What precisely would you like help with? Plot, grammar, narrative? I’d be happy to help in any way I can. I started writing when I was your age.
Darkness encompassed my surroundings like a thick blanket. I couldn’t see anything through the gloom. “Hello,” I called out. My voice echoed through the void. I began to walk tentatively forward, reaching out with my hands in hopes that I would find a wall, a door, anything to help me find my way. For some reason I felt empty and alone. I realized my face was wet with tears that spilled without ceasing from my eyes. I wasn’t trying to figure out where I was. I’d lost something…no, I’d lost someone.
“Lily!” I cried out in panic and hurt. “Novaya! Where are you? Answer me!”
As I wandered through the blackness, a swirling mist suddenly came out of nowhere. I tried to call out again, but my voice wouldn’t work. The mist moved closer and closer until I was walking straight through it. A light was emanating from somewhere ahead.
“Andromeda,” a gentle male voice called through the mist.
I paused in my walk and searched the surrounding air for the source, but found none save for the light ahead of me.
“Andromeda,” the voice called again. It was warm and inviting. It offered comfort in my pain.
My heart felt a little lighter, and I began to walk further, in search of its owner. “Who’s there?” I inquired as my eyes flitted about in search of them.
As I neared the light, I realized that it wasn’t a light at all, but a gateway of sorts. My surroundings were molding into another place. The mist slowly took form around me and suddenly melted into a stone room with torches along the walls. At the center of it was a podium made of rock. Perched on top of this was a book made of aged leather. It was fastened with brass latches and the symbol for Illdueh was set in its cover. I walked closer, pausing to look for the source of the voice. Still I found no one. I ran a hand over the surface and touched the locks. They were fastened tightly.
“You cannot run from your destiny, Andromeda,” the voice rang clearly. I jumped. “Don’t fight it. Let it come to pass.”
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(Source: ramonchristophercayetano, via whatwriterslove)
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—Arielle L. Jones
New excerpt from my novel up on my facebook page!
—Holly Black (via planb-becomeapirate)
(Source: writingquotes, via planb-becomeapirate)
I have a question that I need answered, and I world really appreciate it if you could take 2 seconds and write an answer.
In one or two sentences tell me,
WHY DO YOU WRITE?
I write because I need to. If I don’t get the stories out of my head, I’d never be able to live my life outside the written page. The stories write themselves whether I put them on paper or not.
(via overused-typewriter)
Sure, I’d love to give it a go!
Never give up! There will be days you’re discouraged, and you face writers block. The true measure of a writer is not in his/her ability to write, but in their ability to persevere.
