devilbunnii:

egmon73:

disastergeek:

aura218:

Sometimes around like 95 he said he didn’t need more money. He’s given away literally millions to his town (he had a little league field(?) build so his kid’s team could play) and to other notable charities for decades. He said, and has written in his books, that there’s only so much money a person needs and the rest is just vanity. He was taught that as a child and lived it as a multi-millionare (which he never truly was – bc he gave it away).

He and his family lived in the same modest suburban house in the same modest Maine town since the 70s.

And then there’s Jeff Bezos.

sometimes is heart-warming to see that indeed good people still exist

No one should be absurdly rich. Its okay to have enough money to be comfy but there is a point of hoarding wealth. There is such a stark fucking divide between the rich and poor its wild

thlayli-rah:

snapdreygon:

andercas:

I feel like when you’re writing, organizing chapters and dialogue is easy

but jfc, the amount of time it takes to constantly keep people moving and make sure they’re in the right spaces and trying to come up with wording for it is always such a shock. 

Like, fuck, I made you pick up a coffee cup, you need to put it down at some point. also I can’t remember what I dressed you in, can you push up your sleeves? I don’t remember if you even have your shirt on.

and YOU. YOU OVER THERE, you got out of your chair earlier, but did you come back yet? Are you coming back? Where did you even go and why’d you get up? Fuck, I can’t make you sit down again already, you just stood up, go…over there. go get more coffee. Did you bring your mug with you? fine. bring the pot to the table and—wait, wasn’t the coffee pot already over here? shit, hold on, I need to go back and re-read and re-write

this is the most relevant thing i have ever read.

I think one of the most wild things as a writer is the sensation that you’re not actually directing your characters– they’re sort of directing themselves, and you’re scrambling around attempting to copy down whatever it was that they just did, but they don’t wait for you to finish copying. They just keep walking and talking and moving around and existing of their own volition and at some point you look up and you’re like “WHOA OKAY EVERYBODY BACK THE FUCK UP WHERE ARE WE”

It’s kind of like trying to write sheet music for an orchestra while it’s playing