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writing, music, drawing, cooking, painting, sculpting. creating. art of every form is beautiful, don’t you think? is it not worth appreciating, the work, the passion the love, of something someone made, created. it is quite irreplaceable. and once you start appreciating its different ways, the world becomes a lot more vibrant, i think

Best Writing Advice I’ve Ever Received

1. “You can’t edit a blank page.”

This advice hit me like a ton of bricks when I first heard it. It’s so simple, yet so powerful. Writing something—even if it’s not perfect—is better than writing nothing at all. The idea is to get the words out, even if they’re messy, and then fix them later. There’s always room to improve, but the hardest part is starting. So, don’t wait for perfection. Just write.

2. “Show, don’t tell—except when you should tell.”

It’s one of the classic writing rules, and yet, I found this piece of advice to be both a game-changer and a huge relief. So often, we get stuck on the idea that “showing” is the ultimate goal. But sometimes, telling is just as effective. It’s about knowing when to lean into subtlety and when to give the reader exactly what they need upfront.

3. “Write the book you want to read.”

This was one of the most liberating pieces of advice I’ve ever received. So many times, we get caught up in writing what we think people will want to read, or what we think is “marketable.” But when you focus on writing a story you genuinely want to read—one that excites and moves you—everything else falls into place.

4. “Don’t compare your first draft to someone else’s final draft.”

This one is a tough one to swallow, especially in the age of social media where we’re constantly exposed to the polished, perfect versions of other people’s work. It’s easy to feel like you’re falling behind when you compare your rough drafts to someone else’s masterpiece. But every writer starts somewhere, and your first draft is just that—a draft.

5. “Make your characters want something, even if it’s just a glass of water.”

This advice came from a workshop, and it’s one that I’ve come back to time and time again. It’s a reminder that characters need motivation—whether it’s a big goal like saving the world, or something small and personal, like finding a glass of water in the desert. A character without desire is a character that feels flat and uninteresting.

6. “The best way to improve your writing is to read more than you write.”

This advice took me a while to fully understand, but it makes perfect sense. Reading other authors’ work, especially those whose writing you admire, teaches you things that can’t be learned through theory or workshops alone. You’ll pick up on pacing, voice, structure, and what makes a story truly captivating—all while expanding your understanding of storytelling.

7. “Your first draft is just you telling yourself the story.”

This was another gem of wisdom that I didn’t fully grasp at first. It’s easy to fall into the trap of wanting your first draft to be perfect, but it’s not meant to be. The first draft is for you—to explore the plot, the characters, the world. It’s your chance to get everything down and see where it leads, without worrying about perfection.

8. “Write with the door closed, rewrite with the door open.”

This is one of Stephen King’s rules of writing, and it’s a brilliant one. When you’re drafting, don’t worry about anyone else reading your work. It’s your time to be raw and experimental. But when it comes to revising, open that door—let others in for feedback, because the revision process is where the magic happens.

#80 I wish poetry came easily. 

Bright words that could naturally sweep through me. 

Like intoxicating and wonder filled seas.

Of lavender, teal and parsnip creme

Trickle from page from pen, from pen to me.

I wish the dam was never closed.

Inspiration endless but an eb and flow,  

Not brilliant wet flashes then dry lonely stones. 

Then the dam’s tight as a dish and I am alone. 

Left to smack at cement and wait in the cold 

For the stones to split apart and invite me to explore the sea. 

But I fumble and stumble, push pen forward on. 

I keep writing haiku, couplet or song,

With remaining words, mediocre and oblong as can be. 

And I feel new stream beds forming beneath me. 

─ Hisham Siddiqi

i love you until i can't look at you

i feel like throwing up

online communities are so strange because people slip away so easily. you can be on here for years, folding people you've never met into the fabric of your daily life, and then they disappear, leaving only ghost posts scattered across tumblr behind. or their blog stays dormant, for weeks, months, years, until you're only still following them because you remember that they love sunflowers or they were kind to you when they didn't have to be or the last thing they posted was sad and raw and you still worry about them sometimes.

and sometimes they come back when you least expect it, years later, even, and there's this sudden rush of relief like there you are, there you are, even though you barely knew each other.

there's a strange kind of love to it. i don't know you and i want to hold your hand across miles and time zones and oceans. i can still see the imprint of you in this community you left. you don't anyone will notice or care when you're gone, but we notice and we care and we wish you well.

i hope you're all okay out there. i hope the sun is shining on your face and you are breathing deeply. i miss you.

Ough you go to therapy you take your meds you learn to drive you make friends you graduate college you get a dog you rent a cute apartment you learn to love properly and then one person says something and it makes you feel like a kid again, alone on the swing

"Impossibly Precious, Terribly Small" a mixed media poetry zine I'm working on about how time is passing and there's no going back.