benjaminrydersnest

[benjaminrydersnest]

reblog if you’ve read fanfictions that are more professional, better written than some actual novels. I’m trying to see something

[benjaminrydersnest]

Hiya! It’s been a while since I made one of these, but I’m very excited to announce my current novel-in-progress…

Warhouse!

(Yes, the exclamation point is a part of the title and it is very necessary)

The premise is that it’s a medieval-adjacent magical fantasy… filled to the brim with metajokes and commentary on the genre as a whole, the world, our own history, stuff like that. It sort of breaks the rules of the genre, in a sense.

The premise is *also* that 1000 years after the birth of the Kingdom of Mayfellow, the dwarves have taken the lands for themselves, sparking a war between themselves and the Fae Folk as the rest (the Goblins, Human, Orcs and the like) scramble for power and dominance. Meanwhile, they’re all looking for one little boy, who is known by many to be the last of the Gray Ones…

I’ll reveal more information including history, character details, and more later, but for now that’s all.

[benjaminrydersnest]

Writing a novel when you imagine all you stories in film format is hard because there’s really no written equivalent of “lens flare” or “slow motion montage backed by Gregorian choir”

[benjaminrydersnest]

Must there always be a binary? It’s not just “boy” or “girl.” There’s a secret third option to this false dichotomy, called “both.”

There’s a secret fourth option called “neither,” and a secret fifth option called “yes,” and a secret sixth option called “I don’t fucking know,” and a secret seventh option called “I don’t give a shit,” and a secret eight option called “it depends,” and a secret-

And the fucked up part is that it’s all a complex skill tree. I’ve spent a couple years spec’ing into the tree and only gotten the “it depends” option

[benjaminrydersnest]

It was broken. It had been broken for quite a few days now. The worst part was not the pain. Sure, he had soon come to regret it when its shards embedded themselves in his knuckles. The hospital visit later had been as embarrassing as it had been painful. Later, though, he had realized how necessary it was… Much like the action itself.  When he lived with the other children in The Yard, he never had the luxury of his own room. The few times he was alone, it was in a solitary room, shut off from everything else. Every other waking hour, including bathroom time, was monitored by The Wardens, as the children called them. Those rooms… Those secluded and hidden safety chambers, they were never his. To have his own room, his own home, was a gift he never imagined he’d have. So when the mirror arrived… for the first time in his entire life, he saw reflected something he had never seen before. It was a small boy, with worn mayflower yellow eyes, a thicket of hair covering his forehead.  A certain feeling sparked, in the corner of his eye, burning and painful, yet, much like the hospital visit, necessary. What he saw reflected now… was a bit different. He saw a little boy, pale and green, with the same eyes, thicker hair, but… a boy that was damaged. A boy that was scarred, a boy that was, at the moment, softly sobbing. The very same little boy that, all that time ago, had never, ever been able to stand up to the rest of the kids in The Yard.  A small inhale, barely enough to steady him. It had felt wrong, ultimately. He understood, really, why the other “little boy” was that way… Innocence, weakness… happiness. He wasn’t yet forged by something that, really, no one should have to be subject to. More and more, as he saw him getting bullied, verbally and physically, he felt a strong desire to protect that little boy. Because that little boy was him, ultimately. What he had been, anyway. And he would never, ever let anyone else be hurt- not in the way he was hurt. “The Bully Code-” an arbitrary set of rules, imposed for no reason, unfair to everyone not in a position of power. Ironically, though, it often worked against them, because, to have power… was to be one of the weakest in The Yard, though he would only realize that much, much later.  The little boy he saw in the fragments gave him a horribly, horribly familiar feeling. The kind of feeling that called him… called him to fix that little boy. To put him back together, and to make sure he did not suffer- not again, anyway. It was, ultimately, a matter of selfishness. He had been molded by The Yard, but the person those children made him, it wasn’t him. The boy reflected now… and the boy he wanted to protect… They really weren’t so different. In the end, the boy reflected in this broken mirror was more him than he’d ever been in his sixteen years of life. So, really, it made sense that the carpet below was progressively getting wetter as his entire frame shook. It made sense, on that day, why that “little boy” had meant so much in that moment. An exhale follows a sob, carrying an air of finality. He looks away from the mirror, turning around. He didn’t care anymore if he was “weak…” all that mattered- all that mattered, at this point, was doing what his mother had told him, all that time ago:  “Follow your heart… one step at a time.”  When again Darren glances back at his reflection, his eyes flash a bright blue, just for a moment. 

[benjaminrydersnest]

I've had an overactive imagination my whole life, and, even as an adult, it shows no signs of slowing down. But... Here's the thing. One really weird side effect of this is I can tend to think about certain things (like, for instance, expanding my horizons and testing the waters, normally figurative concepts) in a very literal sense, or, more accurately, I think of them in terms of visual metaphors I've associated with them. Like, when I need to relieve stress? Golden Feather from Celeste. When I'm "testing the waters"? I see hands reaching into darkness. I think I might be autistic.

[benjaminrydersnest]

Are the stars not just a blip in a vast black ocean? No... What we see, what we know... all this place is so vast, and yet here we are. That's beautiful, in its own way. Whatever other life may be, it may not know of us, but we are here, we are aware, we know ourselves... And we have community. Some of us observe gods, others do not. There is no right or wrong answer, ultimately. And while we watch the brilliant spectacles, the slow, yet sure dance of light, sound, and particles, there's still yet more unseen, still yet more unexplained, still yet more beyond our kin. Is what we see the gods of this place? I am doubtful. I am sure, to them, there is yet another force we are not aware of even more vast than they. What a fascinating little world we have the pleasure of living in. It might seem pointless, to struggle when every world has its end, but... I believe there is purpose. Or at least, that everyone can find their own meaning. Isn't that what's most important? It's not really about the wondrous phenomena we observe, or the unknown entities that permeate our cosmos. It's about what drives us, and ultimately, that is love.

[benjaminrydersnest]

I'm trying to prove a point to my brain: Reblog if you think fanfiction does not need sex to be good.

There is a trend I’ve noticed that smut fics tend to be much more popular than anything else and honestly I just want to have something to look at to remind myself and that writing doesn’t have to have sex to be worth putting out into the community.

[benjaminrydersnest]

Yo whaddup! Thanks for the tag, I guess I get to talk about my current early indev project, Paranormal Investigations (working title) Part 3 (yes, I’m starting with part 3. It’s an anthology so it’s fine)

The important ones that I’ve actually logged (I actually have a whole note about OC heights, I could talk about any of ‘em for hours… only slightly autistic btw):

Leeroy Young(main detective): 5’ 8”

Henry Lock (Leeroy’s detective partner): 4’ 11”

Flint (Leeroy’s boss): 6’ 2”

Arthur Lock (Henry’s dad and one of the villains of part 3): 5’ 5”

Jack (Member of the City Watch, has weird, seemingly unblinking eyes since… a long time. Strange, that…): 7’ 8”

Notes: of all the detectives in Paranormal Investigations, Leeroy is the second tallest. Henry, comparatively, is the same height as the second shortest main detective. Jack’s unusual height in comparison to everyone may be due to some mutations, but he looks normal aside from his eyes, so it might be nothing? It’s a bit tricky to try and parse.

Leaving an open tag as per usual :)

Height comparison tag

Thanks for the tag @bunnymermaidwrites

Rules: List the height of your OCs, add any notes you like, and make a chart!

Here, from shortest to tallest are some of the cast from A Feather in the Forest:

Fen: 30 in.

Playa: 33 in.

Opal: 33 in.

Sorrel: 33 in.

Caine: 35 in.

Notes:

• I do my best to have the heights of characters reflect that of their respective species, but some liberties have been taken (I’ve got a good in-universe reason for this, but I can’t say at the moment)

• An example of the above would be Fen. He’s a crow, but his size is approaching raven territory.

• As in real life, there is a height difference between characters of the same species, even if it isn’t as clear or obvious in the story.

• Fen and Playa still have some growing left in them.

Tagging @kaylinalexanderbooks @fortunatetragedy @ahordeofwasps @the-golden-comet @winterandwords

@illarian-rambling @somethingclevermahogony @the-ellia-west @oh-no-another-idea @buffythevampirelover

@jay-avian @melpomene-grey and open tag

[benjaminrydersnest]

Last night I had the strangest dream, That the petals of roses and sunflowers drifted along the breeze. And the sunlight shone through the canopy of leaves, But I couldn't help but think it was all constructed by some malicious machine. To break myself and my idyllic partner out of this felt mean, But the imperfections and minute details stuck out like the sun's beams. When I woke up this morning, I wrote this letter, Thinking- Knowing I could do better.

[benjaminrydersnest]

"I know your pain. I know your name. I see you in the darkness and I feel your rage. I know what it's like, to be shattered like glass. To hold on until your last in a desperate, unwavering spark of hope that gets ultimately and cruelly snuffed out. I did to you. You did it to me. I shouldn't forgive you for what you've done, but... I know it wasn't you. And besides... who could share this with me but you?"

[benjaminrydersnest]

"Those that are fragile can be broken," "Those that are weak can be controlled," "Pull the strings and make them ring." -Mr. Valentine, Fallen Angels

[benjaminrydersnest]

Hey. I see those posts that say write for yourself. They’re entirely right, but there’s another point I don’t see being brought up nearly as much: set your own standard. It’s unhealthy to compare yourself to others in the first place, but especially in forms of art, it is possibly the least helpful thing you can do to improve, and really just ends up stunting your progress. The reality is, everyone has a different style, and that’s okay. Studying other styles to build on your own is fine, of course, but at the end of the day it’s most important to make sure what you write is uniquely you. Your voice, your style, your writing. So, start by writing something! Even if you’re super nervous. You don’t have to share it, in fact, it’s probably better not to if it’s your first time. (I would know) You’ll develop a style eventually! And yeah, the road there is bumpy and rough, but eventually, you’ll get something that’s uniquely you. And that’s exactly what you should strive to improve upon. Set a standard. After you’re finished with your first real story- whether it be fanfic or original fiction- set that as your standard. Try to see if you can exceed it. Once you do, that’s your new standard. Improve upon yourself by using yourself as your inspiration. Idolize the version of you that has already improved in the ways that you want to motivate yourself even more. You’ll get there eventually! It just takes time and effort, and mistakes are more than fine. This doesn’t just apply to writing, either! This applies to art, music, acting, etc. Just as long as you keep in mind that you are the best person you could compare yourself to, you’ll stop feeling so put down whenever you can’t meet some impossible standard. And yes, I understand it can be hard to break the mentality of comparing yourself to others, I really do! The first step is a little different for everyone. For me, it was to stop being so embarrassed and just… be myself. But for you? It could be any number of things. Find that starting point, and use it to soar to new heights.

[benjaminrydersnest]

Great Writing Methods to try!

-Echo Chamber: In a collaborative writing project, go with the first thing the other person says would be cool and write it, and keep bouncing off ideas with little to no actual creative oversight on either end.

-Brute Force: Don’t stop writing and write every single day even when you totally don’t feel like it. Don’t delete anything even if it’s absolute dogshit and keep the slop. Don’t get an editor. If you’re gonna have one, it should be you, and you shouldn’t change basically anything except grammar and spelling mistakes, which wont pop up ever.

-Premium Standard: Compare yourself to the greatest works of all time to give yourself the most motivation and fuel possible so that when you’re not up to that level you get as much disappointment as possible. Guaranteed to lower your self-esteem and motivation in just a few days!

[benjaminrydersnest]

Reflected

You. I see you in the mirror. Behind me. Like a shadow in darkness you're always creeping, always waiting for the lights to be low so you can haunt my thoughts and my dreams. I see you. I see your face and I see your emotions, I can hear you cry when you lie to me, I can feel your shaking as you try so desperately to tell me that I'm wrong, actually. I wish you'd just go, but I know it's not that simple. What I wouldn't give to just end this so you'd go away and things could be nice again. But I am trapped in this echo chamber with you, I always will be, an endless cacophony of poisoned words and angry, yet empty threats. I see you. I know who you are. I know where you come from. And I know why you're not going to leave. It's so simple I can hardly believe why the truth didn't dawn on me earlier. The simple fact of the matter is, as I stand here seeing what's reflected, the reality could not be more clear... You're me. ...Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to learn acceptance. But the mirror will shatter all the same. As just another fruitless method to try to escape.

[benjaminrydersnest]

For the last goddamn time...

"Kill your darlings" means "if something is holding you back, get rid of it, even if it sounds pretty."

That's it! That's all it means! It means if you're stuck and stalled out on your story and you could fix the whole block by removing something but you're avoiding removing that thing because it's good, you remove that thing. That's the darling.

It does NOT mean

That you have to get rid of your self-indulgent writing

That you should delete something just because you like it (?wtf?)

That you need to kill off characters (??? what)

That you have to pare your story down to the absolute bare bones

That you have to delete anything whatsoever if you don't want to

The POINT is that you STOP FEELING GUILTY for throwing out good writing that isn't SERVING THE STORY.

The POINT is that you don't get so HUNG UP on the details that you lose sight of the BIG PICTURE.

Good grief....

[benjaminrydersnest]

Expanding on this a bit: Realism also means not looking away. Facing things as they are, head on. Something can be terrible and unbelievably cruel, but shielding yourself won’t help you see it how it is. Sometimes you have to look at something like it is, even if that truth hurts. This goes for the situation between Israel and Palestine, this goes for the loss of someone close, this goes for any tragedy, real or fictional. Sometimes you just have to be realistic. And that doesn’t mean giving up or being “”mature”” about something. It just means being honest. And I think that is very important to keep in mind.

"Realism," at least to me, is a mix of optimism and pessimism. It's seeing the world, feelings, and other things as they are. Not sugarcoating, not dumbing them down, just. playing it straight and honest. yes, your "realistic" perspective is biased just like all perspectives, but the point, at least to me, is to be open, honest, and vulnerable. It is by no means very gritty and dark, and it also isn't being super optimistic. It's just... honesty