A girl and a keyboard

It’s been almost two weeks since my last blog post, and so much has happened that I don’t even know where to start. The days have been filled with creativity, emotions, decisions, and hard work—both in my personal life and in my writing. And even though it feels overwhelming at times, I can’t help but be proud of myself. My Fantasy Book: A Journey Taking Shape My book—my fantasy story—is going really well. As of today, I have  262 pages , and it’s truly becoming the story I always envisioned. Every twist, every moment, every revelation feels carefully placed, and I’ve been brainstorming like crazy to make sure it all fits together the way I want it to. Writing this book hasn’t been easy, but it has been rewarding. There are parts that are extremely important to the plot, parts that hold so much weight that I’ve had to sit down and think for hours before putting them into words. But when they finally click, when they finally feel right, the satisfaction is indescribable. I always kn...

 This past week felt endless, as if the days stretched far beyond their usual span. The long working hours consumed most of my time, leaving me with very little for myself. Each day blurred into the next, and by the time I could finally lay down, the weight of the day lingered heavily on my chest. Sleep, something I once took for granted, became a luxury I could barely afford. Most nights, I tossed and turned, my mind unable to quiet itself from the endless to-do lists and unfinished tasks. The alarm clock ringing each morning felt like a cruel reminder of how little rest I had gotten. And yet, amidst this chaos and exhaustion, I somehow found a spark of creativity that carried me through. I managed to write two more chapters for my fantasy book, a project that feels like both an escape and a challenge. These chapters didn’t come easily, though. Every word felt like a battle against my fatigue, but I pressed on, determined to bring my ideas to life. Writing often feels like steppin...

 The start of a new year always brings with it an air of hope. For me, it’s a chance to reset, to make promises to myself, to dream of everything I can accomplish in the months ahead. Yet this year, that hope feels tangled in something heavier. For weeks now, I’ve been stuck in the quicksand of writer’s block. Every time I sit down to write, I stare at the blank page, willing the words to come, only to find myself frozen. It’s not that I don’t know what I want to say—it’s that the weight of saying it feels overwhelming. This isn’t a block that’s lasted for months. It’s been weeks, but those weeks feel longer than they should, like time is dragging itself out to test my patience. I’ve always loved writing. It’s my escape, my therapy, my way of bringing order to the chaos in my mind. But right now, the words feel trapped somewhere inside me, as if they’re afraid to come out. I think part of it is fear. Fear of failure. Fear that the story I’m trying to tell won’t live up to the versi...