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#writing talent
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Is it Possible for an Idea to be Beyond Your Skill Level?
                I think writing as a skill is often underappreciated. In that, I mean I think even writers hold ourselves to a standard that no other creator does. Out of all the skills or hobbies, it’s probably one of the least physical ones, which is often seen as the “benchmark” for skill, or the limiting factor in someone improving something.
                For example, musicians get more nimble and can reach their notes quicker and more accurately, allowing them to play more difficult pieces. Athletes get stronger and gain in endurance, allowing them to score more goals or otherwise go farther in the season with their team.
                I see writers all the time who believe they should be able to do anything because they don’t have that physical benchmark to limit how far they can go, and then the draft doesn’t come out how they wanted it to, and they get discouraged.
                Here’s my take, writing as a skill is just like any other. It needs practice. It’s not something you’re either born with or not, it needs to be developed and strengthened.
                With that in mind—I promise your idea isn’t beyond you. No one is ever going to finish a perfect draft on their first try—that’s never how anything works, and it has nothing to do with how “talented” you are.
                Rewrite the scene until it’s capturing what you want it to. Rework that character until they are who you need them to be. Edit until your motifs are coming through. It’s all practice, every draft is another practice towards nailing the end product. Do you think artists nail drawing hands on their first try? What about on their tenth try?
                So why are you holding yourself to this idea that it’s taking too many drafts to perfect?
                It’s okay to keep trying. If you’re really struggling with realizing a concept, take it out of its context. Write the character you want to see in different situations separate from your project. Read how others have done something similar, take notes. Gather sources and inspiration for what you want to do. Reach out to other writer friends for advice.
                Overall, don’t not write because you think it’s beyond you. With a little bit of work and practice, there’s no story you can’t finish.
                Good luck!
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worldpoetryday · 19 days
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Poetry Out Loud finals.
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You can watch the competition live in person at Lisner Auditorium, The George Washington University, 730 21st Street NW, Washington, DC, or online through a one-time-only webcast at arts.gov/Poetry-Out-Loud. A total of $50,000 in awards and school or organizational stipends will be awarded at the National Finals, including $20,000 for the Poetry Out Loud National Champion. The National Finals will take place at 7:00 p.m. ET and will culminate with the live announcement of the 2024 Poetry Out Loud National Champion.
Participate on May 02nd, 2024 to the Poetry Out Loud National Finals. 07:00 pm ~ 09:00 pm ET
youtube
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castielsprostate · 9 months
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having talented friends is so wild!!!!!! like. YOU!!!!!!!!!! YOU made THAT. YOU DID THAT?!?!?!?! YOU created!!!! THAT!!!!!!!!!!! WOAH!!!!!! praise!!!!!!!! praise for one thousand years!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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inkskinned · 7 months
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the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.
three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.
two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.
their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.
one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.
i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.
i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.
and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?
you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.
a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.
someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.
#writeblr#warm up#this is longer than i wanted i really considered removing that part about myself and what i went thru#but i think it really fucking bothers me that EVERY time i talk about being an artist#ppl assume i just like. had the skill and ability to drop everything and pay for grad school.#like sir i grew up poor. my house wasn't a safe space. i gave up a FREE RIDE TO LAW SCHOOL. for THIS. bc i chose it.#was it fucking hard? was i choosing the hard thing?? yes.#but we need to stop seeing artists as lazy layabouts that can ''afford'' to just ''sit around and create''#when MANY - if not MOST - of us are NOT like that. we have to work our fucking ASSES off. hard work. long and hard work#part of valuing artists is recognizing the amount we sacrifice to make our art. bc it doesn't just#like HAPPEN to us. also btw it rarely has anything to do with true talent.#speaking as someone with a chronic condition i hate when ppl are like u have it easy. like actively as i'm writing this my hands r#ACTIVELY hurting me. i haven't been posting bc my left hand was curled in a claw for the last week#this isn't fucking luck. after a certain point it's not even TALENT. it's dedication & sacrifice.#''u get to flounce around and do nothing with ur life'' is a narrative that is a direct result of capitalism#imagine if we said that about literally any other profession.#''oh so u give up 10 yrs of ur life to be a doctor? u sacrifice having a social life and u get SUPER in debt?#u need to work countless hours and it will often be thankless? well i wish i was that lucky''#we should be applying that logic to landlords ONLY#''oh ur mom and dad gave u the money to buy a house? and all u did was paint it white and rent it? huh.''
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ohposhers · 4 months
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going off the fact that JD wrote almost every Brozone song, i have this headcanon that on particularly lonely nights when JD can't sleep he stays up writing songs for his brothers that he will absolutely never show them ever </3 He's had the guitar since he was 11 and he refuses to get a new one cause it's one of the only things he still has from his parents LOLOL
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charcoaledrocks · 3 months
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hello Tumblr User @pittdpeaches you ruined my life / j
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jomeimei421 · 6 days
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Felt a bit nostalgic watching RT shut down…Here are the og faves again for old times sake 💙
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bluegiragi · 20 days
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Okay I understand then. But what about that rape fic you retweeted
ah anon, you're really drawing this out. but fine...i'll let the secret out...im...an adult woman with kinks....
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radioducky · 2 months
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@yezoki after reading the current chapter 8 of ‘The Things We Become in the Aftermath of Rage’ I just had to doodle this particular scene. Alastor is such a drama queen, I absolutely love your work! 🙏
Check out the (still ongoing) fic here!
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yeehawpim · 4 months
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Did a collab with @julnites! I did layout/writing and he did the art.
Check out the finished version there!
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otaku553 · 9 months
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Haha
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worldpoetryday · 1 year
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Promote Writing Talent - 2023 Poetry in Public.
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Poetry in Public celebrates our community’s rich literary tradition and local writing talent by displaying poems by writers of all ages.
Johnson County residents are invited to submit poems to the 2023 program. Selected poems are posted for viewing all over the community – including inside city buses, at the Iowa City Public Library, Iowa City Recreation Centers and the Johnson County Senior Center.
Please note that if the poem you are submitting has been previously published in a book, magazine, journal, newspaper, or other form, you will need to have permission for the poem to be used in the Poetry in Public Project. It is the poet’s responsibility to get this permission prior to submission.
2023 Poetry in Public.
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fitpacs · 2 months
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if you’re going to miss the qsmp content whilst the server is down, may i suggest indulging in some of the fantastic fics that this fandom has to offer - there are fics of all sizes, genres, ships (romantic and platonic), basically whatever you could want, there’s a fic for it!
fic writers in this fandom are phenomenally talented, and i urge you to show them some appreciation during this time without the server - some of the fics are so realistic it’s like you’re reading canon lore anyway :)
i would suggest ao3 as a starting off point as it’s very easy to filter tags based on what you may/may not want to see.
show appreciation to the authors, they work hard and let’s get each other through this break and the server works behind the scenes to iron out the issues🌟
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incognito-princess · 2 years
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guess I should head to bed... these fanfiction scenarios aren't going to be imagined and then never written all by themselves...
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juiceicicles · 1 year
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Someone leaves a small blue leather notebook behind at the Munson trailer. Eddie finds it and reads it.
There’s poems about everything. There’s poems about love. Love for your friends, the guilt that comes with love, the desire to protect those you loved. Poems about familial love. Finding a new family to love, being ruined by the want for parental love, searching for something to fill that role. Poems about bitter love. Wanting love but never finding it, of being unloveable, of your loved ones loving a you who doesn’t exist.
There’s poems about knowing who you are but not who you want to be. Poems about fear for the future, fear of yourself, fear of abandonment and false promises.
Poems about growing up too fast. About loosing yourself to your trauma. About going crazy in your own head.
Poems about making mistakes you can never make up, for doing things or believing things you will never atone for, of never wanting to be who you were again.
There’s dozens of handwritten poems. Most of which speak to Eddie in a way most poetry doesn’t. There’s a few poems he doesn’t get, but most of them are genuine and relatable. There’s grammatical errors and spelling mistakes, but every poem is deeply personal in a way that the abstract literature in English classes aren’t.
Eddie wants to know who wrote this, wants to ask for more, wants to tell them how much he understands and feels understood.
Until Steve Harrington calls and asks if he’d left a little blue leather notebook in Eddie’s trailer this weekend.
Now all Eddie wants to know where all of this came from.
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wynnyfryd · 6 months
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ao3’s formatting is being a little dickhole today so please enjoy this BEAUTIFUL STUNNING GORGEOUS SEXY ART that @inklessletter drew of steve sucking eddie’s thumb in ch. 6 of the trailer park au
bonus line art sketch because he’s beautiful i can’t stop looking at him
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