waitingrm

Latest Posts by waitingrm

in recent years, there's been a push in therapeutic circles to shift the language from "attention-seeking" to "connection-seeking" behavior.

i was an attention-seeker. i was the textbook example of an attention-seeker. i was a troublemaker. i would self-harm. i destroyed my own relationships. i was uncontrolled, dramatic, sensitive. i took everything personally. i had "nothing" to be depressed "about," but made a big show of how sad i was nonetheless. i was really unsafe about myself in a lot of ways.

the strange thing about that is: it meant others could ignore me. the prevailing wisdom behind knowing something is "attention seeking" is to say: well, since you want it that bad, you're not getting any. it meant i was lower-on-the-list of concern. it meant an eye-roll.

the belief was that: since i was obviously doing these things on purpose, it would be bad behavioral training if i was "rewarded" for it. it would "teach me" that i simply had to make enough fuss, and i'd finally get all that missing attention and love. no, it was better to ignore that stuff.

i was suffering. and it felt like - oh, it doesn't matter how loudly i am in pain, nobody gives a shit about if i'm living or dying.

awhile ago, i went through my journals from that time. a lot of them read the same thing. in them, i am convinced i am invisible. that nobody wants to hear me, to see me. that i could die or vanish and nobody would even notice. i didn't even want attention - not really - because it was always dismissive, mocking. nothing i ever did would be good enough to get someone to actually-worry about me.

that's a terrifying thing for me to read as an adult. that is a child who fully has no problem committing. that is a child who has no concept of feeling loved. the most basic human instinct is missing from her life.

i needed help. i didn't know how to ask for it. i was a kid. i was a kid in a bad home, and whenever i thought things couldn't get worse there - they almost always did.

and the ways i showed that - the ways i tried to deal with that - they made others dismiss me. i wasn't suffering prettily. after all, if i was really in trouble, why wouldn't i just march into the first counselor's office and ask someone to help me? i had the opportunities, right? what did i think would happen, exactly? that someone would finally stand up and do something? who even wants that kind of responsibility?

i heard connection-seeking for the first time about three months ago. my therapist mentioned it when we were talking about my history. it rang some kind of horrible bell, deep inside me. i don't know what she said in the rest of her sentence. i just started... crying.

"oh no", i said to her. "i think i just realized: i have no idea how to forgive them for minimizing the ways i was hurting."

how many other kids, though. how many other kids were out there drowning, snatching around for a lifevest, some kind of rope - how many were straight-up ignored.

how many of those kids aren't gonna get old.

the illusion was always that we just had to do it. just “do” the homework. the meal prep. the college application. just write the email, send the homework, follow up with that interview, clean your room. these are easy things, one-click things, two-hours-max things. we had so many people in our lives shout it at us. “why didn’t you just do it!” 

often my answer was a soft i don’t know. an i-got-tired when actually it was more like - i couldn’t. i just couldn’t. it feels like everything is covered in snow. don’t you know that i’m mad at myself too? i want this stuff just as much as you do. i want to live in a clean house with good food and have an okay job and know i’m not disappointing the people i’m coming home to. i don’t like missing opportunities and having to scramble in a panic about last-minute things.

i’m a fully grown adult. she is posing for a pic on insta. if you want a life like this, go out and get it. it’s 2pm and i haven’t eaten breakfast. i am staring at the space where i should be working. 

her video has a laugh. “just do it!”

oh, i am finally old enough to know why my parents took so long to grab their coats. why they would ask us to get ready to go only to sit down for another round of coffee. what would i tell myself, at 10 years old? it’s okay. sit down with them too. take in the extra hour with your friend and her family. when you get home, write down every moment in your diary. one day you will be older and you will be waving goodbye to your best friend, and you will turn the key to start your beat up little car engine, and you will look back over your shoulder. her hair will be blowing in the wind and she will be beautiful and you will be, for a moment, struck by all of it. what you will feel is so wide and nameless that it will engulf you. and you will think of being 14 and kicking her under the table in math every time you wanted to whisper something behind the teacher’s back. you will think about how long the days felt, and how you could hold her hand whenever you wished, but you didn’t. and you will think about all of the people you could have lingered with. and you will wish, more than you have ever felt a wish, that the universe just gave you that - more time to linger. more time to say - i love you. i know i need to leave, but i don’t want to leave you. and when i go, i am leaving a piece of my heart that lingers too. 

one more round of coffee. the days are so short, and you are so lovely.

you were raised in comparison.

it wasn't always obvious (well. except for the times that it was), but you internalized it young. you had to eat what you didn't like, other people are going hungry, and you should be grateful. you had to suck it up and walk on the twisted ankle, it wasn't broken, you were just being a baby. you were never actually suffering, people obviously had it worse than you did.

you had a roof over your head - imagine! with the way you behaved, with how you talked back to your parents? you're lucky they didn't kick you out on your ass. they had friends who had to deal with that. hell, you have friends who had to deal with that. and how dare you imply your father isn't there for you - just because he doesn't ever actually talk to you and just because he's completely emotionally checked out of your life doesn't mean you're not fucking lucky. think about your cousins, who don't even get to speak to their dad. so what if yours has a mean streak; is aggressive and rude. at least you have a father to be rude to you.

you really think you're hurting? you were raised in a home! you had access to clean water! you never so much as came close to experiencing a real problem. sure, okay. you have this "mental illness" thing, but teenagers are always depressed, right. it's a phase, you'll move on with your life.

what do you mean you feel burnt out at work. what do you mean you mean you never "formed healthy coping mechanisms?" we raised you better than that. you were supposed to just shoulder through things. to hold yourself to high expectations. "burning out" is for people with real jobs and real stress. burnout is for people who have sick kids and people who have high-paying jobs and people who are actually experiencing something difficult. recently you almost cried because you couldn't find your fucking car keys. you just have lost your sense of gratitude, and honestly, we're kind of hurt. we tell you we love you, isn't that enough? if you want us to stick around, you need to be better about proving it. you need to shut up about how your mental health is ruined.

it could be worse! what if you were actually experiencing executive dysfunction. if you were really actually sick, would you even be able to look at things on the internet about it? you just spend too much time on webMD. you just like to freak yourself out and feel like you belong to something. you just like playing the victim. this is always how you have been - you've always been so fucking dramatic. you have no idea how good you have it - you're too fucking sensitive.

you were like, maybe too good of a kid. unwilling to make a real fuss. and the whole time - the little points, the little validations - they went unnoticed. it isn't that you were looking for love, specifically - more like you'd just wanted any one person to actually listen. that was all you'd really need. you just needed to be witnessed. it wasn't that you couldn't withstand the burden, but you did want to know that anyone was watching. these days, you are so accustomed to the idea of comparison - you don't even think you belong in your own communities. someone always fits better than you do. you're always the outlier. they made these places safe, and then you go in, and you are just not... quite the same way that would actually-fit.

you watch the little white ocean of your numbness lap at your ankles. the tide has been coming in for a while, you need to do something about it. what you want to do is take a nap. what you want to do is develop some kind of time machine - it's not like you want your life to stop, not completely, but it would really nice if you could just get everything to freeze, just for a little while, just until you're finished resting. but at least you're not the worst you've been. at least you have anything. you're so fucking lucky. do you have any concept of the amount of global suffering?

a little ant dies at the side of your kitchen sink. you look at its strange chitinous body and think - if you could just somehow convince yourself it is enough, it will finally be enough and you can be happy. no changes will have to be made. you just need to remember what you could lose. what is still precious to you.

you can't stop staring at the ant. you could be an ant instead of a person, that is how lucky you are. it's just - you didn't know the name of the ant, did you. it's just - ants spend their whole life working, and never complain. never pull the car over to weep.

it's just - when it died, it curled up into a tight little ball.

something kind of uncomfortable: you do that when you sleep.

Nobody understands the bond between a girl and the mediocre book she read when she was 13 years old.

Why must my feelings be "rational"? Is it not enough to sit quietly in my hawaiian shirt, deranged?

we talk a lot about Shauna being ruthless and violent and resentful, and not to say she isn't those things but also--

Shauna, who risks burning alive to save Van.

Shauna, who pauses to comfort the reunited Tai & Van after the latter is found safe

Shauna, who consoles and looks after Javi all through season 1 while his older brother is busy being misogynistic and getting fucked

Shauna, who takes on the job of butcher despite not necessarily wanting or enjoying it and never complains or slacks off even when the task becomes traumatizing

Shauna, who tries to get Jackie to eat, to keep going, when everyone else has given up on her by that point.

Shauna, who has to be goaded, essentially given permission before she becomes violent

Shauna, who loved her baby in spite of the stress her pregnancy added to an already precarious situation, who spoke to him and cradled him and futily tried to keep him alive, who buried him away from the others to keep him safe in death

Shauna, who kept her daughter's favorite childhood toy in her car long after she'd outgrown it, to always keep a piece of her close by

Shauna, who sees Tai struggling and invites her to stay over, so that Tai won't be afraid to sleep

Shauna, who goes along with Jeff's boring, milqtoast furniture salesman fantasies because while she doesn't love him the way she did Jackie, she does care about him and wants to make him happy

Shauna, who was the only one of the group to show up to Misty's how to get away with murder seminar and thank Misty for going to the trouble

Shauna, who is soft-spoken where Jackie is loud, conciliatory where Jackie is pushy, helpful where Jackie is lackadaisical, proactive where Jackie sulks.

Shauna, who's not a perfect friend or mother or wife but who's still quietly one of the nicest, most empathetic of the Yellowjackets and yet because she got drafted into being the group's butcher, wrote bitchy journal entries, and did one fucked up thing behind her best friend's back (which she immediately regretted and agonized over) gets rebranded by fandom as caustic, overly-snarky and quick tempered when it takes her 10 episodes to get pissed off enough to raise her voice

Yellowjackets Girl Loser Standoff

Can't add polls to reblogs, but @mercedesrollinballer was talking of one to settle this matter. (@mistysnat started it all)

Yellowjackets! Alive, but failing at every instance. Who's doing it the worst? Your pick! Arguments for each are under the Read, but if you are sure of your losing dog, then vote here!

PROPAGANDA UNDER THE CUT

Taissa Turner

Teen Eats dirt and is not aware of her shadow-self to an embarassing degree. Sets up an expedition to get to civilization with only a bit of rations and a compass, and nearly gets her gf killed (they don't find help btw). Her rushed funeral for clown Jackie indirectly causes the cannibalism. "You ate her face, Tai" and she didn't even remember it.

Adult Hires a vague hitman to spy on her surviving teammates because what are social skills? Has a Gorgeous wife and stable home and then chooses politics. Leaves her wife in a coma and her son with his gran to hitchhike to her ex because yea her evil double said so and that is definitely legit. Claims to be a skeptic about rituals until she is in the clear and can participate on the safe side lol. Marries a rock?? Is not getting that re-election.

Shauna Shipman

Teen Thinks screwing her bestie's beard is what will solve things. Related: is pregnant while stuck in the woods. Related: did not raise the baby to hunt down Jeff like she said she would. Verbal communication? We bottle up our emotions and then write them down on paper for everyone to read. Did a silly voice while playing around as the vessel for hunter guy in the seance. EVERY SECOND OF HER IN THE SHED WITH POPSICLE JACKIE. Throws a fit over not being crowned cannibal queen.

Adult Totally living her dream life. Thinks a posh british accent is sexy in her furniture store roleplay. Got in a fender bender with some guy, cheated with him, then murdered him and hid his body. Still hallucinates her bestie hanging around. Can only seem to find some joy in her life through Violence (maybe skip the sex-therapist and go looking for one that deals with anger issues). Thought that she Had to murder a baby goat when nobody said a word about that. Got hunted lol.

Misty Quigley

Teen Unhinged from the start. No social skills. Has the hots for her gay coach. Destroys the flight recorder because "uwu then people will need me" and not think about the consequences. People ditch her for the most part after first-aid isn't needed anymore (happy now, Misty?). Throws psychedelics in the stew (banned from kitchen). Snitches on Jackie not taking part in the saying thanks, which sparks the fight with Shauna, which gets Jackie dead, despite Jackie being one of the few (maybe only?) people to be nice to her. Speaking of, gets a new bestie and has her falling off the shit cliff. Cannot read the room during a baby shower. Theater kid. Has no cast-appointed middle name, but the fic-appointed one is "fucking" Adult Works in elderly care so she can munchausen someone in case she need a mood boost. Forces herself in Natalie's life. Is on true-crime reddit. Her only friend is a parrot. Has a murder basement that she doesn't actually use for murder. Reads trashy romance novels. Overshares on a first date. Hangs out with a dude and lets him reduce her talents to a shrivel. Infiltrates a cult for shits and giggles. "Misty, you actually killed somebody" KILLS HER FRIEND. SHE ACCIDENTALLY KILLS HER FRIEND

Nothing to see here just some tua pilot script highlights

Meals became the one time of day […] to be together – and I met them with equal parts […] and dread. Would today be the day I engaged Allison […] stand up to Diego’s taunts? Maybe I’d show Five the violin piece I’d been working on for weeks.

Though prone to arrogance and outbursts, even more than the average preteen, Five was my sole confidante in the years before he disappeared. It almost seemed fitting […] the siblings to leave us, it would be him who [I fully?] […] who fully trusted me. Five was […] always one […] Dad’s manipulations, and he […]-ites like my other siblings. Five […] man’s most […]-ive weakness […] compen… […] beyond […]

One morning, I left the Academy […] with clothes, snacks, and mementos […] I think I even brought a dream catcher […] from home following me wherever I went […] a bus stop, and I sat there all day long – and strangers […] first time in my life it hit me that I was completely alone. I thought I was alone my entire life, but this was new and entirely different. I was afraid of what I [didn’t know?] and would choose Dad’s torment any day over the [endless dark that stretched?] down our street. [Buses came?] […] the kind drivers away. That night I walked back […] the front doors, and no one knew I had even left to the […]. I wonder how long it would have taken them to realize the extra girl they never needed was […] existence? To this day, I’m not sure. The next time that […] was when we all did. After what happened to Ben.

Our everyday existence was full of evidence that Dad had […]-pped into treating us like experiments. Not as children, but like animals. And what happened to Ben was the last straw that finally shattered the illusion for the others, I regret that […] among what they realized that day. I didn’t […] to leave on my own. It wasn’t until Allison took off for Hollywood and Diego cursed out the old man for good […] [realized?] we were ultimately a broken family. I […] that my family would accept me into the fold. I […] as long as there was a club to belong to, one day […] notice me and invited me too. Everyone would say “Vanya, we can’t believe we’ve wasted so much time without you, you’re our sister after all.”

But it was then that I realized […] there was nothing for me to aspire to be anymore. It was […] – the life that I had wanted for as long as I could remember […] had finally fallen apart: Without The Umbrella Academy […] and the freedom to be whomever I chose. Suddenly my violin playing wasn’t stupid – it was something that made me special.

I would say it was Dad who implemented all of this. He caused my alienation through procedures, through harsh rules that we all followed for fear of the alternative. And to an extent, that’s all true. I can’t forgive what he did to me – but sometimes I wonder where Dad’s actions ended and by siblings’ began. When you consider what a mind, especially a young mind, will absorb and harness when put into dire situations, it’s not at all difficult to believe that my siblings learned cruelty from Dad until they eventually made it their own. It wasn’t just the rules keeping me out of top-secret meetings, anymore. It just made sense that I would sit at the end of the table, so Diego could help Five’s technique, or so Allison could paint Klaus’s fingernails. I became accustomed to sulking and watching them from afar – […] my morning oatmeal went uneaten and but thoroughly […]

Highlights:

Five was Vanya’s closest sibling and the one person who treated her like an equal

Five is not an angry old man from his apocalypse time, he’s just like that

Vanya once tried to run away, and when she came back, nobody even noticed she was gone

Hargreeves treated them like lab rats (but we knew that)

Ben’s death changed everything

Diego cursed out Hargreeves (Go Diego Go!)

Allison painted Klaus’ fingernails as teens

Vanya just hates that goddamn oatmeal

I would love for them to publish Vanya’s book as a companion to the series. This tea is piping hot, and I wanna figure out which part made Ben say “Oh my god, she wrote that? I can’t believe she would do that!”

I don't think we've fully appreciated the fact that pre-show Vanya Diego and Klaus all live in the same city. And they just haven't interacted? For years? WHERE is my fic of Vanya accidentally making eye contact with a battle-weary bloodstained Diego Hargreeves in a CVS at 1:45 pm and deciding to hide in the bathroom until he leaves

i’m gonna say it.

there is nothing wrong with you for liking cartoons, comic books, cosplays, dolls, nickelodeon, cartoon network, superheros, disney, fanfiction, video games, drawing, basically anything that is label to be “kids stuff.”  life is too damn short to be boring; who the hell wants to just be into things are acceptable by adult standards. 

enjoy the things that make you happy, and if it’s something that people view as immature and childish you should not be ashamed. you are fine the way you are.

How to enjoy writing more

I’ve seen, shared, and created plenty of posts about how to make your writing better, but I’ve decided, fuck that. It is 2020 and everything feels like crap and here’s a guide for how to enjoy your own writing more.

(Obviously! Like everything! Not all of these will work for everyone! These are just reminders for people who feel they could be a little sillier in their writing!)

1. Write at your own pace! It seems simple but deadlines that you can’t reach won’t help you. (And don’t force yourself to do Nano when it’s not your style.)

2. Write fanfic! All types of fanfic! Shitty OCs, OOC interpretations of characters, self inserts, etc etc etc. Write it without the intention of posting anywhere.

3. Write fanfic… of your own stories. Canon is a construct but that soulmates AU is real if only you write it.

4. Mercilessly switch between WIPs! Abandon them whenever you get bored! Write only the most interesting scenes!

5. Write without a plot! You don’t need to have conflict to have fun.

6. Fuck plot continuity. Write the scenes that make you happy. If they don’t line up? Who gives a shit.

7. If you read something you wrote and it’s not finished, don’t feel guilty. Just. Don’t. Your stories don’t deserve finishing; they provided you happiness as you wrote them, and that’s what’s important. (It’s the process, not the product.)

8. If you write something that’s sad, make it cathartic instead of depressing. Angst is great and all, but don’t stack sad scene upon sad scene for the sake of sadness.

9. Fuck genre. It’s okay if you aren’t sure whether your story is sci-fi or fantasy, it’s okay if you include random paranormal aspects in your historical romance, it’s GREAT if you blur the line between realistic and speculative. Don’t trap yourself in history which has been built upon marketability.

10. Write like no one’s ever gonna read it. It will help you in the long run. It doesn’t matter if it slows your “objective” improvement, it will help you feel less dependent on validation from others and make you write because–and only because–you want to write.

Minerva Mcgongall pulled out her notebook and turned to the page that listed the names and details of that years Gryffindor Quidditch team. Her heart swelling with pride she jotted down the name “Harry Potter” next to the position “Seeker” before closing the book and opening a second drawer. She took out a small, wooden box and rummaged in it for a few seconds before withdrawing a worn out envelope, inside of which was a short letter and a photograph.

“Dearest Minnie,

Hope you’re doing well! I’m the same of course, driving Lily up the wall as usual, she sends you her love by the way!

Now I know I told you that you’ll never find a chaser as good as me ever again, but it just goes to show that even the brilliant are sometimes mistaken. I’ve found you (made you!) a replacement who will one day outshine his old man by leagues! Enclosed is a photograph of your new Quidditch prodigy so that you may assess his skills for yourself. We have him chasing the cat for practice. He’ll be unbeatable by the time he starts at Hogwarts! The youngest Quidditch player in a century!

I guarantee it, Minnie. And you know I’m never wrong, though you’ll never admit it!

Missing you and Hogwarts terribly,

Lots of love,

James

P.S. Sirius says his marriage proposal still stands.”

Wiping away a single tear that ran down her cheek and chuckling to herself, she smiled down at the photograph of a small, gleeful, black haired boy zooming along on a toy broom, a pair of legs chasing after him and a young woman laughing hysterically in a corner.

“Right again, Mr. Potter.”

it goes like this:

waking up was one of the hardest things for me to do. at least, the most dreaded. and then you happened to me, and I most looked forward to going to sleep, because I knew I’d wake up to messages from you—because unless I had work, you were the one who always woke up before me.

and it was a little pathetic, but I’d go to work and text you all through lunch break and I would smile at my phone like all those stupid, lovesick girls in movies and my coworkers would ask, “oooooh is there a boy?” all suggestively, and I would shake my head and say, “my friend sent me a funny meme” because that’s easier than explaining that talking to you lit my chest on fire and I loved every second of it.

and you collected all these tiny details about me, and I you, which is a weird thing to live with in the aftermath. because I know you hate hot sauce and you were flower girl at your aunt’s wedding and you’ve never seen Matilda, and I used to pull those facts off the shelf and we’d laugh or reminisce or make plans, and now they just sit there and collect dust and there’s nothing I can do with them but know and know and know.

and the things you could do with everything you know about me. where do they go? do they sit inside your chest, collecting dust, too? or did you throw them out?

and now there is no one I talk to until I fall asleep and no one I wake up to, either. and if I’m smiling at my phone, it’s usually just a stupid meme that brings me momentary laughter but not the all-encompassing joy you used to bring me. and my chest is a lot less bright and a lot more empty, with the shape of you crawling around inside it.

and I keep telling myself that I will stop missing you and my life will close up around the space you used to take up. but it hasn’t yet.

This is an appreciation post for the fanfic authors who aren’t included on rec lists

For the fanfic authors who don’t get art of their fics

For the fanfic authors who can’t get to 1000/500/100 hits

For the fanfic authors who don’t get comments/reviews

For the fanfic authors who write for small fandoms

For the fanfic authors who write rarepairs or gen fics

For the fanfic authors who get hate for the ships/characters/fandoms they write

For the fanfic authors who write in English despite it not being their first language

For the fanfic authors who don’t write in English

For the fanfic authors who don’t think anyone reads or likes their work

For the fanfic authors who aren’t big name fans

For the fanfic authors who don’t get requests in their inboxes

For the fanfic authors who can’t write stories that are more than a thousand words

For the fanfic authors who only write one ship

For the fanfic authors who are just starting

For the fanfic authors who have been writing fic for years

For the fanfic authors who use fanfic to practice writing

For the fanfic authors who write self-insert fics

For the fanfic authors who write about their OCs

For the fanfic authors who write to vent or cope

For the fanfic authors who are just waiting for their big break

Keep creating, I love you ❤️

Do you have any tips to stop cringing at/hating your own writing? Thanks!

yeah actually: write cringe shit on purpose

do you know what so fucking cringe? superheroes. most people irl associate them with five year old boys and gamer bros who like excluding people based on whether they know how many Robins there are. you MIGHT get lucky and have them associate you with shippers and fandom folks. when my brand new housemate said to me ‘oh so I hear you like superheroes?’ I felt my soul fucking evacuate my body.

anyway so I took my favourite cringe genre and made it more cringe. I stripped out most of the action and made it about melodrama. about romance. about three line prompts centred on feelings. and I filled a whole blog with it. thousands of prompts, tens of thousands of words of nothing but the most cringe-inducing, self-indulgent, emotional twaddle. I write it fast, on the fly--for most of this blog’s lifespan I was producing two prompts a day, and there was no time to edit out the yikes or the badly placed commas or the overwrought betrayal. I’ve written cancel-worthy smut prompts and twee little tooth-aching cuteness. I’ve written so much junk that no one in their right mind would show another living soul, and published it in front of more than EIGHT THOUSAND PEOPLE. 

it’s an inoculation process (get your flu shot, kids). if you write cringe shit on purpose, you mind a lot less when you write cringe shit by accident. in fact, sometimes you start to enjoy the cringe even in your serious work, because you start to recognise a fundamental truth: everything is cringe. purple prose is cringe. romances are cringe. redemption arcs are cringe. em dashes are cringe. superheroes are cringe. 

you will always be writing something cringe. always. even when you’re a bestselling author, you’ll write something and think ‘oh god that’s so fucking cringe’. the difference between you now and you in that future is that you in the future has written so much more cringe shit. you will be (semi) cringe immune. you have survived the cringe before and you will survive the cringe again. 

so keep writing. keep cringing too, but most importantly: just keep writing. it’s the only surefire cure. 

hope this helps!

some sites for when you’re bored and looking for new music

spotalike creates a playlist based on a song

magicplaylist  creates a playlist based on a song

dubolt  creates a playlist based on an artist

boilthefrog creates a playlist between any two artists 

predominant suggests you albums based on cover art color   

music-map  suggests similar artists

gnoosic  suggests similar artists and songs

when will i find my emotional support white man

Just in case this needs to be said:

It’s the first draft. Use the word “suddenly.” Put as many dialogue tags and adverbs as you want. Say “he saw” “she remembered” “she felt” “they wondered” as many times as you need to. Put the em dash there, put in too many commas, use semi-colons with reckless abandon. Type in [whatever] instead of thinking up a title for something. Just write it. If you worry too much about the particulars, about all the advice posts you’ve seen saying whatever you’re doing is wrong or not good enough, you won’t get anything done. It will slow you down as you go back and try to reword what you just wrote to make it better, proper. The first draft doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be done. And when you get to the end, you’ll find that all those “mistakes” are just clues for your future self to put together to make it all better.

Putting in adverbs and certain dialogue tags are a note for you as to who is saying something and how they’re saying it. When you’re editing, you can make sure it shows through the story instead. The word “suddenly” is a reminder to make things more abrupt. The first draft is just you mapping out where you want to go and how you want to get there. Don’t waste time trying to get it 100% right now, because then it will never get done. Don’t think too much– just write. Save the thinking for editing later.

99 legal sites to download literature

The Classics

Browse works by Mark Twain, Joseph Conrad and other famous authors here.

Classic Bookshelf: This site has put classic novels online, from Charles Dickens to Charlotte Bronte.

The Online Books Page: The University of Pennsylvania hosts this book search and database.

Project Gutenberg: This famous site has over 27,000 free books online.

Page by Page Books: Find books by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and H.G. Wells, as well as speeches from George W. Bush on this site.

Classic Book Library: Genres here include historical fiction, history, science fiction, mystery, romance and children’s literature, but they’re all classics.

Classic Reader: Here you can read Shakespeare, young adult fiction and more.

Read Print: From George Orwell to Alexandre Dumas to George Eliot to Charles Darwin, this online library is stocked with the best classics.

Planet eBook: Download free classic literature titles here, from Dostoevsky to D.H. Lawrence to Joseph Conrad.

The Spectator Project: Montclair State University’s project features full-text, online versions of The Spectator and The Tatler.

Bibliomania: This site has more than 2,000 classic texts, plus study guides and reference books.

Online Library of Literature: Find full and unabridged texts of classic literature, including the Bronte sisters, Mark Twain and more.

Bartleby: Bartleby has much more than just the classics, but its collection of anthologies and other important novels made it famous.

Fiction.us: Fiction.us has a huge selection of novels, including works by Lewis Carroll, Willa Cather, Sherwood Anderson, Flaubert, George Eliot, F. Scott Fitzgerald and others.

Free Classic Literature: Find British authors like Shakespeare and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, plus other authors like Jules Verne, Mark Twain, and more.

Textbooks

If you don’t absolutely need to pay for your textbooks, save yourself a few hundred dollars by reviewing these sites.

Textbook Revolution: Find biology, business, engineering, mathematics and world history textbooks here.

Wikibooks: From cookbooks to the computing department, find instructional and educational materials here.

KnowThis Free Online Textbooks: Get directed to stats textbooks and more.

Online Medical Textbooks: Find books about plastic surgery, anatomy and more here.

Online Science and Math Textbooks: Access biochemistry, chemistry, aeronautics, medical manuals and other textbooks here.

MIT Open Courseware Supplemental Resources: Find free videos, textbooks and more on the subjects of mechanical engineering, mathematics, chemistry and more.

Flat World Knowledge: This innovative site has created an open college textbooks platform that will launch in January 2009.

Free Business Textbooks: Find free books to go along with accounting, economics and other business classes.

Light and Matter: Here you can access open source physics textbooks.

eMedicine: This project from WebMD is continuously updated and has articles and references on surgery, pediatrics and more.

Keep reading

I wish movies could be about LGBT characters without being written off as “gay movies”. Why don’t you just call it a “movie”? Nobody calls your movies “straight movies”.

mike wheeler:

me:

spiderman is so fucking funny dude saves like an entire country and then he goes home at the end of the day and opens his fridge and hes got like 1 egg and a half empty can of arizona tea no matter how old he is or what comic hes from thats just how peter parker lives

Give yourself an extra big hug today!

Artwork by Maeril

Pssst

Hey, are you an artist or writer with WIPs?

Come here... I got a secret for you pssst come ‘ere

the suffering never ends

What’s going to make you happy right now? Is it some cake? Is it a nap? Is it calling your mom? Is it going on a drive and blasting music? Is it taking a bath? Is it reading a book?

Check in with yourself because you deserve that happiness, whatever it is.