This is going to be a short and sweet blog post, because lately, I’ve been dealing with burnout. So instead of pressuring myself to show up big by writing a post that is a 15min+ read that takes several hours of writing—followed by several more hours of editing and rewriting—I wrote this 5min read post. This post is to remind myself that showing up for myself in small ways is just as important as completing big projects and accomplishing lofty goals. So, instead of a craft deep-dive or worldbuilding essay, I wanted to share something a little more personal. A softer kind of offering. A list of romance tropes I secretly (or not so secretly) adore. Because while I’m not someone who actively seeks out romance novels—and while I’ve read and enjoyed romantasy stories like  Throne of Glass ,  ACOTAR , and  Fourth Wing  (fun fact, I read ToG and ACOTAR years before they exploded on TikTok)—I’m a hopeless romantic at heart. I may not swoon over every love story, but the ones that  get  me? They stay forever. There are popular romance tropes we all know and love—enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, grumpy x sunshine. But today I’m not here to talk about those. I’m here to talk about the unpopular, fly-under-the-radar tropes. The slow burns. The emotionally complex. The ones that make you whisper "just kiss already" to your book at 2am. Here are 8 of my favorites—and the deeper truths they taught me about myself. Table Of Contents The Secret Identity You Make Me Want To Live Again Rivals To Lovers > Enemies To Lovers Pretend Enemies, Real Feelings I Hate That I Love You I Swear I Kidnapped You For A Good Reason Forced Proximity What These Tropes Taught Me About Myself Closing Thoughts 1. The Secret Identity Love Triangle… With Only Two People Fuuuuuuck. I don't know why but I looooove this trope. It's t he classic identity mess. One loves the other’s normal self. The other loves the alter ego. One hates the alter ego. The other ignores the normal self. It’s messy. It’s delicious. It’s a screaming match with a little bit of destiny and disguise. I love this trope because it turns the whole idea of knowing someone inside and out on its head. It’s all about layers—who we pretend to be, who we actually are, and what it means when someone sees through the performance. There’s something painfully romantic about characters falling in love with different versions of each other, only to realize they were already halfway there the whole time. It’s identity, desire, and longing in a blender—and I’ll never get tired of it. 2. You Made Me Want to Live Again Not “I would die for you” or "I would kill for you" but:  “I didn’t want to live at all… until I met you. And now I want to live. For me. For us. For the sunrise.”   That shit hits me right in the feels. It's devastating, it's raw. It's powerful and transformational. This trope has always resonated with the quiet ache I often explore in my stories—the ache of loneliness, of numbness, of surviving instead of living. There's something deeply moving about love that doesn’t swoop in to save you, but  reminds  you why life is worth saving in the first place. I love when characters gently help each other rebuild the will to exist—not as a savior fantasy, but as something tender and human and real. It's also far more realistic and healthy. 3. Rivals to Lovers > Enemies to Lovers They’re not trying to kill each other. They’re trying to  outdo  each other. It’s mutual drive. Intellectual heat. Sparks disguised as arguments. A perfect match they’re both too proud to admit (until, hopefully, they're not. Until, hopefully, they just want to see the other succeed). I love this trope because it's built on  recognition , not hatred. Unlike enemies to lovers, where attraction often blooms out of trauma or violence, rivals to lovers is rooted in mutual respect—no matter how begrudging. They challenge each other not to survive, but to  be better.  And that kind of growth-driven love? That hits different. It's ambition meeting affection, pride melting into admiration. It's what I hope to genuinely have and find in my own relationships. 4. Pretend Enemies, Real Feelings They want to hate each other. They’re  supposed  to hate each other. They might have even hated each other at first. But somewhere along the line without them realizing, the walls fell away, and now every insult is just a cleverly disguised compliment. Now they must pretend to hate each other to save face. And every argument and potential moment to "annoy" each other is just an excuse to be close.  And when they’re alone… it’s game over. This trope is a masterclass in emotional tension. The characters are fighting the wrong battle—not with each other, but with their own hearts. I love how the desire to resist affection only deepens the attraction. It's not about  enemies  in the traditional sense; it's about people trying not to fall in love, and failing spectacularly. That kind of vulnerability masked as banter? Unmatched. 5. I Hate That I Love You This trope captures the quiet, internal wars we sometimes fight within ourselves. It’s not about whether they love someone new—it’s about whether they’re  ready  to. I’m drawn to stories where grief takes its time, where love arrives gently, and where forgiveness isn’t owed but earned (gimme that slow burn, babyyyyy). There’s something incredibly human about watching a character navigate love not in spite of their loss, but through it and because of it.  The trope of “Loving you means letting go of the one I lost. And I’m not ready for that”   or the " Accepting and acknowledging this love for you means I've already started to move on from someone I'm not ready to let go of yet " eats me UP . It's emotionally devastating in the best way. It's the kind of story that leaves the reader changed as well. Because it's coming to terms with truths you may or may not be ready to face or even handle. And so it comes out in vicious ways because the character doesn't know any better, but they're doing the best they can with where they're at. The hate isn’t real—it’s grief, guilt, fear. But the love is real. And so is the healing. 6. The "I Swear I Kidnapped You For a Good Reason, Plz Don't Hate Me. It Was to Protect You—And I Couldn’t Tell You Until You Trusted Me" Trope I'll admit it up front, this trope is a little fucked up… but it scratches a very specific itch for me—it’s mythic, symbolic, and filled with restrained emotion. The inability to tell the truth unless trust is earned feels like a love story forged by fate. It puts emphasis on  action over explanation , trust over coercion, and creates space for one of my favorite narrative arcs: when care is offered even in the face of rejection. There’s something beautiful and brutal about love that waits quietly to be understood. A curse. A spell. A divine rule. The captor can't explain why. The captee resents them. But the captor's every action is rooted in love—and once the truth comes out, it’s devastating and beautiful. It’s morally grey. It’s magically tragic. And it's fucked up but I love it anyways. 7. We Were Raised to Hate Each Other, But Now We See The Lies Fed To Us About The Other Side Enemies by birthright. But the war? The divide? It was built on lies. And now they’re uncovering the truth together. Letting go of the past. And maybe… falling in love while they rebuild what was broken. This trope speaks to the possibility of healing in the wake of deep generational pain. I love when characters unlearn what they've been taught, when they realize their enemy isn't a person, but a system or belief they never questioned or had been indoctrinated with. The love story becomes not just about romance, but about reclaiming their agency, their history, and their future. It's cathartic, rebellious, and profoundly tender. 8. Forced Proximity: "I Don’t Even Like You, But We’re Stuck Together" Forced proximity is definitely not a rare trope, but as I was thinking of tropes I genuinely like, I realized this was one of the more mainstream tropes I do enjoy reading. So whether two characters are chained together, shipwrecked and marooned on an island, sharing a room, bound by magic or obligation, I will never tire of this trope. Especially if its paired with the "I hate your guts" trope. It's so good to see the characters get on each other's nerves for entertainment value… until that annoyance becomes fondness. And fondness becomes  oh shit, I caught feelings. I love how this trope forces characters to drop their facades. With nowhere to run, they have to face each other—awkward silences, petty arguments, quiet acts of care and all. It breeds intimacy in unexpected ways, making small moments feel seismic. Forced proximity isn’t just about tension; it’s about closeness without escape, which often reveals what the characters (and the reader) didn’t realize they needed. What These Tropes Taught Me About Myself When I sat down to write this post, I thought I was just talking about tropes I liked. But looking back… there’s a pattern. A truth beneath the fiction. These tropes all reflect something deeper I crave in stories, and maybe in life: love that’s built through trust, not grand gestures; emotional intimacy that unfolds before physical closeness; the slow, aching unraveling of false truths; the choice to grow instead of clinging to power; and the deep, often painful ache of wanting to belong even when you feel unworthy. And this is why I write, because writing helps me understand myself and the world at large. This is why I write fiction and non-fiction. Because all types of writing can lead to beautiful discoveries and fun rabbit holes. Closing Thoughts I didn’t sit down to write something polished today because I’m dealing with burnout—the kind that leaves you feeling hollow but still craving connection. So this post was my small way of showing up anyway. Not with something epic or perfect, but with something real. I thought I was just rambling about tropes I liked. But as I kept going, I realized these stories all speak to the parts of me that still want to believe in gentleness, emotional truth, and in love that doesn’t demand performance, but invites healing. So if you resonated with any of these, welcome. You’re in good company. We’re all just looking for stories that help us feel a little less alone. Thanks for reading. I hope you were kind to yourself today. See you in the next blog~ —Bair✍︎ Where epic fantasy meets philosophical ponderings of the self. Want to stay up to-date and get exclusive updates and insights on future projects, book launches, writer and reader resources, FREE literature, writing freebies, and a more? Sign up for my Newsletter ! Find more helpful writing tips on the rest of my blog . SUBSCRIBE to the blog on my personal website , Substack , or Medium . Struggling to get your word count in? Check out my writing podcast ! Need a new notebook? Check out my hand-bound books ! Support the blog on Ko-fi ! 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This blog post was inspired by—and is a response to—a comment I received on my “ De-Westernizing Creative Worldbuilding ”  blog post. To the commenter: thank you so, so, so  much for such an insightful, inspired, and deeply thoughtful response. Your comment was the kind of comment a blogger can only hope for—one rooted in curiosity, challenge, and a genuine desire to understand. I appreciate your questions, your openness, and your willingness to dig into the murky, complicated places. In the spirit of that conversation, I wanted to reflect—honestly and expansively—on the questions you raised. Not as a rulebook, but as a living meditation. A continuation. Because the longer I do this work, the more I believe: fiction isn’t freedom from responsibility—it’s an invitation to hold it more carefully. Here were the questions that sparked this post: What counts as cultural appropriation in fantasy? Can we borrow from ancient traditions ethically? How deeply do we need to understand a culture before drawing inspiration from it? And how much of ourselves must we confront along the way? So with that, let’s get into it :) Table Of Contents Question #1: Can a fantasy culture ever be “immune” to cultural appropriation? Question #2: Is it “yours to emulate”? Do we have that right? Question #3: Would using a Hula-like dance in a warlike, slave-owning culture be objectionable? Question #4: So how do we learn about cultures authentically, without living there? Question #5: Is it worth the time to do all this learning when I just want to write a book? Is It Possible To Culturally Appropriate A Dead Civilization? Symbols Don’t Exist in Isolation Curiosity As A Worldbuilder’s Compass Philosophy As A Tool for Worldbuilders A Note on Nuance Beyond Binary: Escaping the “One True Way” When In Doubt, Hire Sensitivity Readers Concluding Thoughts Question #1: Can a fantasy culture ever be “immune” to cultural appropriation? Short answer? No. A fictional culture doesn’t automatically exempt us from real-world ethics.   Longer answer: The intention behind a worldbuilding choice does matter, but it doesn’t erase impact. If a story or invented culture borrows from real-life traditions—especially ones that have historically been exoticized, erased, colonized, or commodified—then you’re entering sacred terrain. And with that comes responsibility.   Borrowing becomes appropriation when: It detaches an element from its context, purpose, or meaning. It reinforces stereotypes or power imbalances. It reduces the element to aesthetic, plot device, or “vibe” while erasing the people it came from.   Even if you’re not trying to be accurate or directly represent a culture, readers can still recognize influences. That means your work doesn’t exist in a vacuum—it enters a cultural conversation. So the real question isn’t just, can I do this? but why am I doing this, and who might it affect?   Question #2: Is it “yours to emulate”? Do we have that right?  We don’t “own” anything as creators. We are part of a long, generational ecosystem of stories, influences, rituals, and relationships. Some elements of that ecosystem are meant to be shared. Others are not. So when you ask, "Do I have the right?" My answer is, you have the opportunity . But with opportunity comes ethical weight. If a tradition, symbol, or practice is sacred or deeply rooted in the survival and identity of a culture, then you must: Learn its meaning before transforming it. Ask yourself if your story deepens or distorts. Consider if your voice is the right one to tell that story—or if you should step back and amplify someone else’s instead.   I've often ask myself: Is this my story to tell?  For example, I want to better understand the horrors of oppression and slavery—how systems of dehumanization shape identity, culture, and legacy. But as a white-presenting woman living in a relatively liberal state, I’ve never feared for my life because of my skin color. I’ve never been systemically targeted or brutalized because of my gender. So no, that legacy isn’t mine. And I don’t pretend that it is. That doesn’t mean I’m not fascinated by history—especially the darkest parts we’d rather not look at. I believe deeply that history should not be forgotten or repeated. And as a writer, I learn best through empathy: by stepping into other people’s lives, perspectives, and emotional realities. Writing is one of the few ways I know how to do that. But I don’t take that lightly. If I choose to engage with these themes in my work, I do so with reverence. With humility. With the understanding that my lens will always be incomplete. Which is why I will always— always —seek out sensitivity readers , beta readers, and critical feedback from people with lived experience. Not to get a stamp of approval. But to be held accountable. Because writing beyond yourself isn’t inherently wrong. But doing it without care, without collaboration, without listening? That’s where the damage happens.   Question #3: Would using a Hula-like dance in a warlike slave-owning culture be objectionable? Yes, absolutely. Here’s why: Hula is not just a movement or performance. It is sacred and deeply connected to the Hawaiian culture. It holds history, prayer, genealogy, spiritual lineage, among many other things. To transplant it—to strip it of that important meaning—into a context that mirrors systems of oppression and inequality, especially if that culture is coded as “savage,” “other,” or “barbaric,” can easily become a form of narrative violence. Expansion on the Hula Example Expanding on the commenters example of using a dance based on Hula in a fictional culture that’s warlike, individualistic, and oppressive. They proposed that if they gave the dance “new roots” in their story—if they explained how it evolved in their fictional world and changed its symbolism—then it would no longer be Hula, and therefore wouldn’t be appropriation. That’s an understandable instinct. But here’s the nuance: Changing the context doesn’t change the visual language. Even if you invent a new origin story for the dance, the audience will still see  Hula —especially if the movements, rhythm, or aesthetic are visibly similar. The deeper cultural meaning may be gone, but the association  remains. And that association can’t be so easily erased or rewritten just because it’s in a new narrative. You’re right in saying that the dance would no longer be  Hula, in the literal sense. But that’s also kind of the problem. It becomes a hollow mimicry —something that looks like Hula, but has been stripped of its original spirit and transplanted into a context that may directly contradict or disrespect the values it was born from. Hula is   sacred.  Again, it holds ancestral memory, oral tradition, spiritual meaning. It’s not just “a dance” to borrow and bend—it is a living, breathing aspect of cultural identity. When you change its roots, especially without honoring or acknowledging its real-world counterpart, you risk erasure. And if the new fictional culture is oppressive, warlike, or violent—then you also risk associating that sacred cultural practice with values it never represented. This isn’t just about “bad optics.” It’s about whether we’re reinforcing narratives of dominance, misunderstanding, or flattening real traditions into fantasy set pieces. So, What Does It Mean to Truly Give Something New Roots? Giving something new roots in worldbuilding doesn't mean just tweaking its origin story. It means: Reimagining it from the inside-out , not the outside-in. Drawing inspiration from the function  and emotional resonance , rather than the form  or aesthetic. Asking, “How does this element make sense in this  culture’s worldview?” not “How can I make this look familiar to readers?” If you’re drawing from Hula, you might instead ask: What is this culture’s relationship to rhythm, movement, and storytelling? Do they believe dancing is sacred? Communal? Reserved for rituals? What values are embedded in their performance practices? The result might feel spiritually resonant  with Hula—but it will be born from within your world’s logic, instead of imitating the surface of someone else’s. If you want a dance to carry weight in your fictional culture, it must come with new roots and new meaning—ones that are internally coherent, emotionally resonant, and crafted from the inside-out. It can’t be a reskinned version of a real-world sacred act just because it “looks cool” or adds flavor. That’s surface-level writing at best—and extractive at worst.   Question #4: So how do we learn about cultures authentically, without living there? Mmmm , this might be my favorite question—both to be asked and to explore. Because this is where we, as creatives, get to be inventive and let our imaginations run wild. It’s where we try to step out of our own shoes, approach the world with as blank a canvas as possible, and open our eyes to new perspectives and lenses. For me, this is the heart of worldbuilding. The challenge isn’t just to invent —it’s to understand . To stretch beyond our defaults. To approach each fictional culture not as a reshuffled version of our own, but as a distinct worldview shaped by its own logic, values, and lived experiences. So how do I begin that process? Here’s how I approach it…   1. Multiple Points of Contact Primary Voices: Seek out writers, artists, and scholars from that culture. Preferably multiple perspectives. Folklore & Philosophy: These reflect worldview, moral values, and how a culture defines beauty, truth, and justice. Spiritual & Historical Texts: What does this culture hold sacred? What has it survived? Contemporary Media: Not just what the culture used to be, but what it is becoming.   2. Personal Curiosity with Communal Humility No single person speaks for an entire culture. But people do speak from lived experience. Approach conversations with care. Ask questions not to confirm what you think you know, but to listen to what you don’t.   3. Study Your Own Lens Perhaps most importantly: study your own culture and assumptions. That includes your philosophical inheritance—Western metaphysics, Christian morality, Enlightenment rationalism—as well as your narrative defaults: the hero’s journey, individualism, good vs. evil binaries. These often go unquestioned because they’re invisible to us because we've grown up with them. We inherit them as if they are truth , when they’re really just perspective . The commenter that left an essay in my comments section mentioned something that stuck with me—that even our desire to understand everything through logic is itself a cultural lens, not a universal truth. To be frank, I know very little about Nietzsche. But I do know a bit about Apollo and Dionysus and their symbolic dualities. I hadn’t consciously considered that the impulse to rationalize, define, and categorize could be a Western  trait rather than a human one. Their commentary intrigued me—especially what they said about how Western thought tends to overvalue logic and restraint. That really resonates with me, particularly when it comes to creativity and storytelling. Our Western, modern culture teaches us to distrust the wild, emotional, unexplainable parts of life. But in my experience, that’s where the most meaningful stories are born. And while I haven’t studied Nietzsche deeply, the Dionysus vs. Apollo framing—the tension between the chaotic and the ordered—has always rung deeply true to me. Dionysus’s wildness, that surrender to mystery, has always felt right  in a way I can’t fully explain. Some truths, I believe, are meant to be sought. Others are meant to be wondered at . Not solved, not tamed, not put into neat boxes. Just felt . That’s something I’ve come to accept in both life and storytelling: that not everything is meant to be understood. That some questions in my novels can be left unanswered to leave my readers wondering. That some of the richest experiences—the most meaningful, the most transformational—are the ones we can’t  name. They don’t hand us answers. They leave us with questions. And those questions shape us. One of my favorite quotes on this comes from Patrick Rothfuss in The Wise Man’s Fear : It's the questions we can't answer that teach us the most. They teach us how to think. If you give a man an answer, all he gains is a little fact. But give him a question and he'll look for his own answers... That way, when he finds the answers, they'll be precious to him. The harder the question, the harder we hunt. The harder we hunt, the more we learn. I, personally, have made peace with the fact that I am mortal, that I will never know everything, that I will never understand everything, and I don’t need to. That not everything will resolve. And that’s okay. That’s good , even.There’s beauty in mystery. There’s reverence in not-knowing. On a more personal note—especially as I’ve leaned into what some call the “feminine” qualities of instinct, emotion, and intuition (not because they’re inherently feminine, but because our society often labels them that way)—my stories have grown richer. My characters feel more alive. And I’ve felt more at home in myself. I want to write more about that—about Yin and Yang , about balance, about how surrender and softness can be just as powerful as structure and striving. But for now, just know this: I don’t believe stories are only born from logic. Some stories live in the wild places. And I’m learning to listen for them there.   Question #5: Is it worth the time to do all this learning when I just want to write a book? Yes! Because worldbuilding isn’t just set dressing—it’s a worldview. And when you build a culture in your story, you’re also inviting readers to imagine what’s possible. In Brandon Sanderson’s online creative writing class on YouTube, he explains that when it comes to the worldbuilding iceberg, it’s all about creating the illusion  that your world is fully fleshed out. You don’t need to live abroad for two years to write a culture authentically. You just need to know what specific elements you're pulling from —and understand them deeply enough not to accidentally fall into racist or reductive portrayals. (This is where the two-layer method of worldbuilding comes in—a technique I explore more in this blog post . In short, every cultural or magical element you include in your world should have both a surface explanation (what the reader sees) and a deeper, internal explanation (what that element means within the logic and worldview of your culture). This layered approach creates the illusion of infinite depth—you don’t need to answer every possible question, but offering just one extra layer of “why” is often enough to make your world feel coherent, emotionally resonant, and alive.) Not to mention: this kind of research doesn’t just improve your writing—it sharpens your mind. You become more informed, more reflective, and yes, you’ll probably surprise people with unexpected facts and niche insights. You might even trick them into thinking you’re smarter than you are (which, honestly, is a power move). No, you don’t have to be an anthropologist. But you do have to be willing to do the uncomfortable work : to slow down, to challenge your own assumptions, to read more deeply than a Wikipedia summary. And I promise: what you gain in narrative richness, in emotional authenticity, in unexpected complexity—it’s so  worth it. If you build with care, your story becomes an act of respect, even restoration. Is It Possible to Culturally Appropriate a Dead Civilization? In writing this responsive blog post, it led me to ask the question: Is it possible to culturally appropriate a long-dead civilization and culture, like the ancient Romans or Greeks? Even the Aztecs? My findings were as followed: Technically speaking, the answer is usually no—not in the traditional sense of cultural appropriation. Cultural appropriation, as most people understand it, requires a living culture to be taken from—often by someone from a dominant group who profits from, misrepresents, or exploits elements of that culture. When there’s no living community to be directly harmed, the dynamics change. Ancient Rome, Greece, and the Aztecs were imperial powers in their own right. They were colonizers, not colonized. Borrowing from them doesn’t carry the same punch-down power dynamic that appropriation often involves. And their imagery, philosophies, and myths have been so thoroughly woven into the fabric of Western history and media that they now exist more as public intellectual property than as culturally “owned” systems. But that doesn’t mean anything goes. There are  cases where it still gets ethically murky: Some ancient civilizations still have cultural descendants, like the Nahua peoples of Mexico (descended from the Aztecs), or modern Greeks with deep historical continuity. It becomes ethically fraught when a writer uses sacred or symbolic elements irresponsibly—especially if the portrayal exoticizes, flattens, or romanticizes violence (like conquest, slavery, or human sacrifice) without proper context. And we must be cautious of turning ancient peoples into fantasy caricatures for aesthetic purposes without depth. Treating “the ancients” as if they were one-note, mystical, or savage can reinforce colonial worldviews even without intent. So it’s not cultural appropriation in the classic sense, but there is still responsibility involved. When drawing from ancient civilizations we must be transparent about our inspirations, do the research—not just into what they wore, but what they believed —and acknowledge that parts of these cultures may still live on in the traditions, spiritualities, and languages of modern descendants. All of this is incredibly important for me because I am drawing inspiration from several ancient cultures and peoples in my novel The Glass Dagger that have been gone for thousands of years, like the Romans and Greeks. (So, to my dear commenter, thanks again for inspiring this post because I wouldn't have considered this more deeply if you hadn’t given me an essay in my comment section.)   Symbols Don’t Exist in Isolation We often think of symbols—dances, garments, rituals, songs—as aesthetic choices. As if we can pluck them from one culture, reskin them, and plant them into our fantasy worlds without consequences. But symbols aren’t decorative. They’re cultural shorthand for deeper systems : of belief, of value, of memory. They live within cosmologies , spiritual frameworks, social structures, and histories of resilience or trauma. A ritual dance isn’t just movement. It might be a prayer, a protest, a mourning, or a celebration tied to ancestral survival. A particular garment might not just be “pretty”—it might signal age or coming-of-age, spiritual protection, status, gender, protection, or class hierarchy. A myth isn’t just a story—it’s a coded system of values. When we borrow the surface without understanding the root, we reduce symbols into “vibes” and risk erasing the real-world richness that made them meaningful in the first place. This doesn’t mean you can’t be inspired or borrow. But it means you have to do the digging , to go deeper . Where did this symbol come from? What role did it play in its original context? If you’re reinventing it—are you honoring its spirit or simply using its shape? If I’m going to transform this, am I honoring what it was while building something that feels alive within my  world? Symbols are powerful. Use them with reverence. Curiosity as a Worldbuilder’s Compass Let’s be real: worldbuilding can be overwhelming. There’s always more to learn, more to question, more to refine. It’s tempting to stick to what you know or stay shallow because the depth seems endless. You may even start researching burial rites in 10th century Persia and somehow end up reading a thesis on precolonial water symbolism in Southeast Asia. And the deeper you go, the more you realize how much you don’t  know. But the truth is, curiosity is the compass  that gets you through. Not mastery. Not authority. Just curiosity. You don’t need a PhD in anthropology to write respectfully and richly. What you need is the willingness to ask better questions. To listen. To ponder. To slow down when something feels “off.” To wonder why a custom exists, not just what it looks like. And to let yourself be changed by what you find. The best worldbuilding doesn’t come from rigid rules—it comes from fascination. When you approach worldbuilding from a place of curiosity—not perfectionism—you start building cultures from the inside out, not just the top down. From the moment you realize you’re not just inventing a culture… you’re discovering it. The result? Worlds that feel lived in. Cultures that feel coherent. Characters shaped by something deeper than backstory—they’re shaped by belief too. Philosophy as a Tool for Worldbuilders Philosophy isn’t just for professors or pretentious dinner parties. For worldbuilders, it’s a goldmine. Every culture you create—real or fictional—is built on assumptions. About justice. About truth. About power, community, gender, morality, beauty, death. Philosophy helps you see those assumptions  and decide whether to recreate them, question them, flip them, or remove entirely. Studying even basic philosophical questions—What is the good life? What makes a person “free”? Is justice objective or collective?—can radically change how you construct a fictional society. Again, you don’t have to be an expert. My commenter suggested listening to podcasts like Philosophize This!  as a great starting point as a way to help others start noticing their own assumptions… and building characters who wrestle with theirs. Philosophy doesn’t give easy answers. But it’s not supposed to. It’s a toolkit for complexity. And great worldbuilding thrives  in complexity. So l et your cultures have contradictions. Let your characters grapple with what’s “right.” Let your gods be flawed. Let your truths be uneasy. The point of philosophy in storytelling isn’t to sound smart. It’s to ask what your world, and the people in it, believe . A Note On Nuance When it comes to nuance in your own writing, yes—some of it will inevitably be lost. But often, it’s implied  nuance. That’s where the balance lies: part of our job as writers is to offer nuance intentionally, but the rest is about trusting the reader. Leaving space for interpretation. Letting them bring their own context, experiences, and emotional insights to the work. Not every nuance needs to be spelled out. Some of the most powerful moments live in what’s unsaid —in the silences, in the ambiguity, in the spaces where the reader gets to participate in meaning-making. Again, it comes back to leaving your readers with questions unanswered, so that they may carry your work with them—thinking, feeling, and pondering something deeper long after the final page. Beyond Binary: Escaping the “One True Way” Much of Western storytelling leans heavily on binaries: good vs. evil, logic vs. emotion, body vs. soul, now vs. forever, chosen vs. forgotten, sacred vs. profane, etc etc etc . And often embedded in those binaries is the idea that there’s a singular truth , a perfect world, a divine blueprint we should strive toward. Everything else? Flawed. Broken. Temporary. This belief—the "true world" theory—shows up everywhere. In chosen one narratives. In post-apocalyptic redemptions. In magical systems that define “purity.” And in heroes who ascend to become something “higher.” But I’ve grown wary of this thinking. I’ve written stories that push against it. Because what if… that wasn't the point? In The Glass Dagger , the pursuit of immortality and divinity is deeply flawed. And how once immortality is reached and "accomplished," it becomes not liberation, but burdensome—a personal hell you can never escape once acquired. In The Song of the Crows , the past isn’t something to be restored—it’s something fractured, uncertain, yet still whispering through the trees. Both stories push back against the idea that there’s a single, clean answer. They live in multiplicity. In fractured timelines. In personal mythologies. Sometimes, the only truth worth chasing is the messy one that lives in the moment. Because the truth is: not everything needs to be fixed. Not every world needs a savior. Some stories ache not for perfection—but for presence, connection, and honest complexity. Escaping binary thinking in worldbuilding opens space for nuance. And in that space, we might find the kinds of truths that can’t be spoken—but can still be felt. We build stories where mystery, presence, and multiplicity are not flaws. They’re freedom. When In Doubt, Hire Sensitivity Readers Now… No matter how much research one does, we’re all still going to have blind spots. That’s where sensitivity readers come in. What are sensitivity readers? Sensitivity readers are individuals—often writers themselves—who read your work through the lens of their lived experience or cultural background. They offer feedback on potentially harmful, inaccurate, or stereotypical representations related to race, gender, disability, religion, or other identities. They’re not censors. They’re collaborators. Their goal isn’t to shame you but to help you write with integrity and awareness. Hiring a sensitivity reader shows that: You care about the people you’re representing. You’re willing to do the work to get it right. You understand that good intentions aren’t enough—impact matters. Remember: Impact always outweighs intention. Even if your intentions were good, the effect your words or choices have on someone else can still be harmful—and that harm is real, whether you meant it or not If your story includes marginalized characters or draws from cultures outside your own, a sensitivity reader is one of the best investments you can make. Not only will your writing be more authentic and respectful, it will resonate more deeply with readers across the board. Don’t let fear of “getting it wrong” keep you from telling meaningful stories. Let that fear become a reason to slow down, listen, and get support. Concluding Thoughts Thanks again to the commenter who left an essay in the comments section of my " De-Westernize Creative Worldbuilding " blog post—it genuinely meant a lot. I hope this response blog offered meaningful insight, clarified lingering questions, and maybe even sparked some new ones. What stood out most to me in your message was the desire to understand. That, to me, is what makes a great worldbuilder: curiosity without entitlement, reverence without rigidity, creativity rooted in awareness. That’s the kind of storytelling I believe in. And if you’re here, reading this, I imagine it might be the kind you believe in too. Let’s keep building better worlds, enriching both the world at large, and our own small worlds within ourselves :) Happy worldbuilding~ —Bair✍︎ Where epic fantasy meets philosophical ponderings of the self. Want to stay up to-date and get exclusive updates and insights on future projects, book launches, writer and reader resources, FREE literature, writing freebies, and a more? Sign up for my Newsletter ! Find more helpful writing tips on the rest of my blog . SUBSCRIBE to the blog on my personal website , Substack , or Medium . Struggling to get your word count in? Check out my writing podcast ! Need a new notebook? Check out my hand-bound books ! Support the blog on Ko-fi ! INSTAGRAM  | LINKEDIN  | PINTEREST Check out My Writer & Reader Merch Store Like this post? Share the link on your social media or pin the image below to your Pinterest board ! Congrats! You found Mosswing at the end of this post!

Aloha world~ This post isn’t about writing craft in the traditional sense, it's more me rambling about some things that have been on my mind lately that I felt compelled to share. That said, it is still for the writers, the dreamers, the overachievers, and the sensitive souls who feel too much and give too often. It’s a piece I wrote because the weight of the world has been heavy lately, and I know I’m not alone in feeling it. By no means am I an expert, or a therapist, but I wanted to come on here and speak my thoughts. It's a topic so prevalent in our world right now, I couldn't keep this locked away in a notes app. So here we are… How to begin…? Perhaps this: In a world that demands so much of our attention—where algorithms hijack our dopamine, where hustle is glorified, where success is measured in output—it’s no wonder so many of us feel like we’re running on empty. Especially if you're a younger Millennial, Gen Z-er, or even Gen Alpha, trying to grow up in a world that feels both on fire and falling apart. How do you keep going when the sky feels too heavy? How do you hold onto hope without collapsing into naïveté or nihilism? How do you keep creating when you have nothing left to give? Nothing left to offer, not even a scrap. These are questions I find myself surrounded by. The burden of a dying world weighing heavy on our collective shoulders. With my dear friends around me particularly impacted by such questions, such uncertainty and existential dread sends them spiraling.  And these questions, and the answers they seek, cannot be always found in therapy. Because no matter how much you “unpack your trauma,” or even heal from your trauma, the world outside keeps spinning—faster, louder, crueler. How can a person improve their mental health when they can’t even be sure there will be a world around to live in within the next decade? That question doesn’t have an easy answer—and maybe it never will. How can a person improve their mental health when they can’t even be sure the world will still be here in ten years? That fear haunts many of us—quietly, constantly. It sits behind our goals, our grief, our grinding. And yet… we still wake up. Still breathe. Still try. So maybe the point isn’t to have certainty. Maybe the point is to live anyway. In a world that may not last, the act of caring, for ourselves, for each other, is defiance. And in the face of so much unknown, I want to share a simple—but often overlooked—truth:  we are not meant to grind endlessly . We were built for rhythm. For rest. For renewal. The Weight Of Our Dreams Some of us dream so big that we feel crushed by our own ambitions. We set our sights on galaxies and then blame ourselves for not reaching them fast enough. We become burdened by our vision. Swallowed by the very stars we were meant to shine among. We forget that goals are meant to guide us—not grind us into dust. We forget that we are allowed to pivot. To rest. To say, “This matters, but not at the cost of myself.” Your dreams should lift you, not bury you. The pursuit of a life shouldn’t cost you your living. If you’ve ever felt paralyzed by your ambition… this post is for you. If you’ve ever lost the joy of creating because the  task  became more important than the  self , this is your reminder: you are allowed to exist outside of your work. You are allowed to be more than your momentum. The Myth of Endless Productivity Western culture has trained us to believe that our value is directly tied to our productivity (thanks capitalism…). That unless we are producing, optimizing, or improving, we are somehow falling short. Rest is labeled laziness. Softness is mistaken for weakness. And ambition—once a noble spark—becomes a relentless, consuming flame that won’t let us pause. We’re told that if we just hustle harder, sleep less, sacrifice more, we’ll eventually earn the right to stop. But that stop never comes. Because we’re not just chasing goals, we’re being  chased  by them. Haunted by ambition. Trapped in a loop of " more, more, more ," until we lose sight of what we're even working toward. The joy of the craft dissolves. The reason we started creating and striving toward our ambitions in the first place is buried beneath expectations and performance. We end up living with this quiet desperation. Dreaming of rest we don’t know how to claim. Feeling like frauds if we slow down. And eventually, we start asking the terrifying question:  What if this is just how life is now? But it’s not. It doesn’t have to be. This is the paradox of dreaming big: we carry ambitions like constellations in our chests—bright, beautiful, impossible not to follow—but we forget to make space for the  softness  required to live. The softness required to  enjoy  what we’ve built, to nourish the soul that carried the dream. We were never meant to live in permanent output mode. Even the sun sets. Even rivers slow. Even the most powerful beings in nature have cycles—of action, and of rest. “The mountain is climbed with fire in your chest—but the summit is savored in stillness.” You need both. You  deserve  both. The drive and the dreamer. The fire and the water. The structure and the surrender. The yin and the yang. True power comes not from endless force, but from knowing when to push and when to  receive. Yin & Yang Energies: A Balancing Act In Eastern philosophy, a framework for understanding balance is found in the concept of  yin and yang —concepts from ancient Chinese cosmology that describe the dual forces present in all of existence.  Yin  is associated with the feminine: soft, receptive, intuitive, fluid, still, and inward.  Yang  is associated with the masculine: active, structured, assertive, expansive, focused, and outward. It’s important to note and understand that yin and yang are not tied to gender identity—they’re not “male” and “female” in the human sense. Rather, they are  energetic principles  that exist in everyone, regardless of sex or gender. They are not in opposition—they are in  relationship . Day needs night. Fire needs water. Drive needs rest. When yin and yang are balanced, there is harmony. When one dominates, we feel out of sync. And in our modern world, most of us have been taught to over-identify with yang—to act, to build, to push. But we’ve lost touch with yin—the part of us that knows how to rest, feel, receive, and simply be. Again, this isn’t about gender—it’s about energetic archetypes that live in all of us: Masculine energy  is ambition, output, structure, and pursuit. Feminine energy  is receptivity, flow, softness, celebration, and surrender. Our society exalts the masculine and diminishes the feminine. We’re praised for being driven, efficient, self-disciplined. But we’re judged for being soft, slow, cyclical, emotional. And yet both are essential. This deep discomfort with softness isn’t accidental—it’s cultural. Patriarchy has long villainized and diminished feminine energy, even as it demands and depends on it. It elevates traditional masculine traits while mocking the very femininity it exploits—celebrating women for nurturing and caregiving, while punishing them for softness, emotion, or rest. But we must not forget that one builds the bridge. The other invites you to walk across it, barefoot, feeling every breeze. (Funny, isn’t it? That in this context we call the masculine the energy of creation, when it is women—those associated with the feminine—who literally  create life  within their bodies. It just goes to show how deeply language, culture, and power structures have distorted our perceptions.) Without yin, the feminine, we accomplish and accomplish and accomplish… without ever feeling fulfilled. Without yang, the masculine, we float and dream without ever being grounded in reality. This is why burnout feels so spiritually devastating. Because it’s not just exhaustion of the body—it’s imbalance of the soul. It's what happens when we've spent too long pushing and striving, and not nearly enough time receiving, replenishing, and rejoicing. Ambition without receptivity becomes suffering. Achievement without softness becomes burnout. To thrive, we must balance striving with surrender. And that balance takes practice. Tapping into Yin & Yang: Utilizing Masculine & Feminine Energies You don’t have to meditate on a mountain or overhaul your entire life to feel your yin and yang. You just need awareness and intention. When you need to be in your Masculine: Set clear, actionable goals (with timelines that inspire you, not paralyze you). Create a schedule, set boundaries, and honor your commitments. Move forward on your dreams with courage—even when you're scared. Speak your truth. Claim your space. Assert your needs. Take up the responsibility of becoming who you want to be. Masculine energy helps you initiate, helps build momentum. It moves the dream from vision to form. When you need to be in your Feminine: Allow space for rest—not as a reward, but as a right. Connect with your body: stretch, walk, cry, laugh, dance. Sink into the moment: light a candle, make tea, savor the quiet. Celebrate what you’ve already done—pause and bask. Surround yourself with beauty and wonder. Let it move through you. Receive—support, love, compliments, inspiration—without deflection. Feminine energy doesn’t force. It welcomes. It doesn’t rush. It unfolds. And it’s often the thing we’re most starved for. After a long push in your masculine, you must return to your feminine. You can’t stay in drive forever. You’re not a machine. Your soul was built for rhythm—not a straight line. Let yourself enjoy the fruit of your labor. Soften into your own becoming. Celebrate your small wins along with your big wins. Celebrating Your Becoming Our culture tells us to keep moving. Hit one goal? On to the next. Check off the milestone? Cool—don’t get complacent. But this mindset keeps us perpetually chasing and rarely receiving. It erodes joy. And more dangerously, it teaches us that our progress only matters if it's big, fast, or publicly impressive. But growth happens in micro-movements. In quiet decisions. In the hard, invisible work of showing up for yourself. And that deserves to be  honored . So celebrate the small wins: getting out of bed when it’s hard. Drinking water. Sending the email. Writing one paragraph. Choosing rest when your body asked for it. Celebrate the medium wins: following through on a project. Setting boundaries. Practicing consistency. Saying no. Saying yes. And yes—celebrate the big wins too. Launching the thing. Healing the pattern. Making the leap. Finishing what you started. But don’t wait for those to be the  only  reason you throw yourself a little joy party. You don’t have to earn your right to be proud. Ways To Celebrate Your Wins Small Wins — For the quiet triumphs, the invisible victories, the days you simply showed up. Examples:  Got out of bed. Wrote a sentence. Drank water. Resisted a spiral. Set a tiny boundary. Make your favorite warm drink and savor it slowly Add whimsy to your world: fairy lights, stickers, sparkles Let yourself relax without guilt Play your favorite video game or cozy mobile game Have a mini treat: a pastry, candy, tea, coffee, or a walk Play a board game with friends or family Sing and let your voice out, don't hold it back Romanticize your life: light a candle, burn incense, practice gratitude, notice beauty Medium Wins — For moments of forward motion, courage, and care that deserve more than a passing nod. Examples: Finished a task. Said no. Set a boundary. Started therapy. Showed up. Take yourself on a solo artist date (go somewhere inspiring!) Take yourself out on a dedicated solo coffee date Order your favorite takeout and eat it like a ritual Gift yourself something guilt-free Take a no-work day and protect it like gold Make art just for fun Enjoy a movie or comfort show Create a collage or vision board Buy a small luxury (notebook, blanket, candle) that reminds you: I did that Big Wins — For the milestone moments. The accomplishment of big goals. Examples:  Finished a novel. Left a job. Launched something. Ended a toxic cycle. Moved forward after healing. Host a small gathering with your favorite people Take yourself out to a fancy (or your favorite) restaurant Go on a trip—solo or with someone you love Create or commission something to symbolize the milestone (jewelry, art, tattoo) Write a letter to your future self, praising who you’ve become Invest in your next phase (class, tool, mentorship, coaching, retreat) Let yourself cry, laugh, scream, sleep. Whatever you need to feel  it. You are becoming. You are blooming. You are not standing still. Let that be enough today. Let your celebrations be sacred—not performative. They are how you witness yourself growing. How you remind your inner child, your soul, your weary adult self:  We’re doing it. We’re still here. And while your journey inward matters, remember you don’t have to do it alone. Humans are social creatures for a reason. We're meant to be in communities. So find your people. The ones who remind you of who you are when you forget. The ones who celebrate your small wins and hold space for your messy becoming. Healing doesn’t happen in isolation—it happens in community. In laughter. In late-night texts. In coffee dates and hang outs. Despite our technology bringing us closer together, there is an loneliness epidemic and a fear of opening up to others. But we shouldn't let all that prevent us from finding our communities. We need people around to help remind us that we're not alone. *A Note For Adding Whimsy To Your World Whimsy is the art of delight without reason. It’s the unexpected sparkle, the unnecessary magic, the softness that says, “You’re allowed to enjoy this moment just because.” In a culture that tells us everything must be useful, whimsy can be an act of defiance. A flower in your hair. Stickers on your laptop. Fairy lights around your mirror. A ridiculous mug. A stuffed animal on your desk. Whimsy reminds your inner child that they’re still invited to the party. It makes the world feel more alive, more colorful. Don't snub it, overlook it, or think it silly. The Wise Inner Child Knows the Way Children don’t think about legacy or deadlines. They sing because they want to. Dance because they feel like it. Play because joy is its own reward. They haven’t yet learned to measure their worth in metrics or milestones. They just  are . They live in the  now —not out of mindfulness training, but because the past and future don’t yet exist in their minds. Time is immediate. Fluid. Felt in colors and sensations, not clocks. And honestly? That’s where presence lives. Not in overthinking. Not in ruminating or forecasting. But in  being . Fully, joyfully, now. I personally believe that is the medicine our adult selves need. A balancing act between taking responsibility and releasing pressure. Between planning the future and allowing play. If you never let your inner child out, your adult self will become buried under the weight of ambition and stress. The pressure to do, achieve, prove, and perform will silence the part of you that knows how to rest in delight. When we embrace the youthful spirit, we become present. So what would it look like to stop just for a moment and feel your now? What would it mean to treat your life not as a to-do list, but as a playground? Would you color for fun? Would you dance in your kitchen? Maybe even climb something? Touch grass? Eat fruit slowly? Laugh at something ridiculous? Whatever it may be, let wonder interrupt your routine. And when you do find your way of stopping and becoming present, celebrate it . Even if it’s small. Especially if it’s small. Because children don’t wait for permission to be proud. They celebrate tying their shoes. Making a doodle. Running fast. Let them reteach you how to live. Embrace the inner child who wants to sing just because. Embrace the inner child who wants to dance just because. Embrace the inner child who seeks to play, explore, and create, without needing a reason. Now, if you keep smothering that child’s fire, ask yourself why. If they existed outside of you—as a small, tender being you were responsible for—would you keep extinguishing their joy, shaming their spark, postponing their aliveness? If your answer is yes… I have serious concerns about you. But if you’re like most people—with any shred of empathy or compassion—then your answer is no. So why do you keep doing it to yourself? Suppressing that inner flame—telling it “later,” “not now,” “grow up,” isn’t discipline. It’s abandonment. A slow silencing of the most sacred, essential part of you. The part that still feels wonder. Still holds magic. Still believes. Because every time you delay joy, every time you treat play as a waste, every time you push through instead of softening into the moment… You’re slowly killing yourself. Not in the dramatic, obvious way—but in the soul-deep, chronic ache of becoming a husk of who you could be. A shell of someone great. So… let the child dance. Let them sing. Let them come out to play and color outside the lines and make a mess. Let them be heard. Because in doing so, you don’t lose your power—you return  to it. Let them remind you that this life isn’t just about building—it’s about being. The Gift Of A Silent Hour Before we close, I want to offer a gift. Or perhaps a challenge. Something that’s made a significant difference in my life—and could change yours. In the spirit of just being , I challenge you to take one silent hour a day for yourself. No phone. No screens. No input. Just you. Journal. Book. Walk. Sit in stillness. Stare at a wall. Let your nervous system catch its breath. Give yourself permission to not  produce. To not  perform. To not  please anyone but the version of you that’s quietly waiting to be heard. You’ll twitch. You’ll reach. You’ll worry. But nothing will collapse. And the world will still be there when you return. This hour is your reclamation. A return to sovereignty. Make it sacred. Light a candle. Close a door. Play soft music on a record player. Breathe deeply. Tell your mind: We are safe here. Carve out your sacred time. Not because it’s efficient, but because it’s essential. And if anyone calls it selfish—including your own inner voice? I call bullshit. You are allowed to be selfish with your peace. You are allowed to close the door. To step away. To say, “Not today.” Because sometimes, solitude is the only place you can hear yourself again. Rest is not a luxury. Rest is not weakness. Rest is not selfish. Rest is your fucking right . Some days you might not even be able to give 30%, let alone 120%. That doesn’t mean you’re failing. That means you’re human. So have a brain-rot day if it helps. Read a book. Write a book with quill and ink. Play the silly game. Watch the comfort show. Let yourself unravel. But I implore you: disconnect, too. Carve out the hour. Morning, midday, or midnight—whenever you can. Lock your devices in another room. Feel the withdrawal. Let it pass. And if you can't, ask yourself honestly: Why can’t I give myself just one hour of silence? Be real, be honest, what's really stopping you? Take a walk. Go for a bike ride. Journal. Pray. Stretch. Cry. Dance. Paint. Breathe. If it's raining outside (like it is now as I write this), go outside and let the rain soak you to your bones. Whatever you do, take your attention back from the systems that profit off your exhaustion. From the culture that told you stillness was a waste of time. Reclaim your mind from the algorithms that profit off of your doomscrolling. Even scarier for some: don’t be productive.  Stare at the sky. Doodle something pointless. Lay in the grass. Do something with no outcome attached. Just… exist. You weren’t built to be a machine. You weren’t meant to monetize every breath. You were meant to live . To be . And maybe all this sounds obvious. Maybe it sounds “basic.” But let me remind you: Just because you know something intellectually doesn’t mean you’ve internalized it. Knowing and living are two different things. So don’t scoff at people who are learning what you’ve already learned. And don’t shame yourself for needing to relearn what you thought you’d mastered. We are all on different timelines. Walking different terrain. So stay open. Stay kind. To others, and especially to yourself. Learning To Let Go: A Practical Guide Now, it's easy to spout “just rest,” “just be,” “just let go” as if it's that simple. But where do you start? How do you start? I f your nervous system has been stuck in fight-or-flight, or your mind is racing from a culture that values productivity over presence, or your own deadlines and commitments to your own dreams weighs heavy on you, the idea “letting go” can feel impossible. How do you actually let go and " be "? Here are some methods I use. Step 1: Start with the Body, Not the Brain You can’t  think  your way into calm—you have to  physically signal safety  to your body. Shake out your limbs.  Literally. Hands, feet, shoulders, head. Wake up your energy. Exhale with sound.  Sigh, groan, hum, blow raspberries—anything that tells your system, “We’re okay now.” Tense and release.  Start with your toes, move upward. Clench, hold, let go. Try putting on a song and just  move . No choreography. No judgment. Let your body lead. Why This Works: Trauma and stress live in the body. When you move, you dislodge what’s stuck. You remind yourself you are not frozen. You are not trapped. It shakes up the stagnant energy, trauma, or stress living inside you. Step 2: Name It to Tame It Unspoken emotions tend to spiral, but when you name what you’re feeling, your nervous system begins to regulate. This can be rather difficult if you're not used to catching yourself when you're about to, or already in a spiral. But like I've said in other blog posts, our language  shapes  reality. The way we describe our lives—internally or externally—changes the way we process, remember, and relate to those experiences. So try and speak aloud what you're feeling. Optional Phrases To Say To Yourself: “I’m overwhelmed.” “I’m scared and I don’t know why.” “I feel like I’m failing and I’m exhausted.” Don’t overthink it. Use your Notes app. A journal. A sticky note. Or say it out loud to an empty room. If you’re blanking, start here: “I don’t know what I’m feeling, and in this moment I don't know why, but I want to feel lighter.” Why This Works: Naming emotion activates the prefrontal cortex and helps reduce emotional overload. It brings you into awareness, not just reaction. Step 3: Interrupt the Spiral with Play If your inner critic starts judging— “This is dumb," "you’re doing it wrong,” "this is pointless and nonsensical" —that’s your cue to get weird. Blow raspberries. Make a goofy face in the mirror. Say something dramatic like, “I am a stressed-out mushroom under a heat lamp.” The goal isn’t to be silly for the sake of it—it’s to disrupt self-seriousness and let your body remember joy. Why This Works: Play brings you back into the present. It can activate cortisol. It tells your system:  We are allowed to feel good. And if you can't embrace the weird and silly just yet and the spiraling thoughts just won’t stop, try a grounding technique: Name 5 things you can see.  Describe each in color, texture, and detail. Let your eyes linger. Name 4 things you can touch.  Feel the temperature. The grain. The weight. Name 3 things you can hear.  Distant sounds. Near sounds. The in-between. Name 2 things you can smell.  Breathe deeply. Let the scent tell you where you are. Name 1 thing you can taste.  Even if it’s just the inside of your mouth—notice. These small sensory observations are anchors. They remind you:  I am here. I am safe. I am real. And once you’ve let go—even a little— pause . Notice. Appreciate. Step 4: Create A Sanctuary Create a space—physical or energetic—that says:  nothing is required of me here. It can be anything. It doesn't have to be a brand new space, it can be your bed. A blanket fort. A closet. A patch of sunlight. But let it be a sanctuary, a hallow place of rest and presence. Light a candle. Sit with a warm drink. Put on lo-fi. Call it something like: My safe space, The Chamber of Secrets, the room of no expectations. Why This Works: The body responds to ritual and space. When you build a pattern of comfort, your system begins to trust it. Step 5: Make Rest a Ritual Let rest become something you  practice , not something you have to earn. Choose one tiny act: One cup of tea in silence. One walk without your phone. One slow stretch before bed. One page in a “brain dump” journal. Repeat it. Honor it. Make it sacred. Why This Works: Repetition builds regulation. Tiny rituals teach your nervous system: “This is the rhythm of peace.” Bonus: If You Can’t Relax, Forgive Yourself Anyway Sometimes the harder you try to relax, the more tense you feel. That’s okay. Rest isn’t a switch. It’s a practice. A remembering. If all you do is lie down and breathe for a minute, that counts. If all you do is  want  to rest and can’t, that awareness is still sacred. You’re not broken if stillness is hard. You’re just learning to feel safe in your own space again. But once the stillness settles, even for a breath, you might even try to begin to notice the details you forgot to love. The slant of light. The quiet hum of being. And that noticing? That’s the beginning of gratitude. Let gratitude and appreciation ground you. Let it be your anchor. When you slow down, you begin to not just see, but observe : the way light illuminates a loved ones eyes. The way your breath softens. The way your heart has been trying to speak to you all along. Appreciation is presence. It’s a way of saying thank you—not just for the big things, but for every little thing that reminds you you’re alive. This ties into a truth from another piece I wrote:  How To See The World Like An Artist .  When you look closely—really look—you realize that everything is miraculous. A chipped cup. A dusty window. The sound of footsteps. A curl of steam. To notice is to honor. To appreciate and practice gratitude is how we stay present. It's how we come home to the world as it is. How we come home to  ourselves. Let yourself unwind. Not for performance. Not to prove you’re doing “self-care.” But because you are tired. And you are worthy. And you are allowed to feel good. That’s not weakness. That’s  wisdom . Final Truths & Affirmations You are not your goals. You are not your timeline. You are not your productivity. You are not a machine. You are not a brand. You are not your output. You are a human. You are a soul . And you deserve joy. Stillness. Nourishment. Celebration. Even when you feel like you have nothing left to give or feel undeserving. Because you are not meant to create from an empty well. You are meant to drink first. And then, only when you’re ready, create. Closing Thoughts I like to end most blogs with an inspiring quote that's relevant to the posts content, but instead of a quote, I’d like to leave you with a song: Billy Joel’s  Vienna . For the version of you that’s tired, burned out, but still trying. I see you, I believe in you, you can do it. Keep going :) “Slow down, you crazy child…” You are allowed to rest. You are allowed to be. That’s enough —you are enough ♥︎ —Bair✍︎ Want to stay up to-date and get exclusive updates and insights on future projects, book launches, writer and reader resources, FREE literature, writing freebies, and a more? Sign up for my Newsletter ! Find more helpful writing tips on the rest of my blog . SUBSCRIBE to the blog on my personal website , Substack , or Medium . Struggling to get your word count in? Check out my writing podcast ! Need a new notebook? Check out my hand-bound books ! Support the blog on Ko-fi ! INSTAGRAM  | LINKEDIN  | PINTEREST Check out My Writer & Reader Merch Store Like this post? Share the link on your social media or pin the image below to your Pinterest board ! If you're reading this, Mosswing believes in you!🐉💕

Blank Blank The Bookwyrm Merch & Gift Shop Apparel Gifts & Downloads Tees Hoodies & Sweatshirts Learn about my upcoming New Adult epic fantasy novel! Learn about my upcoming New Adult epic fantasy novel! Button YOUR AUTHOR WEBSITE, DONE RIGHT Author Website Creator Are you an author looking to establish a strong online presence? Look no further than my Author Website Creator services! I can help you build a website that is both professional and unique to you and your brand. With a focus on quality design and engaging content, you can be sure that your website will leave a lasting impression on your audience. Learn More YOUR AUTHOR WEBSITE, DONE RIGHT Audiobook Narrator Looking for a professional audiobook narrator to bring your stories to life? Look no further than my services. As an experienced audiobook narrator, I specialize in a variety of genres, including both fiction and non-fiction. With my skills and expertise, I'll deliver top-quality narration that transports your readers to another world. Learn More YOUR AUTHOR WEBSITE, DONE RIGHT Book Formatter Professional book formatting is crucial to ensuring your book looks flawless and meets industry standards. I'll format your non-fiction or fiction book to the highest possible level. Whether you're publishing digitally or in print, you can trust me to deliver a product that does justice to your hard work. Get in touch and let's work together to make your book shine! Learn More

Frequently Asked Questions WHEN DID YOU REALIZE YOU WANTED TO BE AN AUTHOR? I've always loved to write and tell stories, but I finally set my mind to becoming a author when I was fourteen years old. If you want to read more about my author journey, check out my "about" page. HOW DO YOU COME UP WITH YOUR STORY IDEAS?/WHERE DO YOU GET YOUR STORY IDEAS? It's a mix of things. I would say most of my story ideas come from old daydreams I used to have when I was kid, some are from my random and strange dreams I have, and others seem to pop into existance out of no where. I also love retelling my favorite stories and putting my own twist on them. IS "BAIR" YOUR REAL NAME OR IS A PEN NAME? Bair is my real name! My dad came up with it when I was a baby as he thought it better fit my personality. And no, my parent's did not realize the implication of "Bair Klos" (like bear claws) when they named me. ARE YOU AVAILBLE FOR CRITIQUE, AND OR BETA READING? At this point in time, my availability is rather limited. Should I have any time to help, I would love to beta read and give critiques. If you're wondering about my current availability, please contact me through my 'contact' page. CAN YOU READ MY MANUSCRIPT, AND OR FIRST CHAPTER AND GIVE ME ADVICE? My availability is rather limited. I cannot guarantee I can read a full manuscript, but a first chapter (depending on length) is something I am available to reading. As for writing advice, please see my blog. CAN YOU GIVE ME ADVICE ON HOW TO SELF-PUBLISH MY OWN NOVEL? Not yet! But I will be able to in the future, so hold tight! In the mean time, I recommend checking out Sacha Black and The Creative Penn as places to get started. ARE YOU AVAILABLE TO NARRATE MY NOVEL? Yes! I am currently accepting new work so feel free to contact me! CAN YOU CRITIQUE MY AUTHOR WEBSITE AND GIVE ME ADVICE ON HOW TO IMPROVE IT? Yes! I can absolutely give you advince on how to improve your author site. Please see this page https://bairklos.wixsite.com/authorbairklos/author-website-critique-service to submit a critique form. ARE YOU AVAILBLE TO CREATE MY AUTHOR WEBSITE? Yes, I am availble to create your author website. Please see this page https://bairklos.wixsite.com/authorbairklos/authorwebsitecreatorforhire to book a consultation. CAN YOU FORMAT MY BOOK? Yes! At this time I am availble to format your book. Please see this page https://bairklos.wixsite.com/authorbairklos/book-formatting-services to book a consultation. CAN I INTERVIEW YOU ON MY BLOG, AND OR PODCAST? Sure, I'd be happy to interview on your blog or podcast, but will depend on my schedule. But do feel free to contact me with your request and link to your website. HOW CAN I BECOME YOUR BETA READER? First off, thank you so much for taking interest in my work and wanting to become a beta reader :') Second, you can go to "The Glass Dagger" book page and just below the mock-up book there is a link to a google form where you can sign-up specifically to beta-read The Glass Dagger. If you wish to beta-read a different story of mine, please sign-up to my newsletter to be notified for when I am seeking beta-readers for future projects ARE YOU ON SOCIAL MEDIA?/WHERE CAN I FIND YOU ON SOCIAL MEDIA? I am! If you go to my author about page you can find all my updated social media links. CAN'T FIND YOUR QUESTION? CONTACT ME HERE .

Members-Only Resources GET ACCESS TO ALL MY FREE DOWNLOADS & SPECIAL OFFERS BELOW! (Watch this page & my newsletters for new content added regularly) Creative Writing Crash Course – Lesson IV Character Creation: Bringing Your Protagonist (Therefore Your Story) To Life Your protagonist is your story’s heart. Build someone messy, real, and unforgettable—because plot means nothing without soul. Creative Writing Crash Course – Lesson III: Breaking Down & Understanding Internal vs. External Conflict Conflict drives story. Learn to balance inner and outer struggles that challenge your characters—and your readers won’t look away. Creative Writing Crash Course – Lesson II: Exploring Genres & Story Types Genres aren’t rules—they’re tools. Experiment, blend, and break conventions to find your unique voice. What story only you can tell? More To Be Added Soon! MISSED A NEWSLETTER? Newsletter Archive Back To Members Page