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fictionalpeter · 2 years ago

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Rebirth - Chapter 1

Ok, after a ton of procrastination, rewrites, and replots, I'm finally posting this fic. I apologize in advance if it isn't very good, but with my beta-reader still offline, this is the first one I've done completely on my own.

This was originally going to be two separate fics that I kinda combined into one, so hopefully I didn't miss anything during editing.

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Rebirth

Chapter 1: Aftermath

Scott McCall pulled his truck up to the front of his childhood home. It felt strange being back there after all the time that had passed. It was where he’d grown up. Where he lived with his mother, long before he’d met any of his extended family that seemed to get bigger and bigger as time went on.

As they sat there in the parked car, as the weight of the past two days slowly settled in, there was an air of melancholy surrounding the two of them

‘The two of them’.

Even now, Scott had to convince himself it wasn’t all a dream. That he wouldn’t wake up and she’d be gone again. But she was there—sitting right next to him. So close he could touch her.

Allison.

She had a far away look on her face. The same one she’d had since they had dropped Eli off at the Sheriff’s house. She was completely lost in thought, a million questions racing through her head.

But perhaps the biggest question was also the simplest: what now?

The danger was past, the Nogistune was gone—for good this time. Now, though--without that element of danger--all the questions and fears she had suddenly came crashing down at once.

“I died,” she whispered, finally. The weight of the acknowledgement threatening to crush her.

“Hey…” Scott said, reaching towards Allison and trying his best to calm her.

“I DIED, Scott!” she exclaimed. “I was stabbed through the heart, I felt life leaving my body and—now all of a sudden I’m alive? And Derek’s not, and I have no idea how I’m supposed to feel about that! Relieved, guilty—I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

“It’s ok,” Scott told her. “You’re confused, I get that. It’s been a long couple of days.”

“Am I even still human?” Allison questioned him. “How do I know I’m not a reanimated—thing—that just looks like me? Some magic construct that my spirit is just possessing?”

Scott’s heart broke for her. He reached over, grabbing her wrist. Using his thumb, Scott started tracing circles on her skin. Allison closed her eyes and exhaled—savouring the contact.

“You feel warm,” Scott reassured her. “I can hear your heartbeat. I can feel your pulse. You are alive—that’s what matters. That’s the part that’s important. The details about why and how—we can worry about that another day, ok?”

Allison grabbed onto his wrist with both hands. She was trembling, trying to steady herself. She leaned towards Scott, resting her forehead against his and closed her eyes. In her mind, she replayed the events of the past few days, putting her actions in perspective now that she had all the information.

“I tried to kill you…” she said finally.

“I wasn’t in any danger,” Scott swore to her. “Once I realized what he was planning, I went to Liam and…”

She shook her head.

“No—before that,” Allison clarified. “I stabbed you, Scott.”

“Technically I stabbed me” Scott said with a smirk.

“What if you were wrong?” she pleaded. “What if you couldn’t get through to me in time?”

“But I did” he pointed out.

“You could have…”

“But I didn’t!”

Allison exhaled again, opening her eyes. A small smile formed on her lips.

“You’re—still in love with me?” she asked.

Scott smiled back at her.

“I am.”

Allison made a sound that was somewhere between laughing and crying.

“You—you should have moved on,” she told him. “I—wanted—you to move on. I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“Allison…” he whispered her name, as though it was a prayer.

“I should have told you that,” she groaned. “I should have said something at the end, but instead I made it all about me.”

“I tried,” Scott confessed to her. “I did, I really did—there were other girls. But it just—never felt right. Like something was holding me back. I kept coming up with reasons, and—and excuses. Like—there was something inside me that was broken, and I couldn’t fix it no matter how hard I tried. Like I was waiting for something…”

Scott paused, realizing there was something he needed to know. Now that Allison was herself again, and the danger was past.

“And you?” he asked. “Do you still love me?”

Allison stared at him as if the question was ridiculous.

“I know you did, before…” he recalled. “You told me you did, but—I know I’ve changed. I’m not the same person I was fifteen years ago. I would understand if you…”

Before Scott could get out another word, Allison placed a finger against his lips, silencing him.

“Everything I’ve seen you do in the past two days proves you haven’t,” she told him. “You are. And I do.”

“I missed you…” Scott said, his voice breaking.

Allison kissed him. All of a sudden, Scott felt like he was seventeen again—the feel of her lips just like he remembered.

There was nothing he wanted more than to take Allison in his arms and show her just how much he missed her—how much he still needed her—how much he loved her. But—he was worried. Worried about overwhelming her. It had been less than an hour since her memories returned, and Scott had no idea how fragile she was right now. How vulnerable.

It didn’t matter what he wanted. Allison had to come first.

Reluctantly, Scott broke off the kiss—touching the side of her face in reassurance.

“Come on—your dad’s inside,” he said. “I’m sure he’ll want to know you’re ok.”

“Dad…” she whispered, her eyes wide with realization. “Yeah. Yeah, wow—I can’t even imagine how he’s feeling right now. What he must have gone through…”

“Come on,” Scott said. “I’ll walk you inside.”

*****

As they stepped through the front door, Allison looked around in amazement. It had been so long since she’d been in this house. The paint on the walls was a little more faded, the pictures were different. The house felt older.

Then again, so was Scott. So was she, as insane as that fact was.

She gripped Scott’s arm like it was a security blanket. He had a hard time believing that the same woman who had fought by his side against the very things that murdered her only a short while ago now looked like she was about to fall apart any second.

The two of them entered the living room, where they found Chris sitting on the couch. Melissa was there too, holding his hand. Allison wondered, for a moment, when the two of them had gotten so close. One of the many changes she would have to get used to

“Dad…” Allison called out.

Chris almost jumped up upon hearing her voice. He turned in their direction, relief flooding his face.

“Allison…” he said, almost painfully. “Are you all right?”

She nodded.

“We—left Eli with Stiles’ dad,” she explained. “I wanted to stay with him, but—I don’t think I’m…well…”

She didn’t think she knew Eli well enough? That she wasn’t stable enough? That she was about to fall apart herself, and wasn’t in any shape to comfort someone else? Allison wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence without worrying him even more.

“How are you feeling?” Chris asked her. “Your memory—has it started to come back, or…?”

“When Lydia used her power, everything came rushing back,” Allison confessed.

He looked like he was going to break down himself.

“I remember dying, and I—” Allison continued, pain evident in her voice. “I’m sorry, dad. I am so, so sorry for putting you through that.”

That was it. That was the moment that opened the floodgates. Allison detached herself from Scott and ran into her father’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Shh, shh…” Chris said, kissing the top of her head. “It’s ok—it’s ok.”

Scott couldn’t help but smile. It was easy to forget that he wasn’t the only one relieved at Allison’s miraculous return. That there were others who missed her just as much as he did—if not more.

Losing Allison had been traumatic. It almost broke him. But he couldn’t even begin to imagine how much worse losing a child would be. Chris Argent was one of the strongest people he knew, and to see him in such a state—it was humbling.

Melissa walked up to Scott’s side, giving his shoulders a big squeeze. He didn’t even have the heart to be embarrassed.

“You did it,” she told him. “I don’t know how, but—I am so proud of you right now.”

Scott smiled at her. It was hard not to—the flood of happiness in the room was infectious.

“Scott”

Chris turned towards him, still holding onto to Allison as though she might slip away again if he let go.

“Thank you,” he said. “I—there is no way I will ever be able to repay you for bringing Allison home.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Scott swore.

“I owe you everything,” Chris insisted.

Scott nodded, in silent understanding.

“I—should probably go,” Scott said. “Check on the others at the hotel. It’s been a long day—you both need some rest. I’m sure you’ve got a lot of catching up, so…”

“No, stay…” Chris interrupted. “I know—celebrating is probably in bad taste right now, but stay for dinner. We could use the company.”

“I don’t think I’ve eaten anything since I woke up in the hospital,” Allison admitted.

Scott looked towards Melissa, who nodded in agreement.

“Give me about twenty minutes, and I’ll whip something up,” she told them.

As she walked by Allison, she put her hand on Allison’s shoulder.

“Welcome home”

*****

Melissa McCall must have emptied the entire fridge, putting together a celebratory feast in a matter of minutes. Allison just—if you’ll excuse the expression—immediately started ‘wolfing down’ everything in sight.

They all had their stories to tell. Chris relayed all the adventures he had around the world, investigating supernatural disturbances and rumors he may have heard of. A little closer to home, Melissa explained how she became a full-fledged doctor. Scott told her about college, and the animal rescue business in LA.

Allison hung on every word. She was starting to feel like herself again. Not the cold, emotionless assassin she’d been only hours earlier. It felt good to laugh, and smile, and just enjoy herself, surrounded by the people she loved. It made her happy, even if it was just for a moment.

“Isaac’s in Paris?” Allison exclaimed in surprise.

“He moved there with me originally,” Chris exclaimed, passing his daughter another bowl of soup. “When I had to come back to Beacon Hills for—some reasons—he stayed behind. He really loved the artwork, the architecture—made a career out of it eventually.”

“He became an artist?”

Chris nodded.

“Wow—” she breathed. “I was worried when I noticed how many people weren’t here, I thought maybe—but I guess everyone has their own lives now.”

Allison’s face fell. She was—not exactly sad, more like regretful. Left behind, maybe?

“We’re going to have to write a manifesto to fill you in on everything you missed,” Scott added, trying to cheer her up. “Netflix has about a half-dozen competitors, there were three new Star Wars movies, a huge epidemic, and don’t get me started on politics.”

Scott stood up, and walked into the kitchen, heading towards the counter where a pie sat unthawing. He picked it up, just as Chris grabbed a cheesecake at the same time.

Noticing this, Scott laughed.

“What?” Chris asked, confused.

“Nothing, just—remembered something,” he chuckled. “You remember that dinner at your old house? The one I crashed, where Gerard was fishing for information?”

“I remember thinking you had a serious death wish,” he recalled.

“Well, right after you threatened me, we had to bring the desert in,” Scott pointed out. “I swear, I thought you were going to throw the cake at me.”

“Wasting good desert?” he asked, with a smirk. “What do you take me for, Scott?”

They both laughed.

“The more things change, right?” Scott asked. “Back then I was terrified of you. I knew that if you ever found out Allison and I were still together…”

“Scott…” Chris sighed.

“You’re ok with it now, right?” he asked. “I mean, if the two of us wanted to try again, you wouldn’t object?”

“Are you asking permission?” Chris raised an eyebrow.

Scott bit his lip.

“Yeah, I guess I am…”

“Because it seemed to me you’ve already made that decision.” Chris remarked.

Scott flinched at that.

“I trust you, Scott,” Chris said, seriously. “I also trust you to be careful with her feelings. Allison is—she’s extremely vulnerable right now, and I would recommend not rushing into anything she isn’t ready for. What she needs right now is emotional support from people who were a part of her old life—which includes you. I just got my little girl back. I don’t want her getting hurt.”

Scott nodded.

“Yeah, I get it.”

“I don’t want you getting hurt, either,” he added.

“Thanks,” Scott said with a smile.

*****

The second they got back from the kitchen and placed the desert on the table, Allison grabbed the entire cheesecake, sliding it in front of her.

“Somebody’s famished,” Melissa remarked.

“I just fought a war with a mummified fox wolf,” she pointed out. “I think I’m due.”

Allison shoveled a mouthful of cheesecake, and then paused.

“What happens now?” she asked. “I mean—it’s not like I can just pick up where I left off. I can’t exactly go back to school. Everyone has their own lives to get back to.”

“The best thing about owning your own business is you make your own schedule,” Scott pointed out. “I can make some calls, have some people stop by the shelter and feed the animals. I can ask Deaton to look after things for a bit, if you need me to stay longer.”

“I—wouldn’t mind seeing LA,” Allison suggested. “Dad, I know it’s a lot to ask…”

“I haven’t actually had a permanent home in a long time,” Chris told her. “We can go anywhere you want.”

Allison thought for a moment.

“I—I want to stay in town for a bit,” she admitted. “Just long enough to make sure Eli’s ok.”

She sighed.

“I barely know him,” she confessed. “But—he was Derek’s son. He just lost his father, and—I can’t help but feel that I got my life back at the cost of his.”

“Alison, that wasn’t your fault,” Melissa tried to reassure her.

“I don’t feel guilty exactly,” she explained. “Just—responsible. Like I have this gift I need to earn, and helping that poor kid is part of it. If he even wants me around.”

“I’m sure he will, once he gets to know you,” Scott told her.

“I need to do some shopping,” Allison groaned. “These clothes I’m wearing are the only thing I have other than what I stole from the hospital. I’m sure you donated all my stuff to charity years ago.”

“Actually—I never had the heart to,” Chris admitted. “Your things are all in storage. We can go get them tomorrow.”

“Really?” Allison asked. “You kept everything?”

He nodded.

“We’ll bring it back here, until you decide what you want to do,” Chris told her. “I know it’s not going to be easy, putting your life back together—starting a new one. We’ll take it one step at a time.”

*****

After dinner, Scott excused himself. Allison had insisted on helping with the dishes, bringing back her old arrangement with her father from when they lived in the apartment together. While the two Argents cleaned up, Chris continued to regale her with tales of his adventures.

Some of which Scott had been involved in. He was embellishing, but Scott didn’t have the heart to correct him. The smile on the man’s face never seemed to leave.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy,” Melissa commented, as the two of them entered the living room.

Scott paused, a question coming to mind.

“Is something going on?” he asked. “You’d tell me if something was going on, right?”

Melissa shrugged.

“I—don’t know,” she admitted. “Maybe, maybe not—with everything that’s been happening, it didn’t feel appropriate to discuss it.”

“If there is—you need to tell Allison,” Scott said. “Because I am definitely not gonna be the one to drop that bomb on her.”

“That—is going to be awkward,” Melissa said with a cringe. “And, on that note—is there something going on you would like to tell me about?”

“Not fair,” Scott groaned. “This is about the lacrosse field?”

“This is about the lacrosse field,” she laughed. “There we were, having narrowly escaped death--again, looking around desperately to make sure our kids were ok, and there you were—making out in the middle of the battlefield.”

“That was hardly making out,” Scott argued.

His mom gave him a doubtful look.

“I told Allison I was still in love with her.”

Melissa’s face became serious.

“After the fight?” she asked. “Or during?”

“Before, actually,” he admitted. “Before she got her memory back.”

“Oh, Scott…” she sighed, shaking her head. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah—yeah I am,” Scott replied. “I love her, mom. And Allison, she feels the same way. Chris already talked to me about it—that I needed to take things slow, and Allison’s still recovering from everything. I’m not going to rush into anything. I want her to be ok. I want her to be happy.”

“I want you to be happy,” Melissa said in response.

The two of them sit down on the couch.

“Scott,” Melissa began. “Most people go through their entire lives trying to find their perfect person. The one that makes them feel complete—whole. You found yours at sixteen. That’s never easy, even for people with normal lives, and before you could even begin to figure things out, you lost her. This isn’t just Allison’s second chance—its yours as well.”

“I’m just worried I’m going to mess it up,” Scott admitted. “That if I come on too strong, I’ll scare her away. But…I lost her once, and I’m worried that if I waste any more time, it might happen again.”

“You remember what I told you back then?” she asked. “The night of the junior formal?”

Scott paused.

“That it would go away eventually?” he asked. “Well, I got news for you, mom—it never did.”

“Not that part,” Melissa said, rolling her eyes.

“That I should tell Allison how I feel?” he asked.

“Bingo,” Melissa told him.

“She knows I love her,” Scott pointed out.

“But not about what’s scaring you,” she reminded him. “You don’t have to be the alpha all the time, you know? You don’t have to be everyone’s rock—you’re allowed to be scared sometimes. You’re allowed to be human.”

Scott smirked at that.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah I know,” Scott said. “I’m sorry to impose like this, but—I think I need to stick around. Just for a little bit.”

“If it’s all the same to you, Scott,” Melissa told him. “I think I’m going to like having you home. Just for a little bit.”

*****

Later that night…

Scott was asleep on the couch, restless. Try as he might, the events of the past few days had shaken him.

He was the alpha. The leader. The one who had to be the rock for everyone else, and stay strong. At least on the outside. Inside, on the other hand, was a completely different story.

Derek had told him to take care of his son—something Scott had no idea how to do. He had no idea how he was going to explain what happened to Stiles—especially considering the Nogistune’s involvement, and how Stiles had blamed himself for years for everything that monster had done.

And then there was Allison. It was only pure force of will that kept him from breaking down. Chris was right—she needed all the support she could get right now. The last thing she needed was him collapsing into an emotional wreck over the fact she was alive. He couldn’t be selfish with her. No matter what his mom said, he needed to stay strong.

He needed to make sure Eli was ok, but he didn’t want to leave Allison’s side. But he wasn’t sure how he could do both at the same time. He needed to talk to Lydia—maybe she could help? She was Allison’s best friend—maybe she could stay with her.

Scott desperately needed to get some sleep before he worried himself into a coma. However, his attempt at a peaceful rest was soon disrupted by a loud sound coming from upstairs.

Allison’s scream.

Moving faster than the average human was capable of, Scott leapt from his makeshift bed on the couch, and raced up the stairs. His mom and Chris were already up, running towards the sound of screaming, but Scott passed them with ease. He threw open the door to his old bedroom, and saw the source of the disturbance.

Allison was thrashing in her sleep, almost struggling. Yelling, shrieking—saying ‘no’ over and over again as she struggled against an invisible assailant. Scott—having witnessed his share of strange supernatural forces in the past two decades, quickly used his enhanced senses to scan the room to make sure, only to find no trace of any intruders.

“Allison, wake up!” Chris pleaded, grabbing his daughter’s shoulders. “It’s just a dream. You’re safe. It’s ok.”

Allison’s eyes shot open, filled with panic and tears and relief.

“Dad!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around Chris in a desperate attempt to calm herself. “I—I didn’t—it was. They were clawing at me, and pulling me down, and I couldn’t fight them—I couldn’t. I just went through them, and nothing I did stopped them, and I couldn’t breathe—I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t move and I screamed and screamed and…and…”

She broke down in uncontrollable sobbing, as Chris desperately tried to soothe her.

“Shh—shh…it’s ok,” he whispered to her, kissing the top of her head. “It’s ok—it’s just a dream. You’re home, you’re safe, and I’m not going to let anything hurt you. Ok?”

Allison nodded, still sniffling. She tried to regain her composure, but was still trembling. She was sweating like crazy, and her heart was racing.

Scott could hear it.

Technically what Chris said wasn’t exactly true: Allison didn’t have a ‘home’ anymore. The old Argent house had been abandoned for years, only used for storage when Chris needed something. The apartment had been sold when he’d left Beacon Hills, and he travelled so often that he never really settled in the same place for very long.

That’s why he was staying there—at Scott’s mother’s house. But when Chris told Allison she was ‘home’, it wasn’t a specific place he was referring to, but that she was with him. She was among the people who loved her.

“Are you ok?” Scott asked.

“No,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “I’m—I’m a mess. I’m sorry I woke you all up. It’s just…”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetie,” Melissa assured her. “Do you want me to make you something? Some tea to relax you?”

Allison shook her head.

“No, no—it’s fine,” she lied. “I just—I just need to get some rest. I’ll be fine in the morning, I promise.”

Allison wasn’t a very good liar. Scott doubted either her father or his mother believed her, and they weren’t able to hear her heart skip a beat like he could.

“Just get some rest,” Chris suggested.

As the three of them reluctantly turned to leave, Allison spoke up.

“Scott?”

Scott turned towards her.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Could you—stay with me?” she asked. “Just for a bit?”

Scott froze, becoming self-conscious of the fact that Allison’s overprotective father—who was currently on defcon-4 as far as being overprotective is concerned—just heard her suggest they sleep in the same room tonight.

“I’m not sure that’s…” he started to protest.

“Please?” she pleaded. “Just to sleep. I just—I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Scott looked over at Chris, as if silently asking for permission. Reluctantly, Chris nodded.

“Yeah, sure,” he agreed. “Whatever you need.”

“Thank you.”

The relief that flooded her eyes—god, Scott could just stare into those eyes forever.

Once their parents had left, Scott climbed into his old bed. The room hadn’t changed much in the years since he’d moved out. His desk, the posters on the wall—everything had been exactly how he’d left it.

Allison laid down next to him, nestling her back against his chest and pulling Scott’s arms around herself. Immediately, her trembling seemed to stop. She leaned her head back against him, savoring the contact.

“Feel better?” Scott asked.

“I hate this,” she laughed bitterly. “I can—I can take on a virtual army of the very thing that killed me without even breaking a sweat, but one bad dream and I turn into this frightened, helpless little girl? I hate it—I hate feeling this weak.”

“You’ll get there,” Scott promised her. “What you’ve gone through—nobody expects you to recover from something like that overnight. I don’t, and neither does your dad. You just need to give yourself time to heal.”

Allison tilted her head back so she could look at him, her eyes filled with so much emotion and trust. Gently, she ran her fingers over Scott’s arms, as if the touch alone reassured her that all this was real. She lifted his arm to her mouth, placing soft butterfly kisses on his skin.

“I wish I was as patient as you,” she confessed. “To just—wait for the things you want.”

The implication wasn’t lost on him.

“What I want is for you to be happy again,” Scott reassured her. “Whatever form that takes.”

Allison smiles at him.

“I am happy,” she sighed in contentment. “I’m alive. I’m whole. I’m safe here, lying in the arms of my first love.”

Allison reached up, touching the side of Scott’s face.

“The first person I ever loved,” she continued. “The person I’ll always love. I love you, Scott.”

Those were her last words, years ago. She hadn’t meant them to hurt, but the fact was that moment had long been Scott’s most painful memory. Even though she was here, warm and alive, hearing them again broke him. Whatever strength had been holding him together shattered, as he started to cry.

“Scott?” she asked, looking into his eyes.

“I’m sorry, it’s just..” he sniffed. “When you said that, I…”

What had his mother told him? Tell her the truth. Tell her how you feel.

“I know you’re hurting,” he said. “I know you’re confused, and scared, and worried about what you’re going to do, and you’re having nightmares now on top of that. I know we should take things slow.”

“Did my dad tell you that?” she asked, trying not to sound like she was accusing anyone.

“He’s not wrong,” Scott admitted. “You need time…”

“I don’t need time, I need you!” Allison insisted.

“I need you, too,” he continued. “I need you to be ok—to be strong again. But I’m scared—I’m scared that if I wait too long, I’ll lose you again.”

Allison leaned over and kissed him, before resting her head on his shoulder.

“I will never leave you again,” she vowed. “I promise.”

“I love you,” he sobbed. “So much. I just think we need to take things slow. So you can be sure this is what you want.”

“I don’t need time, Scott,” she said again. “This is what I want, and not because I’m scared.”

“How can you be sure?” Scott asked.

Allison smiled, looking up at him.

“Because I’m still in love with you.”

Scott smiled back.

He held her, as they drifted off to sleep.

To be continued…

Next: After an awkward breakfast conversation, Allison attempts to put the shattered pieces of her past back together with her dad, as well as plan for the future. Then, during a shopping trip with Lydia, she makes a startling discovery that causes her to ask questions about her miraculous return—questions that may not have answers.

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doyou000mewrites · 1 month ago

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I was going to just leave a reply, but then it got a bit long, so here we are with a reblog answer!

Hi moth~!

I don't think how to plot is something you "should know" - rather, good on you for reaching out and asking!! 😃 I am 31, started writing about the same age as you did, and I love plotting ( @dropthedemiurge can attest)! I've plotted far more stories than I've ever written - and I'm still exploring new ways of doing it!

Different ways of plotting work for different people. I, personally, just use a normal text doc and write the plot out as bullet points most of the time. From those bullet points, I go in and develop parts further, draw connections and plot out how and where important changes happen. It doesn't have to be a text doc. Sometimes I use excel/sheets. For a while, I used Xmind which is a brainstorming program where you can map stuff out. Depending on the length and complexity of the story, some things work better than other ones.

It doesn't have to be one of those programs. Some people use other programs. Some people do it by hand, on paper or post it' that they can move around.

I realise this might not be of much help, but my general tip is simple: just try! Try whatever feels easiest and most accessible in the moment! Then try something else! I have some stories I've plotted and replotted in several different ways, some more detailed and some more zoomed out.

How you do it will most likely be unique to you. Finding the way that works for you will likely take time, and will just as likely change over time. It'll depend on how you write and what your write, if you're a plotter or a pantser, if you want a detailed outline or just a general idea of where you're going.

One more tip, before I forget: for me, one of the best ways of figuring out a story is to talk about it! Talk about it with friends! Talk about it with mutuals online! Talk about it with random people in a discord group! Just by talking about it, you'll be actively working through and putting together your story, and the response you get from people around you will be invaluable feedback on what does and doesn't work. Sometimes, the best idea comes from someone else! Don't be afraid to take it and make it your own!

I wish you the best of luck with the plotting of your first novel! I'll be rooting for you from across the expanse of the Internet - and if you wanna chat, there's reblogs and comments and the ask box and the chat!

hello friends!!

i’m moth, she/they, 25, aquarius. i’ve been writing since i was about 12 yrs old. it’s something i want to put more effort into.

currently my main project is slowly working on my first novel. i currently am in the plotting phase. i know the overall vibe of the story. but how do you guys plot? what tools do you use? where can i find the best resources for writing.

these are things i should already kind of know however, i have been so intimidated by the process and feel like i need a fresh perspective.

thanks 💕

#writing #writing tips #plotting

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joannahunts-a · 5 years ago

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@ampersandmuses said: “The people around here are really weird, aren’t they?” ( @theloyalangel )

Small Town Gothic Sentence Starters || Accepting

“Yeah,” Jo agreed without hesitation, trying not to stare too much as she looked awkwardly around the area. “And not in the normal creepy-small-town sort of way. This is a whole new sort of weird,” she added, her discomforting only growing over the fact that she couldn’t place why exactly this place was so weird. Something was just off.

#theloyalangel #ampersandmuses #[ HI DEAR! ]#[ thank you so much for this ]#[ you made my morning <3 ]#;the apocalypse begins again #[ I'm assuming this is our old verse... since that's all we've ever done ]#[ but we can replot things if you want! ]

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radley-writes · 3 years ago

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hello! do you have any advice for plotting, at all? :D

Indeed, I do!

I call myself 'a discovery writer', by which I mean I fully plot out every single novel, get 1/8 of the way through, throw all that hard work in the bin, and sally off on a choose-your-own-adventure game, replotting as I go. Toot toot.

So, I can plot! I just can't stick to it.

Here's what helps me!

Disclaimer: Don't feel obligated to follow my advice. In fact, if you take one look at it and go '...nah', please don't follow my advice - you'd be doing yourself a massive disservice! There are plenty of other how-to guides out here!

But without further ado... PLOTTING WITH RADLEY!

1) Know where you want to go.

Before creating characters, a world, or indeed anything, I figure out a couple things:

First! The vibes.

What tone do I want from this tale? When readers put down the book, what feelings should linger in their chest?

This goes hand-in-hand with figuring out your target audience and genre, but it's a little more abstract. I usually scrawl down a list of aesthetics, emotions, tropes & key concepts that I want to shine!

So: for Strictly, the list would look something like:

Empowered, angry, hopeful, urban deprivation, class contrasts, city lights at night, smoking rubble, big guns and motorbikes

Whereas for Dressage Dragons, we might have:

Fun, complex family bonds, extravagant wealth, grudging friends, dry tinderland in summer, dusty heaths, one spark away from a forest fire...

Second! The ending.

I always, always, always know my climax, before I go in. I need to know what I'm aiming for! Even if my entire plot twists around on itself as I write, that climactic final scene stays the same.

What's the big WOW image at the end that I want to stick in readers' heads? A huge cinematic fight? A devastating betrayal? An agonising choice?

Third! Character beats!

I work out each character's plot-purpose before I flesh them out as people. That way, you get interesting, well-rounded characters whose role in the story feels organic - rather than incredibly well thought-out, deep characters who you then have to build a plot around!

Some people find it easier to work in the other direction. I totally get why - if your characters only exist to hit plot points, they might wind up reading less as 'people', more as 'balls in a giant game of ping-pong'.

My trick is to only paint the bold strokes of their story. I still leave the characters space to develop naturally as I write, but from the moment they're conceived, I know they're going to be the sort of person who, say, will choose vengeance over saving a friend, but will feel horribly guilty about it, change their mind, and go back to save their friend in the nick of time, just before it's too late.

(Or I just plot out their arcs fully, and then ignore all of this as I write 😎)

Generally, I like to look at the climactic end scene, get a vague idea for who the characters involved might be, and work backwards from that point to figure out how they wound up there - and what they lost or gained along the way!

2) get visual!

I never plot on a laptop. I have a load of big old sketchbooks, so I open 'em up and mindmap it out.

A word document will encourage you to think in a very linear, coherent, chronological sort of way.

My brain is none of those things.

So, I toss shit at a wall (metaphorically) and see what sticks. I splooge ideas onto a big sheet of paper, then get out the red thread and thumbtacks and piece it all together.

(exclusive candid image of my plotting process ^^^)

It's so easy to get stuck when you're staring at a blank word document. Lying belly-down on the floor, grabbing sparkly glitter pens and crayons, and going to town on a big sheet of paper? Far easier. Tap into your inner three-year-old and watch the magic happen.

3) Don't be afraid to let an idea marinate.

I'm currently writing two books I've had on my backburner since I was 11. It wasn't 'the time' for those books then. It is now.

There's no rush, unless you're on a contractual deadline. If you can't wrangle a plot together, there��s no shame in putting it in the slow cooker and letting it simmer while you focus on something shinier!

That's all, folks~

Best of luck!

#writing #plotting #writing advice

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sophieinwonderland · 3 years ago

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Host Post: Abby Trying To Access Memories

Host: Just wanted to hijack Soph's blog to talk about a weird observation I made today with Abby. We say that we don't experience dissociative amnesia, which seems to be true in most ways. But I had a strange experience with Abby earlier. I've started replotting the book I was wanting to write with Abby and Almond. Basically, I threw out everything, but was still attached to the characters, and Sophie convinced me of the importance of plural representation.

I started plotting this new story about the characters. (We'll see if I actually get anywhere, or if it ends up in my pile of unused story content. Sophie's telling me not to undermine myself, but at a certain point, it's just pattern recognition.)

Later in the day, after I had figured out a very rough outline, Abby showed up and seemed really interested in finding out about this. But when I asked her if she already knew, she couldn't access the memories. She had absolutely no idea the type of story I wanting to tell about her character.

I felt like I could access the memories whenever I wanted, but Abby, in back, couldn't do this. She was completely cut off from accessing certain long-term memories.

This is something weird that I never experienced with Soph, who had complete access to my memories for as long as I can remember, and has been co-conscious with me every day since becoming self-aware.

I let Abby switch in for a minute as an experiment to see if that would change things. Then we brought Almond for Abby to talk to, to make it more difficult for me or Sophie to think. Once switched, some of the memories came to Abby when she tried, but they came much more languidly than they would have come to me if I had tried to retrieve them. (Then Abby gave up after minute into the experiment and just focused on talking to Almond.)

I've always known about the distinction between long-term and short-term memories, but I've never actually FELT that distinction as clearly as when Abby was trying and failing to retrieve something from my long-term memories that I felt like I could access in an instant if I wanted to, and that I knew she would become aware of instantly if I retrieved it myself.

I don't know what this means. I just wanted to write it down somewhere while it was on my mind. I've never been unable access the memories of any of the girls, even while I'm in back. But I have noticed that accessing memories of things that happen when the others are co-conscious, and I'm completely tuned out, is slightly more difficult than accessing my own memories.

One of the most interesting things about tulpamancy is that I've become distinctly aware of my internal thought processes in a way that I never was as a singlet. I don't think I would be as aware of how my mind works right now if I hadn't become plural, or if I had never been a singlet. Granted, every realizations brings a hundred new questions, but those are questions I never would have even thought to ask before.

(Unrelated, but our Abby doesn't have much connection to her fictional counterpart in this story. When I asked Abby about putting her character through traumatic things, she seemed encouraged because every hero has to suffer tragedy to become a hero. She didn't say it in words, but I sensed her mind immediately go to Spider-Man. When I asked about killing off the character's family, specifically, who are mostly new characters that our Abby doesn't have any memories of, she cheerily said, "they aren't my real family; you are." She's absolutely precious.)

#host post #actually endogenic #endogenic system #plural #endogenic #plurality #tulpa #plural system #actually plural #endo safe #tulpas #tulpamancy #actuallyendogenic #actuallyplural #system stuff

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reallyveryclueless · 4 years ago

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#Dream Project // WIP Introduction

inspiration : dark academia, female friendships, found family, long nights in the library, intensely life changing experiences you can’t talk to anyone else about, my friend almost died but oh well back to studying for that exam tomorrow, is this the real life or is this just fantasy, we choose our destiny

comp titles : The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater, Nowhere Boys (aussie TV show), Derry Girls, Outerbanks

status : replotting from a messy first draft that didn’t capture the magic

pitch : plot?? this is a character based story and I don’t even understand which of the possible plot directions I’m going to go with haha, but here are possible options or concepts that might fold in

>>Remember those weird things that would happen during high school excursions? Well attempted murder kind of tops the list. And now Brooke’s threatening to get the cops involved and Manisha still can’t remember what happened.

>> All Evelyn wanted was to be selected for this prestigious internship opportunity, but it’s not turning out to be a great time. She’s treking through the bush all day accompanied by a deluded professor and a girl she can’t get along with.

>> Three high school girls who’ve build up a social media presence investigating historical sites and ufo / cryptid sightings, sounds like the dream right? Well Brooke wouldn’t know, she only goes to school with them. When she gets tangled up in one of their investigations she can’t wait to be done with it, but will she really be willing to give up the glimpse into that world?

characters :

needs to be the best

history nerd

family photo holiday card type of family

perfectionist

wants the cold hard facts

doesn’t trust others but expects them to trust her

super over confident about her abilities

has no impulse control

bad at reading people

thrill seeker

body is her temple

hates being told what to do

positive vibes only, negativity messes with her

has full confidence that the consequences won’t touch her

just wants to do something she can be proud of

doesn’t trust the universe to sort things out

big messy family vibes

terrified of being forgotten

very emotional

head in the clouds 24/7

VSCO girl with a family secret

everyone thinks they know her but they don’t

only cares about two people: her younger brother and her best friend James

needs to be self-sufficient

distrust of authority

doesn’t get home till 11pm

the most important male character and he still spends ages in a coma

tough exterior but writes poetry and has cacti children

basically looks after himself because his mum works in the ER and his dad’s never been around

has a completely different personality for his pretentious rich school

snarky but would die for Brooke (almost does lol)

even I’m not sure whether he’s a nice guy or a good person, has moments of both

Works at an 80s dinner with Evelyn and he’s more than a little bit obsessed with her

the only public school kid

very insecure

constantly studying to get into med school

the only one out of high school but still in no way an adult

Victoria’s older brother

basically just used for lifts / 'adult’ supervision

doesn’t really ask questions, just goes along with it

seems destined to start a fortune 500 company

collects rocks

big soccor coach vibes

Tag List : @7teencrazy

#wip introduction #writeblr #writing process #dream project #writing wip #let me know if you want to be tagged

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lgcmax · 4 years ago

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𝑂𝑂𝐶 𝑁𝑂𝑇𝐸 / 𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑼𝑷𝑫𝑨𝑻𝑬 !

ok this gif icon isn’t sarcastic i swear ... i’m sad ! you guys know how it is, new trimester, new threads !! i kinda want to start fresh, but not completely, so below the cut are some threads i’m keeping !! so below is a quick thread tracker, anything on here is a keep - and if you don’t see your thread on here, please please reach out and re-plot with me !! nothing personal, i swear ! i just need some space for more current things !

threads i am keeping:

sidenote this is only if you want to continue !! just let me know if you wanna drop or replot - i’m down for whatever i swear !! also i know i owe like all of these lol - partially because i haven’t been on in ages partially because i want to see if you want to continue before i reply ! uwu

* = event is over, therefore we can discuss whether or not we want to keep ! ** = seems to be nearing the end, probably can wrap up soon !

[ thread that does not have a name rip ] * w / @lgcnam - my turn

sunkissed **��& butterflies w / @lgcyeseo - my turn

who can i run to * & [ title tba ] w / @lgchunji - my turn

noraebattle 05 & house of glass * w / @lgcseojin - my turn

chuseok blues * w / @lgcnabi - my turn

#this was meant to be posted before the plot call i'm sorry LMAO

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365daysofsasuhina · 4 years ago

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[ @sasuhinabigflash2020 || Day Six: A Grey Coat ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: A Light Amongst Shadows ] [ AO3 Link ]

[ Previous ] [ Next ]

This has quickly become one of his favorite places to be.

While the wall around Konoha represents a lot of things he’d rather not think about, it provides a rather unparalleled view of the village as a whole. The Hokage monument may show more at once, but at that height people are little more than specks, and there’s something about watching them at a better distance that Sasuke’s come to enjoy.

Feelings are still mixed about the place he was born. Sasuke knows, now that his anger has cooled and his rationality given time to smother the coals, that there’s still much about Konoha that is innocent of the crimes committed against him and others. Civilians have no part in the politics. Your average shinobi is just trying to get by and protect their home. It’s the roots of the village - literally and figuratively - that contribute most to its rotten core. Those in power that abuse it, and do ugly things to keep their hold on said power.

...but he has a plan for that. It will just take time, and organization. For now, he’s working first on himself before he can confront all that made him the way he is.

It’s been weeks since the war’s end. Much is still in flux. Even reparations from Pein’s attack are still being worked on, supplies still scarce at times as the complete rebuilding of Konoha continues. Ironically, the wall - so useless in keeping out the most potent threat - was one of few things left intact.

It’s here Sasuke sits, and thinks, and watches. While it’s patrolled by Konoha nin and they gave him suspicious looks at first, most have grown accustomed to his harmless perch, and even give him space as he lingers. If anything, they know he’s more than capable of defending it if anything were to happen. Personal opinions aside, he’s still unquestionably strong.

Today, the weather is a bit overcast, threatening rain as thunder rumbles miles in the distance. Even now, the sound brings a strange, tight melancholy to his chest. Flickering pieces of his final battle against his brother are always brought to mind whenever he hears a storm. But as time passes, it fades ever so slightly. He’ll always mourn Itachi, and he still serves as one of the younger brother’s fiercest drives to changing Konoha into something worthy of Itachi’s sacrifice. But Sasuke makes no attempt to find cover as the sky darkens and the winds subtly pick up.

Someone else, however, takes that upon themselves.

With a muffled thwump, something drops across his shoulders, and Sasuke blinks in surprise, caught off-guard enough he doesn’t react violently, instead left a bit stupefied as the figure behind him comes around to a side.

Once he sees them, he manages to relax a hair.

“You’re going to get drenched here in a m-minute,” Hinata offers, lowering herself to sit along the edge with him. Sandaled feet dangle over the several-storey fall to the ground beneath them.

“A little rain never hurt anyone.”

“You still might catch a cold.”

That flattens his expression a few degrees. “I’m not scared of a cold.”

Pale pink lips curl in a smile. “No, but you should fear someone’s reaction if she finds out, right…?”

At that, Sasuke scoffs, a hand pulling at the fabric he’s been cloaked in. A grey coat, seemingly waterproof if the texture tells him anything. Considering it a moment, he then pulls it on completely. “Thanks.”

She doesn’t reply beyond a nod. Her hands grip the edge of the wall, staring out over the village. “...I’ve never actually been up here.”

“Really?”

“No reason to be,” Hinata replies blithely. “But I saw you and thought I’d come up.”

“And bring me a coat?”

That earns a glance, tinged a bit worried. “Well...Naruto-kun let it slip you’re still a bit, um...lacking in supplies.”

“I’m not a charity case,” is his terse counter.

“I know that. It’s called being nice,” is her own rebuke, managing a hint of a smile. “Besides...it’s g-going to be getting cold, soon. They’ll be hard to find.”

He just gives a small sound of indifference, pulling at a cuff. It’s actually pretty nice. “...thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

The pair then fall into companionable silence, which is soon accented with the soft patter of rain upon the stone of the wall. Against his hood, they seem to whisper in his ear.

Hinata draws her own, leaning back slightly on her palms. “At least it’s not cold enough to snow yet…”

“Not a fan?”

“Mm...yes and no.” She goes quiet for a long moment. “...I guess it’s just an odd sign that time is still passing. It’s felt both slow and yet...really fast since the war. I’m not ready for Winter, but...that’s not going to stop it from coming.”

He glances at her, but offers no reply. In a way, he knows what she means. So many things are broken, disjointed, unsettled. The fact that the world itself is offering them no reprieve seems unfair, but that’s an entirely human notion.

“...is it true you might leave?”

The sudden change in conversation pulls his gaze completely. “Who told you that?”

“It’s just the word going around,” Hinata replies softly. “I think...some people are worried about it.”

By ‘some people’, he knows she mostly means his teammates. It’s true, he tossed around the idea of taking time to travel, observe the world, sort out his thoughts. Even now, it feels tempting. “...I don’t think I will.”

“Oh?”

“There’s too much to do here,” he replies, knowing it’s vague. “I don’t want to lose any time.”

It’s then she looks back at him, and Sasuke can’t help but feel ever so slightly unnerved. Even now, Hyūga eyes make him feel looked through rather than looked at. Especially Hinata.

“...I see. Is it...anything to do with the council?”

A slight tick of irritation twinges in his chest. Seems the idea isn’t being made as confidential as he’d have liked. “What makes you think that?”

“Well...given everything that’s come to light -?”

“I don’t know yet. That’s...not exactly a simple situation,” he cuts in, not exactly eager to talk about it...let alone out in the open. “I’ve still got a lot to think about.”

Sensing his spark of temper, Hinata quiets, looking to her lap. “...sorry, I...shouldn’t have assumed.”

“Hn.”

“...but...I-I hope you know that...if you need any help, I’d be happy to give it.”

He gives her a dubious glance. “...why?”

“...a lot of reasons,” she offers, taking her turn to be vague. “Is it n-not enough to want justice to be done?”

“...I’m not exactly someone everyone else is eager to rally around,” he counters. “Just seems odd for anyone to want to do so of their own volition.”

“What Konoha did was a g-gross overstep.” To his surprise, her expression hardens. “Regardless of the politics...killing every single member of a clan - or...nearly - is a horrible way to handle dissatisfaction, and an imbalance of power a-and rights. It just...makes me wonder if something like that could have happened to any of the rest of us. I...I know I don’t have a grasp on the entire history, but...from what I’ve heard, it still seems like the village made the wrong decisions, and for the wrong reasons. I just...want to make sure nothing like it happens again. And that...the ones who did orchestrate it are made to face justice for what they did to you, and...your family.” She turns to him, face still set in stone. “You deserve at least that much.”

For a moment, her vehemence takes him by surprise. “...how much do you know…?”

At that, she hesitates. “...just...bits and pieces, really. I’ve heard some from Naruto-kun, and...others.”

Ah, right...apparently they have their share of overlapped acquaintances. He knows who’s really behind this, now. “...getting involved might get you in serious trouble.”

“Sometimes you need a little trouble to make things right.”

After a short pause, he snorts softly. “...can’t argue that,” he agrees, lips curling just a hair.

By now, the rain is pouring, and despite his coat, the rest of him is quickly growing soaked. And a glance shows her much in the same boat.

“...we should probably get inside. Can’t be catching those colds.”

Hinata lets slip a small laugh. “True...and I should head home.”

To his surprise, Sasuke finds himself disappointed at that. “Yeah, me too. Thanks for the coat.”

“You’re welcome. At least we know it works, ne?” She smiles at him. “Well...for part of you, anyway.”

The pair of them then slip from the wall, each landing safely on the ground below and parting ways. Hinata takes the streets as Sasuke decides to hop to the rooftops, mindful of his chakra to cling to the slick tiles. Once home, he shrugs out of his coat, pleased to find his head and torso completely dry.

Mulling that over, he hangs it outside to finish dripping before deciding to scavenge for some lunch.

Gonna be brief cuz it’s late, and I have another piece to post right after this :’D As for why I’m late, been having major toothache problems that knocked me on my butt and delayed me, but I managed to grind out two days’ prompts today! Tho as a warning, neither are proofread because I’m in a hurry xD Anywho, this piece! Mostly just a bit of scene-setting and dialogue between Sasuke and Hinata early on after the war in ALAS. Which, as a matter of fact, is being majorly replotted...not that I’ll ever write it, BUT...yeah. Hence the mention of Itachi still being dead, because in any possible rewrite, he would be. But yeah! This is mostly just a bit of angst, a bit of fluff, a bit of slice of life. I really love just...writing little moments between them, honestly. On that note though, I need to work on getting the next part up, so I’ll go for now! Thanks for reading~ (Also, going to get to comments tomorrow, I hope. I'm just too tired atm, apologies for the delays :'D)

#sasuhinabigflash2020 #shbf2020 #sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #a light amongst shadows [ canon verse ]

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ageless-aislynn · 4 years ago

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meta ask questions for you! 3, 5, 6, 18, 19, 20, 21 and 25!

Ooo, thanks so much for playing along, hon! I appreciate it! :D

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

You know, I really don't have one. I plan on eventually doing them all, if I can!

5. What character that you’re writing do you most identify with?

Usually Caitlin because she tends to be the one who's lost and Eobard is either deliberately withholding things from her or is in someway messing with her and she's trying to catch up, lol! I do really love pairing her with Harry, though, too, even though their dynamic is different. :D

6. What character do you have the most fun writing?

Eobard, definitely. Most specifically, I love getting into his head and getting his p.o.v., like in the "Partners In Crime" series. It's much rarer that I'll give you only Caitlin's p.o.v. and it almost always has a plot reason as to why, such as "The Thousandth and the First." Secondly, though, I adore writing Frost and Nash, especially in all of their oblivious or just straight up "don't care" shenanigans. I still have a particular fondness for "Star-Marked" which was the first time I really got in there and wrote them like that. ;)

18. Do any of your stories have alternative versions? (plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterisations?) Tell us about them.

Heh, yes. "*With Benefits" has a completely different version out there. It was originally a lot darker and angstier. It still technically met the "friends with benefits" prompt but, well… Let's just say there's a reason why I started off calling it my "dom!Harry" fic where he's a bit more consensually dominating and aggressive than I generally write him. It still exists and I'm still considering finishing it one of these days. I'll have to decide whether to just basically write it as a second fill for the same prompt (so I don't have to worry about the similarities, since they were the same fic at one time ;) ) or to try to replot it and make it as different as possible. The tone itself is pretty different from "*With Benefits" because I wanted that one to be lighter and funnier than the first fic was turning out. But I think the other tone still has some merit to it. I dunno if anybody’s really down for that alllmost BDSM feel or not. *shrugs* The other fic is titled "Here" so you'll know it if you ever see it. ;)

19. Is there something you always find yourself repeating in your writing? (favourite verb, something you describe ‘too often’, trope you can’t get enough of?)

I have a bad habit of using "very" way too often, so I always try to scour my final drafts a final time by doing a find either in Word or in the browser looking to see how many times I've used it. I also inevitably find I fall back on a similar word and over use it in pretty much each fic depending on the circumstance. Like for "Three Little Words," I didn't want to repeat "frozen" and other such icy descriptors but I didn't want to have to go far out to get some unusual/unnatural ones that probably nobody would really think to themselves. ;)

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

I don't know if this quite fits but one of my writer friends asked me if it's hard to have so many variations of the same characters and honestly? No, it's not. If you look at just my original ReverseSnow/ReverseFrost pairings, "Partners In Crime" Eo/Caitlin have a different dynamic to me than "Good Day" Eo/Caitlin. "The Ghost of Eobard Thawne" is going to show us a little more obsessed Eobard than my other series!Eobards (some of the one-shots have touched on that before, though). Weirdly, in "Haunted"'s continuing chapters (I swear, y'all will get to read them eventually ;) ), Frost and Eobard have several scenes together and normally that would start pulling me in a ReverseFrost direction. BUT. This particular Frost is just so set on Nash that she's not even tempted and Eo is equally as set on Caitlin, so, while he has no problem needling Frost, Cait is never for a moment not who he has his heart and mind aimed at.

Then you've got something like the ReverseFrost pairing in the "It's All Fun And Games When You're A SuperVillainous Power Couple In Love..." series and it's like there's NO DOUBT they're meant for each other. (This couple feels actually like the more "show-current" version of "Partners In Crime," honestly. "Partners…" is distinguished by my characterization and "rules" for Caitlin/Frost's powers having been drawn more from the comics since we hadn't seen them yet in the show at that time.)

21. What other medium do you think your story would work well as? (film, webcomic, animated series?)

Heh, I think a lot of mine would have to go to a channel where they can show more explicit stuff, like HBO or something, lol! ;)

25. What part of writing is the most fun?

Finishing it, reading it back and thinking, "Yep, that's what I wanted to say," and then getting comments where it sounds like other people enjoyed it. That's definitely the most fun in my opinion! ;)

Thanks again!

♥♥♥

Fun meta asks for writers

#fun meta asks for writers #thanks so much!#missdanielsousa #*hugs*#writing

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monstersandmaw · 5 years ago

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Some thoughts on writing...

Ok, so, here’s the thing:

Mr. Ghosti and I don’t talk about my Tumblr/Patreon writing - he knows I write monsterfucker-related stuff, but if he’s read it, then I haven’t deliberately shared or discussed it with him. I’m relaxed if he has looked at my blog *blushes and waves awkwardly* but I don’t think he’s that interested tbh.

ANYWAY

I have, however, discussed my fantasy novel with him (the one I’m doing for NaNoWriMo for the third year in a row). It took a lot of Courage(tm) to bring it up at all because I loathe loathe loathe discussing my writing with anyone, especially family and friends. But he’s a well-read and Smart Boy (he is Dr. Ghosti [in physics] after all), and I figured he could help me with the year-long block I’ve had about where the fuck this story is going.

Long story short, we went for a walk today because it finally stopped raining, and I started babbling nervously about where I’d got stuck and a bit about why.

That he took it kind of seriously was a huge relief. Initially, he dissected the characters and made suggestions etc. He also asked me what the real motivation was for them to do certain things which I’d already thought set in stone. I was so hung up on the bits I hadn’t written/’couldn’t’ write yet that I didn’t realise that the issues could be in what I have already considered ‘done’. Now, I’m not one to advocate editing while writing, but not being flexible about your overall story if something stops working is a different thing entirely, in my mind anyway.

As we went on, I started to feel like I didn’t really own my characters anymore (since he kept saying stuff like ‘could Tomas react this way’ or ‘could Varrina do this instead’?), and that it was all kind of pointless and childish and rubbish... That was not his intent, and I think he’d be horrified if he knew that I came away from our hour-long walk-and-talk with that immediate feeling.

However, once we got back home, I sat down, put on my Big Girl Pants(tm), and realised that I didn’t have to take his suggestions and change my characters completely, and he even said to me a bit later, “It’s your story after all!” All I had to do was ask the same direct questions that he had to my characters (no one knows them like me (yet) after all), and figure out the answers.

When I took the valid suggestions he’d made (Does that character really have to resort to assassination??? Can’t they do it in a way that’s less Deus ex machina and out of character and extreme???!!) and I started to realise that I’d become very hung up on certain images/points because ‘I liked them’ but they actually didn’t work in the grander scheme of things. It untangled a big creative knot in my mind and I was able to do a rough replotting of the rest of the novel after a bit of idea-blasting on paper. I’ll have to go back and change the start, but that’s what a second draft is for.

___

TLDR:

if you find someone whose opinions you respect, get them to ask questions like ‘yeah but why do they want that [insert thing]?’ or ‘Why are they behaving like that? What’s driving them?’, and if your answer is... ‘uh... because... I wanted it... to happen???’ then you can really benefit from a rethink... Don’t be afraid to be flexible with your story.

If you can’t find someone, make yourself ask the same questions.

Be ruthless. Demand to know why your characters are doing this, behaving this way, etc. and what drives them. Without that, you’ll have an empty plot full of holes, and you may lose interest in the project long-term.

After all, an artist wouldn’t create a drawing start-to-finish without rubbing something out... The same applies to the art of writing.

___

Thought I’d share this little rambling with you in case it inspires or helps anyone. Have a lovely day, and good luck with NaNoWriMo, or any other writing projects you’re undertaking under your own steam. You can do it! x

#writing advice #ghosti rambles #writing #nanowrimo #national novel writing month

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irithyll-writes · 5 years ago

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Alright, I’ve already 100%’d RE3 remake while in the final throes of my recovery from COVID-19 and I have a lot of feelings about it, but I’ll keep most of them to myself. What matters is that it gave me a lot of Valenfield feelings and I’m really sentimental over this stupid ship and I don’t even understand why. I’m a grown ass woman getting emotional about a made up relationship between two fictional characters. Wild.

Anyway, in my burning desire to do Valenfield justice, I’ve decided to rewrite ORT. ORT was my very first attempt at fanfiction and it’s rife with sloppy prose and a poorly designed plot. I’ve learned a lot in the year I’ve spent writing fanfiction and I feel like Valenfield deserves better. I want to do this ship justice because, as much as I love Claire/Piers, Valenfield is my ~otp~.

@cyancaddy and I have nothing better to do than cry about how much we love Valenfield, so we’re scrapping everything and replotting the entire Valenfield timeline. Some aspects of ORT will remain the same, but we’re changing a lot of things that I’m really, really excited about. I’m writing a completely different Valenfield that isn’t love at first sight and develops over time. I’m also ready to smash their hearts, yours, and mine too because you guys know how I do at this point. If it ain’t angst, I didn’t write it.

Anyway, I hope those of you who follow ORT understand this decision. It really is for the best and can only result in better Valenfield content. I’ll leave ORT up (mostly because @cyancaddy is making me), but I hope to have this new piece out soon. There will be more pre-Arklay content before we actually get to the Mansion Incident so I can develop their relationship in a way that’s more substantial. It’ll be a slow burn at first, but it’ll be worth it in the end. We’re all gonna cry together.

Thanks for following me, reading my fics, and putting up with my inconsistent and sporadic updates. I appreciate you all! Please take care of yourselves and stay safe out there. <3

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ansgar-martinsson · 4 years ago

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Fair Winds and a Following Sky - Part 3

Kaffe Lilljekvist, Malmskillnadsgatan 50, Stockholm, Sweden. 9:42 am, 20 July.

Fair Sky hitched her backpack higher on her shoulder. Between the heft of it, the heaviness of her fatigue, the heat of the day, and the lurch of jetlag, she felt as if the world were weighing her down.

The pockmarked, tattoo-necked teenager at the fifteen-dollar-a-night hostel had told her that the cafe’ was within walking distance -- just a left and a few rights and another left and she’d be there in no time. Well, she surmised after getting lost, consulting the maps app on her phone, after plotting and replotting the route, after twenty-five minutes of walking -- that the Swedish must have a different idea of “walking distance” than she, or most Americans, did.

By the time she arrived at the end of the street named Malmskillnadsgatan - a name that had taken her five tries to even pronounce correctly - she figured she’d walked at least two and a half miles; and by the time she’d reached No. 50 on that street, her feet were, quite literally, dragging beneath her.

She’d intended to get there at half past nine, with the understanding that Ansgar Martinsson would be there at quarter ‘til ten; and that she could have a cup of coffee and some sort of unfamiliar Swedish pastry, take a few minutes to collect herself, and be fresh for when she....

When she....

When I what? She sighed, lowering herself gingerly, achingly into a padded, high-backed armchair, a small table before her and a massive window beside her. She dropped her backpack on the floor, the weight of it making a loud whump! and slumped into the chair, elbow perched on the arm, chin buried in her hand. “How the hell am I supposed to do this? What do I say?”

She sat up, straightening herself in the chair. She adjusted her high ponytail, faced out the window, took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. “Hello,” she whispered, trying out the phrase. “Hm, no.” She shook her head, grimacing. “How about.... Been a while, hasn’t it?” Again, she rejected that, clearing her throat. “Or....” she groaned, her breath held while her mind churned. “Fuck....” she swore, and swiftly dropped her head into her hand. “You’re an idiot, stupid... stupid....”

“Kan jag hjalpa dig?”

“What?” Anna jumped, startled. “Sorry, I...I don’t,....”

“Oh, English, ja,” the waitress smiled, took a breath and spoke again. “May I help you? Would you like a kaffe?”

“Yes, please, I...,” she stammered. “Just... just a black coffee.”

“Iced?” the girl inquired, pointing out the window with her pencil. “Sunny day... it’s hot outside, no?”

“I... yes” Anna replied, feeling somehow calmed by the idea of an iced coffee, by the girl’s manner, by her quite un-Swedish looking rounded face and dark hair. “Yes, that would be nice.”

“Right away,” the girl nodded, stuck her pencil in her apron pocket, and stepped away.

“Wait,” Anna stopped her, a hand on her elbow. “Just a second, please.”

“Would you like something else, miss?”

Anna sighed, “I... um....,” she hesitated. “I guess I’m looking for someone, someone who should be here by now, but I haven’t seen him come in yet.” She pointed out the window toward the front door. “He probably should have been here about five minutes ago.”

“Are you meeting him here?” the girl peered around the nearly empty cafe. “Not too many people today, not with the heat.”

“I’ve been told he comes in here a lot... for... for... what’s that called?”

“Fika?” the girl smiled. “Everyone who comes in here is having fika.” The girl lowered herself down to Anna’s level, sitting back on her haunches. “Tell me, though. What does he look like, this man you’re meeting? Maybe I can help you.”

“He’s um....” Anna began, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “I haven’t seen him in a long time, but, well... he’s tall, very tall, and fit, about thirty-seven years old.” She licked her rapidly drying lips. “He’s got blue eyes, kind of longer, brownish wavy hair... and I think... he has a little beard thing, around his mouth,” she indicated, her fingers circling her lips. “Sort of like that.”

“Handsome, is he? Dresses well?”

“Yes,” Anna nodded. “That... that sounds like him.”

“Hm,” the girl’s lips twisted and her eyes narrowed -- a sage, knowing, yet wary expression. She braced herself on the edge of Anna’s chair and turned her head, her neck craning to peer toward the back of the coffee house, up through a square opening in a dividing wall. “Looks like he’s sitting in his usual spot, if that’s who you’re looking for.” She lifted her chin in indication, and shifted her gaze back to Anna. “Are you, by chance, looking for Herr Martinsson? Ansgar Martinsson?”

Anna followed the girl’s gaze, and caught sight of the back of his head. Him... unmistakable, even from the back. Him... Her blood went cold. She swallowed, inhaled hard, and exhaled sharply. She sat back in the chair as if she could hide within it, as if it could swallow her up and transport her magically, Harry Potter-like back to Oklahoma. Her hands had gone numb and her eyes felt dry and hollow at the sight of him, even from a distance, at the sound of his name... of his real name.

“I er... I suppose I am.”

The girl stood and peered down at Anna, still smiling. Her face lost no sign of amiability, but her words cut Anna to the core. “Good luck with that,” she said, not sharp or unfriendly, but not warm either. “You’ll probably need it.”

“Please,” Anna breathed, her fingers once again twisting in her lap, “don’t tell him... don’t... don’t say anything to him about... about me.”

The girl nodded. “Of course not,” she lifted one shoulder, her lips curling downward in an ennui-laden expression. “We don’t ever really talk to him. And you know,” she added, pointing out the window, “you wouldn’t have seen him if you kept watching the front door. He always comes in the back way. Anyway, I’ll just go get you your kaffe.” And with that, she was gone.

And Anna was left, once again, alone.

She shuddered, hunkering even further down in her chair, if that were at all possible. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, and peered, shaking, out the window. After a moment, she turned her head, cocked it, and chanced a second glance through the square opening, and found him still sitting there, his straight, proud back to the rest of the cafe. “Fuck this,” she spat, once again whispering to herself. “Fuck this... fear.”

What is he? Is he some kind of asshole? Will I end up hating him? Will he... will he send me away? Was I wrong about him? Was he... was he dishonest with me? Well, of course, you idiot. Of course he was dishonest with you. Never even told you his real name! But... was he... did he pretend to want me? Did he pretend to ... to like me? Oh, God... God, was I wrong... was I wrong to come here?

She closed her eyes and forced herself to rest back into the chair. She breathed deeply, trying desperately to calm herself, to meditate on the voice of her spirit, of the voice of her mother, listening for her wisdom, her spirit. And, as always, her mother came through. “Remember him, think of him as he was with you, that is who he is, let your spirit find him and you won’t be afraid....”

And so, she did. Just for a moment -- fleeting, a split second -- did she find him. Him. The feeling of who he’d been with her -- it was suddenly all there, all at once, all in place. She saw him clearly in the eye of her spirit.

Him... with a tool belt slung low around his waist, shaggy beard, long hair tied back in a ponytail, baseball cap on his head, borrowed old t-shirt and jeans covered with sawdust and whitewash paint. Happy. Smiling.

Oh, that smile -- he took a tall, icy, dripping sweet tea from her hands and drank deep, bursting forth with a loud “ah!” at the end of it. The plastic cup clattered as he slammed it, satisfied, on to the saw horse. He swept her close to him with one arm, his other still curled casually around the rung of the aluminum ladder. He kissed her then, long and hard and wanting. With a moan, he pulled back, grinned yet again, and asked, a wicked glint in his eye, “What’s for supper darling? I’m fucking starving,” he winked. “Or maybe I’m just starving for a fuck.”

She felt herself relax, even smile a little, as she breathed. Her spirit cleansed her, washed out all the doubt, all the negative opinions of others she’d heard over the last twenty-four hours. For a moment, she actually felt him beside her, felt his presence; his presence a wonderful thing -- the light to drown out all of those that called him a “shark” or told her “good luck” when it came to talking to him, those in the media who had called him ruthless, crude, arrogant, sharpish, and shrewd.

She sighed, deep and long, and, feeling ready, feeling centered, feeling... brave... she finally opened her eyes.

“Ah! Shit!” she cried, scared out of her wits by the man himself, standing, no... lording over her. His shoulders were square, back straight, his hands folded calmly at his waist. Yet, his hardened, fixated eyes, tight lips, and sharply cocked eyebrow telegraphed his confusion, shock..., and anger.

“Do you mind telling me what the fuck you are doing here?”

#fair winds and a following sky

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ctrldamian · 5 years ago

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itzan escamilla. cis male. he/him. ／ damian nero just pulled up slither by velver revolver — that song is so them ! you know, for a(n) twenty-three year old bassist i’ve heard they’re really -impulsive, but that they make up for it by being so +compassionate. if i had to choose three things to describe them, i’d probably say smoke of cigarettes, bourbon, twilights. here’s to hoping they don’t cause too much trouble !

“can I interview you for my space cast ?”

𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄: Christian Damian Nero 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇: June 30th 1996 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄: Santorini, Greece

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: Pietro Nero (book author / alive ), Elena Suarez ( vet / deceased) 𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Rosie(35), Basil(32), Jennifer(20) — (all alive) 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒: N/A 𝐙𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐂 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍: Cancer 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒: cigarettes, bourbon, twilights, horror movies, old cars 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎: Clancy Gilroy (the midnight gospel), Damon Salvatore (the vampire diaries) 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐑: Bassist (mark hoppus career )

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃:

Damian was born in a wealthy family but he never got excited about money you know?; his father is a very recognized horror book author and he was born when his father was already someone with a title. His childhood was a bit full of shit, his father was famous but was also a drug addict and with that came a lot of violence for him and his siblings and mother.

I think the only way of Damian coping with that was music, and he fell in love with bass. He still thinks it’s a instrument no one gives the proper importance because they all are focused on how a guitar sounds. He didn’t even asked his father for money, he got a job and saved money until he had enough to buy a bass and taught himself with books and videos (he’s very smart btw).

Damian was and always will be mommy’s boy. Her mother met her husband on Spain (she was from Madrid), and then they moved to Greece from where Pietro was from, got married and all their kids were born and raised in Santorini. When he was a teenager he encouraged his mother to get a divorce and at first she was very afraid of it but eventually they all ran away from the nightmare they were living and moved to Spain.

Five years after to that his mother fell ill and Damian had two jobs to pay for the medicine and the treatment she was receiving but they had this deep talk where she accepted there was nothing they could do to stop the reality of her death and this shook Damian. He tried to convince her not to give up but she had the final word and finally died four months after they had that talk; he’s still grieving (his mother passed away last year) and he has been avoiding his siblings because he doesn’t want to face the fact that his mother is no longer alive and that burns inside, he thinks he could’ve made more to convince her to fight and stay even though she was already tired.

He moved to LA to start a new life. Without any money he started playing outside a walmart until Nick and another guy found him and they formed a band. They basically lived in a van until they had the money to get a very shitty apartment and lived there until the band started to get more recognition and fame.

Damian is a very rich boy but he never talks about his past or his family because that sends him right into having panic attacks and it’s bad, mostly because he’s not over his mother death even though he’s trying. So he puts on a mask and often lies about his origins but he always gets the usual ‘you kinda look like Pietro Nero...do you know him by chance?’ and he goes ‘nope, no idea what you’re talking about’ :))) oh baby.

ANYWAY SO YEAH I BASICALLY CHANGED ALL OF DAMIAN BACKGROUND STORY SO IF WE HAD CONNECTIONS AND YOU STILL WANT TO KEEP THEM LMK. IF NOT THEN WE’LL REPLOT OK? OK. AND IF WE HADN’T PLOT LET’S PLOT !!

#excess:intro #violence tw #death tw #mention of panic attack tw

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sometimesrosy · 5 years ago

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I feel like I am always bothering now, but I’m a really indecisive person and your insight always helps me make up my mind, even if I end up doing something totally different. I’ve been trying to replot this story of mine that I’ve tried writing about... 3 or 4 times now. I always stop around the same part. But that’s not my problem now (dunno why). My problem is that I’m too stuck on my plot being too big. This first “book” is divided in 3 parts: the journey, the “staying”, and the war. +

+ I always stop at the “staying” part. My current issue is that the journey is always super long but I need my main characters to develop their relationship so that they can solidify it on the “staying” part. Means they have to be in love by then. I don’t want it to seem rushed & I don’t like making big time jumps. So journey gets too long & with a lot of fillers as I need to develop their relationship somehow and make them have deep and funny convos, etc. Am I worrying too much for a 1st draft?

+++

Well. Hm. I don’t think there is one way to get it done. You COULD plot it out and get all the important points out and manage the pacing and stick to a wordcount to keep it from stretching.

OR you could keep writing to discover the story and cut it down later for pacing.

OR you could decide that you LIKE the convos and relationship building and sacrifice an exciting story with lots of conflict for a more domestic kind of fluff.

I think you might want to think about that one, because in fanfiction you can get away with 60k of fluff, because the audience is often looking for that and it will meet their expectations, but in original fiction, in a book, the audience often demands that something be HAPPENING. They need more plot and obstacles. If you want to make the Staying section about building their relationship, then you might want to add conflict into it, so the plot is actually ABOUT their relationship, so the struggle would be, also. If you don’t give plot and obstacles and movement in the Staying section when people are expecting it, they might get bored.

If you always stop in the staying part, then it sounds like subconsciously you already know it’s not working. Whenever I get stuck while writing, I know I’ve gone off track and my under-brain is not happy. So it’s my job as the over-brain aka author, to go back and figure out where I went wrong.

You already have figured it out. You told me. It’s too long. It’s too much filler.

You WANT to develop your relationship. You DON’T want long time jumps or for it to feel rushed. Those are two conflicting needs, but they are not mutually exclusive. You can develop your relationship, keep it timely, well paced and without long time jumps, but it’s going to be tricky.

I think you have to choose WHICH moments of deep and funny convos are the most important to your story, and which you can cut. Too many deep and funny convos will start seeming tedious. You need to add tension, build tension, relieve tension. All deep, funny convos keep the pacing all on the same level. You’ll get farther with a believable, ENJOYABLE romantic development by alternating between deep funny convos, action, obstacles, etc.

This is the part where they tell you to cut your darlings. You may love the deep funny convos... but are they serving your needs? Needs being keeping the audience interested, moving the relationship and story forward, and keeping the pace lively. Keeping YOU satisfied.

Figure out what information or development you must have, and then see if you can cut some scenes and spread out the information in a more compelling way.

I once had to cut out, like three chapters, because it made the story drag. It was all backstory and chatting, a literal pause to the action. “let’s take a break, have a coffee, and explain.” Tedious. I ended up cutting it and slipping the info learned into other scenes, while they were running, when they first meet, in confrontations with other characters. And all of a sudden I stopped feeling that niggling doubt in my mind that the story was dull and that was filler.

Not all relationship scenes are filler. But removing us from the action gets to be kind of fillerish. Maybe the Staying portion has a lot more of the relationship scenes, and maybe that means you have to be even more rigorous about making sure the story is moving forward and you add conflict.

I have learned lessons from watching The 100. There is a LOT of action. The tension is actually way higher than I am used to writing or even feel comfortable with. That’s a style I think and not necessarily a bad thing, but the WAY they keep the tension going and the way they slip those relationship development moments into small scenes between the action and tension is rather masterful. They build relationships in the moments between, and so the while we get some relief to make the next drama more tense, we never feel safe. Which is important to the genre and story.

You have a structural pickle to resolve. Separating the story into three parts is a good solution for your large story (if you want to get published traditionally, please be aware of genre word count expectations.) But having very different feels to the pacing of each part might be a struggle. Or maybe you’re actually writing a trilogy, and each of those parts is actually a book, and rather than being too long, each section actually needs to be developed OUT into a book.

Do you follow the three act or five act story structure? That might help you figure out the pacing. There’s a format that might actually help clarify for you why it feels too long and slow. Because even if we’re not consciously aware of that traditional story structure, subconsciously our brains are expecting a story to fit along that pacing.

Honestly, I’m not sure my advice will help you. I’ve given you a lot of options to look through to figure out your story. I guess I can’t figure it out for you, but I do suggest you trust your instincts that tell you it’s too long.

OH. One possibility. If you want to avoid a long time jump but keep development from feeling rushed, you might add in a montage or two. A montage, like that part in a movie where we watch a makeover or a warrior’s training, can give us little vignettes as time passes, so there’s no jump, but we also don’t bog down in smaller bits of development that add up to a major change.

Don’t worry about bothering me for writing questions. I like answering writing questions. I love teaching writing and helping people with their creative process or narrative issues.

Sometimes It takes me a bit to answer the questions because I want to make sure my brain is working and I give good answers.

(also posting this to my writing blog @rosy-writes )

#writing advice #pacing #story structure #getting stuck

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