#cari's writing

[carinelian]

as it turns out, you can't run away from your wip with another wip because eventually you will run out of gas and go back to the thing you first ran away from

the circle of life

[carinelian]

this is honestly one of the things that freed me from the fear of accidentally copying someone else's idea or having my idea for a story copied down.

in the end, it's not about seeking a 'purely' original concept, but rather having enough faith in yourself, your experience, and exercising diligence in your craft. it's that trust on having developed your own writing style, quirks, weaknesses, and even shitty choices that make a piece of work so wonderfully flawed, but authentically you.

it's about execution. it's about flavor. how you cook it, why you cook it, and how you choose to present it--it all adds up. it's honestly beautiful to witness how different writers can deliver vastly different experiences to the reader even if you gave them the same materials to work with.

I think one of my favorite creative joys is seeing how many different things people can do with the same concept. give ten writers the same starting point, or basic plot, or set of tropes to use and you're still going to get wildly different end results

the details you focus on, the ones you omit, turns of phrase, tone, and framing, the cadence and tempo of the sentences themselves, all the little fingerprints you've left littered across the prose — how you tell the story matters, and your personal voice is what makes it unique

[bonefall]

the. the ukraine windclan thing?

me in my therapist's office as his eyes dart anxiously between me and the clock, if im being honest

[universe-friday]

EXCERPT #58:

.... . .-.. .-.. --- ..--..

[...]

- .... . / -.-. .. - -.-- / .. ... / -. --- - / .... --- .-- / .. - / ... . . -- ... .-.-.- / .. - / -. . ...- . .-. / .-- .- ... --..-- / -... ..- - / . ... .--. . -.-. .. .- .-.. .-.. -.-- / -. --- .-- .-.-.-

.. / -.. --- / .- .--. --- .-.. --- --. .. ... . .-.-.- / .. / -.. --- / -. --- - / .... .- ...- . / .- / -- .. -.-. .-. --- .--. .... --- -. . .-.-.- / -... ..- - / .. / -- ..- ... - / .--. ..- - / --- ..- - / - .... .. ... / -- . ... ... .- --. . .-.-.-

- .... . / .- --. . -. -.-. -.-- / ... - .. .-.. .-.. / ... - .- -. -.. ... / .-- .... .. .-.. . / - .... . / -.-. .. - -.-- / ..-. .- .-.. .-.. ... / .- .--. .- .-. - .-.-.-

.-. .- -.. .. --- / .. ... / --. --- .. -. --. / - --- / -.. --- / .. - / - .... --- ..- --. .... .-.-.- / .. / .... --- .--. . / ... --- .-.-.- / .. / -.- -. --- .-- / ... --- .-.-.-

- .... . -.-- .----. .-. . / ... - .-. --- -. --. . .-. / - .... .- -. / - .... . -- .-.-.- / - .... . -.-- .----. .-. . / ... - .-. --- -. --. . .-. / - .... .- -. / -- . .-.-.- / .. / .-- --- ..- .-.. -.. / .... .- ...- . / -. . ...- . .-. / ... . .- .-. -.-. .... . -.. / - .... . / -.-. .. - -.-- / ..-. --- .-. / -- . .-.-.- / .. / .-- --- ..- .-.. -.. / .... .- ...- . / -. . ...- . .-. / - .-. .. . -.. / - --- / ... .- ...- . / - .... . / -.-. .. - -.-- .-.-.-

.-. .- -.. .. --- --..-- / .. ..-. / -.-- --- ..- .----. .-. . / --- ..- - / - .... . .-. . --..-- / ... - .- -.-- / ... .- ..-. . .-.-.- / .. / .... --- .--. . / -.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .-.. .. ... - . -. .. -. --. .-.-.-

[Static]

[akascow]

theres just smth about lawrence gordon the ONCOLOGIST (cancer doctor) trapped in a room with adam stanheight the SMOKER who literally says gimme that sweet sweet cancer in the movie

im losing my marbles brb

[carinelian]

sometimes it also works the other way around

like lately, my characters are being mean to me

they keep doing stuff AGAINST the outline

and eventually they become kind by doing some weird parallel shit as if to say, "oops, can't kill me off I'm still following THEME"

some supposed npc becoming relevant suddenly? "oops, can't kill me off i'm doing WORK around here"

someone other than male lead rizzing up the mc? "oops, can't kill me! if you kill me you ADMIT i have rizz"

it's been so chaotic

Be mean to your characters.

What do they take for granted? Take it away from them.

The one thing they know for certain? Make them doubt it.

Their worst fear? Throw it at their faces.

Make their plans fail. Make them cry. Make them question things and then learn about them and the way they react in the process.

Be mean to your character. Then be kind to them for a while, because after all that they may deserve it.

[cari-morningcrest]

(pretend it's still Halloween)

[Cari hears a knock on their door and a voice call out]

Sunshine! You got a costume?

-@loyalty-goddess-pt2

[They open the door, frowning slightly]

What?

[smallenoughtopurr]

My in-universe explanation as to why Adam has so many inconsistent last names is that he just lies because of his line of work and his rocky relationship with his parents.

I can imagine Tapp or whoever asking "What was your last name again?" And Adam says "Stanheight."

"Wait, wasn't it Faulkner or something?"

"Yes, Faulkner-Stanheight. My parents are divorced." (They're not, but that doesn't matter)

His real last name is Radford but no one needs to know that. He'd forget it himself if he could.

(It's actually a big part of why he wants to marry Lawrence)

[upontherisers]

would you guys be okay if i posted OC meta it’s okay if not i understand. writing OCs is one thing but analyzing them is insane behavior

[carinelian]

me with aster and florence, back in 2021 when they didn't have names yet and only a scene to slay:

[carinelian]

saw a tapas forum thread on 'how to stay motivated for a long series' and poured my heart and SOUL into the replies

like no SHIT i feel down to the last fraying nerve in my body it's hard as hell and oftentimes i wanted to just give up

but look at me now

one year of abandoning my WIP i come back crawling to them because their story needed to be told i have to write it or else it'll go down as some of my life's biggest regrets (and i already have many)

[hellofanidea]

7 or 145 for the three word prompts for crankbucky?

7) "Try to eat", CrankBucky, tw for post-Stalag recovery including disordered eating and mental health issues

"Try to eat."

It comes out more like an order than Bucky intends, and Crank gives him the usual dry look he gets in response to that tone now they're not in uniform. Not full time at least; Crank an honorably discharged civilian, and Bucky on medical leave for the foreseeable future, to recover weight and muscle and sanity.

"I'm good," Crank insists, and cradles his cup of coffee like somebody's coming to steal it. He no longer takes it black, at least, gave into Bucky's cajoling to add cream and sugar for some imagined benefit.

He's not good. Last night was the roughest either of them have been for a while, which is saying something. Crank had ended up sleeping on the porch after waking up clawing at Bucky's weight on top of him.

Sleeping. Hah. As if either of them slept any more. Bucky couldn't close his eyes if he didn't know exactly where Crank was, if he wasn't directly in eye-line when he woke. Crank could sleep anywhere but woke at the slightest sound, disoriented and trapped in memories of cramped concrete rooms and barbed wire, gasping for air and the sight of the sky.

"You didn't eat dinner yesterday," Bucky reminds him.

They had gone to the diner in town, an increasingly safe bet to get food into both of them, especially since the waitress always slid them extras and a slice of whatever pie was on offer.

Since you're a friend of Charlie's, the older woman had said the first time and then, when Crank had gone to the restroom, it's nice to know he has people looking out for him after all that nastiness.

Halfway through what Bucky thought was a perfectly good chicken parm Crank had gone pale, put down his cutlery, and pushed his plate over to Bucky's side of the table. At first Bucky had ribbed him for being full from just a few bites, but then Crank was vigorously shaking his head, hands white knuckle on the table, mouth a thin, nauseated line.

Bucky had finished both of their plates to ward off the guilty fear that came from wasting food, then hustled Crank out of the door. He wasn't sick, but looked it the whole way back to the house. Any attempt to draw him into conversation failed, and Bucky filled the empty air with predictions on the next baseball season. They had turned in for bed almost as soon as they got back, Crank still not sharing what had turned his stomach (or, Bucky thought privately, his mind).

Then the disturbed night's rest, and now the kitchen, Bucky sliding a plate of toast across the table.

As if he's been asked to do the impossible, Crank sighs and picks up a slice of bread. He bites off a corner, chews, and swallows, keeping eye contact with Bucky the whole time.

"Happy?" He asks.

The familiar sharpness in his voice makes Bucky grin - there's his Charlie, rising from whatever place he sinks into when it all gets too much. There's the hidden bite that made Bucky look twice and then want those teeth in him.

"Ecstatic."

[fivequartersoftheorange]

___________________

I found the album one sweltering afternoon in mid-summer, a month since we’d laid Gramps to rest. Rummaging through the dusty boxes and stacks of back copies of society magazines, I stubbed my toe on the trunk where it was kept, old and battered, sat in a dark corner of the attic.

I took the album, dusted it off, and sat down on a nearby stool. The cover was made of leather, cracked through with age and neatly labeled 1953-1954 in faded gold lettering. I flipped through the pages so yellowed with age, dust motes swirl in front of me as I make sense of what I’m looking at.

It was pictures of Gramps as a younger man. We knew that he was a film star back in the day, and that he was quite famous too, a real matinée idol. It seemed impossible to me then that he had a whole other life for he was always just Gramps; he seemed to always be humming and dancing, constantly moving or cooking up a storm in the kitchen.

Gramps was like magic and fairy dust, his warmth and gentleness touched anyone he came across. He was the grandfather who was up for anything, never raised his voice and talked to you like a grown-up. He was wise and funny and always pushed you to be a better version of yourself. Many a time I spent in Gramps kitchen, listening to him tell stories of film sets and the soaring lives of Hollywood’s finest.

My greatest regret was not asking him about his life when I had the chance. For no one bothered to, he was always just there, woven into the fabric of our lives. None of us really knew anything about him and the questions that had always lingered in the back of my mind resurfaced.

There were other things in the album, ticket stubs and dried flowers and a million other keepsakes. But what seemed to feature most prominently was a young man who looked to be about the same age as Gramps. He had a shy smile and a tentative look in his eyes. He was very handsome.

It seemed that he was also an actor and that at one point worked on a film with Gramps. There was a photograph of a cluster of smiling people and at the very center was the shy handsome man. His gummy smile was breathtaking but he was looking at someone or something out of frame.

As I looked through the rest of the album, a thick packet of letters fell to the floor. They were tied together by a faded red ribbon and at a glance I could see neat loopy script. I knew instinctively that these were all from the handsome man with the gummy smile.

My mind raced with a thousand questions and I burned with a longing to read them yet a sense of wrongness pervaded me. I would be intruding on my grandfather’s privacy. There was a secret buried here that much was true. For now I tuck the album under my arm and make my way downstairs.

___________________

Inspired by this post by @bigassbowlingballhead

I have absolutely no idea how I went from making a silly little edit to having an entire backstory to the silly little edit.

This also broke an almost 3 year streak of no writing. I don't think this is my best work, I'm rusty like an old bicycle but I'm quite surprised I managed to write something. So thanks for that Jon!

This is also by the way heavily inspired by a Danielle Steel novel I once read that I cannot remember the name of. In that story it featured a box, a locket and a packet of letters.

This is literally titled Hot Gramps on my laptop. You can click on the images to make it bigger.

Also did you know that the SAG was founded in 1933? And AFTRA was founded in 1952 but the two only merged in 2012. And that the first Emmy Awards were held in 1949?

[carinelian]

if i may add to this wonderful thread (i come in peace everyone):

heavy agree on the sadomasochistic part! the first novel i drafted (like, completed draft) was rewritten from scratch two times (so there's like, three drafts now) and the journey was crazy (fucking PAINFUL, fr, but also cathartic)

i mean, it works if you're the kind of writer who forgets what you've written and likes the feeling of 'reading' your work for the first time as a whole (what i do is print out the recent draft and rewrite it from there, chapter-per-chapter). you get to enjoy it as a reader + you get to edit it as a writer. the cons here is that you don't know if you're making it worse or better because sometimes whole chunks go into the bin and it morphs into something completely different

(sitting with that fear and trusting the process is definitely an Experience)

i would also like to reiterate the importance of keeping original copies of the drafts because sometimes you're on your third run and you realize that the first draft was actually onto something like we in fr

rewrites are good if you want like, a bird's eye view on how the stories evolved (also you as a writer) because if you're the kind of writer that has, like, a running commentary on your head while you do a cinematic reel of your scenes, then it's an eye-opener on how you make calls on paper

also, also! i would recommend discernment for stories that need rewrites vs. stories that you simply wish to unleash to the world, point blank. rewrites take up a lot of time (mine took like, four years?) so now i'm just balling, there's a certain joy and freedom with simply getting it out into the world, checking in for some minor edits or two every once in a while, then dipping

It has recently occurred to me that to make a second draft after the first one I have to... rewrite the entire thing?? Not just, take the document and, edit ON IT, OVER it.

And that a first draft is not really supposed to be... readable?

Guys I need help,.how do you do drafts??

[friday-answers]

doing my annual radio silence reread has become incredibly useful in terms of universe friday... i'm getting all the lore in check

and i am already finding things i did not remember!!! example: RADIO'S LUNAR BIKE???????

can't believe i could've forgotten something so cool like that. dw i'm making notes and annotating, tabbing everything i didn't remember to make sure details are up to date in universe friday!!!!!!!

[sexy-monster-fucker]

LAWRENCE GORDON X APPRENTICE!F!READER OUT TONIGHT ITS A GOOD SMUTTY ONE I LOVE IT RAHHHHHH TELL ME IF YOU WANNA BE TAGGED