Blogs About Writing Novels & Stories

One slow afternoon, the newborn asleep in her bassinet beside me and Tessa sprawled on the rug coloring a picture of a very blue giraffe, the thought came to me. What if I wrote about us? Our story had been wild, beautiful, impossible, the kind of love you couldn’t explain without sounding half-mad. The thought lodged itself in my mind like a splinter I couldn’t ignore. I hadn’t written in years. Not seriously, anyway. Back in college, I’d kept a blog that was half diary, half fiction. People had read it, left kind comments, told me I had a way with words. But life had swept me along, and I’d let that creative part of me get buried under responsibilities, relationships, and the constant need

"Just what I needed." I couldn’t help but admire him as he settled into the kitchen chair across from me. “Any plans for the day?” he asked, casually setting his mug down. “I have lunch with Becky, but after that, I think I’ll focus on the blog,” I mentioned, feeling excitement and trepidation at the thought of sharing my thoughts publicly. “I want to document our journey—the ups and downs. You’re okay with that, right?” He nodded, leaning back with a thoughtful expression. “Definitely. Your words have a way of connecting with people. I think it’s a great idea."

“That’s rare around here. Everyone else just writes checks.” Adrian laughed. “Yeah, I noticed.” They stepped away from the crowd slightly, finding a quiet pocket near a window that looked over the garden. Eli leaned casually against the wall, swirling his wine. “So, what do you write?” “Articles mostly,” Adrian said, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Some short stories. Nothing glamorous. Magazines, online journals. You wouldn’t know any of them.” “Try me.” Adrian smiled, surprised by the interest. “I like peace and Quiet. Most of my stories are about small things. A town nobody’s heard of. A man who grows trees in his kitchen. Real stuff.”

“I usually come up with an article idea. Then we base the shoot off that concept. I haven’t come up with my next article since I’ve been working on launching my blog.” “What’s the difference between a website and a blog?” Maggie said. “Websites are meant to be more static, kind of like reference material. Blogs are a more fluid flow of content that has comments, categories, and subscriptions. With how many articles I have been adding to the website, it only makes sense to just branch a blog off of it,” Sidney said. “Don’t you work at a cell store?” Kate asked. “Manage. Yes.” Sidney answered automatically, before remembering the details were none of their business. Internally, she flinched at

My blog hasn’t been a big money earner but then again, I haven’t needed to monetize until now. The more events I go to and blog about, the more invitations I have been receiving. While it started off as a fashion-based blog, I have found that when I write about the events, it's much more than the fashion. It's been fun to also write about the people who attend, the food and drink, the entertainment and venue.

She pointed. “That–” I followed her finger. “Oh that's my journal.” “You write?” She eyed me. “I like to write. But lately, I've ran out of inspiring topics.” “Hmm, you did say you were a fan of my blog, right?” “Yes.” “So what do you say I pay you a thousand dollars weekly to write a piece for my blog? Of course it'll pass as mine. You'll just be like a–” “Ghostwriter?” I questioned feeling that cloud of disappointment again.

There is no need to write a public blog, a sort of personal journal is perfectly valid. You will live more focused. If you constantly write about your thoughts you will never get out of sight what you want to achieve, which your dreams are. You will overcome tough moments faster. There is some research that suggests that those that write about what is happening overcome tough moments quicker than those who don’t. You will have a lot of written memories. If you write each day, you will have a historical record of your thoughts, probably something much more interesting than a simple photo album. And, who knows, maybe you end up publishing a book ;)

That night, Ryan unlocked his blog. He typed something new. “I didn’t write this to be believed. I wrote this so I could breathe again.” He posted it. Then he slept.

Arthur is giving Grace a bath, I can hear the running water and the splashing. If I close my eyes, I can pretend for a moment that everything is fine. Except when I open them, the blank page is still before me. After much hemming and hawing, I finally get the damn thing typed out. Writing is one art form I never really mastered, I’m much more of a visual type of artist. Words are too direct, too vulnerable- which is exactly what this letter is. I post it on our schools website and our social media page. Arthur also puts it on his social media since he still has millions of followers. The letter goes viral instantly.

Maybe if she turned on those puppy dog eyes… “What’s crawled up your ass, Tessa?” Kim caught my attention and I realized I’d been staring out of the window for at least 10 minutes. “Nothing, just the budget at the paper, again.” “You should just let the whole thing die away,” Cheryl gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Focus on blogging and building a readership instead of this journalism stuff.” “That kind of is journalism, Cheryl,” I retorted and rolled my eyes, but softened it with a smile. “I hate blogging. I feel like I’m talking to nobody and everybody all at once.”