Is this what the love had dulled down to? Once a form of inseparable partnership that had manifested into an evil figure lurking in the shadows of the bedroom. Sooner or later, it was bound to happen, yet it was sooner than anticipated.
“I’m not going in there,” Charlotte complained. Lucian rolled his eyes, and scoffed. The river below them was luminescent. It gave off a blue aura but they were both aware of the source. The two stood perched on a stone bridge that lacked a railing.
She was picking at strands, and tossing them away
Infinite strands of numerous colors, all tossed away
A lonesome black world, with only strands hanging from the infinite above
You know what is the most difficult thing in writing?
Making a believable character. You have no idea how many times I actually ended up tearing up a bunch of characters that I thought were great.
Detail. Detail. Detail.
When you make a character, and choose where that character is from. You really have to do some research on what attitude your character will be like, because let us be honest people need to feel that your character is actually from there.
I used to just mention the country, and my character would act like he was from the other side of the world.
Look all around. It is dark, yet appealing. It is silent, yet peaceful. It is lonely, yet thrilling.
The cities overrun, the streets abandoned, and the homes no longer exist. The term “home” has been forgotten. The only viable option is to explore.
Jump from one area to the next, migrate from one state to the next, wander from one country to the next.
A never ending voyage. The gut-wrenching desperation that this journey will come to an end soon. All necessary, and appropriate thoughts.
Ponder, discover, survive.
What would you do if you were all alone in the world?
A Pierce, A Shiver, A Grim
In the grimmest of days, a matter much stressed on
Stellan seemed too focused on the problem at hand
He was approached, by a hooded figure
When you look at things correctly, everything you have ever done was pushed, or for a better word encouraged, by something else. It could be a suggestion, a recommendation, or even maybe your close ones told you that is what you should be doing. Bottom line is, I wasn’t born with the enthusiasm to write. It was ignited.
One of the most terrifying things, and yes it is actually heart-stopping scary, is actually getting a move on and doing something in writing. You may not actually get published, or you may not immediately get famous after writing a novel, and I get that now.