Acatwrites - The Story Of A Cat Who Likes Stories

In case anyone is unsure how to get their writeblr dash more active...

People get busy. Life happens, and we can’t always be super active on our blogs in the ways we want to be (this is where I am currently). These are some things I like to do after I feel like I’ve been away from my blog for a while that also help the community and other writeblrs out. ♡

♡ Look through the latest writeblr introduction/active writeblrs/looking for active writeblrs/creative writing/etc. tags and make it a priority to  r e b l o g  everyone’s intros and latest wips and such. This helps introduce yourself to others as well as helping everyone else out in the community by giving active blogs more attention and interaction.

♡ Follow and interact with the people you see in the tags! We are the lifeblood that keeps this community alive and without us the writeblr community wouldn’t exist on Tumblr. Use that to your advantage!

♡ Write a writeblr reintroduction! Let people know you’re still alive and kicking and looking to be more involved in the community. Make posts that reintroduce your WIPs, characters, and more.

♡ Don’t be afraid to message writers and ask them about their WIPs and characters, as well as asking for others to look over your WIPs and see what they think of them. I can’t speak for others but my inbox is always open and I love chatting with other writers and hyping each other up! It’s the best.

♡  Participate in writeblr tag games and get to know the fellow writers in your community and what kind of genres they like to write in, what their writing styles are like, how often they like to write, what their favorite tropes are, etc.

♡ Reblog. Reblog. REBLOG. It’s great to receive a like on your writeblr posts but reblogging is what keeps our community thriving and helps others get more eyes on their work. It’s a great way for writers to support other writers, and really, that’s what the community is for. :)

Feel free to pm me or add more if you’ve got any tips. :)

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              The yearly ritual began with a simple cup of coffee and the sunrise. Mornings were already feeling a little cooler. The woman breathed the salt air in deep and relaxed, almost meditating. The blue-jays in the nearby sycamore chased each other with a joyous freedom. She wondered if they could feel the change in the air too. Finally ready, she set her mug down and strolled across the deserted street. Her few year round neighbors were all still asleep or already off to work. Leaving her sneakers on the wooden fence, her toes felt sand for the first time in two months. A cool breeze played with her hair. The beach was welcoming her home. She made her way down the worn path that would soon be a memory. Her feet alone weren’t enough to fight off the inevitable build-up of sand. The drooping fence would soon be the only marker to the entrance. Coming over the last dune, she surveyed the unsanctified land. Under the scattered debris, the sand glowed yellow white. The city sent people out to clean the beach but there was always a lot of trash they missed. She didn’t really mind. In fact, there was pride in the growing bag of soda cans and hot dog wrappers she held. Halfway through, she had to shed the light sweater that she’d put on in hopes of it being cooler. It would be soon enough. Her patch of the beach wasn’t large, but it always seemed to attract the messiest people. She made sure to walk the whole thing. Reconsecrating it with her joy alone. It was only after erasing all evidence of the summer people, that she sank onto the warm sand. The ocean sparkled in the sun. Gulls dove into the surf and flew away with the small fish they’d caught. The tide rolled over her bare feet. She accepted the water’s blessing. This moment was what she’d been dreaming of. The ritual complete, she could finally relax. The silence wrapped around her like a blanket. She had only ventured here once during a seasonal siege. The noise had run her off before she could even touch the sand. There was no too loud radios or children playing to break the peace, now. Tomorrow, after the first swim of the season, she would bring her sketchbook and work on her newest masterpiece with her toes buried in the sand. The beach would be her’s until next summer’s invasion.

The Beach               The yearly ritual began with a simple cup of coffee and the sunrise. Mornings were already…

Sometimes there is no darker place than our own thoughts; the moonless midnight of the mind.

Dean Koontz, Fear Nothing (via wordsnquotes)

A lovely review

via Short Story Review- Of Love Potions and Wishes By Catherine Rose

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writer's block

writer’s block

I spent a long time looking for the right prompt. in the end I just wasn’t feeling any of them. So that’s what I wrote about. Hopefully, my muse and I will back at it next week… I stared and stared at the blank page, the cursor blinking impatiently at me. I’d been sitting at my computer for hours. If this had been just a few years earlier, there would be an overflowing wastebasket at my side. As…

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me irl