The Hive

I’m tired.

Here it is, I admit it out loud or else the words won’t leave my mouth. I’m so tired, both physically and mentally. I’m one of those persons who just can’t shut down, I always have to do something since time is like a noose and if I stop I think that it’s going to choke me.

On Writing: Struggle

There was a book on my shelf for quite some time now. It waited since it was more different than those I’m used to read. The title was: Daily Rituals: How Artists Work. 

Until I woke up one day and I told myself: It’s time! I do want to know how artists work. I do want to know, and maybe I’ll find myself a bit related to some of the rituals, I’ll read? Maybe?

On Writing: Rewriting

There is a magic in rewriting a story and I discover its beauty the more rewriting comes to an end. I’ve rewritten 21 of the 27 chapters and even if I cut some of them and expanded others, the fact is that the original story is on its end.

But my story is not!

Made of stardust

"We are made of stardust …"

That is how a quote began on Goodreads some days ago and I found myself stopping there, mid-sentence and reading again the same words. We are made of stardust but the magic that gives us life is different.

Precious little moments

I woke up today thinking of my MC. I try to see where she is now, what she's doing but the more I try to picture her, the more she slips away. I usually let her be, waiting for her to show me the way but this time, all she shows me is the last part of the chapter I wrote.

I fear that I may have damaged her more than the book requires. Is this even possible?

On Writing: Stay focused

I feel an emptiness in my chest right next to my heart and I know it's because its wounded. It aches and the pain travels across my body but I didn't mean for this to happen! Yes, I am the one to blame but I am also the one who can actually do something about it.

I've been trying, for I would be dammed if I didn't, but as long as I try to fix this, I fail, and the wound in my chest grows bigger and bigger. Lately the pain increases by the hour and I fear that the hole next to my heart will grow so big that will swallow it entirely.

Why do you write?

What writing means to you? Why do you write?

I want to know your story, your thoughts about writing. Do you write? Do you want to write? Do you keep a diary, do you write down your inner thoughts and secrets? Do you write a book? Many books? Why?

I follow so many talented and passionate people around the world, I read posts, opinions and advices about books and stories and plots. We write all day, we write tweets, posts, we write on Facebook walls, and I want to know ... why do you write? What urges you to do it?