Tag: Creative Writing

The Winter Yuck and How to Not Rot Entirely during Winter

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

This is something I’m half writing for myself. Let me set the stage for you real quick.

It’s January. I’m snowed in. The Holidays are done and over with, and I am more than a little antsy. My weekend has left me bored and stagnant, as I’ve been trapped at home for far too long. While some might think this would be a WONDERFUL time to catch up on the long-dead hobbies and creative endeavors that I’ve left at the wayside of life due to busy-ness, I have found this time not so…constructive nor productive. Why, you might ask? It’s simple… I’ve got a case of Winter Yuck.

I am so so so ready for spring. It gets dark early. It’s nasty outside. When I get home from work, I just want to eat, watch tv, and hit the hay early. I am anything but motivated. Perhaps it’s the perpetually gray sky? Or perhaps it’s the inability to go outside for a refreshing walk, but regardless, the result is the same. I am doing a whole lot of nothing.

So, I’ve written a little guide for myself to follow as spring slowly creeps ever closer. Maybe you need it too?

First, bullet point number one….

Don’t go to bed immediately. Try to stay up and enjoy something. This could be reading a mere 5 pages of a book or popping popcorn and watching a new movie. Just do something that you can tell your friends that you did with your evening. One redeeming thing is all it takes. Then you can go to bed.

Bullet point number two is in regards to your writing…

If you find yourself absolutely hollow creatively, maybe put a pause on the self-induced guilt trip, and try consuming writing instead. This still contributes to your growth as a writer. It is so so important that you read and engage with other creative voices, and it’s a little more pasisve and requires less energy than creating the work itself.

My other tip in regards to your winter writing slump, is to do something ELSE creative. Not writing related but still creative. Writing is creativity + words. When you read, you’re still developing the WORDS part of that equation. When you’re doing another creative hobby, you’re developing the CREATIVE part. Still progress, friends. It still counts.

Bullet point number three…

If it’s miserable outside, try to get up and move around your house. You can do this by cleaning or taking a quick shower. Sometimes this is all it takes to get you out of hibernation mode. If not, then at least you or your house its clean. Time to go to bed,

And Finally…

Be easy on yourself. Winter sucks. I get it. It’s my least favorite season, too. I’m a plant at heart. I need sunshine. But spring will come again soon, just hang in there.

It’s at the point that I’m going to insert a master list of winter-friendly creative tasks, divided into low-energy to medium-energy. Maybe give it a skim if you find yourself at a loss for what to do with your life right now. Some of these are even winter-unique so perhaps you can find a bright spot in all this gray!

Please note, I tried to make these activities have a bit more of a whimsical spin. You can scroll Pinterest for your more generic “learn to crochet” type activities. I am by no means going to preach the benefits of scrapbooking either. Here are just some out-of-left-field but fun things you can do to try and prevent yourself from succumbing to winter-induced brain rot. Take what you want and leave what you want.

Low-Energy (Bed, Couch, or Chair by a Window Activities)

  • Re-title your life as if it were a novel
    Write five alternative titles. Bonus points if one sounds vaguely Victorian or mildly tragic. The modern version of this is title your life like it’s a show and divide your life into “seasons”. Who would the characters be?
  • Make a “things that felt important this winter” inventory
    Include tiny things: a mug, a song you played on repeat, a phrase you overheard. This can help you try and find some creative meaning in the midst of a not-so-fun or colorful season.
  • Annotate your own memories
    Pick one small memory and write footnotes explaining what you didn’t realize at the time. Kind of like journaling but shorter and more focused.
  • Create a winter alter ego
    Give her a name, a coat, a favorite hot drink, and one quirky habit or interest.
  • Transcribe comfort
    Handwrite a poem, passage of scripture, recipe, or letter that steadies you. No analysis. Just copying as a means to meditate or collect.
  • Design a room you’ll never have
    Describe it in words only. Light, textures, where the chair sits. No Pinterest allowed.
  • Write extremely short letters you will never send
    To: the moon, your childhood bedroom, the version of you who thought 2020 was the year (oof. Sorry, girl).
  • Make a list called “Things Winter Is Good At”
    Keep it humble. Dusk. Soup. Long shadows at 4:30 pm.
  • Rename the months like an old folklore calendar
    January becomes “The Month of Locked Doors,” and so forth. You can make them cute or ominous or fantastical or something entirely different.
  • Curate a personal winter museum
    Five objects on your desk. Write one sentence about why each deserves a placard.

Low-to-Medium Energy (Tabletop, Floor, or Soft Music Required)

  • Create a survival guide for your specific winter
    Include rules like: “No big decisions after sunset” or “Always light a candle before you shower”.
  • Make a tiny ritual out of something you already do
    Tea, skincare, feeding the cat. Give it a beginning, middle, and end. Then write it down for yourself down the road. Collect these winter rituals in a book. Maybe even ask your friends if they have some of their own?
  • Rewrite a fairytale as Southern gossip or local legend
    Not a full story—just the tone and rumor version that you’d imagine your local church-going gossips reaccounting.
  • Assemble a “cold-weather soundtrack” for a fictional character
    Or even yourself. But this can also be a character development exercise.
  • Practice intentional loitering
    Sit near a window or porch and observe one thing for a little while.
  • Write a poem that never mentions winter but is clearly about winter
    Focus on restraint. Omission is the point.
  • Create a recipe that exists only in theory
    Name it. Describe when and how it would be served. You do not have to cook it.
  • Sort your photos like an archivist
    Create albums that are separated by color, adventure, life phase, or even time of day.
  • Draft a one-page “field guide”
    Examples: Field Guide to People Who Disappear in Winter, Field Guide to Indoor Light, Field Guide to Quiet Evenings.

Medium-Energy (Still Gentle, Still Cozy, But Upright)

  • Rearrange one small space like you’re preparing for a long stay
    A drawer, a shelf, a nightstand. Be prepared, yaknow?
  • Write a winter letter to yourself to read in spring
    I’d recommend to keep it observational, not aspirational. No goals. Just telling your future self how excited you are for sunshine to come back.
  • Create something meant to be used up by the season
    A candle plan, a soup rotation, a nightly reading list.
  • Host a solo “slow afternoon”
    One album, one warm drink, one creative task. No multitasking allowed.
  • Make a map of your hometown or neighborhood. Make it winter-specific if you’d like.
    This can be real or imagined. Perhaps you map all the hibernation spots of the fairies and goblins or maybe you make a map that shows you the best place to get a hot chocolate.

I hope these tips have been useful to you. Hang in there, and stay alive!

The Dangers of Writing Like You Don’t Read

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

There’s a special kind of writing slump that sneaks up on people if they’re not careful. It’s sometimes not the one where you’ve got zero motivation, but the one where your words feel… stale. The same old metaphors. The same style. The same syntax. It becomes a formula of sorts and doesn’t feel fresh. It gets old.

I think a big culprit behind this is writing without reading.

When we only pour out words but never take any in, our writing starts to echo itself. It’s like talking to yourself in a room with no one else around. Eventually, you’ll run out of new things to say.

Reading gives life to your work. It stretches your brain into shapes you wouldn’t find on your own. You pick up little tricks without even realizing it. This could be a fun phrase, a surprising metaphor, or a way to pace a scene. Sometimes it’s not even about the writing itself but about remembering why you wanted to write in the first place. Books can also remind us of the wonder that made us pull out a pen or our laptop in the first place.

I didn’t read much throughout college and good gracious, it showed in my writing. Everything I wrote felt…Safe. The echo chamber became comfortable. Because, you see, a crappy side effect of not reading is sometimes not even REALIZING the echo chamber your writing is becoming until you sit down with a fresh pair of eyes and you find your own writing boring! It’s bland. It’s missing something. But when I began to pick up reading again (post college), I found writing easier and the quality better.

So if you’re in a slump, maybe the best cure isn’t another thousand words of pushing through. Maybe it’s picking up something off your shelf, letting someone else’s voice break through the echo chamber, and remembering that writing is, at its core, a conversation between you, your imagination, your inspiration, and your readers. And you can’t hold up your end of the conversation if you’re not listening, too.

Anyways, happy Tuesday, and thanks for dropping by and reading my little mini-rant.

K byeeee

Writing When You Don’t Believe in the Ending (Yet)

~ Brooke F. ~ 1 Comment

When I was in middle school, I had no qualms about just opening a Word doc and shooting from the hip. Who cares, right?? I’m in middle school. But as an adult, I can tell you a completely different story…

My tune has definitely since changed. As self-doubt and perfectionism have become a more prevalent issue in my writing life, I have found that writing when you know where you’re headed is not always easy. Even when you’ve got the finish line in sight, writing WITH a plan is hard enough.

But writing when you don’t believe in the ending? When you’re not even sure if the ending is good, or if the whole thing is worth finishing? That can be a little petrifying or even a slog depending on your personality. That’s like trudging through fog with no map and hoping you’re still on track.

And honestly, that’s where a lot of us live, I think.

We start a project full of enthusiasm, picturing readers crying or laughing at the perfect final scene. Then somewhere around the middle, the plot feels flat, the characters stop talking to us, and we start wondering if we’ve just wasted months of our life. Or maybe we planned the ending and Oh Shoot! It doesn’t feel like it fits anymore! What now???

My advice?

1. Remind yourself you don’t have to believe in it to keep going

You can keep typing even while thinking, This is probably terrible. You can finish a chapter while doubting whether it will all make sense in the end. Doubt doesn’t have to be a stop sign. Resign it to some annoying background noise, and you may even forget about it. Try and loosen up a bit and actually enjoy this whole writing ordeal; otherwise, it may be worth abandoning altogether if you cannot find a shred of enjoyment in it. Just don’t be so hard on yourself, and maybe attempt to write through the doubt.

2. Lower the bar when you’re in the fog

If you can’t see the grand, perfect ending right now, fine. Just write the next part. You’re not committing to keeping it forever. You’re committing to getting it down on the freaking page. Sometimes a clunky placeholder scene is the bridge to the better one you’ll write later. This is the whole “one foot in front of the other” tactic and it works rather nice in my opinion.

3. Let the ending find you

The pressure to “have it all figured out” before you get there will kill your momentum. Sometimes you only discover the right ending after you’ve written the wrong one. Keep moving forward and trust that clarity comes from progress. I have often found that the right ending can come to me when I see how these characters have progressed and grown. I am better equipped by the end of the story to say “ahhh this feels right.”

4. Remember: every story feels worse in the middle

Middles are messy. You’re too close to see what’s working, and your brain is wired to spot flaws. But a finished draft, even a shaky one, can be fixed. An abandoned draft can’t. At the end, you can always edit but you cannot edit what isn’t even there!

5. Have something else that carries you through

Chances are, some redeeming elements about this story that made you start it in the first place, even if it wasn’t the ending itself. What are those elements? The characters? Your interesting or complex MC? The side romance you want to write? That scene in the middle where you reveal that plot twist? Maybe focus on that instead of the hazy or non-existent light at the end of the tunnel

In conclusion, I shall restate my hypothesis (just as my science teachers HAMMERED in my head): Write the next sentence. Then the next. Then keep going until you stumble right into the ending you didn’t see coming but are actually quite delighted with because it’s one that feels RIGHT.

A Beginner’s Guide to Finishing Stuff (From a Chronic Abandoner of Various Projects)

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

Hi, my name is Brooke, and I’m a chronic abandoner. Not of people (I promise), but of projects, books, hobbies, that one prom dress I swore I’d make in an attempt to teach myself how to sew… you get the idea I think.

Finishing things has never been my spiritual gift. I’m the queen of a passionate beginnings, you see. I romanticize the planning stage. I make Pinterest boards. I buy cute supplies. I tell at least three people, “I’m so excited about this!” And then somewhere between “this is so fun” and “this is taking longer than I thought,” the energy fizzles out. The end result, I’m sure you can vividly pictures. Shelves of crafting supplies. Half-finished books in word docs galore. A USB stocked with outlines for projects that never quite made it. And not a lot to show for it!

But lately, I’ve been trying something new: actually finishing things. Ok, not everything. But SOME things. Like my poetry book. Like my journals. Like that book series I forgot about. The Prom dress still needs to be hemmed though I’m afraid. We’re not all perfect.

From all this “finishing” going on, I have learned a few things in the process. Disclaimer though, I still have more unfinished projects than finished ones so DEFINITELY take what I say with a pinch-no, a CUP of salt. So! With that disclaimer on the table, let’s get rollin’.

1. Start Smaller Than You Think You Need To

I used to set goals like “write a book,” “learn to quilt,” or “organize my entire life in one weekend.” Funnily enough, these goals would often occur on a late night during the weekend when I was suddenly zapped with ambition. These are not goals. These are lofty, unsustainable, and vague finish lines that realistically take ages to actually cross if ever crossed at all.

Now I aim to “write for 10 minutes,” “sew one line,” or “put away the laundry mountain (just the socks).” Turns out finishing is a lot more achievable when you’re not setting yourself up for theatrical failure. Be realistic and be kind to yourself.

2. Romanticize the Middle

We romanticize beginnings and endings. The start is all fresh notebooks and adrenaline. The end is the glorious Instagram post or the satisfying checkmark. But the middle? That’s where things get boring, awkward, and full of self-doubt.

If you can learn to love the middle and make a vibe out of it, throw on a playlist, light a candle, celebrate the slog, Congrats! You’re halfway there. Progress is still progress, even if nothing is complete just yet. Celebrate more than just the finish-line.

3. Keep a “Done” List

Everyone loves a to-do list, but I’ve started keeping a done list. Every time I finish something (even the tiniest task), I jot it down. Finished a book? On the list. Replied to that one email that’s been haunting me since Tuesday? Absolutely going on the list. Wrote 300 words on a story I’ve been ignoring for months? That’s going in bold and underlined.

There’s something deeply satisfying about seeing all the little wins pile up. It proves that yes, I do finish things, just not always on the dramatic scale I imagined.

4. Stop Waiting to Feel “Ready”

Finishing stuff isn’t about being ready. It’s about deciding to move even when the ending isn’t in sight or planned out. Waiting until I feel motivated has kept me in procrastination purgatory more times than I can count. I’ve learned to accept that I won’t feel like finishing most things but if I just start walking, the motivation catches up eventually.

(Usually after snacks. Snacks are the ultimate motivator.) (And maybe a nap. Naps are important too.) (Honestly, just make sure you’re taking care of your basic needs before you take any of this advice).

5. Embrace the “Imperfectly Done”

Not everything you finish has to be amazing. It just has to be done. The first poem you actually finish might sound weird and cringy. The painting might look better in your head than on canvas. The short story might never get published. But hey! It exists. That’s pretty neat!

AND it’s done. And that’s worth celebrating. You saw it through. You beat the voice that said, “Why bother?”

And with every imperfectly finished thing, you build the muscle. You prove to yourself that you can finish projects. Even if it takes longer than you originally intended (when DOESN’T it???). Even if you abandoned it once and came back weeks later with coffee and renewed determination. Still worth throwing some confetti. Perfection is NOT a prerequisite for appreciation or celebration. (I find myself constantly yelling this at myself mentally).

So here’s your permission slip: Go finish something tiny today. A draft. A to-do item. That sandwich. (Never let a sandwich go unfinished. We eat our crusts around here) You don’t have to be perfect, fast, or even consistent.

You just have to keep going, little by little.

From one recovering abandoner to another, I believe in you.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta go add this finished blog post to my list!!

How to Mourn that Story you never Finished

~ Brooke F. ~ 2 Comments

Some stories don’t make it. I’m sure you’re already WELL aware of that if you’re a writer.
Not because they weren’t good, or because you didn’t care enough, but because something shifted. You outgrew it. Life got busy. The plot unraveled. Or maybe the fire that lit it up when you first started just… dimmed. It doesn’t interest you anymore.

And now it sits in your drafts folder, collecting dust or …uh… pixels.

If that’s where you’re at: I see you.

So here’s a little post I’ve been wanting to write for awhile on mourning the death of your story and what you can learn from the whole thing. Very similar to my post on knowing when to quit on a story, this post will focus on the after and the questions you can critically ask so you can grow and learn. Otherwise, the experience can be discouraging and it feels like you just dumped your time into a project that never showed tangible results. So let’s try and avoid that. 🙂

Read It With Curiosity, Not Criticism

When you’re ready, go back and reread the draft. Not to fix it, but to understand it.

Ask yourself some qestions such as:

  • What parts still make you feel something?
  • What parts confused you or dragged?
  • Where were you trying too hard to be someone you’re not as a writer?

Remember: you wrote that version of the story with the skills and heart you had then. That’s a snapshot of a creative moment in time. It deserves to live on. Please, please, please don’t delete no matter how cringe and blackmail worthy this piece might be.

Look for the Seeds You Can Replant Elsewhere

Even if the story didn’t grow into what you imagined, that doesn’t mean it was wasted. Often, buried in “dead” drafts are pieces worth saving:

  • A compelling side character
  • A setting that still sparkles in your mind
  • A line of dialogue that makes you sit up and whisper, “That’s it.”

You might not resurrect the whole story but you can borrow from its bones. Let it compost into something new.

Track Your Creative Patterns

Unfinished stories are often full of clues about yourself. It holds your interests, your hang-ups, and what you feel is important.

Try this:

  • Make a list of your abandoned stories.
  • Jot down what each one was trying to explore (themes, feelings, questions).
  • See what repeats.

You might realize you always write about lonely girls and overgrown gardens. Or that your stories die when the middle turns into a slog. That kind of self-awareness? Invaluable. Plus you can use it to inform your creative decisions moving forward. Try and place what you wanted from this draft.

Final Thought:

It’s okay if the ending never got written. And who knows? One day you might go back. Maybe not to fix it, but to pick up where you left off. Or not. Either way, the story gave you something.

Character Quirks: They Make a Difference

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

Creating a compelling character isn’t just about giving them a name and a goal to achieve. It’s also about making them feel real to your reader. And what makes someone feel real? The little things. The devil’s in the details.

The way they tap their fingers when they’re nervous, the fact that they always hum while making coffee, or their unshakable belief that their lucky socks will change their fate. These quirks and habits add layers of depth and relatability, making characters leap off the page and stick in readers’ minds.

If you’re looking to add some personality to your cast, here’s a list of quirks and habits you can use or adapt to fit your story. Whether you’re writing a hero, a villain, or someone caught in between, the right little detail can make all the difference.

Common Quirks & Habits for Your Characters

Nervous Habits

  • Biting nails or lips
  • Tapping their foot incessantly
  • Playing with hair or twisting rings
  • Cracking knuckles, neck, or back
  • Tugging at sleeves or clothing
  • Fidgeting with small objects (coins, pens, paperclips)
  • Avoiding eye contact when lying

Endearing or Quirky Traits

  • Always carrying a lucky coin, stone, or charm
  • Collecting something odd (bottle caps, pressed flowers, old receipts)
  • Talking to plants or inanimate objects
  • Inventing their own slang or catchphrases
  • Always misquoting famous sayings
  • Assigning personalities to everyday items
  • Laughing at their own jokes (even the bad ones)

Food & Drink Habits

  • Always ordering the same thing at a restaurant
  • Hating foods for strange reasons (e.g., “Bananas feel too smug”)
  • Stirring their coffee exactly three times before drinking
  • Eating one thing at a time, never mixing food on their plate
  • Refusing to drink from a cup with a crack, no matter how small
  • Preferring drinks at specific temperatures (lukewarm coffee, ice-cold soup)

Daily Rituals & Superstitions

  • Checking their horoscope religiously
  • Only walking on certain-colored tiles
  • Always taking the same route, even if it’s inconvenient
  • Refusing to use red ink because “it’s bad luck”
  • Making a wish on every stray eyelash
  • Never leaving home without their signature accessory

Work & Study Quirks

  • Always writing in a certain color of ink
  • Organizing their desk in a very specific way
  • Talking aloud while working through problems
  • Writing notes on their hands, even when they have paper
  • Needing total silence—or total chaos—to focus
  • Humming or tapping when deep in thought

Broadly, Why Quirks Matter

A well-placed quirk can serve multiple storytelling purposes. It can:

  • Reinforce personality traits (A meticulous scientist always straightens picture frames)
  • Hint at backstory (A soldier always sits with their back to a wall)
  • Create humor (A character refuses to eat food that touches on their plate)
  • Build relationships (Two characters bond over their shared habit of doodling on receipts)

Quirks make characters feel human and help readers form emotional connections. A perfectly polished, flaw-free character is forgettable. A character who double-checks that they locked the door three times? That’s someone we recognize. We look at the character and see ourselves, friends, and family members.

Final Thoughts

Character quirks are the seasoning that makes a good character great. The right mix of habits, tics, and eccentricities can turn a flat character into a vivid one. Feel free to share your favorite character quirks and ideas in the comments below. I always love reading comments!

What Time of Day Should I Write?

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

Finding My Writing Rhythm: What Time of Day Works Best?

I’ve spent a lot of time (maybe too much!) figuring out the best time of day for me to write. It turns out, it’s a bit of a Goldilocks situation: not too early, not too late, but just right…

Let me explain.

Mornings? Not for me.
I admire the people who can spring out of bed, brew a strong cup of coffee, and dive straight into creative flow. But I am not one of those people. Before 7am, my brain feels like it’s running on fumes. I can barely make sense of my to-do list, let alone string together creative sentences. Morning writing is a no-go. I must wait until I am coherent.

Afternoons are appealing… but tricky.
There’s something lovely about the afternoon: the day has settled in, you’re warmed up mentally, and it feels like a natural pause point. But if you work a regular job, afternoon writing is basically impossible. Unless you’re on a break or you have an unusual schedule, it’s hard to carve out that time consistently. Afternoons are awesome but ENTIRELY unrealistic.

Nights are magical… but a slippery slope for sure.
I will say, writing at night has a certain charm. There’s this quiet energy in the evening hours, when the world slows down and distractions fade. But wow, does time fly. I’ve sat down to write at 9pm, blinked, and suddenly it’s midnight. If I’m not careful, I end up sacrificing sleep in the name of creativity (not ideal for someone who needs to be functional the next day and rather early I might add).

So what works best? Right after work.
For me, the sweet spot is around 6pm. I like spending the day letting ideas simmer in the back of my mind while I’m doing other things like going about my job or doing chores. Then, when I get home, I’m ready to go. It’s like my brain has been preheating all day, and by the time I sit down to write, everything’s at the right temperature. I still have enough energy, but the workday is done and I can shift into my creative zone.

Of course, everyone’s rhythm is different. Some people thrive in the early hours, others love the late-night quiet. The trick is to experiment and pay attention to when you feel most creative and not just when you think you should be writing. For me, writing after work feels natural and sustainable, especially with a full-time job. Maybe it will for you, too.

What’s your favorite time of day to write? I’d love to hear!

NaNoWriMo is Shutting Down

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

So, apparently NaNoWriMo is shutting down. Yep. The site. The support. The whole infrastructure that turned November into a word party for writers around the world…it’s closing up shop..

And hey, listen, before we dive in, I have a confession:
I never did NaNoWriMo. Not personally.

Never even tried. Every year, I’d watch the clock tick toward November like someone standing outside a marathon, holding a coffee and a donut, cheering with my whole heart but fully unwilling to put on running shoes.

Goodbye, NaNoWriMo: I Never Knew You, But I Loved You Anyway

It’s not that I didn’t want to write a novel in 30 short days. It’s that I… well, I like sleep. And not failing my college classes. And knowing I won’t collapse into a spiral of self-loathing by Day 12 when I realize I’m 15,000 words behind and my main character still doesn’t have a name.

But even from the sidelines, I loved NaNoWriMo. I loved the wild ambition of the whole event! I loved that it made writing feel less like a lonely, tortured pursuit and more like a chaotic group project that anyone could get in on. I loved that it dared people of all sorts, busy people, tired people, discouraged people alike, to show up and write stuff.

NaNoWriMo wasn’t just about writing a novel. It was about making writing a habit that you consistently stick with. Just so you could see what you could do if you actually gave it your all.

So when I heard it was shutting down, I couldn’t help but feel a little sad and taken aback. Not because I’m going to miss my annual November guilt trip (okay, maybe a little), but because it truly felt like the end of an era. NaNoWriMo was one of the few internet relics that survived the Great Attention Span Collapse™ as audiences moved towards short form content as a whole. It got people excited about writing, which is no small feat in a world of TikToks, inboxes with 472 unread emails and a new attention suck right around the corner. I think this legacy dying is what I’m most sad about.

I’m sad to say goodbye to what it used to be.

From what I’ve seen, NaNoWriMo in recent years has been tangled up in some complicated and concerning controversies. I’m not going to pretend I fully understand all of it, but it’s enough to make me step back and say, maybe this shutdown isn’t entirely a bad thing. Maybe the version of NaNoWriMo that existed at the end wasn’t the one I admired all those years ago. Maybe it had run its course.

Either way, it’s coming to a close (justified or not). It is taking a final bow and putting away the word count tracker for good.

To the people who did NaNoWriMo every year, who started and sometimes even finished their 50,000 words: I salute you. To the folks who got halfway through and still learned something about themselves in the process: I see you. And to the dreamers like me, cheering from the sidelines with our untouched WIP’s and a vague hope of “maybe next year”: we mattered too.

But, even though the organization is shutting down, the spirit of NaNoWriMo isn’t going anywhere. The stories will still get written. The writers will still find each other. November will still come, and some wild souls will still decide, “Yep, I’m gonna write a whole dang book this month.”

And maybe one of these years, I’ll finally join in. Maybe. Probably not. But maybe.

NaNoWriMo reminded us that writing doesn’t have to be perfect. It just has to be written. And honestly? I think that’s a legacy worth honoring.

RIP NaNoWriMo. I never joined your chaos, but I’m thankful you existed. 💻💔

Farest and fondest of wells.

Spring Reset for Writers: Refreshing My Writing Routine 🌷✍️

~ Brooke F. ~ 2 Comments

Ah, spring. The season of blossoming flowers, fresh starts, and freshly ignored writing goals. Oops. Did I say that outloud?

Anyways, I am determined to refresh my writing routine this spring as well as declutter my workspace, and become the productive, flourishing writer I was always meant to be. Or at least… try.

Step One: The Desk Purge

Right now, my desk is less of a workspace and more of an archaeological dig of sorts. There are at least three half-filled notebooks, a graveyard of pens (some working, some with ink mysteriously dried up overnight), and a coffee cup that may or may not be from last week. If I dig deep enough, I might find a long-lost plot outline or a note that simply says, “fix this, it’s bad.” Oh, and stickers. Lots and lots of stickers.

This happens periodically. My desk space over any given amount of time will become…how is it we say here in the south? Ah, yes, a HOT MESS.

So, I’m decluttering. The goal is to turn my desk into a space that actually invites creativity instead of making me want to lie down and take a nap. A candle? Yes. A cute notebook that I will definitely use? Absolutely. The ten random receipts and a variety of rogue paperclips? No thanks. You’re out of here (until I somehow collect another collection and do another deep clean this next fall).

Step Two: Reworking the Writing Routine

Right now, my “routine” consists of staring at my laptop at odd times (basically when the whimsy hits), opening a blank document, and then somehow ending up scrolling on my phone for 45 minutes. It’s an art form, really. And while I have been trying to tackle my phone addiction lately (it’s its own issue separately, ok?) my writing routine still lacks consistency.

To fix this, I’m trying out a more structured approach this spring. Instead of telling myself “I’ll write later” (which is a fancy way of saying “I won’t write at all”), I’m setting dedicated writing times. Mostly in the evening after work or after dinner. I have experimented with a few time slots (will be writing a blog post about this later, I’m all about experiments over here), and the evening time slot seems to work best with my lifestyle and schedule. So that’s what we’re going with.

Step Three: Setting Writing Goals That Aren’t Overly Ambitious

I alluded to this already in my New Years post in January. I love making big, dramatic writing goals. “I’ll finish my novel in two weeks.” “I’ll write 1,000 words every single day without fail.” “I’ll win a Pulitzer by June.”

And then reality hits. Life is busy. Some days, writing just doesn’t happen. So I’m continuing to focus on, goals that are actually achievable. Maybe it’s writing for 20 minutes a day. Maybe it’s finishing a single chapter this month. Small, consistent progress is better than unrealistic goals that just make me feel guilty when I inevitably don’t hit them. Right now I’m attempting to finish my Poetry book by the end of summer. That’s THE goal right now.

Step Four: Romanticizing the Writing Process

If there’s one thing I know, it’s that writing is way more fun when you make it an aesthetic experience. I’m talking fairy lights, soft music, a warm cup of tea, and the illusion that I am a 19th-century author composing a masterpiece in my candlelit study. Does this actually help me write better? Debatable. Does it make me want to write more? Absolutely.

So, part of my spring reset is making my writing time feel special. A cozy spot by the window, a new playlist, maybe even a fancy new pen. Whatever it takes to trick my brain into thinking this is a magical, must-do activity. If everything feels stale in your writing process right now, just try and make a few fun little changes.

Final Thoughts: Let’s Make This Our Season of Writing Wins

Spring is a time for growth, so I’m going to try and grow into better writing habits. Whether it’s finally decluttering that desk, setting realistic goals, or simply making writing feel more fun, this is my effort to reset and refresh.

How are you resetting this spring? Do you even believe in spring resets or is time simply an illusion to you? Let’s talk about it in the comments! 🌸✨

The Day Microsoft Word and I Broke Up (and How LibreOffice Became My Rebound)

~ Brooke F. ~ 3 Comments

Picture this: A snow day. A rare, magical off day gifted by the powers of winter. Naturally, I did what any introverted poet would do—I decided to spend my day cozied up, writing for my dearest poetry book draft. Dreams of metaphorical brilliance danced through my head as I opened my laptop and double-clicked on my Word document.

And then—BAM. A digital slap to the face.

I couldn’t access my own document. Why? Because my Microsoft Office license, previously covered by my college, had expired. Since I’m no longer a student (shoutout to adulthood and its many expenses), this wasn’t a complete shocker. But the nerve. I was at least a little offended.

Out of curiosity, I decided to see how much it would cost to renew. I figured it couldn’t be that bad. I mean, it’s just a word processor, right?

Y’all. Ten bucks a month. A hundred dollars a year.

FOR WORDS.

Now, I’d like to think I’m a reasonable person, but this was some highway robbery. And the kicker? I couldn’t even open my original document unless I coughed up the cash. Sure, I could access it through the online version of Word, but that interface looked like it had a midlife crisis. Crowded, clunky, and as intuitive as a brick wall. And syncing it? Ha. Not happening.

That’s when I hit my limit. I had a poetry book to write, snow day vibes to enjoy, and I wasn’t about to let corporate greed ruin my creative flow. Determined, I opened a new tab and searched for alternatives. That’s when I met my new best friend: LibreOffice.

Let me tell you, LibreOffice is basically Microsoft Office but without the corporate handcuffs. It’s free, offline, and lets me open my own documents without asking for my credit card information. Revolutionary, right?

The best part? It felt just like old-school Word. Simple. Functional. No frills, no nonsense. And, most importantly, no monthly payments draining my bank account. I could write my poetry in peace, snow softly falling outside, without feeling like I had to sell a kidney just to access my own words.

So, here we are. Microsoft Word and I? We’re done. I’ve moved on. LibreOffice and I are getting along great, thank you very much. And the moral of the story? If a company tries to hold your words hostage for a hundred bucks a year, maybe it’s time to break up and find someone (or something) better.

LibreOffice, you’re the real MVP. And Microsoft? Yeah, we’re never, ever getting back together.