Write it. Shoot it. Publish it. Crochet it, sauté it, whatever. MAKE.– Joss Whedon (via misswallflower)
We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master.– Ernest Hemingway (via ilovereadingandwriting)
The smoke flowed upward like a waterfall in reverse. She knew what she was doing was wrong, that it could very well end in her death, but she didn’t care. Those few minutes of inhaling the sweet nicotine into her lungs, taking it into herself like a vaporous lover, was worth whatever horrible outcome she could imagine. The sign above her head read ABSOLUTELY NO SMOKING in bold harsh letters....
13 Writing Tips from Chuck Palahniuk →
For this essay, my goal is to put more in. To put together a kind-of Christmas stocking of ideas, with the hope that something will be useful. Or like packing the gift boxes for readers, putting in candy and a squirrel and a book and some toys and a necklace, I’m hoping that enough variety will guarantee that something here will occur as completely asinine, but else might be perfect.
There’s no such thing as writer’s block. What’s called...– James Gunn
The Collected Correspondence of Captain Splendid...
Captain Splendid Care of John D. Smith, Reporter, World Daily Globe Times Gazette Herotown, USA. 09876 Dear Dr. Von Magma-brain, Writing to inform you that your most recent attempt at world domination was one of particular amusement for me. The fact that you tried to claim the White House while the President was on a diplomatic mission in another country is sad enough, but the fact that...
“The headaches are getting worse.” he said to his girlfriend. She offered him a pill. Time seemed to speed up, minutes felt like seconds, days like hours. He could no longer remember what day it was when he woke in the mornings. Blinding pain, the lights pulsated everywhere he went, the world grew very bright then very dark, repeatedly and no matter the time of day, not that he could...
As The Sun Rises Over Dead Man's Island
The night sky was filled with a cascade of sparks, as though an undying light in the heavens had shattered, sending its pieces to the Earth below. Such terrible beauty, such utter chaos. The plane was hit and it was going down fast. “What the hell hit us?!” shouted the pilot, a man of forty-five with salt and pepper hair and a blue suit. The man seated behind the pilot, considerably...
“Oh god, oh god, oh god.” Ray kept repeating this to himself until Sam and his burrito sat down across from him. “What happened? What did you just do?” “I hung up on her.” Ray said. “You what?! Why would you do that?” “I panicked!” Ray said. “But her voice is so incredible.” “Call her back, dipshit!” ...
I always was. I came out of the womb a writer. I didn’t realize that everybody...– Harlan Ellison, after being asked “How did you become a writer?”
If you make people laugh or cry about little black marks on sheets of white...– Kurt Vonnegut
Put it aside. Read it pretending you’ve never read it before. Show it to friends...– Neil Gaiman
Practice will never make you perfect. Why should it? What fun would that be?– Stephen King
Ellie poured a cup of coffee as Carrie entered the kitchen and sat on the stool at the table. When Carrie saw the coffee, she let out a loud groan and collapsed against the table, her head hitting it with a thunk. “Oh god, coffee.” “Um.” Ellie said. She sat across the table from Carrie and stirred some sugar into her coffee. “You’ve never reacted to coffee...
The wind took the edge of the umbrella and made it twirl madly, causing a loud clanking sound to emanate from the table it was attached to. “Jesus, it’s so loud here.” Sam said. He was riding low on his bright orange hard plastic seat, his sunglasses pressed firmly against his face. “Why did I agree to come to lunch with you?” “Because you’re my friend,...