Oh my god I've gathered so many materials for my airship. I genuinely can't use chests for the shematicannon because there's so much, so I think I'm either gonna use a backpack or an item silo/vat/container/whatever it's called
I want to start noticing things about people. Like the little silly habits. I know a lot of mine because I'm me, but the reason these things make fictional characters feel real is because people in real life do them.
Like how my dad does this weird bouncy penguin walk when he's excited or wants to kiss Mom. Or how my brother goes "Oh [name]! Guess what?" Like 10 times a day. Or how my sister organizes all her earrings and pens and books on her desk to look pretty. Or how my other brother mumbles and face plants into a pillow when you ask him to repeat something. Or how my mom paints flowers in vivid colors on her suitcase, the garage, her notebooks and folders, etc.
I've started to notice these types of things ever since I started writing stories Something about writing characters to have these habits make you notice habits in real life
Something's always wrong. One thing gets fixed and it uncovers a different problem. I almost wonder if I'm on a lookout for problems to fix. Like I won't know what to do if there isn't something wrong. How many of these things aren't really issues? But then, I feel so much better each time one is fixed. It's like a weight off my shoulders every time. Maybe they've always existed and God is just showing them to me one at a time so they don't crush me. I don't know. I just know that I really don't like this most recent one because the way to fix it is painful. Not for me. I can cause myself pain because I know I can handle it. But causing someone else pain is pretty much the worst thing in my little world. And sometimes I just hate the truth for how solid it is. It would be so much easier to lie again. Form that beautiful mist of assumption and imagination into an illusion. Illusions aren't immediately painful. But then when they find out they stare at your with betrayal in their eyes. "You kept this from me?" It doesn't protect, it just grows the pain before it hits them. So I can't lie, and it has to hurt. It has to be solid. It has to be truth. And I hate it. Lord help me, but it's necessary.