Writing Motivation Novels & Stories

Isn’t entertaining others why we write stories? “It’s one of the reasons,” Javed conceded, “but is it your reason?” Yes, I mean what other reason could there be? “We share stories to share ideas,” Javed explained, “to pass lessons from generation to generation, to leave a mark long after you are gone, to build connections and most importantly to explore and express ourselves.” How do I know my purpose? “Think back to the moment you started writing,” Javed advised, “Why did you start?” Why did I start? If I’m being technical, I started writing because Alishba gave me a prompt. But why did I keep writing after awakening? I could have stopped and it wouldn’t have made a difference.

“ Really? ” “ Yeah. I read something on, inner motivation and outer motivation. As a writer, I sometimes get motivated to write better by what people think of my book. But other times, I get motivated by what I myself think of my book. Overtime I have come to realize that the outer motivation wears off with time. But the inner never will. It'd be there even when the sky gets darker and there's completely no reason to keep on going. ” “ Um. ” “ This reminds me of the book on identity, I read in an article recently. ”

She let out a deep exhale. "Tell me about the hardest thing you have to deal with when you have trouble writing." I interrogated her, aiming to gain a deeper understanding of her. "Obviously, we must write the story from start to finish, especially if we're developing a character. You see, readers are what inspire writers, and when we don't receive views, we become unmotivated to create. Receiving negative feedback from readers weakens our trust in our story, leading to a loss of hope and motivation to write more."

“Going for a walk?” “Yeah, I need to clear my head before I attempt to write another chapter.” “Having a bit of writer’s block?” “Kind of,” I say, not sure how to explain it. I know what I want to write, but I have to get through several chapters first until I get to the big action sequence I’ve been dying to write since the conception of this series. Technically, that’s not really “writer’s block” but more like “motivation block,” crippled by a healthy dose of pressure to make this book better than the last, not disappoint fans, and leave them wanting more. And I’m hating every single freaking word I type in my document, which is a bit of an issue. There’s nothing like deleting every other

For the love of God, say something, old man! "I'd be remiss if I didn't tell you I'm disappointed but, Moby, you're cheating yourself more than you're cheating those who love you. Why go to the lengths to create fake journals?" "I wish I could tell you I have some great reason behind it, or justify it logically, but the fact is I can't. I promise myself every day I'm going to change things. I have every intention of doing the work, but as soon as I get ready to, I can't find the motivation."

I knew that it was compliment and I knew that I should be giddy with joy and relief but I could not show too much of excitement. “Staring at me and talking to me is going to not give you impetus or motivation to write for a long time. If you really wish to write more interesting characters then you know that you have to talk to people, you have to go to different places, you need to make sure that there is a variety in what you are seeing. I do understand what you are saying. It is difficult for some people to connect with others except a few, I get it. Trust me I get it. But you create a world where lots of people find comfort in but for that also you need to find new stimulus. And I think

My journal. I sat down at my vanity, flipped it open to a fresh page, and picked up a pen. The last entry was about a trip Mum, Isla and I had taken to Disneyland. I stared at the blank page, and then, the frustration—the confusing mix of anger and this weird, desperate yearning—came pouring out. I’m writing because I’m annoyed. Truly, deeply annoyed. And I need to figure out why one man’s indifference has managed to derail my entire day.

"If you try to track me down with that, you'll find yourself on a world tour. You're an interesting one, Miles." "*Snap!" "The reason to why is nothing but trivial. A man motivated by money can be more dedicated than a man driven by his family." -Author's shower thoughts.

It's like they let me do whatever I want but there's limitations- that was a nice move. I've been believing I already got what I need. Little did I know, I got nothing. I almost lost my passion for arts and the will to live and it was the scariest part- almost losing the reason why I choose to continue living life. And here I am now, thinking about writing again. Grandpa's right. I should write for myself and not for others. Writing is the only way I can talk to a dying mind and to the lost souls. “You think I can make it?”

"Just let me send this off." "Did you start writing again?" Amoy inquired. "Nope." "Why not?" "I still haven't figured out what I want to write, and I honestly don't see the point if I can't share it with the world." She sighed closing her laptop before facing him. "Don't write for others, write for yourself, maybe one day you'll share it with the world. I'm sorry about my aunt again." He shook his head brushing off her apology as she got up from her chair, standing in front of him, eyes filled with sincerity.