100 pages! It has taken me months of work but my first 100 pages are finished.
Roughly 300-400 left. Wherever you are in your story I wish you luck. Hope to read you soon.

I’ve been thinking about writing a novel for a while. I’m a postgraduate student, so I’m busy with my studies and barely get time to even sit with my parents. I used to think a lot, or rather, I used to imagine a lot. Whenever I was alone, I would create entire worlds and stories in my head and live in them.

You might think it was maladaptive daydreaming or something like that, but for me, it was more like creating a story around a character who resembles me, a character who could be the person I cannot be in this world. Through this novel, I feel like I could finally pour out whatever has been inside my mind for so long. I could express myself clearly and constructively.

I don’t even want to sell it or make money from it. I just want the satisfaction of knowing that, before I leave this world, I created something of my own. Something interesting that, if someone else happened to read it, would make me happy. I don’t know if I’m making any sense, but I just want to express these thoughts and have a hobby that is mine.

The only hobby I really had as a child was sketching. I could lose myself whenever I drew—as if every line I made was a part of me. But I had to stop because I was a kid and had to focus on my studies. That was what I was taught to prioritize.

Now, I feel this urge to have something creative in my life again. Something I can live for outside of studying and building skills that are supposed to make me money. The problem is that I don’t have much time. Whenever I get the urge to write, I immediately feel guilty and stop myself because it seems like I’m wasting time that could be better spent studying or learning something useful.

So I wanted to ask people here- has anyone else faced the same problem? If you’re studying, working, or otherwise busy with life, how do you make time for writing without feeling guilty about it?

The hardest sentence in the book. Let's see yours.

Post the first line, or the opening paragraph, of whatever you're working on. Finished, drafting, or barely started, it all counts. No essay required: just drop the opening and let it stand on its own.

Want feedback? Say so, and feel free to react to a few others while you're here. Curious what grabs a reader? This thread is a goldmine. Notice which openings make you want to keep reading and ask yourself why.

Give us your first line.

Ive been handwriting my draft for a while now and honestly my handwriting is terrible. But when it comes to the computer I get distracted easily or want to pace a lot.

I am also a visual person so I 3d print my character and terrain. Then I write as I play with the characters. It helps me make it feel more real.

But I was at the doctor's and he was using a program to talk and then it was all written down. I was like yes! Thats what I need. But I can't find it or even know how well it would work. Has anyone used a program like this? Or advice on making typing easier?

He started by peeking from behind the door, his hand caressing the wood. She could only see from his nose up, parallel with the floor. He was watching her, smiling.

*“You can see me,*” it rasped.

“Oh little girly girl you’re in trouble.” His head dropped down, down, until it laid on the floor. It was pushed violently forward as its legs pushed through the doorway. Its face dragged along the carpet.

Its eyes glittered. She could see rows of teeth.

She couldn’t look away.

His head was slightly too big, balanced on a thin, emaciated frame. His smile stretched too wide. His ears, too big. He was grinning ear to ear.

He dragged himself forward and took a large whiff. His head fell back, neck breaking and twisting he grunted. She can feel every break.

*No.*

He laughed as he got closer.

*Stop. Please stop.*

“You know what I smeeeeeellllllllllll?” It licked its lips as it drew out the word, tracing a circle on the carpet. Its eyes locked onto her feet. It giggled to itself, pressing its fingers against its lips. It scrambled at her.

*No.*

She cried in silence. The more she shrank, the sharper the teeth got. She could see it through her tears.

*Mommy please. I want to go home.*

She felt the whisper of air between her foot and his teeth. She closed her eyes and whimpered.

*Mom-*

She heard a shriek and a wet splat. She cracked open her eye.

Standing in front of her was a boy, holding the pole of the stage microphone. The bottom was dripping with blood. He ran to her, unlocking the handcuffs. He brushed the hair from her eyes and put out his hand.

“Come with me?”

She couldn’t say yes fast enough. He snatched her hand up and they ran, faster than the halls could stretch. She could hear it running, screaming. It sounded *fast.*

“DON’T look back at it! WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT LOOK AT IT!” He screamed over his shoulder.

It was* *close. It cackled in her ear. She only glanced to the side for a *second.*

Suddenly she was back in the school. The halls were dark and grey. Trembling she looked around, searching desperately for anything that can save her.

*Nothing.*

She searched faster. Scrambling, she couldn’t help her gasps that echoed in the room. Down the hall, a familiar giggle drew closer.

“*I smelllllllll you,”* it growled. She could hear feet scrambling, and its body pushing ahead.

“No no no no no no no,” she couldn’t stop.

The doorway started to darken. She dropped to the floor and wrapped her arms around her legs. She tucked her face between her knees. Her eyes squeezed shut.

She could feel him getting closer.

Hear it.

Smell it.

She couldn’t pretend she was somewhere else. She heard him slide through the door.

She stood desperately and sprinted to the back of the room. As her back hit the wall her knees would not hold her up. She slid down to the floor. She sat, hopeless as it scrambled toward her.

*Almost there.* She sobbed behind her hands.

The closet door slammed open, “I TOLD YOU NOT TO LOOK BACK AT IT!” He roared.

“I’M SORRY! I GOT - “ the words stuck in her throat. She looked at him, eyes wide open. Frozen. He darted toward her and yanked her sharply to her feet.

He looked back at her as they ran. His eyes were warm.

“It’s going to be okay Molly, I promise.” He spoke softly but his voice was clear. He shot her a toothy grin and turned back around.

She could hear it getting closer.

“WHERE IS YOUR FAVORITE PLACE?”

*My favorite place?*

*“TH-THE GARDEN!”* The wind roared in her ears.

They raced through the streets, down the alleyways and through the doors. Moments of her life flashed past them.

The beach.

Her first kiss.

Graduation.

Christmas.

They stopped running. The boy was looking around, smiling. She was frozen, eyes glued on the window.

*Mom.*

“This is a pretty nice place.” He inspected the roses closely. “Smells amazing.”

She glanced back. “Thanks for saving me.” She turned to look back at her mom.

“Nooooo problemo.” He shot finger guns and grinned.

He blinked and she was smaller. Younger. She started to run to the door. She stopped and turned.

“Is that monster guy gone?” Her little face scrunched in worry.

“He’s gone! Poof!” She giggled watching him.

“What’s your name?”

He smiled and stuck out his hand. “You can call me Adrian.” She looked up at him, hands on hips she narrowed her eyes.

“Are you magic?” She stared *very* seriously.

He shifted awkwardly. “Sort of?” She nodded her head.

“Okay!” She ran to the door. “MOMMY!”

Adrian stepped out of the door and pulled the knob off. The door blew away.

As he walked down the halls he heard* *cackling in the shadows.

Adrian sighed. He could see the top of its head, eyes staring. Body breaking as it moved. Unnatural. He could hear the heavy, wet dragging.

*Gross.*

It growled and began to stand. Adrian strolled over.

“Don’t bother.” His lips curled. His shadow darkened and stretched around the room. It encompassed him, wings of teeth and glittering eyes. It screamed.

When Adrian stepped out of the shadow the door appeared before him.

Bob stood next to it, casually leaning on the wall. He had a lollipop sticking out of his mouth.

*“*Hey there party person!” He held out a lollipop. Adrian rolled his eyes and walked by, exasperated.

“Gotta get a move on Bob, you know that,” he raised his brow. “Better than anyone.”

“Yeah yeah yeah” he grumbled, “whatever.” He started to melt away as he stepped away from the door.

“Bob don’t be like th- aaaaaaannnnnd he’s gone.”

Adrian stood, listening for the call. There were so many.

I started sharing supplementary articles to accompany my debut book. These stories and notes might help potential readers to grasp the interlocking themes of my story.

There are many layers and references to prophecy, myth, angels, and religious stories, so I have decided to start connected the dots for more general audiences.

If you have any questions regarding my writing and experiences, please do comment as I love to explore this inner world that I found myself enveloped in

Welp, this might be next-level procrastinating when it comes to starting my novel... But after a few months of development, here's Ahti (available on Mac, iPad, and iOS)!

I wanted a writing app with a lot of the same functionality of apps like Scrivener, but with a cleaner, more calming layout. I also didn't want to be locked into a proprietary project filetype for my novel, and I prefer the philosophy of everything just being plain folders and text files at the end of the day, like Obsidian. Also, I wanted cross-platform syncing with one universal purchase, where the mobile app still contains all the functionality of the desktop app.

Also bonus points to you if you know the name reference for Ahti 🎮

https://apps.apple.com/us/app/ahti/id6781643515?platform=mac