Dwoality2123 - Dwoality

A Motivational Ramble For Writers

I think most motivational speeches aren't necessarily motivational in the long run because unfortunately, they lack so many aspects of reality. Yes, of course hearing all the longggg metaphoricalllllll poems and forty different beautiful ways of phrasing 'you can do it' may be motivational for that day, maybe even the next week. Still, I don't at all think that's going to open your mind in a way that genuinely allows you to FEEL motivated.

So I'd like to maybe change that. Of course, my words are only as effective as you allow them to be, but I'm going to share narratives that have personally helped me. I'm aware everything doesn't work for everyone, but I truly hope this provides motivation.

To condense a righteous "my writing journey" monologue into a simple sentence, I've been a new author before just like every other, and yes I can definitely relate to what you go through before finding yourself—and the courage to put yourself out there.

For starters, I need you to ask yourself why you're afraid. Don't tell me you aren't, because I'm almost sure that's not true. And if I AM wrong, think back to the times you have been, and reflect on them.

The reason I say I'm almost sure that's not true… is simply that to be unmotivated, you need to have something holding you back. It's obviously not the sheer desire not to write, because if that were the case, you wouldn't be reading a writer's motivation post would you.

I think you're afraid of going against the grain. 

I think you're afraid that by going against the grain, you won't succeed in that genre.

I think you're afraid that if you do experiment with genres, you'll not gain an audience, or lose the audience you've already gained.

I'm quite aware it's not just easy to stop being afraid, but I'm going to put it bluntly. Stop being afraid. You need to plant that seed. Water it as slowly as you'd like, but plant it.

You as a new author will never in a million years get anywhere when you stick to one genre. Sure, people may shower you with compliments about your skills with it, but sometimes you need to throw away that comfort in validation, and open your mind to a bit of criticism—which in the writing world, is essential for growth. Don't tell me you aren't good at drama if you've never attempted it. Don't tell me you can't attempt it because you think you won't do well.

Did I like it when I was told my storytelling ability was not really put together to handle a romance? Absolutely not. Especially since I had WAY too much confidence at the time, because I surrounded myself in a criticism-free shelter. 

But anyway, no I didn't like that. But I'll tell you I didn't let it make me throw a piss fit and quit, I just sucked it up and moved on to the next genre, as I did with all the genres imaginable. I can now confidently say I suck at everything but psychological drama. And that's from a place of honesty, I'm at peace with that fact after…many trials and errors haha.

So in the most loving way possible, author to author, e-friend to e-friend even though we probably have never spoken… suck it up, and grow from what you had to soak in. 

Quit letting inevitable criticism get you down, and stop being afraid of possibly receiving it. Especially if you're a fresh new writer. I know it's hard to hear stuff like that, but as you haven't yet allowed yourself the time to experiment, it's important to take criticism a little more seriously than you would when you've been writing for a while. Don't let it make you put your story down, or let it give you depressive writers block.

My first-ever critic meant to be somewhat-insult was "You think you're all that because you know how to use metaphors, but this is really just a heap of just that. Metaphors. There's no story here whatsoever."

Yes, I vividly remember that because wooooo did it piss me off. But you know what? I look back and wish I could hug that person because reading my old work, that was true. But once again, I used that anger to reverse that curse. And even sometimes I find it still rings true, but I'll continue to work on it.

So authors, get angry. Get STEAMING. Get PISSED. But in the midst of that, you need to have the hunger to prevail. If you're just sitting behind your screen angry steaming and pissed, that person won for the reason they all along had. To make you quit. Yeah, sadly people get off on that. It's unfortunate that some criticism will be rude especially when people have the convenience of hiding behind a screen—but it's reality.

YOU NEED TO WIN by using that as fuel to NOT QUIT, BUT SUCCEED. Because just like me, you'll probably find that early-on criticism was almost always true. They could have worded it…nicer, but it usually rings true.

So now, I want you to remember every insult you've ever received if you can. Let it brew…let it make you want to succeed, and not quit.

Writing…is a learning process.

You never stop learning, so drop that mindset if you have it. Criticism isn't always meant to be malicious, so drop that mindset if you have it. You aren't this writer against the mean, cold world because someone pointed out imagery isn't your strong suit, drop that mindset if you have it.

People want to help more than tear down, mostly. I do, anyway. Obviously you have your trolls in any environment…but lots of people mean to help, and when you have hostility against criticism—you'll automatically take it negatively.

So anyway, I hope this has been slightly more motivational than the general YOU CAN DO ANYTHING YOU SET YOUR MIND TO DRINK WATER rants.

Because one more piece of advice, that's a lie. If you aren't good at romance you just aren't, that's alright. Put your energy into the genre that you ARE good at. You can't force it. So get to experimenting, stop being afraid, you will find your niche. If your audience leaves because you're doing essential experiments, I wouldn't bat an eye over those toads. You'll find a new and solid one. It's a process.

Get to writing, I believe in you.

My entry for raiden fanart contest is on twitter

check twitter for art process

I need Tumblr to put a feature where we can filter our "likes" page because I am trying to find something I like that isn't showing up on the search and it's been, like, 10 minutes

Imagine an older child—not even a child, someone in their 20s—and they have a younger sibling that they resent for committing no sin but one: being born.

That's their sin, their younger sibling's sin. It isn't a sin, to be born, but it is a sin for the older sibling. Because that child has the love of a mother—a different mother from the older sibling's mom.

Because the older sibling's mom was a tyrant, a monster under the guise of a beautiful woman. Her shadow had horns and a tail, a flame to burn the soul of the older sibling. They did everything for their mother: took care of her as a child as if they were the adult, they killed themselves trying to be the best of the best, straight A's and top marks. But it wasn't enough. They did everything, they even sold their body (in every what way you like) just to get to a point that they think their mother would finally acknowledge and be proud of.

It never came.

And years later, the older sibling meets a child with their mother's eye shape and nose and lips and cheeks and hair (maybe not in the way it was biologically structured, but in the way that was taken care of by their mother, the same techniques and mannerism). But in their eyes were kindness and love and care and perhaps every positive thing to exist. The eyes of the older sibling wasn't like that. It was tired, forlorn, miserable, empty.

This was a child from a different mother. A different mother who had the same face as their mother did, but with every positive thing poured on her. Their mother was abusive and neglectful, in all the ways one could be. The younger sibling's mother was a radiant 36 year old. That wasn't their mother. Even if she had her face.

Dialogue prompts:

"I want to hold on to the resentment. To resent her 'til my last dying breath."

"I guess she still has me wrapped around her finger."

"It's not fair, no. That I have to suffer the crossfire between the mom in your past and my mom now. But the world isn't fair, isn't it? I want my older sibling just as much as you wanted your mother."

"I have the mother you wished for, but I still long for the love of my older sibling like they wanted the love of my mother."

"I think it was brave of her; it was brave of her to let my younger sibling meet me, knowing that I was the sin of her past, the reminder of her mistakes, and the proof of her monstrosity. She let her youngest child see that, because they wanted to meet their older sibling, and she loved her youngest. She bore herself, risked losing what she loved, because she loved them."

"I wish you were never born. I wish you would kill yourself. But that wouldn't do anything. That'll just make me regret my words and make your mother grieve. So there's nothing we can do, but live and move forward, even if we can never cross paths again."

"Maybe, in the future, we can meet again and we'll be happy. But maybe, it's better if the two of you don't exist for me, and I don't exist for you."

"I hate you as much as an older sibling should love their younger one. I don't know how to stop hating you. I don't think I ever will."

"No, we don't. We don't have the same mom. Mine was a nightmare, yours was a dream."

"Even now, I don't think I could imagine a version wherein the circumstances were the same...and I'd have loved you as a mother should have."

"She's a great mother. Just not to me."

Draco Malfoy: you look like shit, Weasley.

Ron Weasley: **smirks** but still fuckable, right?

PLEASE, SOMEONE???? Imagine if they all gang up because one of them gets hurt or smth??? Or one of them got in trouble with their parents and they all help each other out?? Bella being an overprotective sister to all of 'em???

Yet another fic request cause I was reminded of the idea THE BLACK FAMILY COUSINS BEING CLOSE AND SUPPORTING EACH OTHER cause those 5 would be a powerhouse all together and I need to see that the fandom needs to see that so much potential (yes ik they've all got major differences and issues but if yall can make more male potters going back to at least the 1600s last I heard this is more than possible)

Just thinking back to "Eyewitness" and the amount of patience Philip had, putting up with Lukas' dumbfuckery. But, seriously, I love Philip Shea's character.

"You're into me, that's what's happening."

— Philip Shea

Guys, guys, guys!!

It’s a good app, try it. I’m not the type to use planner apps or planners in general, my life is a mess. But…like, I like this app??

IT HAS A FONT STYLE DESIGNED TO HELP AT LEAST A BIT FOR DYSLEXIC PEOPLE??

It does have premium but without it, it works just fine.

The format itself is minimal but easy to navigate. It has helped me fix my sleep schedule a bit, but, like, you still need to have the discipline to actually follow the schedule you plan for yourself. No planners will help you if you don’t follow through with it. Creating tasks and reminders are easy and you can use OneSec which:

And this is what it mainly looks like, I customized my appearance to be purple tho

Wait for Me?

A presence appears on his vulnerable side. He doesn't turn to look nor does he tense nor let his breath get caught in his throat. “Hi,” he whispers into the tranquil quiet.

“Hi,” he hears barely.

He hums. “Would you mind if you transfer to my other side? It's hard to hear you when your words are this gentle and quiet....and, I want to see you.”

It was quiet but he felt his companion move to his right side. Still, he does not turn to look at the tuft of brown hair better, or the ever-so-slightly blemished warm skin. He merely looks on, admiring the astonishing view that the high vantage point gives him. 

He sees hands fiddling, a rare sign of vulnerability that Zuko finds out of character—to give Zuko with trust he does not know he deserves. A long beat and Jet finally talks 

“Did it ever mean anything?”

“It always did, for me. My heart has always been printed on my sleeve and I am not dishonest enough to be able to fake such authenticity.”

Silence.

“I did lie to you. I have lied about my name, and my character. I have lied about my scar, and about a lot else. But my feelings were as true as the sky is blue. Please, do not doubt that aspect of me.”

Yet another meaningful silence, a moment for his words to settle in Jet's mind.

“It hurt.”

“I know.” And he did. To find that your lover is part of a nation that you so passionately hate. To find that your lover's people were the cause of your misery, the slaughterers of your family and of your friends and of your village. That is a pain pill hard to swallow. “And I'm sorry.”

But, at the same time, Zuko was a child younger than Jet when it happened. And Zuko's only part in that act of sin was his ignorance and complacency. He does not say these things, for he knows he cannot handle Jet's wrath right now. His bellowing voice and his words. 

“I hurt you too,” Jet mumbles almost too quietly for Zuko to pick up on, but he did. Mumbled with a cracking voice.

“You did.”

“I've hurt so many people.”

“You have.”

Jet bends over, forehead touching his hands from where they rest, clasped together, on the half wall before him. He takes a shaky breath and clenches his jaw. And then he straightens himself, moves his hands to grip the wall tightly instead, neck craned upwards and eyes blinking quickly. “What do I do?”

He turns to look at him—looks at the way his tanned skin glows warmly under the golden rays of the sun setting in the horizon, his straw-like hair that tells of a hardened life billowing with the gentle winds, and his brown eyes glinting with amber and hazel...yet dim and haunted. 

Reluctance outlines his hands as his pale fingers glows almost white in contrast to the gaunt cheek to caresses. A miniscule twitch in Jet's hands doesn't go unnoticed, the clench of his fists and the frightful and hesitant gulp of saliva. Yet, despite it all—the fears and the doubts and the distrust, he leans his cheek into Zuko's awaiting palm.

Zuko looks at him with soft and fond eyes, the gold of his eyes glowing brighter than ever with the concentration of the sun in them. Jet looks at him from under his dark lashes for a miniscule moment before looking to the colorful sky. 

Tentatively, Jet's calloused hands—and thin, thinner that it was before, thinner than it should have been, malnourishment highlighting the jutted bones of his knuckles—wraps itself around Zuko's, guiding it gently towards his chapped lips to press a kiss against his reddish knuckles that sends a message of a thousand unspoken words. 

Jet lets his lips rest on the back of Zuko's hand, and in his humble ethereal glow, Zuko sees all the reasons his heart started fluttering for the man in front of him. Jet's eyes are closed and his hand squeezes his a bit tighter, as if he was daydreaming of a universe beyond their knowledge or maybe he was reminiscing of memories that feel out of reach—too good to be true but no less real. 

And Zuko can only watch and ingrain the image into his brain for his mind to see and remember for all the days to come, to dream about in the star-filled nights, to feel when his memories slowly leave him in his old age—if he survives long enough to reach that.

But nothing can stay in the beautiful stasis for long, no matter how much he wishes it to, for time is never on their side and time will continue to take if he lets it. So he turns his hand in Jet's grip and watches him sadly open his eyes with a knowing and resigned glint. He holds Jet's chin and lifts it upward, commanding Jet to look at him. 

Then he goes back to caressing Jet's cheek, letting the pads of his finger ink all of his wishes and desires on Jet's skin, hoping he is open enough for Jet to understand—and he does, if the shaky exhale was anything to go by. Zuko smiles affectionately.

“Let them learn, Jet, let them learn to forgive. And if they cannot, then you learn to let go, to move on and move forward, to heal.” He gently brushes away the fallen lash on Jet's cheek. “Heal, Jet. If not for yourself, then for anyone else. And if not for anyone else, then for yourself.”

Jet's eyes gained a teary sheen and he opened his mouth a bit then closed it with an exhale, pressing himself deeper into the soft touch of Zuko's. And he opens his mouth again to whisper, “I don't know how.”

He gazes into Jet's eyes, thoughts swirling behind the amber hue of his eyes. To say: you will figure it out, that is a promise and that is inevitable. Try and you will succeed. Open your mind and see yourself and see the world, see, Jet. Look and you're going to find what you seek. But for you to be able to move forward, you need to let go, Jet. 

To tell him: you are not alone, not as much as you seem to think. And you will never be alone because I will always be there, at your beck and call. No matter what, I'll figure out a way to get to you.

Instead he says only, “you need to stop focusing on every bad thing and you need to start accepting the good things, or else you'll forever be miserable.”

“I don't deserve to…” Jet trails off.

And Zuko understands what was left unsaid. Because he's felt it so passionately, and believed in it for so long. And he knows it's not true.

“You don't need to deserve happiness, you just need to be. You've done awful things, yes, so make amends. You can't take it all back, but you can't swallow in despair forever.”

Jet looks at him, trying so hard to keep the tears at bay. He understands, just as he understood all of the messages sent in Longshot's language, all the words spelled out in Jet's eyes. 

He presses a passionate kiss to Jet's other cheek and answers, “I will wait. For however long it will take you. For however long it takes you to find yourself and then find me.”

“And if I don't show up?”

He was silent, tasting words and sentences in his tongue, turning them on all sides to formulate something of an answer. “I’ll still love you.” 

Jet hiccups and his breath hitch and tears fall down and he sniffles.

“But I’ll learn to move on, even though I’ll never stop loving you or learn how to. I’ll move on. And maybe we both would find someone else, but you will still be someone I have loved and I will love.”

“Even if I'm like this?”

“Yes.”

“I'm sorry.”

He presses a kiss to Jet's cheeks.

“I know, and I have never held it against you, but I have long since forgiven you.”

He presses their foreheads together.

“Say it and I will, Jet.”

Jet remains quiet but soon—”Wait for me, please....Zuko?”

He smiles as he feels Jet's breath against his lips. 

“Okay.”

fear 🪡