was only his fault. He had grown up in such unusual circumstances, but was it really
I live with someone who thinks I should listen to more music. He’s probably right. I should. I no longer have my CD player that most everyone had as they graduated high school and went off to college or worked a job somewhere. The CD player eventually stopped working, but the cassette player was still
An estranged mother and son who haven’t seen or spoken to each other in a more than twenty years meet in line at the post office in December, arms full of packages to be mailed. What do they say to each other? Tory smiled at the woman in front of him who had turned around
Jot down a list of things that make you angry. Some of them make me legitimately angry, but others are just pure annoyances. I will list ten of them although I’m sure I could make it longer. People who expect everything to be perfect when they order any food or beverage item as if they
Third Journal Entry Type: I’m a homebody. I usually don’t leave the apartment except to exercise and grocery shop. Otherwise than this, you can find me sitting on my futon reading or coloring. Or, if I’m being really lazy on my bed watching TV, Netflix, or Hulu. Or, maybe taking a short walk to get
As I’m tired and wanting to go to bed, I think of everything I’ve gone through this week. Working. A box to check yes. There is no box so I will type it. YES. My eyes are even heavier now. This is rather pointless. Exercising. A box to check no. There is not box either
Put two characters, each of whom wants something from the other, in a room together. Neither of them is allowed to ask for it straight out. Give them five minutes with only dialogue to get what they want. “Is there something I can do for you?” (Woman A) “No.” (Woman B) “Okay but you’ve glanced
As you know, well some of you, I’ve reached the deep end of the pool with my rewriting. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve rewritten certain parts of it. Way too many and while I wasn’t going to release any of it until it was ready to be published in a physical form
(Tell a story that begins with a ransom note) When Sally read the note, she couldn’t believe what she was reading. Here was someone asking for money she didn’t have. How was she supposed to get five million dollars when she wasn’t allowed to work? She hadn’t worked a single day in her life. The
(In order to get these done and not have them sit in my queue for another year, I’ve made these short stories even shorter so they are basically flash fiction. I warn you they are written without really any planning in mind. Let’s just say they won’t go down as being one of my strongest
I’ve reconnected with my rewriting after a long hiatus. I’ve learned a few things even in the time it went on the back burner. Because I’m a slow writer, it takes longer than probably the average writer to churn out something people want to read. I’ve done an equal amount of rewriting this story idea
I have slowly been getting back into my rewriting. I can’t tell you how much for the last two years, especially, I’ve pondered if I should just scrap my love story. I’ve thought who is even going to read this crap and if a handful of people that do read it, what will they think?

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