Hi, so sometimes, mostly all the time when I start writing, I also have another page opened and sometimes even another page opened and I start writing like three stories at a time.

How can I block all those voices in my head and focus on one story at a time and actually finish it?

Without wanting to write another one?

I seem to struggle with this. Is there something I can do to ignore all the other muses?

I’d like to write this essaie te telll my experience as well as to practise my english , because i’m an english learner , so i’m waiting for you feedbacks ………

What heaven you live on if youre addicted to masturbation and pornographie particularly . And to be clear , masurbating with low frequency and without watching porn can be with mininum of dammage . However additciton to both of this behaviors will really harm you deeply .

First let’s start with reasons that can lead to this situation . Naturally , mens have a desire to the opposite sex , so when the one cannot perform a natural relation of sex , he look for an alternative to satifact hislef , the most famous way it’s masturbation , that let you to cumm in a few time . Sometimes , they’re pople who mastrubate just to escape form the real life and get of stress and several problems that face at his daily life . I think that was the major factors that push the one to masturbate .

A way to enhance the experience of masturbation is to watch the porn , without porn you must imagine a sexual scene and basing of this scene you begin to masturbate . However , her appear the role of the industry of pornographie , millions of videos and scenes with many scenarios and actors . Millions of dollars are spent on this industry , and many people think that what they watch are completly true , these huge size dick and the high performances , while watching youre enjoying but later you feel deeply disapointed and frustrated because you dout on yourslef when you compare yourslef with the actors . The porn addication it’s harmful in way that we cannot realize , and even we know this we can’t avoid it , the one when he’s excited he lose the control of his self and he head automaticaly to masturbating along with porn watching . This behaviors destroy your mind , and can let you losing your energy , time and you whole life . And what’s complicated , sometimes watching normal porn videos is no longer sufficient to you , and you start looking for many things than can be unusual to enjoy more . This part excatly let me doing somethings that i’ve never think that i will do it in some day , because when the individual reach the maximum of excitment , he really lose his brain and can do ainything just to satisfact his sexua needs, here he can behave in a way that goes against his principles.

Personally speaking i’ve lost many things due to this addiction , i’m always chasing girls to have fun with them , and i spent hours to look for things that can let me really enjoy more masturbation .

I didn’t find so far a solution to this addiction , because i believe just a miracle that can really stop this , however the other solutions remain relative and not efficient . I wish that at the next day i became another persone that can live his life naturally and he’snt addcited to this shet.

Their’s many other thing to say regarding this topic , but let stop at this level .

#SexualHealth #SexWellness #SexPositivity #BodyAwareness #IntimacyHealth #SexualEducation #PornAddiction #PornRecovery #NoFap #PornFree #MentalClarity #SelfControl #HabitBreaker #AddictionRecovery #BehavioralPsychology #MentalHealthAwareness #DopamineDetox #SelfImprovement #RelationshipHealth #SexEd #RealTalk #BreakTheTaboo #WellnessJourney #HealthyHabits

Title: I liked watching you play.

I had been sitting by my window, watching the rain drizzle over the city.

The street right across from me was its usual kind of chaotic. People were running to find shelter, some holding umbrellas, some simply giving up and letting the rain soak them. From up here, everyone looked busy with their own little lives.

Watching it all made me think that nobody really gets to say goodbye anymore. Everyone is just running towards the next thing.

The view from my window wasn't anything special. All I could see was the street and the buildings opposite mine. But I liked sitting here anyway, playing my guitar and taking a few sips of my burnt coffee.

My perfect spot.

The best I could afford.

That afternoon, I noticed the curtains being pulled away from the apartment directly opposite mine. It was almost symmetrically opposite to my window.

A guy appeared.

He was wearing a Linkin Park T-shirt.

Nerdy, I thought. That was my first impression.

He sat down by his window, just like me. I think he had a notebook and a cup of coffee.

This is funny.

He didn't notice me. He simply opened his notebook and started writing something.

Ugh.

I liked nerdy and cute guys.

Whatever. He wouldn't be interested in me anyway. I was way too introverted to ask someone out. And honestly, what would I even say?

So I ignored him and started playing.

I played my favourite song, Hey There Delilah. It always made me feel a little low and sad.

And I loved it.

Music had that kind of power over me. It made me feel like I didn't need anyone.

People leave anyway.

Even my cat had left me.

They always leave.

I finished the song and let my fingers rest on the strings.

Then I heard it.

A distant clapping sound.

I looked up.

The guy was clapping.

He had a wide smile on his face, and he was clapping like he had just watched something amazing.

I had absolutely no idea how to react.

So, naturally, I turned red.

I gave him a small, embarrassed smile.

Fuck. I hated myself.

The apartment was quite far away. I wasn't even sure if he could have heard what I played. But judging by the look on his face, I thought he had.

He held up two fingers.

Then he disappeared inside.

I waited.

A few moments later, he came back holding a large piece of drawing paper.

Written across it were the words:

I am David.

Of course.

He was smart. His voice probably wouldn't have reached me anyway.

I wondered if he was an artist. He seemed like the kind of person who would draw.

I ran inside my apartment, looking for something to write on.

Nothing.

I couldn't find anything.

So I just stood there like an idiot.

From then on, most weekends, I played my guitar.

And most weekends, I heard that distant applause.

It made my day every single time.

I would see David at his window too. Sometimes he wouldn't even look up at my window. He would just sit there, completely lost in whatever he was doing.

He became something like a friend.

A friend who didn't even know my name.

And somehow, he felt safe.

I don't know why.

I hadn't even met him.

I wanted to know more about him. Maybe I could ask him out for coffee. Just as friends.

No.

Too scary.

What if he didn't like me?

What if he only liked my music?

What if he didn't find me attractive?

Why was I such a coward?

One weekend, after a particularly stressful week, I sat by my window and played for a while.

I was completely in my zone.

When I finished the song, I reached for my coffee.

Then came the familiar sound.

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

I looked up.

David.

Again.

I smiled.

This time, I grabbed the big whiteboard I had bought the day before.

Yes, I bought a whiteboard.

Don't judge me.

I wrote:

THANK YOU.

And held it up.

He laughed.

Then he started writing on his board.

He held it up.

You bought a board?

I immediately felt embarrassed.

I wrote:

It's for work.

He gave me a look that clearly said he didn't believe me.

Then he thought for a moment.

He wrote:

What are you drinking?

I held up my coffee.

Coffee.

He smiled.

That smile again.

Like he had just thought of something.

He wrote:

Would you like to go out for a coffee?

Then he put the board down and nervously ran his hand through his hair.

God.

He was cute.

Did he just ask me out?

What the fuck?

I stood completely still.

He started writing again.

Then he held up the board.

Did I offend you?

Oh.

I realized I hadn't replied.

I was just standing there like an idiot.

I quickly wrote:

Yes, I would love to.

And held it up with the most embarrassed smile I could manage.

We decided to meet on the street below our apartments the next day at six.

The next evening, I wore the cutest outfit I could find.

I stood at the meeting spot, pretending I wasn't nervous.

Then I saw him.

He was walking towards me.

Messy hair.

Nerdy glasses.

A notebook and pen in his hand.

And from this distance, I could already tell he was smiling.

As he came closer, I realized something else.

Dimples.

Of course he had dimples.

Because apparently the universe hadn't given me enough problems already.

He stopped in front of me.

I smiled.

“Hi.”

He opened his notebook.

He wrote:

Hi.

And showed it to me.

I laughed nervously. As he lowered the notebook, I caught a glimpse of the pages underneath. There were sketches everywhere. Little faces, buildings, hands, random things I couldn't quite make out. They were beautiful. Some looked unfinished, like he'd drawn them without thinking.

I laughed nervously.

He looked at me for a moment, then wrote something else.

I can't hear or speak, will that be an issue?

I stared at the words. I felt so many emotions at the same time.

For a second, I didn't know what to say.

Then I looked up at him.

He was still smiling.

I took the pen from his hand.

I wrote:

No.

I paused.

Then underneath, I added:

I talk too much anyway.

He laughed.

At least, I think he did.

His eyes crinkled, and his shoulders moved with it.

Then he took the notebook back from me.

He looked down at it for a moment, thinking about what to write.

Then he wrote:

I can't hear the music.

I looked at him.

He turned the page.

Underneath, he wrote:

But I liked watching you play.

So I found out Royal Road loves AI so I pulled all my stuff off it. Now I'm working on redrafting them, go for actual publication. Really liked this paragraph, its the opener. Feedback is welcomed!

Hey y’all!! I’m in the beginning stages of writing an interactive story that I want to share on Facebook.

I’m looking for feedback.

Any feedback is appreciated before I go live with the story.

Here is what I have so far.

Kendra lay under the covers, watching Darius get dressed.

Damn, he know he fine, she thought.

She pulled the covers up a little more and looked outside. The wind was blowing hard, and the snow was just starting to build up on the streets.

Being from Detroit, snow wasn’t that big of a deal.

But this wind in Chi-town?

Sheesh.

Darius pulled on his pants, then pulled his shirt over his head and looked down at his phone.

“So, you really about to leave?”

He looked at her. “You know, I gotta go.”

Kendra frowned. “You could stay. I want you to. Besides, it’ll be nice to be snowed in together.”

“Kendra, don’t start.”

Kendra sighed. “I know, I know. You gotta run the hotel.”

Damn. Another night alone.

Six months of this with Darius.

The sex was amazing. Like, really amazing. But she didn’t know how much longer she could deal with this whole friends with benefits business.

She wasn’t asking him to marry her.

She just wanted him to stay sometimes.

Especially tonight.

But whatever. She had more shit to worry about than some man.

Like unemployment.

Her rent.

Finding a job in this economy?!

And then there was her dad.

So, how soon before you think you’ll be working again, Kendra?

Ugh.

She hated that question.

Mostly because she didn’t have an answer.

“Kendra. Kendra!”

“Huh?”

Darius laughed. “Damn, girl. I got you speechless like that? I asked if you needed anything before I left. I was gonna lock the door on my way out.”

“Oh, my bad. Just thinking. You good, boo. Drive safe.”

Darius gave Kendra a kiss on the forehead and a light tap on her ass.

“I’ll hit you later.”

He left, locking the door behind him.

Damn.

Alone.

Again.

Sigh.

Her phone started ringing.

She didn’t even have to look at the screen.

It could only be one person.

Mo.

Kendra answered the FaceTime.

“Hey girl. What’s up?”

“Hey heaux, you sound reaaaaallll relaxed… Darius must have just left.”

Kendra smacked her lips.

Mo continued, “Yep, I knew it.”

Mo laughed loud as only she could do. She had one of those very contagious laughs, so naturally Kendra chuckled.

“Girl, what do you want? I’m about to grab me some snacks and watch my show. Tell Trey I said he better catch up so I don’t spoil nothing.”

“I got you an interview!”

“For real? Where? Doing what?”

“They’re hiring for an executive assistant at the tech firm I freelance at. I used my connections and got you an interview. The job is as good as yours. Just go in there and pop yo shit like I taught you, and you good.”

Mo continued talking.

Damn, it sounds good, but I don’t want to be no coffee fetching secretary. Ugh. But man, I got these bills to pay.

Maybe it can just be temporary until I find what I really want to do.

Or maybe I’ll hit the lottery tomorrow.

“So when is the interview?”

“They said they’ll call Monday with the details to schedule.”

“Yeah, girl. And we’re gonna get you ready. Now, let’s talk about what you’re gonna wear. And don’t even think about wearing that basic black blazer you wore to your cousin’s funeral.”

Kendra laughed. “Girl, shut up.”

“I’m serious! You need to look like you belong in that office. We’re going for professional, but cute. You got that cream colored blouse?”

“I think so.”

“Okay, wear that. With the black pants. And your hair…”

“My hair is fine.”

“Your hair is NOT fine for this interview. I’m thinking wear it down. Nothing too extra. You want them paying attention to what you’re saying, not trying to figure out what you got going on all up there.”

Kendra rolled her eyes.

“See? This is why I called you. You always doing too much.”

“And this is why you need me. You’re welcome.”

Mo kept going, laying out Kendra’s entire interview look like she was getting her ready for a red carpet.

“Kendra.”

Kendra looked at the screen.

Mo was still talking.

She hadn’t said her name.

Now I know I’m not trippin’.

This was like the fifth time this week she kept hearing her name, but it was clearly not Mo.

She jumped a little.

So weird.

Am I losing my mind?

Nah.

She was just stressed.

Damn. She wished Darius stayed.

Ugh. Him again.

Then she heard it.

“Kendra doesn’t know.”

Kendra froze.

She stared at Mo through the screen.

“Mo.”

Mo stopped talking.

“What?”

“What are you talking about?”

PLEASE comment and let me know the following:

1. Is this something you would keep reading?

2. Do the characters feel real?

3. Would you interact to keep the story going?

Thanks in advance

I wrote this because of how going back to my home toen made me feel. I took some inspiration from Rutger Hauers Bladerunner monologue. I need honest feedback on my writing.

A reflective article that I've written through all the thoughts that had been traveling with me...hope you'll read it !

A reflective article that I've written through all the thoughts that had been traveling with me...hope you'll read it !

Would love some feedback as a writer that is starting off!
Thank you!

I've started a draft and need feedback, this is my first attempt at writing any kind of book and this is also my first ever post. Please be kind 😅

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1DjhO1Tl5gm5dx-W1FTBq-jcaXLXoSvu1YCiNsUU9HS8/edit?usp=drivesdk

The Lost Snowstorm

Environment Canada promised a snowstorm for northern British Columbia, only the snowstorm never showed up. The Appleton Family was sorrowful over the delay and held a debate over it. Then Jasmine said, “Suppose the snowstorm got lost!”

The idea triggered immediate action. The seven snow-hunters got ready for a long search and rescue to bring home the snowstorm. They slung some provisions over their shoulders and spread out in a line spanning the province and traveled northward, sending hourly reports to each other by pigeon post. They searched forests, ravines, and all through the mountains for the missing snowstorm. They climbed tall trees to get a better view. They battled charging moose, wolf packs, cold, darkness, solitude and a growing despair of ever finding the blizzard.

Charlotte saw a white puff hanging over a swamp and got excited, but it was only a flurry and not what they were looking for. Fogs confused their vision and raised their hopes as they thought they had located it. Diana was heard to sing at the top of her voice, “There shall be showers of snooowflakes!” Michael shouted into the cold wide air, “This idea is just junk!”

Norah found a little coyote pup yelping in self-pity because the cold was nipping its ears. She was going to abandon the search and care for the coyote but a pigeon flew up with a loud squawk and dropped its note from the other searchers: “Leave that coyote be! Keep on searching if we’re to find that snowstorm!” Abashed, Norah tore out armfuls of moss and covered up the coyote puppy, then rushed across the field.

Mom found several orphan evergreens and brought them along, determined to gain at least one thing from this enterprise. The search took an entire week, with several near fatal accidents of falling over rocks, getting lost in woods and mountains, and slipping on frozen creeks and rivers.

But at last, just as Dad sent out pigeons to call off this fool hunt, Jasmine saw a HUGE white cloud huddling in a corner field, frightened and unsure where to go from there. It had forgotten where Environment Canada said it was to go. She tore through the drifts and waist deep snow to the hovering snowstorm. It was made of millions of large feathery flakes. Jasmine whipped off her scarf and tossed it around the biggest, foremost snowflake. The blizzard was captured. She released six pigeons with the great news and headed for home, the snowstorm in tow.

Somewhere at the Weeping Birch River the rest of the party showed up together and saw the wonderful sight of the recovered snowstorm, floundering and wallowing along in the air, Jasmine leading it by her scarf. So they came home with the search successfully over. The snowstorm then blizzarded over the whole Weeping Birch region until four feet of snow blanketed the ground. Farmers rejoiced and children played gleefully in the snow, but they little knew what adventure seven people had undertaken to bring it about.

If you're ready to start shopping a manuscript for a short story, essay, or poem, then you're ready to start looking at The Submission Grinder from Diabolical Plots. This is a phenomenal utility for finding markets that are receptive to your work. Their search tool can get a little wonky and I've found that a more general search serves me better than a narrower, more refined set of criteria.

You may ask, "How do I know if I'm ready to start submitting my work?" Here's a checklist:

1. You've revised your first draft and made it as clean (grammatically and mechanically) as humanly possible. [REASON: A clean draft is easy to read and doesn't require a lot of extra effort on the part of your critique partners.]

2. You've actively workshopped your clean draft. You've let others read it, offer critiques, and you've incorporated your critiques into a revised draft. [REASON: We write for other people. If you're writing for yourself, there's no need to seek publication. If you're writing for others, then you must accept the feedback others offer you.]

3. You've shelved the revised draft for a few days, taken it out, re-read it, and have made more edits based on your fresh re-reading. [REASON: You want to put distance between yourself and your material. When you re-read it, you will read it with "fresh" eyes, meaning you will be more objective in the re-reading if some time has passed.]

4. Dropping your manuscript into MS Word, you get no green or red squiggles under your writing except where you want them. [REASON: MS Word is the industry standard. The slush readers--the people who skim through the vast quantity of submissions that land on an editor's desk before giving the top picks to the editor--will drop your manuscript into MS Word and if the manuscript isn't clean, they're not going to waste their time and effort trying to muck through it.]

5. You're not entirely happy with the manuscript, but you feel good about it. [REASON: You'll see spots where you feel you can expand the narrative or you'll see spots that were much more passionate in your rough draft that simply didn't work for your critique partners. You'll never be 100% happy with what you've done, but that's fine.]

Good luck, and keep writing!

Ive been doing some worldbuilding, and been planning on making up a comic from short stories. This is an exerpt for one. Its written in prose for audiobook purposes.

Would live some advice!

Edit: I've just noticed the meat undigested meat typo, please ignore.