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Raymond Chandler was 44 years old when he was let go as VP of the Dabney Oil Syndicate in 1932. It was during the great depression and he decided to become a writer. In 1939 at the age of 51 he published his first novel "The Big Sleep"




The quality of character and the actions matter more than the outward appearance.

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Trying to find another Publisher for my Short story, anyone have any suggestions?










Heartbeats is a page where I share the stories that truly do come from my heart—stories about my family and the things I love.




Chase the Night Away ✨ a collection of 8 sonnets. Written between October 2019 and January 2020 for a university poetry assignment. @siana_maier on Instagram
















So many people in the say to 'write for yourself.' I disagree with this. I do think that we should love writing, but I also don't know where I'd be without readers.



















From to back in the throes of weather. The nice thing about the winter months in is that they actually last four consecutive years. 🥺 ✍🏻 🎤 📚       for 



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Dialogue Prompt

“Come on come on come on! Please don’t die on me now!”

“There’s a sword through my chest. I’m pretty sure I’m a goner.”

“But there’s not enough time! You can’t reset for tomorrow; the deadline is tonight!”

“Please just let me die so I can go through the painful process of regenerating.”

“Just procrastinate on dying for a second! I can’t do this alone!”

- Mod Kat @zigzagzipwriting on Tumblr

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Hearing the creak of a kid in which you sat when you were a kid

A smile that you always had until you got older and it got hid

A sense of insecurity took place in you

Shoulders and eyes down upon due

How to tell yourself to look up to your reflection?

Learning finally to defeat the unconfidence of isolation

Through just a little motivation everyday

Hearing your thoughts saying your beautiful as you pray

What a rare feeling it is?

Remembering the fellowship of your imaginary friend as he sees

A memory of loneliness it has always been

Growing up telling a story that had not been seen

How much secrets to hide inside those eyes?

To only found a loop of pain that could always be buried in lies….

Whenever I post a book on Dreame, I’m always of the mind of, “No one is going to read this,” and right now the book that I THOUGHT would have a lot of reads because its part of my royal romance series has barely gotten an audience. But my book about a dragon queen trying to restore her kingdom with her mate and the bisexual Prince she walked out on  and his boyfriend has about 3000 reads right now and I’m kind of okay with that. Because honest to god didn’t think anyone would like it but me. 

KOBE

Falling

Fighting

Dreaming

Running

Wishing

Drowning

Flying


They all go in a hurry

You wish and you worry

There was supposed to be another chapter in the story

Now we’re here mourning

You were always there for me

There will never be another like you

Thank you for all that you do

And you did

There should be fireworks and music

To celebrate your life

We’ll hang your jersey in the rafters

This is your night


MJ was a savage, MJ was the GOAT

Left defense with no hope

And when he’s scored he’d gloat

Back when I was six, the handles were crisp

The kid was trying to make a name

Pops was Denzel in he got game

He was a savage, he was the GOAT

He played me hard, left me with no hope

I shoot high, he’s like Mutumbo

He’d say no, I get blocked, I fall down, he’d say let’s go

Don’t let that stop you joe

Then he’d dance and he’d gloat

It was all a joke, but I had that fire

Then in came a comet, someone who had me inspired

Fake right then fade, who was number eight

They said his name was Kobe

He played the game like he was blessed and holy

Kobe was a savage, didn’t care if MJ was the GOAT

He went at him, said let’s go

He dropped buckets on him like bombs at Pearl Harbor

Then I saw a chink in the armor

Then there was my dad like he was mason

I shot the three and watched it fall

Now he’s looking like how did he make it

As I’m dancing like I got big balls

Then I changed to 24 and became a savage

Anywhere I could go

Because of Kobe, I had hope

Thank you GOAT


They all go in a hurry

You wish and you worry

There was supposed to be another chapter in the story

Now we’re here mourning

You were always there for me

There will never be another like you

Thank you for all that you do

And you did

There should be fireworks and music

To celebrate your life

We’ll hang your jersey in the rafters

This is your night

Trying to skip the journey

My Dear Blog,

This weekend I read an article that the best form of writing is via storytelling, as it appeals to the heart and not the brain.

Since then, I am desperately trying to increase my storytelling skills and did not produce any writing on the weekend. This is where perfectionism is kicking in and I need to rescue myself. 

Every skill, including storytelling or writing or any art form, is a journey, not a destination. If I try to skip the journey and directly reach the destination in one giant step, that is impossible.

This is probably what happens to a lot of us. If you produced art and have taken a really long time perfecting it to the max, leaving to stone untouched, then probably you have been ashamed to be in the journey and spent an awful amount of time directly trying to reach the destination.

Life Lessons Learned from Video Games

Before reality television provided me with examples of the appropriate response in a variety of situations, I had video games. Here are some tidbits gleaned from my time well-spent. What about you?

  • If you’re a construction worker returning to a job site one fine Monday to find it inhabited by a large gorilla, don’t climb the ladder.
  • If you spend a fearful existence of mindless mass consumption endlessly pursued by ghosts from your past, take drugs, then kill them. Kill them all.
  • In addition to providing meat and eggs, ostriches can be used to settle archaic and ancient scores. 

THEATRE


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i take in a deep breath and out comes a sigh. inhale. exhale. i sigh at what was yesterday and look up at the sun because of what i’ve read in so many passages, looking up, a new beginning, the start of something new. i walk on, towards the path that lays ahead of me, even though my back has wounds which sting every few minutes or so, this time i have promised to not move back. promises are meant to be broken, they say but this time i am willing to keep one. one step. and another. my favourite song plays in the background in the scene. the path is well lit to be distinguished from everything that surrounds, its the main focus of the enchanting scenery of ‘new beginning’. this time i will do it. i am rather proud. i grin to externalise to the audience which i am glad can’t know what goes inside of me. and 'the end’ says the narrator. a pretty great act. people cheer and applause for me and i bow 'thank you.’