Writers Block, What now? - Yandere X Reader

Notes.

Every book has its notes. Story line ideas, character's quirks, or things that just didn't feel fleshed out enough or maybe didn't need to be said. You had maybe too many ideas for your own. It was a bittersweet feeling, rereading the notes as you threw them in a box you knew you'd never open again. They'd be kept away in the back of your closet. Yet, it also felt nice. It was nice to know that what you created, in a way, would remain untouched, unsullied. You'd forever have full control over it. No one else could add anything. It felt safe.

You didn't know why you were rooting through your trash can and grabbing all the notes you had previously threw away. Maybe it felt a little too permanent to physically throw them away. It wasn't like you had any actual trash in the trashcan under your desk, it was mostly notes and wrapping paper from the candy you had eaten that week. Nothing sticky or soggy, thankfully. It felt wrong to throw these away. Somehow, it also felt wrong to keep them. They held a special place in your heart, your book did. In the same breath however, you were trying to put that chapter of your life in the past, turn the page.

It was a random plastic bin with a missing top, you had it tucked away for whatever reason. Perhaps it's because you couldn't let it go even though it was missing it's top. Instead of throwing it and the notes away however, you decided to keep them together. They were an almost perfect mismatched pair. At least, that's what you'll tell yourself to convince yourself you weren't just wasting space in your closet.

Notes. Things like, what if Oz had a wooden pole as a weapon and what if he snapped it in the final battle to kill the big boss with the splintered wood. Things like that, things that were scrapped because that character wasn't the main character, he was just a supporting role. Then there were things that did make it in, like the very first draft of how you thought the magic would work. Obviously, it was fine-tuned but the original feeling of "Oh! That sounds cool!" was still there. The plot and how you wanted it to progress. Roots you wanted the characters to build, how each character would interact with each other and evolve with one another. Dumb things like that.

It was childish, you knew that. When you started writing this book you were younger, it had been years, and it took you a whole year to even put the words to paper, or, well the screen. The beginning was so much fun. Writing ideas down and just imagining how things would play out, doesn't that just sound fun?

Was it wrong to want to keep it? It was a part of your own history. So, yeah, maybe you would keep them. What was the harm in it? Nothing, so you rooted through your trashcan and dug out a random bin from your closet. Notes were funny, a dumb reminder of what you had been thinking at a certain time.

This book is really just a passion project. An outlet to let lose my own love of words. It's a strange feeling to be so emersed and love something so unreal. I don't mean unreal as in the sense I don't believe it's real, I mean it as the feelings and just fake. Its fake but I love it. Sometimes, just with many other things I love however, I find myself hating it as well. Hate is just a small fraction of love that we feel though. I say this a lot but, it's odd, isn't it? Here's the thing. I find I enjoy fanfiction more than real books. I love finding an amazing writer who writes X readers because it feels more genuine. Do you know what I mean?

There are no rules I made for myself with this book, and I love it too! No schedule, I just write when I want to, no set word count I can just post a chapter with one word, anything!