Yves Olade, from Bloodsport; “When rome falls”
when we die i hope we become a part of the sky.
so everytime it rains, we are everywhere, we couldn't be when we were alive.
sick of using "very _____" ? : https://www.losethevery.com/
want to simplify your writing ? : https://hemingwayapp.com/
writing buddies / motivation ? : https://nanowrimo.org
word you're looking for but don't know ? : https://www.onelook.com/thesaurus/
need a fantasy name ? : https://www.fantasynamegenerators.com/
need a fantasy name ? : https://nameberry.com/
want a name with meaning ? : https://www.behindthename.com/
who wants a map maker! : https://inkarnate.com/
story building / dnd ? : https://www.worldanvil.com/
need some minimalistic writing time ? : https://zenpen.io/
running out of ideas ? : https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/
setting a goal ? how about 3 pages / day ? : https://new.750words.com/
what food did they eat ? : https://www.foodtimeline.org/
questions on diversity within writing ? : https://writingwithcolor.tumblr.com/
now what was that colour called ? : https://ingridsundberg.com/2014/02/04/the-color-thesaurus/
want more? : https://www.tumblr.com/blog/lyralit :]
Hanif Abdurraqib, A Little Devil in America: Notes in Praise of Black Performance
Mary Oliver
girl are you okay? you’ve been consuming so much media lately that you haven’t allowed yourself to feel one single human emotion for months
I want to write. I have ideas. I open document. I type four of the worst sentences ever created in the english language. I daydream the rest of the scene. I close document.
there was no perfect path. you did not get punished. your life did not unravel when you made a left turn. the memory will always be there. you can visit whenever you want. there is no alternate timeline where you made a better choice and got a happier ending. you were a little girl chasing the ice cream truck, playing hopscotch, swinging and aiming for the never ending blue. yes, the grief was waiting up ahead. but so was the miracle of saturdays in a car headed wherever you wanted to go. enough sky to wrap around every wound. friends who, despite your perennial bouts of silence, kept an ear close at all times.
will graham ⬥ hannibal — jorge luis borges, “the other tiger”