Write.as Cues

Weekly encouragements to help you express yourself.

By Acererak

Writing makes me feel like im the boat, the river and sailor. Like I am the sun overhead and the rocks just out of view. The events of the moment. The moment itself. Writing shares my inner self. Even when I don't mean too.

Emotions are hard for me. Not so much I wouldn't cry during “Marley and Me” or “Grave of the Fireflies”. But I keep my caring close. I keep pain even closer. I take all the tragedy in my life and push it down, too far down. The only thing that has made a trip down that well. Has been writing.

I've never and could never plan what I'm going to write. It's a font. I let the words spill (usually misspelled) onto whatever medium it demands. This has led to many unfinished stories, poems and sidewalk art. It has led to some of the best ideas of my life.

When I was sixteen, I wrote a story. I titled it a 'love story' and wrote it the night before valentines day. It was about a boy. Who grew up in a poor house without walls. About him finding his first friend, a girl with raven hair. How they grew up together. How.. they grew apart.

I wrote about him discovering what it meant to grow up. How he found new love in another. In her he saw her passions, drive and peace. To really see someone else and fall in deeply love.

I wrote that story for her and the next day. Trembling on the bus. I held that story close to my chest. When I got to school, I laid that story on her desk.

We have been married for over fifteen years.

So writing makes me feel pretty happy. Even if what I write isn't always well written. It is cathartic and I owe a lot of tranquility to it.


A response to the Writing prompt

By Nolimetagerine

Writing has come quite natural to me since I was a tot, though I started drawing way before I was able to write.

Since I grew up kind of secluded for familiar reasons, writing was my personal way to explore and experience. I relate writing to walking because, to me, both are about exploring familiar spaces, anew.

I haven't been writing much, of late, except for some fanfictions which I regard rather as harmless pastime. I put a certain amount of effort in that, especially since I love writing in English, but I don't really consider it “serious writing”. More of a stretching exercise, of sorts, in which I engage just when I feel like.

When I am inspired, I tend to write in a flow, but nothing too stormy. It's a thick, intense, yet tranquil stream.

I guess I feel happy and alive when I write: it is like losing myself in another dimension for a while. Call it the merriment of an escapist, if you please.

A response to the Writing prompt

By borscht

Something I've been up that is also on my mind lately is songwriting. I'm trying to get into it. I wrote a song, but then school got in the way of me having time to figure out the instrumentals and production and everything, but I guess I am also currently very focused on editing a video also. With my busy schedule (4 APs + Speech Team + Senior year of high school = too much work) I'm learning I don't have room for more than one thing to chip away at outside of school.

I also, literally just made a blog on here today. So, this is also something I'm up to. I should probably be working on my essay instead of this, but I fell down a bit of a rabbit hole.

Anyway, I'm feeling tired and hazy today, but tomorrow is Friday...a new day.

And I'm ready to kill it.

A response to the Now prompt

By brassmonkey

Writing for me makes me confront my fears , it makes me realize how big or small they are . It sometimes even throws me into a fit of anxiety , anger and sadness. But since the first step to solving your problems or even confronting them is to acknowledge them , it acts as a medium to help me out of denial.

Sometimes I can write without holding back , the right words , the satire , the rhyme scheme , its like a forest fire , once it starts it doesn't stop until it burns the entire forest down. But the deeper the problem hits home, the harder it is for me to find the words to describe it. I would say for me writing is generally a forced task . Because I am oftentimes more troubled when I pen down my problems be it about society , the world or myself. Its like breaking up with someone you love. Its hard to bring yourself to do it. But not writing about it is like staying in a toxic relationship . It unknowingly takes away too much from you.

A response to the Writing prompt

By Tim Schooler

Rich people owned the first portable watches. Before that time, in the sixteenth century, people usually relied on the sun or roosters to know the time. The average person didn't count minutes. There were times to churn butter or to groom a horse. Iimagine that time of that era wasn't artificial.

The Internet listings of wristwatchs help me to relax. Gadgets and wristwatches have tracks of minutes. They correspond to lines of now. I also produce free writing. I could measure the passage of my writing time by the characters or words of typing. I brush up or work on lines of characters and hope to get published.

TMO, whose blog I admired, wrote of Yve-Alain Bois. He was reported to have said in an interview, [I wrote about a work] because I wanted to understand why I like it. I am interested in something. I want to understand why. That is why I write about it.”

I found a Zenith Elite watch online after ten minutes on the Internet. Ten minutes per day with watch listings seems like a reasonable amount of relaxing time with the Internet.

To produce American sentences, I take ten minutes. Then it is usually weird writing. Ten Minute Poetry can be a humorous title for a blog. It would be with my poem of plaintive questions, “How do I use 'I' less. How do I put more insights into my paragraph?”

Writing is for me. Feedback for my ideas motivates me. American sentences are seed sentences to me. I make an image with writing of seventeen syllables. For my path to poetry, I will graduate to haiku or stanzas.

A response to the Now prompt

By Edeh Chinedu David

Heavy our heart to bear Crippled are our entity Appeared we as nonentity Poisoned our hearts with marah Woes cry we like owls Divided ocean our minds you made Bruised and wounded our hearts you turn Left to die in the wilderness of misery Too heavy again our hearts to bear the pain Slaves become we in our land Nemesis travel you where That you can't fight for this forlorn entity? Beggers be we in our own inheritance Pleading for a sip though in the middle of ocean Nemesis where have thy laid you sting? Or are we made to vanish from the surface of the earth? Or mistakenly come we to this entity? Dried our lymph that it can't rain Peace has gone from our land As the unknown beasts evaded our land Painted red is our land Even the unborn child is scared to come Our shoulders you over burdened with sorrow Then lye we like clueless entity Quenched are our pleasant lyrics As our homes are covered with tale of woes Impregnated are our minds with blinking and fearful thoughts.

A response to the Now prompt

By Karl

Writing for me has always been like slowly breaking out of my crusty shell.

A response to the Writing prompt


By Karan Vashist

Writing makes me feel free. Writing feels like presenting a script of my thoughts to the world so others may view the movie playing in my mind. I feel fortunate enough to have the time and ability to write these scripts and humbled I can share them far and wide. The ecstasy I feel when I construct the perfect sentence to convey a thought is a high I chase daily. Finding just the right word to conjure a feeling can leave me smiling for hours. However, the true beauty of writing, and the reason I will never stop, is the knowledge that no matter how descriptive or precise the words on the page, every reader watches a different movie in their mind. Every reader experiences a different depth of emotion. Every reader learns something different, and every reader changes just a little having read. Writing is magic and I love it dearly.

A response to the Writing prompt


By Mayea

June 27 2020 3:30pm

Its after my clinic on the 105th day of quarantine. Here i am sitting on the same chair wearing a gown, a face mask and a face shield, pondering. Would our one-year younger selves thought that our lives are about to change in an instant?

Adversity comes in many forms. Lucky are those who have experienced this just gradually changing their lives like a creeping vine. They can slowly adjust and acclimate. But those who encounter adversities hitting them like lightning left with no choice but to live with it and endure.

Endurance is paramount to success. That I believe. Those who endure the most are those who have lived their lives to the fullest. They are the people who never give up,finding ways to continue to be better. They are the ones who adapt easily, never losing focus on their goal, reaching it until they finally thrive.

So here I am still sitting on the same chair. Today is one of the days that I continue to live, adapt, endure and thrive.

A response to the Now prompt

#now #journal # beinspired #nevergiveup

By Beginning of the End

When I play games, I prefer characters with long-range, burst, and a high AoE. It feels satisfying to kill a hoard of goblins using a single skill without receiving damage. They're master of power and control.

  • Assassin-type is also a great choice for me, being stealthy and killing without even them knowing. They're the master of trickery and deception.

  • Berserker-type can also be viable for me, with a high defense and a high attack, charging without a thought and inflicting fear, barely receiving damage. They're the master of versatility.

In roleplaying games, we specialize in classes, and focus on what we can do, more than what we cannot do. There are some, though, who tries to cover up their weakness by adjusting various stats or skills.

How about in real life? Do all humans belong to a specific class?

By choosing a specific path, one can reach its fullness, focusing on the things s/he can do, seeking help from others for the things s/he is incapable of. Those people with “class” lives out the best of their lives.

I envy those people, who have a certain, innate skill. All they have to do is to invest their skills and talents properly, focus on that path and aim for success.

Those people who has no talent in anything, and hence, no specific path are the classless people. They are not a real-life mage nor a berserker nor an assassin.

They can freely choose whatever they can be, but whatever they do, they can't be on the spotlight.

But it can't be helped. The world's fairness is just as it is. I accepted the fact, at least on the outside, that a nobody who has nothing can never be someone unless he has a certain path to go through.

A jack of all trades but a master of none, trying everything until something clicks, wasting time on the most unnecessary things, clinging to the hope to become someone, someday.

I am indeed an idiot.

A response to the Now prompt

#now #100daystooffload #NoLongerHuman

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