“You don’t ask people with knives in their stomachs what would make them happy; happiness is no longer the point. It’s all about survival; it’s all about whether you pull the knife out and bleed to death or keep it in.”—Nick Hornby (via psych-facts)
Make sure what you’re writing about is important to you. If you’re afraid to share it, that’s good. Something that personal should be terrifying to share. Share it anyway. Believe in what you’re saying or no one else will. If you’re lying to your reader, make sure it’s intentional and you can explain why it was necessary. Writing fiction is not lying. Not believing in what you’re writing is lying. Don’t worry if it’s “good” or “bad” writing. Write whatever’s on your mind and then perfect it through editing. Use simple language and broad ideas. Get rid of the fluff. Don’t tell the reader how you feel, show them with details. Write often enough that the activity becomes a routine. It will feel easier then.
“You know, when you have kids, if you have kids, there’s something you should know, a very confusing thing they don’t tell you. You see so much of yourself in them. You see your ironic take on the world. You see your smile, your walk, your sense of humor, whatever. And you think they’re you. But they’re not you. And they shouldn’t have all of your baggage, your fear, and your insecurity, and your life experience, because that’s not fair. They have their own.”—Parenthood (via anditslove)
“I’m an author. We don’t want to lead. We don’t need to follow. We stay home and make stuff up and write it down and send it out into the world, and get inside people’s heads. Perhaps we change the world and perhaps we don’t. We never know. We just make stuff up.”—Neil Gaiman (via wordpainting)
“Can you understand? Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little? For all my despair, for all my ideals, for all that - I love life. But it is hard, and I have so much - so very much to learn.”—Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath (via bookmania)
“I’m a paradox. I want to be happy, but I think of things that make me sad. I’m lazy, yet I’m ambitious. I don’t like myself, but I also love who I am. I say I don’t care, but I really do. I crave attention, but reject it when it comes my way. I’m a conflicted contradiction. If I can’t figure myself out, there’s no way anyone else has.”—Unknown (via thatkindofwoman)
“I wrote a poem about it, and then threw it away, because that’s the last thing I need right now: More words dedicated to people who will never dedicate a single thing to me.”—Thought Catalog (via exoticwild)