Then this begs the question: how far do we consider someone human? Say a dog gained humanity/sentience throughout its life and died. Does it deserve the same respect as we bestow upon regular bodies?
there's probably a logical conclusion to this phenomenon but let's be real here
guy in dark robes raising dead men from the dirt to act as his slaves and be part of his army
I'm not saying I understand
but I understand
bull-fucking-shit. only 25% of it is really hard work. the rest of them consist of 60% failure, 10% actually learning how to write, 3% inspiration gracing you with its rare presence, and 2% of discernible success. every word you put in is worthless shit. they're about as inspiring to the world...
The terrifying thing is that at some point in the future, there's a possibility that we might look back at this year and go "man, times were better back then".
I shouldn't have jinxed it.
There's not one lesson out there that have truly shaped my writing experience but I can tell you this: people here give more advice than they actually apply to their stories. Every second you spend telling people how to write here is a second wasted not writing yourself. No one here knows how to...
Granted, it has become a crime, but through """lobbying""", it had been revoked. The law had only stood for a record-breaking 3 days before being pulled.
I wish for a sharpener. My pencil's getting dull.
The best rhythm game I played involves the study table in my room and my collection of dried pens there. I put on a fast album and drum my pens to the beat. To win the game, you have to successfully drum through an album without your parents rushing in to ask what the fuck is going on. So far...