In the soft pleats of darkness
I find a strange solace,
like the night knows me better
than any being on this earth.
If the black were to swallow me
I’d have no objections,
for its voice brings me comfort,
and its embrace evokes mirth.
The stars know my secret,
but they’ll never tell,
and the moon listens to my
prayers every eve.
The midnight winds, with their
phantom swells,
sweep away my demons
so that I do not grieve.
Some fear the shadows and
yearn for the sun,
but its glow is a ruse meant to
tempt and chafe.
In the night I am warmed
and sealed by dusk;
for when the evening sighs
am I truly safe.
Wings are hard to come by
in a world where having two feet
planted firmly on the ground
is considered ‘customary’.
Flying is frowned upon,
especially when publicly
spreading your fiberglass wings
in defiance of ‘societal conventions’.
Magic is made monstrous
in a time when casting spells
will get you no more than a funny look
and piece of concerned advice.
Wings will weigh you down
in a sky that spits acid rain,
for flying isn’t safe nowadays,
since magic is misliked.
For writers, the web can be a distracting and overloading frontier, but that doesn’t mean that it’s all cat videos and social networking. Us scribes must sift through these diversions to even catch a glimpse of the incredible resources there are out there. Hey, writing in the modern world isn’t a feat for the faint of heart.
Many of you have probably already tapped into the internet’s writing goldmine, but today I’m going to supply you with ten sites that I have found tremendously helpful. Some of them you may have heard of and even frequented, others not.
So, in no particular order, here are ten random and wonderful sites for writers.
Even if you don’t have a Tumblr, WriteWorld is still a fantastic site filled with all sorts of writing goodies. From words of the day and writing tips to image, sentence, and writing blocks, WriteWorld provides helpful references and lists to help stimulate the muse within all of us and dropkick the dreaded writer’s block into yesterday.
Undoubtedly, one of my most refreshed web pages during the period of writing my last book was The Emotion Thesaurus and the Physical Attribute and Character Trait Thesaurus on The Bookshelf Muse. Since then, they’ve moved to another amazing site, Writers Helping Writers. Seriously, go check them out. There’s a lot of good stuff there.
Writers Write is another great resource, and they cover everything from character development to articles on tone and plot. One of my favorite posts of theirs is Cheat Sheets for Writing Body Language.
Exactly what it sounds like. This expansive character chart is a great tool for fleshing out characters. The Writers Helpers is a beautiful writing blog that gives solid advice and references.
This gem of a site supplies diverse, weird, and wonderful name combinations, for everything from characters to countries, taverns to mountains. It’s not just for fantasy, though, and even has a description generator that can supply lovely writing prompts.
It honestly feels like this site has everything. Here’s the description from their homepage:
Chaotic Shiny is a generator site aimed at people who write, game, or live in fantasy worlds of their own creation. Grappling with writer’s block? Need a character on the fly? Party just walked into a tavern and you want it to be a little more exciting than normal? Want to flesh out a setting with some detailed religions? Chaotic Shiny is the site for you.
I am obsessed with 8tracks. Just when I think I’ve gathered all my favorite mixes for my writing playlist, I’ll find another one that I like even more. If you’re one of those writers who absolutely must have background music playing at all times, 8tracks is what I’ve found to be one of the best places to make a mix to fit the mood. Just type “writing” into the explore section, and you’ll get thousands of playlists made by other writers. If you need somewhere to start, check out my account. As their website says,
8tracks is the best place for people who care about music to make & discover refreshingly human playlists.
I’m a sworn pluviophile, and pairing Rainy Mood’s gentle rain (or raging thunderstorm) setting with music from 8tracks makes for the perfect writing atmosphere. Just my opinion.
Inklewriter is a wonderfully enjoyable site that allows you to write interactive “Choose Your Own Adventure” style stories. It makes for a great writing exercise and can be helpful to those of us who struggle with finding the perfect ending. I absolutely adore books where the reader makes the decisions, so Inklewriter is like a playground for me.
Ok, I know what you’re thinking. Doll Divine, that’s a site full of girly fashion games. What does that have to do with writing? I’m a visual person. When I create a character, I like to illustrate them in as much detail as possible, both in words and artistically. But sometimes, I want a fast way to actually see my character. Sure, Doll Divine has kitschy wedding dress up games and the like, but they also have a lot of really great generators that can be used to design your original character. Got a fantasy character? Try their Game of Thrones and LoTR doll makers. Steampunk? They’ve got games for that. Warriors? Royalty? Dragons? Make it all and more with Doll Divine.
So, there you go- ten of my favorite sites for writing. Some of them might not be that obvious, but writing is a strange craft. We can find inspiration almost anywhere, if we look hard enough. Happy writing!
We are pilgrims,
seeking what lies beyond the amber vale-
a land where the mountains are gilded in freckled light,
and the earth sighs with each step.
Here I live on dirt and rock and water,
and breathe winter air that bites my throat.
But there I’ll feast on garnet grapes,
and sleep beneath a moon carved of opal
every obsidian night.
Where malachite moss creeps up jasper trees,
and seas are bathed in starlight-
there I shall build my home,
nestled in the golden sands.
We are pilgrims,
seeking what lies beyond this molten matter world-
a land where jewels drip from trees,
and time is crystallized.
Time will be your only friend, my child.
It will cloak you in years that I will never see,
and watch you grow in the palms of its hands.
You will hate time, my child.
You will think it your fiercest foe.
But it will be all you have.
Some nights the wind will scream your name,
some days the rain will douse your flame-
but never leave time’s side, my child,
and wander into the shadows alone.
Remember time, and keep it close.
For though it’s short, it is your own.
I have to leave you now, my child,
for where I go, the storm weeps on.
I know that in years to come you will scorn
the faceless man who abandoned you to time.
But time is my old friend, my child,
and I trust it with your life.
In a sea of gray,
the red bleeds out
like a brilliant flag amidst the smoke,
coming to life in a burst of crimson-
I marvel at the sight.
But then it’s gone,
and the beige swallows me up.
The fleeting flare of color collapses
and I am returned to the bleak cave
that is the underground.
I become one with the crowd,
a gray fish in a gray school,
striving for the stairs that rise out of my reach-
they are the deliverance from this pit
that festers with sound.
I am bumped and nudged,
elbowed and overlooked,
like a bobbing leaf in a raging stream.
Curses and whistles drizzle in my ear,
and then I see the red.
As the stairs ascend beneath my feet,
the red pulses past the pack,
a flash of color in the stilted sunlight-
a bright bloom that lifts my soul.
I long for it to stay.
But it is all gray, everything is gray,
and I climb the stairs with heavy feet;
the train whistle below fares me well
as I abandon the gloom.
Finally I break away,
emerging like a wrinkled sprout from the mud.
I feel rejuvenated, I taste the air-
only to gag on the curling smoke drifting
from a man’s pipe.
Above is just as soiled as below;
there is no difference, none at all-
and the gray is fierce with teeth that tremble,
devouring everything. There is no color;
the red is gone.
This poem is sort of long, but it’s the result of a writing exercise. The object was to take a piece of your writing, whether it be a narrative, fictional setting, etc., and transform it into a poem. This was from the opening chapter of a project I completed a while ago, and I decided to give it go. To be honest, it didn’t turn out exactly how I planned…but it did give me a whole new perspective on that scene.
One day
the stars will swallow the world,
and on that day, I will be sitting here,
by this tree, waiting for you
to come and sit
and watch time crumble with me.
One day
the parchment of past and present will tear,
and on that day, I will be holding my pen,
waiting to write my last regards
before the binding melts
and the book shuts forever.
One day
the dirt beneath our feet won’t be enough
to keep us from plummeting into tunnels of space,
and on that day, I will close my eyes,
and dream of fluffing my feathers
and flying through infinity.
One day
the stars will swallow the world,
and on that day, I will be sitting here,
beneath this tree, clinging to pieces
of what could’ve been
if the world went on spinning.
Three hundreddays of red we stayed, and the grass grew with bones in its leaves. And three hundred days of black we blazed, as the lilies were picked by the thieves.
Oh, have you heard of the Lily Lords?
with blue and black petals they lay
dead on the ground, hey, dead on the ground
as the night wept into the day.
One satin eve they met their hands, and with silver lips fought with words; they sought to restore the peace between lands, but their tongues were honed into swords.
Not even a scream could the rose howl
as the weed wound its nettle-wrath roots,
for the Lily Lords’ tremblin’ voices were fouled
by the raw soil they did dispute.
Three hundred days of red we stayed, and the trees soaked the blood up their leaves, And three hundred days of black we blazed, as the land was torn up by the weeds.
Oh, have you heard of the Lily Lords? with blue and black petals they lay dead on the ground, hey, dead on the ground as the night wept into the day.
This is actually supposed to be a “song” for the project I’m currently working on. I’m in the process of writing the music to it. It’s got a fairly extensive background, so it might not make total sense when taken out of context…but oh well.
I tremor this prayer
while the knowing flame quakes,
and velvet as the night,
my voice carries your name.
I breathe it over ashes,
I hum it into smoke-
my prayer lives within the fire
that furls and chokes.
Your smile is painted
into my song’s melodies,
and the lapping red tongues
twirl its tune readily.
I tremor this prayer
as the wet wax burns low,
and like a seeping chorus
your symphony flows.
Beyond the void there is
a door, murky and menacing
against a wall of thorns,
and choked in vines
that whisper
my name.
I know I must reach
that door, for beyond it lies
the answer, I think-
but the way is vast
and dripped in smog,
and the bridge rots
in ruins at my feet.
The end lies dead,
and I’m stranded on this side,
clinging to brambles and scraps
of the past that reek
of desolation.
The door, swirling in stilted light,
mocks me from afar,
singing a song that
can never be reprised.
Stellular Scribe 