The Summer That Never Ended

Ever wondered what goes on before a story ends up on the blog?
Well, here’s a peek behind the curtain—my thoughts, quirks, rituals, and everything that brings a story to life. ๐✨
Sometimes it’s sadness. Sometimes it’s nostalgia. Sometimes it’s a single line that pops into my head at 2 AM and refuses to let go.
Before I even think of a plot, I focus on what I want the reader to feel. ๐๐ญ
In the shower. While walking. Listening to music. Staring at the ceiling. Ideas come when I least expect them.
And when they do… I scribble them everywhere—in my notes app, on sticky notes, or the back of my hand (true story ๐
).
I have playlists for heartbreak, horror, loneliness, healing, and everything in between.
Music helps me set the emotional tone of the story even before I write a single word. ๐ง✨
Yes, I do. I speak lines out loud, act out scenes, or just whisper dialogue under my breath to see if it sounds natural.
It’s weird. It works. ๐
Late nights. Dim lights. A quiet room. That’s when the magic happens.
I sit down, open my laptop, and just write. I don’t edit while writing—I pour my heart out first and fix it later.
Some stories take hours, some take days. But every one of them takes a piece of me.
Writing sad or haunting stories isn’t easy. Sometimes I cry while writing them. Sometimes I need a break.
But I keep going, because if it moves me, maybe it will move you too. ๐ง️๐ค
Before I post, I read the entire story out loud—to myself, or to the silence in my room.
If it flows, it stays. If it stumbles, I fix it. I want every sentence to feel real.
The scariest part. I always wonder:
“Will anyone even read this?”
“Will it make someone cry?”
“Will they scroll past it or feel something?”
But then I remind myself—even if one person connects with it, it’s worth it.
Every comment, every message, every “I felt this”—that’s what keeps me writing.
You’re not just a reader. You’re part of the story now. ๐งก
Writing isn’t just a craft. It’s a form of survival.
A way to make sense of the mess in our hearts.
And for me, every story is a quiet whisper saying:
“You’re not alone.”
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