Step behind the scenes of creativity with Dja Works. Explore my journey in video editing, animation, copywriting, and eCommerce projects—all crafted with passion and a touch of innovation. This is where ideas turn into stories, and stories turn into visuals that inspire.

Hello well I’m currently in a sober living place and the best way I can explain how I feel or what’s in my head and by writing so I hope everybody likes what I say

If cognitive load has been the theme this week, today’s easy win is about decision relief. One of the fastest ways to reduce mental strain isn’t adding a new tool, it’s using a familiar framework to make fewer decisions on repeat. That’s where the SMART framework comes in.

For many neurodivergent creators, disabled writers, and small site owners, SEO doesn’t fail because the ideas are bad or the effort is lacking. It fails because the system asks for too many decisions, too often, with too little clarity.

Perfect characters are boring, unbelievable, and quietly killing your story. Character flaws create conflict, fuel bad decisions, and make growth possible. From harmless quirks to life-wrecking beliefs, flaws aren’t decoration—they’re the engine that makes characters feel real and stories worth reading.

What I think my poetry has that many contemporary poems lack is an inspired spark that connects the mundane to concepts far beyond everyday experience. Here's what matters most...inspired writing sells!

In a world addicted to notifications and read receipts, penpalling feels like rebellion in ink. Writing letters—snail mail or digital—isn’t about nostalgia; it’s about real connection. Penpals let you slow down, share quirks, and make friends without algorithms deciding who matters. Finding one is easier than ever: try InterPals, Slowly, or Reddit’s r/penpals, or check local libraries and stationery meetups. Your intro letter should be personal, curious, and include questions that actually spark conversation. Respect communication styles, keep boundaries, and don’t overthink gifts. Penpalling isn’t perfect—it’s human, intentional, and surprisingly addictive.

Every unforgettable character believes something that simply isn’t true—and that belief quietly wrecks their life. This is the character’s lie: a flawed worldview shaped by past hurt, bad lessons, and emotional survival tactics that no longer work. It explains why your protagonist makes terrible choices with confidence and why they don’t already have what they want. When a story feels flat, it’s usually because no one is internally wrong enough. In this article, we’ll break down what the character’s lie is, where it comes from, how it shows up on the page, and why breaking it is the emotional engine of a satisfying story. Consider this your permission slip to emotionally ruin your characters—for excellent narrative reasons.

Writing is quiet work. You must be able to hear yourself think, hear the small voices inside that argue with each decision you make, and hear the increasingly stronger voices of your characters as they come into being. In order to achieve this, you will need a place where you can sit, think, and write.

For a lot of us—especially neurodivergent, disabled, or just deeply tired humans—the way people talk about SEO doesn’t just confuse us. It ramps up anxiety and cognitive load. It makes every blog post feel like a test. If a single piece doesn’t “perform,” it feels like we’ve somehow ruined everything.

There’s a quiet heaviness to digital life, especially at the end of the year. Maybe it’s the unopened emails piling up, apps you keep meaning to delete, or just the sheer number of tabs blinking at you, each a tiny reminder of something unfinished. It’s easy to tell yourself you’re just “behind.” That if you had more discipline, more organization, more willpower, you’d have everything sorted out by now.

Struggling to keep readers hooked? From pacing that never pauses to clichés that scream “lazy writing,” many novels stumble over the same mistakes. This guide breaks down the most common pitfalls—setting, dialogue, pacing, and more—with dry humor and practical fixes to help you level up your storytelling.

Think your story is fine? Maybe. But if your characters are wandering aimlessly, nothing bad ever happens, or every scene is a lecture in their backstory, you might be sabotaging yourself. This guide covers four common fiction writing mistakes—too much backstory, lack of focus, missing conflict, and overcomplication—and how to fix them without crying into your keyboard.

Every writer hits the same potholes: slow openings stuffed with infodumps, point-of-view gymnastics that leave readers dizzy, and characters who suddenly act like strangers. These aren’t signs your writing is failing—they’re proof you’re drafting. The trick isn’t avoiding these problems; it’s recognizing them before your reader quietly backs away from the book like it might explode.

It’s easy to feel like you need to “do more” to belong or contribute, especially online. But sometimes, all it takes is one small act.

Too much conflict is like feeding your story espresso—suddenly everyone’s hyper, nothing makes sense, and someone’s probably crying in the corner. Every subplot should matter, or it’s just glitter in soup. Too little conflict? Snooze. Too much? Congratulations, your characters are now juggling flaming swords while doing calculus.

Crutch words are the shortcuts our brains take when writing—comforting, familiar, and wildly overused. They show up in every draft, from beginners to seasoned writers, and learning how to spot them is one of the fastest ways to level up your editing process.

Inspiration has a talent for disappearing the moment a blank page appears. One minute you’re convinced you have a great idea; the next, your brain is silent and the cursor is blinking like it knows something you don’t. This isn’t a failure of creativity—it’s a timing issue. Stories don’t vanish when you sit down to write; they hide. The good news is they’re easy to coax back out once you stop waiting for inspiration to behave and start giving it a little structure to work with.

If you’re tired, you’re not broken. If you’re sensitive, you’re not weak. If you’re quiet, you’re not invisible, even if it feels that way sometimes. There’s room for you in a community that moves at your pace and lets you be your whole self. If you’re building it slowly, gently, imperfectly, you’re doing it right.

Dragons can soar through the sky, and witches can brew storms in teacups—but if your hero still trips over the front step or burns toast, readers will relate. The secret to great fantasy? Ground it in the everyday. Make the magic extraordinary, but let the emotions, habits, and tiny details feel real. That’s the mix that keeps readers hooked.