#i love the flow of this stream of consciousness paragraph | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ragnarokhound · 1 year ago

Note

2, 7, 8, & 29 for the fic writer ask game pls?

Sure!

2. Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

Oh gosh. There's so many good ones out there, and my favorite kind of trope use involves mashing a bunch of them together into a tasty stew - Only One Bed is a personal fave that I haven't really done yet lol, but OH. A groundhog day/timeloop fic. Gotta be one of my favorite kinds of character study/fix-it/whump all rolled into one. And the whole batfam in general are already the type of people to play events in their heads over and over trying to figure out what the Right thing would have been to do, how could they have been better...oh yeah. Highly effective psychological torture for them. Especially if there is no Right Answer to breaking the loop 8)

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

“The elements connect us,” Helaine says as she lays his hand on the surface of the pool. The ice-cold water is always a shock to him at first, and he is careful not to break the surface tension. “The fire warms us; the earth sustains us; the water,” here, her hand joins his on the water’s surface, “flows through us. Feel the blood in your veins, the beat of your pulse in your ears. It is the water of your life, and it has seen all you have seen, and more besides. Much more.” She drags her hand back toward her body at the edge of the pool, and Feldar, sitting opposite, mirrors her. As their fingers drag across the water, the ripples that form spread and merge and create ripples of their own. The water wavers and changes, and Feldar hears it, like a steady drum of war— his own pulse in his ears. He feels it down his arm and in the tips of each finger where they sit on the water, and watches as Gallant’s hooves thunder down a distant road, one he had never seen before, dark under the canopies of ancient trees filled with the webs of spiders. Then Gallant’s hooves pound in the distance, and he sits up from the dirt of the road and sees the knight on the black horse with no device on his shiny steel shield, and a ridiculous straw hat on his head. He is so hungry, and he may be trod underfoot and left to die in the dust, but he has seen no one else on the road for two days, and he is so hungry.

This snippet is from "like the ashes of ash (i saw eyes in the heat)" which is the second in a four part fanfic series I did for Sorcerer's Son by Phyllis Eisenstein. I had to invent the fandom tag for this book series, so check that one off the Ao3 bucket list! :')

I really enjoyed coming up with a structure for how the Seer magic worked; in the book it was left pretty opaque (on purpose lol) and sometimes would have more to do with intuition than anything resembling 'magic', which seemed sensible to me.

I wanted to paste more of this passage in because I'm really proud of the way this scene builds on itself, but it would have been way too long lol - the next four or five paragraphs all start with variations on "Then Gallant's hooves [action]" to indicate a new piece of the past and the future that Feldar is seeing in the pool, and it ends with Helaine explaining how using water to scry changes what and how you see. (Helaine is always shown using water to scry with in the book; I thought it would be more appropriate for his character that Feldar would scry with fire :) hence the naming schema for the series!)

Also, I love indulging in a stream of consciousness writing style, and the ethereal, out-of-body feeling of this scene was the perfect opportunity to make use of it lol

I have a big ol' soft spot for my Sorcerer's Son fics lol - they are for a fantasy book series I'm pretty sure only a handful of people have read - it is...okay! The books are okay. :) I read the first one a year or two ago and fell in love with the protagonists best friend, Feldar Sepwin, who becomes apprenticed to a seer, and promptly adopted him. I wrote the series both as a character study of him, and as a way to give him the boyfriend he deserves ;O;

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

uh. okay, the dialogue i'm Most proud of is actually from a WIP rn, and at a very spoilery moment fjdslafjsal so I will talk about the next runner up instead lol:

“Catch.” Babs’ hand flashes out to snatch the pill bottle out of the air with a short rattle, reflexes still Batwoman-sharp. It makes him angry in a low, burning sort of way, that constant thrum of rage at the Joker and everything he’s ever done flaring up with a vengeance. She still kicks ass, and she'd kill him if he ever implied otherwise, but— she shouldn’t be in that chair, just like how Jason shouldn’t have died. And the Joker shouldn’t be alive. But she is, and he did. And he still is. She squints at the label on the bottle, then turns her chair to face Jason with a smirk. “You know I have my own allergy meds, right?” Jason shrugs. “Never hurts to be prepared.” Even as he says it, her attention zeroes in on the dog keeping stride with him, and she leans down to hold out the back of her hand for a sniff. “Hey, there,” she says, voice pitching up the way people do when they want babies and animals to like them. Barf. The dog darts up to her, tongue hanging out, and lets her pet it. Its whippy tail wags back and forth as it whuffs excitedly in short, ecstatic barks, and Jason watches incredulously. This is nothing like how his first meeting with the dog went. Where’s the growling and the bared teeth, huh? He makes a face. “He sure warmed up to you quick.” “Jealous?” She asks him, smug. He scoffs. “No.” Yes. “You have the thing?” He asks impatiently. She grins, and pauses scritching the dog behind the ears to snag a USB off her desk. “Catch.” He makes it disappear, grunting his thanks. “I’ll be back later. Have fun with your new BFF.” Babs laughs at him, but then she says, "Hey." He stops where he'd been turning around, and the smile Babs shoots him is a little rye. "Thanks for doing all this. I know you have other shit going on that's important. I appreciate it." It settles his ruffled feathers a little, even if he won't admit it. He grunts. "Yeah, well. It's worth the blackmail material this’ll net me when the replacement's finally back. I'm gonna hold this over his head forever." She raises her eyebrows, amused. "He'll hate that." He grins toothily at her, a little mean. "That's what I'm counting on." When he leaves, he goes out through the roof.

Sit, Stay, Speak was full of little agonies for me as I worked on it lol, and one of those little agonies was Barbara. She was involved largely so that Jason had a reason to be in Tim's apartment and then be made to stay, and as someone for him to bounce off when he needed to talk about what he'd found. She gave him another viewpoint on Tim that he needed to fully grasp the enormity of what he was seeing.

But all that being said, I have gotten most of my understanding of the characters via other people's fic. Turns out, reading primarily JayTim does not afford a lot of opportunities to get to know Babs! Who knew!! So she was a fun challenge.

I like this exchange a lot because it was my opportunity to think about how and why Jason and Babs would be friends. I'm a really big fan of that for them - in my mind, Babs is similar to Tim in that she's more willing to bend some of Batman's rules. She's willing to work with people on the Big Picture, and that includes Jason even when he's not "playing nice". I think they both have that acerbic wit to fall back on, which would make their dish sessions absolutely SAVAGE lmao

This whole fic was an accident in a lot of ways, but more so than anything else, my secondary treatise on Jason & Barbara's friendship was the biggest accident of all! I had no idea we'd get here, and while it's not very long, I think this scene is kind of a microcosm of that exploration.

(Also one of my absolute favorite dialogue/narrative jokes is a direct contradiction from the narration of something a character just says. "No." Yes. Comedy gold.)

29. If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

OH MAN OKAY there are so many talented folks out there dsalfjaj some fics that I love I would never WANT to write a sequel/prequel for if only because they already said what needed to be said lol and I always feel strange about piggybacking off of another author's ideas fjdslajf

but oh boy, this one fic I came across a couple weeks ago - Caves & Tunnels by Skalidra.

This fic is so delightful to me; just the rich magical world they imply with Jason and the tunnels under Gotham and Alfred and Bruce and the manor...there's a lot of unexplained supernatural elements, and it's never really touched on whether Bruce performs a similar role to Batman or not. Also Tim and Jason haven't kissed by the end of the story and I'm a romantic who yearns

So I think if I were to write something in this verse, it would be a sequel, and it would explore the beginning of Tim and Jason's relationship alongside Tim's first forays into the world of knowing about the supernatural. Skalidra gets away with a lot of scant explanations due to the nature of ending this fic right at the revelation point, haha - so it would be a lot of work! But it would be So Good OwO

Thanks for the questions! <33

#this was fun! I find it hard to point at any of my old stuff and say 'im proud of that'#because usually my favorite writing is the writing i'm doing right now lol #but I liked being given the opportunity to look back and do that #like yeah i've improved but also the work i did last year isn't terrible lmao #ladytauria #asked and answered #my writing #ask game

2 notes · View notes

by-kilian · 1 year ago

Note

Hi KW!! Can I ask 12, 28, and 60 for the fanfic writer asks?

Hey lovey dovey!! I hope you have been well ❤️❤️❤️ thank you so much for sending in an ask and obliging me 🤣.

I shall answer underneath a cut 😘.

12. Do you ever have trouble focusing on writing? how do you get around that?

YES. Absolutely. 😭 I used to be able to focus much better on writing but I'm sad to say the pandemic fried my brain in more ways than I thought in the sense that I find myself having trouble focusing on much these days. Although I will say that I do feel like it's at 80% now. I get around it by using the pomodoro method though which is what I used to use for college and what I use for work too when I need to deep focus. I have an app called "flow" on my laptop and it really helps me :)!

28. handwritten notes or typed notes?

Typed! It's just easier for me to keep track of because I quite literally use the notes app, and I can have it handy on my laptop or my phone at any moment's notice. I also use Google Docs. I love a handwritten note for to do lists but for some reason, stream of consciousness typing at 3 in the morning works much better for me with writing thoughts/process.

60. where is the most dangerous place that you’ve written fic?

I wish I had an interesting answer for you 🤣, but I usually write at home only. I guess if I had to pick, Starbucks? I wrote a scene there once to try to focus (see above), and it helped a little but not a lot because I was too worried someone would peek @ my laptop even though I was secluded in a corner LMFAO. I ended up getting 2 paragraphs done, not even. Sdgosghos.

Thanks again for sending in an ask, appreciate you!

#asks #ask game #kw writing questions

3 notes · View notes

imsleepyanon · 8 months ago

Text

the mood. THE MOOD. of this entire thing. insane.

ok so, here's thing about lore's writing. the way they write just tickles me, punches me, hugs me, chokes me--everything under the sun, it just fundamentally messes with me. i still need to think about this critically bc even i dont exactly know why it does, but all i know is that my cells are eating this up like its the only thing edible left on earth.

one thing i do know is that the way they space dialogue, paragraphs, etc., is smth i appreciate A LOT. i didnt realize this until i wrote for myself (im an ex-writer!!) and even while i read other fics, i found myself almost viscerally reacting to poorly spaced fics. that's a talk for another day, but i just have to say that lore has mastered AMBIENCE. atmosphere. mood. there is this flow, like the waves against the shore, that just makes SENSE. i still need to pick at this more to be able to properly verbalize it, but it for sure adds to why their writing seems so artful to me. like those paintings you'd want to hang up in your reading room.

OK SLIGHTLY RELATED, but the use of parentheses (im starting to think theres smth wrong with me bc why am i fixating on such small things) is so. natural. i think this is what i meant when i referred to "stream of consciousness-esque" things, where details are included in ways that make the entire thing scenic. it feels like a movie, reading this (all of lore's works are like this tbf). it feels like im witnessing smth, but it's almost tangible, the way it unassumingly appears. but the things said there add so much, it adjusts the hue of the writing, or maybe it increases contrast or its the color that's been balanced with those details (using illustration/art terms now LOL).

honestly reading this makes me want to read properly again. i used to breathe books, but as i got jaded and stuff happened in my life, i stopped reading. and im realizing now as i write out these thoughts, that being a reader makes me so so so happy. this is also why i probably couldnt contain the urge to make a tumblr just to harass lore, bc they reminded me that i love being a reader. it felt like biting into a dessert i forgot existed, a favorite that was left in my past.

this became oddly sentimental/emotional, but tbh writing this out is oddly therapeutic to me. i have a lot of appreciation for writers, and i think it bubbled to a point where i couldnt contain it well (like literally, wth is this post). but i think it's more than deserved, that's why comments go a long way for creative people. being in a world ruled by algorithms and numbers and engagement makes it so hard to create the things you want to, and it makes it a lot harder for works to meet the right people.

im happy i found lore, and that theyve continued to write despite the stuff happening to creative content these days. lore, if youre reading this, i hope that this mess of a ramble does even a fraction of what your writing has done for me! the small moments of excitement or happiness i get from your work, its moments like that, that allow me to breathe a little.

on a lighter note, why is it so fitting that jy calls you "dearest." SOB that man, no wonder he was my first bbygirl. i find it so fascinating lore decided to use "dearest" as opposed to "honey," which seemingly has the same meaning/undertone, but NO. IT IS SO DIFFERENT. BUT MY QUESTION IS, HOW DID THEY KNOW ???? IS THIS INTUITIVE ??? omg im going to actually talk about their characterization abilities later, it actually drives me feral. (its their blade characterization that finally broke the camels back and i literally had to comment as anon...and now here we are, off anon and i'm literally writing essays in reblogs....do tumblr users even do this? i still dont know how to use the site but i think i want to use it as like, a personal fic reading diary now. and who's to stop me? god? god cant save me now)

=========

[this. this is exactly why i used to avoid commenting on writers' stuff bc, who the hell looks at this and thinks it's normal? bc i certainly dont. but once i started writing, every little comment meant so much, ofc as long as they werent asking when the next chapter would be uploaded. funny thing, that's actually why i stopped writing myself; just got tired of it, and the constant hounding made me avoid the series i was writing for. RIPPP, and im assuming this is also why old me just left fic-life altogether.

but seeing that this is quite enjoyable for me too--yk, being able to fangirl (neutral) about writers/works that ive enjoy so much, im lowkey going to commit myself to have this reading diary of sorts. and then the writers can know that they have an unhinged anon (me) eyeing their works like its their last meal (it is)]

(a continuation of this piece)

"i was surprised that you were late today."

jing yuan says halfway through lunch. he speaks over the rim of his teacup. his lips are curled in an easy, gentle smile. his shoulders are relaxed, posture slack as he leans against his own bent leg.

he's barely touched his meal.

(you have a full bowl as well.)

"i got caught up with work." a lie. a blatant one. you're never late for lunches, and you always let jing yuan know if you even have an inkling of being a few minutes past your appointed time. you're careful about it. meticulous.

your visit to blade has made you careless. dulled you with a grief that is eating you alive.

jing yuan hums thoughtfully. you hope he won't press this. he's-- he's an unusually calm character when he wants to be. you're his lover-- dutifully, horribly reliable and loyal. he has no reason to doubt you.

(except, you'd spent the first half of the day in the shackling prison with its beau acratic hoops and horrors, all to see yingxing. to be heartbroken all over again.)

you thought it would bring you some closure. in retrospect, this was more wishful thinking. all its left you with is an hot, branding ache in your chest. a wound ripped open anew. it had already scarred over, albeit imperfectly healed.

(jing yuan never minded this. he could tell he carried things with you, he'd both told and shown you this. and truthfully, how could you not? being undying does not lend itself to happiness. it lends itself to an accumulation of sin that cannot be undone. cannot be lessened.)

"dear?" jing yuan asks, voice mirthful and sweet. "are you with me?"

"yes." you force yourself present. you hope your eyes aren't too puffy. "i am distracted. what did you say?"

"i asked you what kept you at work." jing yuan asks, so easy. so kind. "if lady fu is working you to hard, i am happy to arrange a few days off for you. is a vacation in order?"

"no, it's alright." you rush, stumble over your words. "i should've planned better is all. how is your lunch?"

jing yuan rests his chin on his palm, "i'm not very hungry today. i apologize, dearest."

"you don't need to apologize. it happens." you assure him. "i'll make you a meal tomorrow. just let me know what you're in the mood for."

"you spoil me."

"i simply treat you well." you tell him. you're grateful you're able to. that the general lets you close enough to cook for him and feed him morsels and lounge on his personal terrace in the artificial sun each day during noontime.

"you do." jing yuan says softly. reverent. he gets like this sometimes. moony and a little dumb about it. so genuine and earnest it breaks you.

(it makes your lie feel that much more sour.)

jing yuan opens his mouth to say more, but promptly redirects as yanqing arrives, swords floating around his back. he and the general talk, carouse for a moment. yanqing has had yet another day of sparring. that's good. that's nice.

(yingxing doesn't remember you. only you are burdened with this memory. will this feeling eat you alive? it's-- it feels worse than it did when you were younger. more naive. when things fell apart and you were burdened with standing by and watching the world you loved so much, with the people you loved so much fall apart. even jing yuan was away, making a name for himself. proving his worth.)

(you alone bear this.)

your chest aches.

jing yuan is at your side. you hadn't noticed him approach you so directly.

"dearest, walk with me?" jing yuan asks and offers you a hand to help you stand. yanqing is already tucking into his meal, waving goodbye.

the terrace is wide, and high above the rest of the luofu's structure. it's lush with plants. vining fruits, plump and ready to be picked curl along its railing. flowers bloom wide and bright.

(you wish you could focus on the beauty of it. how kind a place this is. how fortunate you are to have made it this far.)

"you're distracted today." jing yuan says, guiding you to a bench. his hand lays warm and firm on your shoulder. "are you sure the divination commission is giving you trouble?"

(no, the mutual past lover you both share is layers below you in the shackling prison. radiating an energy that feels astral and unholy. the kindness purged from him. yingxing really is dead, isn't he?)

"no, i promise." you give him a half-truth and a smile that you hope isn't as withered as you fear it is.

jing yuan looks pleasantly neutral. perhaps, if you were some foreign diplomatic or tourist you'd be charmed by such expression. the arbiter general of the luofu is known to be ruthless in battle with a lovely personal disposition. perhaps you'd see this moment as a reflection of that rumor.

you know, however, that in this moment jing yuan is frustrated. he will not treat you with the same firmness that he does his retainer or his subordinates, but you know the feeling is, perhaps, the same.

jing yuan doesn't like when you withhold information. he has always vocally appreciated your candor, with a sweet honesty that's disarming as it comes from a man who speaks in half-truths so frequently.

and now, you lie to him. your jaw is locked and your eyes still feel scratchy and swollen from your tears.

jing yuan begins to speak and you cut him off. grab his hand with a squeeze and pull yourself into his side.

"do you remember when you broke the first blade that yingxing made for you?" you ask.

jing yuan goes still for a moment. just a second of hesitation but you catch it. the feeling melts away as he laughs, tinged with melancholy. "i do. he was furious with me. and you had to collect new ore off-ship for a month for him to craft a replacement."

"i did." you whine with a laugh. "it was miserable. 'roid mining is awful. i was cleaning astradust from under my fingernails for weeks when i got back."

"but, you came back with the ore regardless."

"yes, and i never did again. no matter how much yingxing tried to bribe me."

"you were too busy entertaining the young lady fu to be his errand boy. i remember well."

"i probably could've made the time." you tell him. he knows this already. "i just didn't want to be away. i would've missed you both too much."

"is that why you so graciously eat with me each day?"

"i do that because i love you." you squeeze his hand. "and i enjoy your company. and want to be near you."

(you want to hold him until the last moment, however that takes shape.)

jing yuan hums. he fits you so your cheek presses against his collarbone, and his chin rests on the top of your hand. his arms wrap around your middle, squeezing and rubbing his thumbs over you. he holds you tightly to him.

"the feeling is mutual." jing yuan tells you, soft in a hushed voice only you get to hear.

you bear your weight into him. he catches you easily. holds you until yanqing calls for you both to stop being so 'gross' and to 'rate his form' on a new maneuveur he's been practicing.

jing yuan leads you once more, never fully pulling away from you. a hand on your waist, a palm over the small of your back. he puts you in his lap the moment yanqing excuses himself to flit about.

"you need to get back to the divination commission soon, don't you?" jing yuan asks, probing.

"i took the day off."

"you did, now?" jing yuan has already seen through you. this you know.

"yes." you tell him.

(you want to tell him more. you want to scream and beat the ground. perhaps you willl, later, in the privacy of your shared home.)

for now, you satiate the ache with the truth.

"i saw blade earlier. that's why i was late."

jing yuan squeezes you. it almost hurts as he curls over you.

"and?" jing yuan asks. there's a weakness in his voice that you seldom hear. "are you satisfied?"

"hardly." you tell him, turning his arms to wrap your legs around his waist. to drag him closer until your chest to chest and can hear the steady heartbeat thumping under his sternum. "i don't think i ever will be. i miss him too much. he's just gone."

"i know."

"it's awful, isn't it?"

"it simply is." jing yuan says. this is his way-- the way he has kept himself from being eaten alive by mara. you cannot be cannibalized by the thriving rot if you simply choose to let go of the awful, terrible things that would cleave another person in two. he look at the objective rationality of each situation-- this is why he is the longest-lived general. this is why he is a brilliant strategist, and a soft, grounding lover.

because, he reminds you that yingxing is dead, and any fondness you carry for the man known as blade is misplaced.

"do you not miss him?"

"of course." jing yuan kisses your temple. holds you tightly lest you plunge into the ground or float into the sky. "that does not change things though, does it?"

hope is a twisted thing, you think. in this instance, it's better to kill it. whatever mission yingxing-- no, blade has set out to complete should not concern you. there are greater crises. worse ills.

kinder realities that lay in front of you. at your feet. in your arms.

you nose into jing yuan's jaw. each shuddering breath he gives you, you savor. there's no use clinging, is there? but that doesn't mean you won't enjoy each moment you have with him. you'll be at his side until the divinations carve that that will no longer be possible. you will reminisce, however painful-- but aeons, you must refuse to let your past burden you.

so, you hold jing yuan like a lover does. cup his cheeks and kiss him until he's groaning against your lips, grinding you in his lap. he nips at your lips with a laugh as he pulls you flush to him. closer, closer, closer--

you will hold this in your cupped palms, as long as fate allows. perhaps, you both have earned that much.

#still dont know how to use tumblr #pog #is it normal to write random and long stuff in the tags like this #if its not im going to cry #and go back and edit everything #but anyway guys pls check out lore theyre cracked at writing #you want to get your heart sniped? they got you

702 notes · View notes

vividiana · 26 days ago

Note

for the fic asks: 3, 16, 20, 27, 57! hope you have a great day as well! ❤️

hiiii thank you so much for the questions 💕

(the list can be found here)

3: describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

it's a bit all over the place, but it usually goes something like this:

when I get an idea for a scene, I need to write it out asap. depending on the type of scene, this either takes the form of a stream of consciousness or just the dialogue without any tags or descriptors (or some mix of the two.) I write that way for as long as I can without stopping, just to get the ideas out

after a day or two, I return to this chaos and turn it into something more comprehensible by building on it, revising, adding descriptors, turning key phrases into actual sentences, etc. if I encounter any blocks, then I just put some placeholders like "[they share a cute moment]" or "[describe the room]" and I leave it for now. I just focus on the parts that are the most exciting and interesting to me. I reread and edit that multiple times

I now arrive at the point at which I need to figure out how to fill all those gaps and placeholders and how I want the fic to begin and end so that it's a complete story and not just the part I'm most excited about. this is where things get difficult and where I often ask my friend for feedback/we brainstorm ideas together

once I have a better idea of how to fill all the gaps, I give myself permission to write those parts very poorly just so that I can finally have a complete draft. after that, I reread the whole thing to see how it flows and I edit those newer parts. I ask my friend to beta read and incorporate her suggestions

I reread and tweak the complete work so many times that words stop making sense, at which point I post it (and then I still somehow find typos and end up editing a bit on ao3)

16: how many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? share one of them?

I have many ideas for future chapters of my post-canon fic, and three ideas for one-shots. one of them that's a relatively recent idea is built around Astarion's worst memory and the "darling boy" he met one night whom he could not bear to bring back to Cazador. I love exploring Astarion's pov (and breaking my own heart apparently), so this is a story that I am really looking forward to sharing, but I definitely want to take my time with it because it's so far from my comfort zone and what I usually write

20: have you noticed any patterns in your fics? words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

one time my friend pointed out to me that I love to have Eve "nestle her head in the crook of Astarion's neck" and ummm... yeah, I did a word search for that phrase and it came up an embarassing amount of times so I have since changed that (though to be fair, there is not much I can do about that? that's just her favorite spot??). in terms of themes, I tend to write a lot about self-forgiveness, just because I think that's a crucial part in both Astarion's and Eve's (i.e. redeemed Durge's) journeys, and something they both struggle with. also I just realized I tend to write a lot of descriptions involving hands. these idiots are constantly holding hands or their fingers are "tracing soothing circles" on each other's skin or someone's hand will cup the other person's cheek, "thumbs wiping away the tears," etc... which tbh I find funny because I'm quite ticklish myself and I can't stand if someone runs their fingers against my skin, but IN THEORY it seems very soothing and intimate

27: what is your most and least favorite part of writing?

it's hard to pick a favorite, so I chose three: (1) brainstorming with my friend, (2) feeling this rush when I need to get an idea out onto the page and I just sit down and write paragraph after paragraph without stopping, and (3) reading the final product, especially if it's weeks or months after I've written it, and having my own writing elicit some sort of emotional reaction or even a chuckle or a "damn that's a good line" *pats myself on the back*

my least favorite is having to fill in all the gaps/placeholders that I left in the story for my future self to worry about and then suddenly the future is today and I want to finish this piece and it's like pulling teeth

57: do you prefer editing as you write, or waiting until it's finished?

I edit as I write. like I mentioned above, I usually don't have a complete draft until quite late in the process, because I just keep rereading and editing the parts that I already wrote instead of writing the rest

#ask game #ask #my fic #writing

0 notes

goodness-1 · 1 year ago

Text

Let's Talk About Writing!

Hey there, fellow Tumblrites! So, I've been doing a bit of soul-searching lately, and guess what? Writing seems to be my happy place. Yep, you heard it right! Whether it's scribbling in my journal like a detective decoding clues or typing away at my keyboard like a caffeinated novelist, there's something magical about the art of words.You know those days when you've got a million thoughts racing in your head? Well, writing is like inviting those thoughts to a party and letting them groove on the page. It's like taking a mental snapshot of your mind and turning it into a story, a poem, or even a stream of consciousness that makes surprisingly more sense than you'd expect.And hey, let's not pretend we've all never had a love-hate relationship with writer's block. It's that moment when you stare at the blank screen and your brain decides to play hide-and-seek. But you know what? It's all part of the wild writing journey! Sometimes, I swear, my cat's more eloquent with its meows than I am with my sentences. 😸But here's the secret sauce – writing is all about showing up. Just like a good friend, you gotta meet it halfway. Some days, the words flow smoother than a river, and other days, they're more like stubborn pebbles in your mental shoe. But the magic happens when you push through those pebble-filled days. A sentence here, a paragraph there – you're basically building a word castle, and it's your world.So, to all my fellow writers, aspiring writers, and accidental poets out there – keep that ink flowing, or those keys clacking. Your words have power, they have personality, and they're uniquely you. And isn't that a beautiful thing?

Share in the comments – what's your favorite writing quirk? Do you type with your eyes closed, or do you keep a lucky charm by your notebook? Let's celebrate the words that make us tick!

Catch you in the next thought-spill.

#writing inspiration #writers block #first post

1 note · View note

saltymcsaltything · 2 years ago

Text

Comic Sans is also considered dyslexic friendly and improves readability. Not sure why, but as much as I don't love Comic Sans aesthetically, it really does help.

My dyslexia has a lot to do with my eye-motor issues from dyspraxia, and letter shape and spacing makes a huge difference in whether I see and process all of the characters correctly.

It's fascinating that it seems to make a difference in writing as well, but I wonder if part of that isn't how much we constantly reread what we have written mid-sentence as we either pause to think of the next word or the idea in the stream. Our eyes can dart around the previous words, consciously or unconsciously, because unlike already written prose, we aren't reading start to finish, we are rewinding and editing as we write, moving bits of text around, deleting entire paragraphs, and replaying previous text to help keep track of what we are writing, the ideas and people we are talking about, the flow of dialogue. I think maybe the complexity of those eye movements might put non-dyslexic writers into a state where they are more affected by the visio-spatial properties of the font and using a font that has good functional properties counteracts that.

Just a random, off-the cuff theory, but it would be fascinating to me if some of the writers who are trying this might become curious enough to play with Comic Sans vs. another font and pay close attention to whether it really is easier to read back bits of text and reorient to what you are currently typing, or if I'm just overthinking it.

If this *is* related to the same properties that make Comic Sans easier to read for a lot if dyslexic folks, other fonts that are popular choices for dyslexic accessibility might have the same effect. I'm partial to Segoe UI on Windows and San Francisco on Mac and iOS --Open Sans and Noto Sans are other alternatives that are considered highly accessible. I also use a larger font size - typically 14pt, and adjust line spacing to be at least 1.25.

If anyone finds the fonts mentioned above have the same effect, I would love to know. I am very interested in accessibility and while I am pretty versed in features that improve visual accessibility for reading text, I hadn't really considered visual accessibility for writing, and I am always trying to broaden my view of accessibility.

use comic sans to write

i hate this so much but this knowledge is too powerful to keep from you all.

last night @phaltu discovered that setting your font to comic sans in google docs improves writing speed and creativity by an insane amount. “no” i said and “die” but then i tried it and god. i wish it wasn’t this way. i wish it wasn’t true. i wish i could protect you all from this but it’s real.

something about this font is so disarming. something about this font lets you look past the shape of the words and into their soul. i’ve never written so much as i did last night, on my phone, at 2am, in comic sans.

if you have writer’s block. if you lack inspiration. if you need this. don’t be afraid to use it. sometimes the things we find most horrifying are also the things we need the most. trust me. let comic sans into your life.

155K notes · View notes

serendipitous-magic · 3 years ago

Note

What is your writing advice for young people who want to write fanfiction and original stories in the near future?

If this is just Way Too Much, skip to the end (#16). My most important piece of advice is there. I also happen to think #5 is pretty good.

-_-_-_-

1) Literally just write. Write whatever you want, and do a lot of it.

_-_

2) You don’t have to post everything. In fact you don’t have to post anything. You can, don’t get me wrong, but it can be intimidating to sit down and think “I will now write something that other people will see and read and judge with their eyeballs.” Because that’s probably gonna lead to nerves and writer's block. Just write down the ideas that you have, the things you want to write, whatever’s in your brain that you want to explore and expand upon and make into something. And then if you want to, share it. Or don’t share it. I have plenty of half-baked ideas and documents and random story chapters and shit hidden away on my Google Drive that will never see the light of day, for a whole number of reasons. I wanted to write it but it wasn’t ~Spicy~ enough to warrant posting, or it’s only like an eighth of a good idea, or it’s like one scene with no story around it, or it’s just something incredibly self-indulgent I just wanted to write for my own enjoyment.

Point being, don’t write for other people. Don’t write so that other people can read it; write what you want, write for yourself, and then if you want to share it, do.

_-_

3) You can pretty much ignore any and all of these for fanfiction. In fact, you can ignore pretty much any rules or guidelines you want for fanfiction. Fanfic is a sandbox. You don’t have to be a “professional writer” to post fic. No one expects you to be Stephen King or Margaret Atwood. Fanfic is just for playing in a fandom and having fun. If you wanna write a 50 chapter slow burn with very little plot aside from the OTP slowly getting to know each other, and no real stakes or central conflict, I guarantee people would read that. Really, fanfiction is the Old West of writing: lawless, wild, unpredictable, and free.

However, here are the rules you must follow:

-Separate your paragraphs. (I’m sure you know this already, but I’m gonna say it anyway just in case.) Do not post one big block of text. Make a paragraph break when someone new is talking, when the characters are in a new place, when a new event occurs that changes the scene, when a chunk of time has passed, and when there’s a major change in subject.

-I know it’s obvious, but... grammar, punctuation, and capitalization. They exist to make writing easy for readers to read, and more people will read your stuff if they don’t have to stop and try to figure out what you meant.

-Use tags and labels, as is possible with whatever site you’re using. Especially if you include possibly triggering content in your story. Again, I know it’s obvious, but it’s common courtesy. Bonus: tagging the themes and content of your story helps readers find it and read it :)

-If possible, limit the use of all-caps and exclamation marks / question marks. 99% of the time, one ! or one ? will do. If you overload the page with a lot of all-caps and long rows of exclamation marks or question marks, it hampers readability.

... That’s literally all I can think of. And, like I said, it’s all pretty basic stuff. You were probably rolling your eyes like, “Uh, yeah, Gwen, I know.” But that’s literally it. You can pretty much do whatever you want in fanfic.

That being said, here’s my advice for both fanfiction and original work...

_-_

4) A quick and dirty rule for coming up with a plot, starting a story, keeping up pacing, or maintaining tension: figure out what dreams, desires, and goals are nearest and dearest to your main character’s heart (see #16). Then set up the main conflict to be directly in opposition to that goal. It doesn’t have to be in a tangible way, though it could be. But, if your main character wants more than anything to reach the ships on the southern coast of your world and sail to a new life, make sure the main conflict immediately prevents them from doing that - in fact, make sure to send them north. If your main character just wants to keep their loved ones safe, kidnap the loved ones. If your main character just wants to date their best-friend-turned-crush, make sure they think they have no chance - or, make them cocky about it, and make sure it makes Person B determined not to ever like them. You get it. Figure out what your character most wants, and then keep them from having that. Boom - your conflict now ties in with your character's motivation. It's like instant yeast for plots.

_-_

5) If you’re anything like me, you want your first draft to be Good, despite all that advice about how the first draft doesn’t have to be good and it’s just to get words on the page, yadda yadda. And if you’re somewhat of a perfectionist (like myself), it’s easy to get stuck looking at a blank page because you don’t have The Perfect Words, and you want what you write to be Good the first time.

Here’s how I cheat that:

Instead of trying to write a Good First Draft from a blank page, hit the enter key a few times, skip a little down on the page, change your ink to red (or blue, or whatever - just something immediately identifiable as Not Black) and just thought vomit. Write whatever the hell you’re thinking, exactly as you think it. Don’t worry about it being readable, don’t worry about narrative flow for now, don’t worry about covering all the details, don’t worry about anything except either a) getting all the details of your idea out onto the page, whether that’s a lot or whether it’s just a sentence or two, or b) if you don’t have an idea yet, finding your way there.

Because this method is also very good for finding your way to ideas when you’re stuck in writer’s block.

Because of how human brains work, getting this stuff out onto the page - in all its messy, stream-of-consciousness glory - will likely spark more thoughts. As you write your original idea about the scene, it’ll likely spark more ideas. Creation begets creation. If you just start thought-vomiting your ideas onto the page, chances are you’ll think of more things as you go, and you’ll start filling out description or dialogue or tone or action or whatever, and pretty soon the scene starts writing itself.

Not sure where you’re going with the scene or which ideas you wanna use? Use a lot of ambivalent language in your “thought-vomit draft.” My pre-writing notes are chock-full of the words “maybe,” “perhaps,” and the phrases, “At some point...” and “...or something like that.” In this way, I don’t tie myself down to one idea; it’s just an idea, and I’m keeping it on the page in case I use it, but I might chuck it in the trash or change it or whatever.

And then, once your ideas for the scene (or story, or chapter, or whatever) are on the page, then go back to the top and start translating them into a “real” first draft. Use black ink, and start copy-pasting chunks of the thought-vomit up into the top part of the document and translating them into Draft 1. Separate out paragraphs where paragraph breaks should be. Add the correct punctuation and whatnot. Change “describe the lobby here - include potted plants, fancy carpet, blood stain, etc.” into an actual description of the lobby. Flesh it out, or condense, or whatever it needs. And if you’re still stuck, change back to red ink and ramble some more until you find a path that feels right, then plug that in. This keeps you from looking at a blank page, and it allows you to generate a kind of Draft 0.5, somewhere between a plan and a first draft.

You don’t have to use every idea. Like I said, jot down whatever comes to mind, put a “maybe” before or after it, and keep working. If the idea grabs you and you wanna keep expanding on it and exploring it, cool. If you just wanna jot it down so you don’t forget it and then move on, also cool. Red-ink draft / “thought-vomit draft” is your time to jump around in the timeline, add or finesse details at whatever point your brain moves to, etc. Don’t try to do it exactly in story order, because you will get tangential thoughts and ideas, and you will not remember to write them down five pages later when you finally get to taking notes on that scene. Trust me. On that note...

_-_

6) Write everything down the moment you think of it. Seriously.

“I’ll remember it when I get around to writing that scene in a couple days / weeks / months (/years).”

You won’t.

Write it down.

Phone, journal, google docs - hell, my family regularly laughs at me for grabbing a napkin during dinner and scribbling thoughts down alongside pasta sauce stains.

And then, once you have it written down somewhere...

_-_

7) Consolidate your writing ideas in one place.

Maybe this isn’t really your style, and that’s totally chill.

Buuuut, if you’re Type-A like me - or if you tend to be somewhat unorganized and you know you’ll lose track of your writing notes if they’re scattered across multiple notebooks, journals, napkins, phone notes, etc. - having one consolidated document of notes is a life saver. I keep mine on Google Docs so I can access it, add to it, and look through it for inspiration anywhere at any time. When I have one of those Shower Thoughts that I jot down on my phone or on a napkin during dinner, I set myself a reminder on my phone to type it up in my Story Ideas document later.

(Or, if the idea I had was for a story of mine that I’ve already started planning / drafting / whatever, I put it in the document for that story instead of the Big Random Story Ideas doc. You get it.)

_-_

8) Have other ways to collect and save writing ideas, besides just writing stuff down. If you like Pinterest, make pinterest boards of your characters or stories or settings or whatever. If you’re big into playlists, make a playlist for your character / setting / story / etc. Or both. Or something else. I’m not good at drawing, but maybe you are, and maybe you like to draw your ideas. Whatever form it takes, having another way to save ideas and think about your stories is invaluable.

_-_

9) Some writers can just start writing with no idea where the story is going, and they just kind of figure it out as they go. I envy those writers. And I do that sometimes for fanfiction, where the stakes are somewhat lower and the audience is reading more for scene-to-scene enjoyment (and to see their OTP kiss) than for a Driving And Compelling Narrative.

But here’s the thing: especially if you’re just kind of starting out, writing without some sort of plan is really, really hard, and will likely lead you into a slow, meandering narrative that will likely frustrate you.

Even if you think you’re someone that just can’t write with a plan (and again, I have the highest respect for pansters out there - I don’t know how you do it, you crazy bastards, but you keep doing you) - even if you think “I can’t work with plans, they’re too prescriptive, I just want to write and see what happens -”

Try at least making the most skeletal of plans.

Even if you have no clue what 90% of the story is, yet. That’s fine. But you need to have some idea of what you’re building to, even if that’s nothing more specific than a feeling, or a turning point for your character. Even if your entire plan for everything beyond Chapter 1 is, “At some point, Charlie needs to realize that Ed was lying to her.”

This is where those Draft 0.5 notes come in handy. Because, more than likely, working on your current scene that way will spark ideas for later scenes, which you can put down at the bottom of the document and save for when they become relevant. In my experience, the line between planning ahead and making a Draft 0.5 is exceptionally thin. One can quickly turn into the other.

If you’re really, really resistant to the idea of planning ahead, that’s okay. It’s not everybody’s style. But for the love of all that is holy, write down your ideas for future scenes, even if you’re a person that doesn’t like to plan and writes only in story order, because you will not remember that idea once you get to that scene.

_-_

10) You don’t have to write in order.

Here’s the thing: I’m a person that can only do my Draft 1 in story order (meaning, chronological order). I just have to be in that flow; I need to write in story order for me to best channel where the character is at from scene to scene, both narratively and emotionally.

But my Thought Vomit Draft is another thing entirely. By using the brain hack of putting my notes in red (or another color, it doesn’t matter) and going down to the bottom of the document / page and taking notes there, and then integrating them into whatever plan I have, and then translating them into Draft 1 once I get there in the story - by doing that, I can get my good ideas onto the page (and expound upon them and let my muse carry me and ride that momentum while I’m in the moment of inspiration) without writing out of order.

Maybe that’s just me. But if you’re a person who really prefers to write in story order, that could be hugely helpful to you. It is to me.

_-_

11) Emotion and motivation will do more for your story than technicalities of plot.

If your characters really care about something, and their journey through the (shaky or weak) plot is emotionally engaging, it will be a much more compelling story than a story with a “perfect” plot and unrelatable or unmotivated characters.

If your characters care about what they’re doing, and it means something to them, and their goals and actions are driven by dreams or fears or emotions that are integral to who they are, your audience will care too. If you have a perfectly crafted plot that hits all the right beats and has high stakes and fast pacing and drama - but your characters don’t connect with what’s happening in a way that’s deeply meaningful or emotional for them? You’re gonna have a hard time engaging readers.

When in doubt, prioritize character emotion and motivation over plot. Emotion is what drives story.

This power is highly exploitable. (Just look at pulp novels and shitty but entertaining movies.) You can even use it to glaze over plot holes or reinvigorate a limp narrative. Use it that way sparingly, though. It’s a band-aid, not a surgery.

_-_

12) Evil villains are hard to write - mostly because there are very few truly evil people in the world. (There are a few. Billionaires and several big name politicians come to mind.) But by and large, there aren’t that many evil people. There are plenty of bad people, but bad people have some good in them, somewhere in there. Trying to write an evil villain is hard, because they often turn very cartoony.

Here’s a tip: it’s much easier to write antagonists who aren’t evil. Even if they’re bad people. Of course, there’s no reason you can’t write a villain that’s just truly evil - a serial killer, or an abuser, or a billionaire, or someone who legit just wants to hurt people or blow up the earth or stay in control of an oppressed population, or whatever. But chances are, it’s gonna be really hard to make them feel real, and even harder to create a plot around them that doesn’t feel forced or contrived.

Instead, try writing an antagonist / villain whose motivations and goals directly clash with your protagonist’s - but not because they want to take over the world or see people suffer. Write an antagonist who’s chaotic good, but whose perception of the situation is completely opposite from your hero’s. Write an antagonist whose only desire is to save people, and who will do anything to achieve that goal - anything. Write an antagonist who believes in the letter of the law, and will hinder and oppose the hero’s methods even if they agree with the hero’s motivation. Write an antagonist who got in way over their head and did some things they regret, and now they don’t know how to get out, and they’re doing their best but whatever they set in motion is too powerful for them to stop now.

Write villains who are human. Write a killer who thought they were doing the right thing by taking their victim out of the equation, who vomits at the sight of the body and sobs over the grave they dig. Write a government leader who truly believes she’s doing what’s best for her people in the long-term, even if it might hurt them in the short term, and is willing to endure the hatred and belligerence of the masses if it means securing what she thinks is a better future for her people. Write a teenage bully that thinks they’re the one being picked on by the world, and they’re just fighting back, standing their ground. Write a scientist who will break any code of ethics and hurt anyone he needs to - in order to bring back his baby sister from the grave, because he promised her he’d protect her and he failed. Write an antagonist who is selfish and self-centered and capricious - because in order to survive they had to look out for Number One, and that habit ain’t about to break anytime soon.

Write villains who aren’t even villains. Write antagonists who oppose the hero because of moral differences. Write antagonists who are trying to do the right thing. Write antagonists who treat the heroes with kindness and dignity and respect and gentleness.

They don’t have to be good. They don’t have to be Misunderstood Sweethearts who “deserve” a redemption arc. They can be cruel and nasty and dismissive and callous and violent and etc. etc.

Just hesitate before you make them Evil-with-a-capital-E. Because evil is hard to write, and honestly, boring to read. Flawed human beings with goals and motivations that directly oppose the main characters’ are much easier to write and much more interesting to read.

Ask why. Why is your villain trying to take over the world? What does that even mean? Are they trying to create a Star-Trek-like post-capitalism utopia, but they know that won’t happen in a million lifetimes, so they’re trying to do it by force? Are they actually super in favor of human rights, but they got very impatient waiting for the world to do anything about poverty and war, so they decided to take it into their own hands? Are they determined to fix the world - no matter the cost? Are they terrified and overwhelmed, but committed to see it through to the end? Or - maybe they’re just doing it on a dare. Maybe they don’t really give a shit about world domination, they were just a mediocre rich white guy who decided to fuck around and find out, and now he’s kind of curious how far he can take this thing. And now he’s kind of an internationally-wanted criminal, so he’s kind of stuck living on his hidden private island in his multi-billion dollar secret base, strapping lasers to sharks’ heads for the hell of it. Gross, selfish, uncaring, and dangerous? For sure. Evil? Depends on your definition. See, now we’re getting somewhere.

_-_

13) It’s tempting to let the plot control the characters. It’s easy to drop your characters into a situation and see how they react. But here’s the thing: that doesn’t drive plot. In fact, it bogs down pacing. Instead, try to build you plot off of your characters’ actions and decisions. Let your character build their own situation. Not to say it should go they way they wanted it to go; in fact, usually, their grand plans should go to hell very quickly. But having the characters take action and make decisions, and letting the plot develop based on that, is much easier to make compelling than making a rigid series of events and then trying to herd your characters into them.

_-_

14) Having trouble justifying a character’s actions? Consider having them make the opposite decision, or having them approach the situation in a different way. For example: you need your character to go meet the bad guy, for plot reasons, even though there’s no way it’s not a trap. If the character goes, readers are gonna be groaning with their head in their hands, because c’mon man, that was really fucking stupid. But he’s gotta go, because the plot needs that. Two ways you might handle this: a) He knows it’s probably a trap. He decides not to go. The plot conspires to get him near the villain anyway. Or, b) He knows it’s a trap. But he needs to go, for (insert reasons here). So, he approaches it in an unexpected way. He brings backup, recruiting a side character we met earlier in the story. Or he arrives on the back of a dragon, because ain’t nobody gonna fuck with a dude on a dragon. Or he goes - early, and ambushes the villain. It may work, it may not. He may get himself kidnapped anyway. But it moves the plot along without having Stupid Hero Syndrome.

_-_

15) This is a legit piece of advice: if all of this sounds overwhelming, literally just ignore it and write what you want. For real. Writing should be fun, and every single writer operates differently. If you’re sitting here like “I’m getting stressed just reading this,” just flip me a good-natured bird and get on with your life. I promise I won’t take it personally. Same goes for literally any other writing advice you see. Lots of rules and guidelines can very quickly make anything thoroughly un-fun. Just write. If you’re passionate about it and you do it for long enough, you’ll start figuring out the tips and tricks on your own.

_-_

16) Here’s the best piece of advice I can give you: know your characters. More importantly, know what’s important to them. Build their personality and decisions off of that, and build your plot off of their decisions.

I see a lot of character building sheets that ask a shit-ton of questions like “What’s their most prized possession?” “Do they like their family?” “What’s their favorite food?”

And while these are good questions, my problem with this type of character building is that if you start there, with the little stuff, you’re building on nothing. IMO, to make a truly strong character (not strong like Inner Strength, strong like effective), you need a strong foundation.

Here are the things you must know about your character:

a) What are their greatest fears / deepest insecurities? And I don’t mean “wasps” or “heights.” I mean the deep shit. I mean fears like “living a meaningless life,” or “turning out just like their parents,” or “that no one will ever love them,” or “being powerless.” You may say, “But they’re really scared of wasps! They fall into a wasp nest when they were little and got stung so much they almost died!” Great! That’s a fantastic bit of backstory. They should absolutely be afraid of wasps, and that should absolutely be an impediment later in the story. But dig deeper. What about that event actually scarred them? Was it the helplessness? Stumbling around, swatting at the air, not being able to do a single thing to stop what was happening to them? Was it that they were alone, and no matter how loud they screamed, no one was coming? Was it the bodily horror of feeling themself turn into an inhuman creature as they swelled up from the stings, unable to move their fingers or face normally anymore?

And don’t forget insecurities, because those factor in, too. Are they deeply insecure about their identity? Do they believe, deep down, that they’re ugly? Did they grow up poor and they’ve always been really touchy about that? Why? Dig deep. Figure out what really, really bothers them.

b) What are their hopes and dreams? What do they truly want out of life? What do they consider the most valuable to their experience here in this thing called life? Is it the freedom to forge their own path and be independent? Is it the approval of their family or peers? Is it a home? Is it knowledge, or understanding? Spiritual fulfillment? Is it deeply important to them that they contribute to their community, or protect those they love? What do they need in order to feel truly and deeply fulfilled in life?

Figure out those two things (each one encompasses several things, btw, you don’t have to stop at just one for each), and then use that to inform how they behave and the types of decisions they make within the story.

It also informs character behavior and personality.

Let’s say we have a character who’s afraid of helplessness. They’re probably gonna be the person that always wants to do something, try something, no matter how hopeless the situation seems. They’d despise just sitting and waiting, probably, because it makes them feel powerless. They might even be the person that makes rash decisions and acts impulsively and puts themself in danger unnecessarily, because in their mind it’s better than being at the mercy of fate. This is one way you could use a character’s personality to inform their decisions, which in turn helps to inform plot.

Or, let’s say we have a character whose greatest fear is being left behind or forgotten. We may have a chatterbox on our hands. They might be obnoxious. They might love the spotlight, constantly vying for attention no matter the situation, because deep down they’re so afraid that they’d be forgotten otherwise. Or, it may go the opposite way. They may be so afraid of people leaving them that they’re terrified of bothering people. They don’t want to do anything that could annoy people, anything that might give people a reason to leave them. They might be exceedingly polite, quiet, accommodating. A push-over, really.

These are two nearly opposite types of personalities, both stemming from the same core fear/insecurity. You can go a lot of different ways with it. But if you build on that strong foundation, you’ll have a strong character, and a stronger plot.

Likewise, the structure of your story can and should inform the design of these character traits. If you need your characters to team up near the end, it may be impactful if you give your main character a deep fear of commitment, an insecurity about being unwanted or left behind, and make them highly value independence and freedom. That could make their team-up for the final battle very meaningful. Conversely, you can use your character’s deepest fears and desires to help design the plot. Is your character deeply insecure about voicing their opinions or taking a stand, because of trauma they faced in the past? Make them face that. Build that into the climactic third act. Give them the big inspirational speech where they stand up and talk about what they believe to be important, what they think the group should do. And then design that character arc to run through the story, giving you more handholds and stepping stones, more pieces of foundation on which to design the plot.

In this way, character should inform story as much as story informs character. It’s a feedback loop.

Bonus: if you build your character and your plot off of each other in this way, it automatically starts to build in the foundations of that emotional investment I mentioned earlier. If your character’s decisions are based on what they most want and do not want in life, you basically have your character motivation and stakes pre-built.

Note: you need to know these things about your villain, too.

-_-_-

I’m genuinely sorry about the length of this, lmao. But you did ask.

Best of luck!

Edit: I forgot an important one:

17) Start when the scene starts and end when the scene ends.

What do I mean by that?

If your notes say “Danny asks Nicole out after school and majorly flubs it,” start the scene when Danny approaches Nicole after school. Better yet, cold-open the scene on “I was wondering if, you know, you’d wanna. You know. Hang out some time?”

Don’t start that morning when Danny goes to school, unless you’re gonna cover the school day in like one or two sentences. Don’t spend whole paragraphs going through the school day, unless it’s to cover other plot points first (in which case apply these same guidelines there), or if the paragraphs are there for a specific reason, like to illustrate how stressed he is and how it seems like every little thing is going wrong. Even then, trim the fat as much as possible. Expounding and describing everything Moment-to-moment is for the meat of the scenes, not the leading-up-to and coming-away-from.

Here’s my rule of thumb: study how and when movies cut from scene to scene. Movies have exceptionally strict, limited time for storytelling; they’re excellent examples of starting a scene when the plot point starts and ending when it’s over. If you can’t picture a movie showing everything you showed, start the scene later and end it earlier.

#asks #anon #writing advice #writing tips #writing #fanfic writing #fanfiction #character creation #plot development #character development #my advice #original writing

731 notes · View notes

seravphs · 1 year ago

Text

I love stories set in summer!

The whole paragraph about cursed energy was so well written! I'm delighted and miserable at the same time. That and the part where Gojo sees the reader as a brighter soft haze gets me really into his perspective. He gets to experience such wonder (thinking of the euphoria of being the honored one) but at what cost? What's the worth in beauty that can't be shared? Isn't the value of art in the way it touches others and is endlessly translated and retranslated? Poor Gojo.

Okay forget the way you so perfectly convey feelings and scenes and everything, the way you write is innately so beautiful it just IS. 'Sorcerer somewhere in your bloodline but only the silhouette of it was left for you, broad strokes with no real power behind it' I AM SHAKING.

Reader's relationship with her parents...I'm listening...very excited to see how this develops in the series. BTW I LOVE THE BANNER I think it's minimalistically beautiful and tonally accurate!

Gojo's little list of things he knows about reader has me clutching my chest, what a little treasure trove of information. Banal and significant details all bound together...what are you thinking, Master Gojo?

Bye I hate him why does he say things like this lmaooo (about the part where he's saying it's kinky to call him master). Actually, I hate to say this, but I really like the way he talks because he sounds like a teenage boy (sorry I feel like I am doing a disservice to all the people of the world) but specifically the way you've written his dynamic with the reader. When he calls her his favorite maid and tells her to sit because it's an order.

I'm rewriting all of this because I ran out of tags which is very annoying because Tumblr doesn't tell me when I run out of tags so I only find out when I check the post and half my reaction is gone. Initially I was wondering if reader actually didn't know what happened with Getou or if she was trying to mess with Gojo in some way - but after reading the rest of the fic, I think she was being genuine! She doesn't seem like the type to be conniving and if she was being abused by her mother, perhaps she is out of the loop.

'You nodded as if you could possibly understand' SCREAMS. The gap between Gojo and the rest of the world is so wide but especially between him and reader. The power dynamic here has me shivering! He's the master of the house and you're just the maid! He's the all powerful honored one and you have just the barest drop of sorcery! BUT YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL IN WAYS THAT MAKE HIM WANT. Gojo pretends to be more experienced than he is but the reader can tell when he's lying! He knows things about her and she knows things about him! His energy absorbing yours...a show of his strength...while you call him out on his lies...I'm making noises like a dying animal.

The part about 'men don't turn down beautiful women, men dont' say no to sex' makes me so sad because I think it's something the elders would've taught him. The hierarchy of our world bleeds into jjk's power structure so they could share that 'bro-y' culture.

'Something Gojo held on to when he needed to feel human' I can't do this today, moving on!

This is so funny but painful lmaooo I'm begging reader to have mercy on Gojo. He's a virgin there's a chance he's going to internalize this in the future 😭

Is the 'at least' meant to parallel Getou or is it not that deep? Since we got a scene about how Getou left his trust in pieces before that and now reader's bumping up against the raw edges of it.

Oh no 😭 anytime Gojo brings up Riko in a fic I feel just awful over it. I don't know what would be better at this point - if he slowly started to forget the precise details of her or if he remembered everything with startling clarity.

I had such an intense stream of consciousness reaction to Gojo telling reader to run away where comments were just flowing out of me BUT TUMBLR DELETED ALL OF THEM what if I self immolate.

I think it was something about how the greatest kindness Gojo can offer reader is to leave this world - including himself - behind. The very best thing he can do for her is to let her go. Which brings me back to 'Love is the greatest curse of them all' and I know Gojo and reader probably don't love each other yet because as Gojo says himself, he barely knows her, but the point stands in some way. In this world, caring about someone is not always a gift.

Beautiful as always mint <3

Part One: Baby Blue

cw: mentions of abuse, sexual encounter with dubious consent. a character driven piece

It was the first day of summer.

Fireworks scattered across the sky, just far enough away for the fat of their blooms to be concealed by the inky treeline. They whistled up, they fizzled down, forming a slow pattern that cut through the cicada song. The sound sizzled like fire and the night burned nearly as hot.

Cursed energy moved the same way fireworks did: unpredictably and variation in patterns. Fractions of light that flitted between almost everything, it flitted and flowed in an unsteady beat, dissipating into the air and forming fractals that spiraled out into nothing. When items got close enough to each other, they fully connected, sparked webbings that looped and laced endlessly a beautiful and lonely world for only Gojo Satoru's eyes to see.

The meeting house seemed to cling to remnants of curses, its walls tacky with faded imprints. Nothing more than ghosts of people who had once past through and the brighter, soft haze of you.

There was sorcerer somewhere in your bloodline, but only the silhouette of it was left for you, broad strokes with no real power behind it. When he was young, the men on the grounds had whispered about what a shame it was that you weren't like your father.

Sometimes, he agreed. Other times the sentence sat heavy in his stomach.

Gojo pushed off the shoulders of his yukata, but being bare chested did nothing to break the sweat. Heat still hung heavy on his skin. This house was not only stagnant in energies; wind passed over the tree tops, but didn't reach down to touch anything air on the property.

A fuzzy, invisible string connected and Gojo knew you were near. He turned from the window before you even opened the door.

"Master Gojo." You bowed as you spoke, gaze cast low to the floor. The shadows moved heavy on your face and, for that moment, you looked like your mother in all the ways Gojo knew you would hate.

Over the years and infrequent meetings, he had learned a few things about you. Breakfast and lunch were your responsibilities, but dinner was deemed too important to be yours. You didn't sleep well at night, so you watched the stars and thought about everything and nothing. The fall weather always made you sneeze, your mother always made you cry.

That night, your eyes were puffy and bloodshot, more so than they usually were.

"Master, huh?" He cocks his head and a droplet of sweat follows the new curve of his neck, trailing down, down, down. "Kind of kinky to call me that when we're alone."

Your eyes followed the beadlet for a moment and a pride swelled in his chest. He was used to women looking - they've been vying for his attention since he was too young to understand what those gentle touches and long glances meant. Power attracted desire, even long before he could reciprocate.

The way you looked at him feels different. It felt earned.

"You're still a cunt, aren't you?" you breathed, incredulous.

And suddenly, it felt like you'd really entered the room. Those fractals rotated, sparks spun. For once, he was thankful to be the only one who could see this version of the world. If anyone else could, he might have been embarrassed at how palpable his joy really was.

"How's my favorite maid?" He patted the porch next to where he sat, "Sit with me. It's an order."

Just as you always did, you obeyed, walking across the room and coming down by his side. Usually, you'd have shed your traditional garments for something more casual to sleep in, but that night you were still dressed properly, with skirts pulled tight and neckline high. An unfamiliar scent clung to your skin, something much too mature for someone as young as you. Your mother wasn't someone to wear perfume, so he imagined you stole it from in between the pages of a magazine.

"You didn't bring your pretty friend this time."

Gojo wasn't aware of the silence between you until you broke it. A myriad of orange sparkles across the sky, fading out just as quickly as it had arrived.

"Oh? Which one?"

You stretched out, extending your legs past the perimeters of your skirts and pulling them back again. The fold of your leg pushed the fabric up, exposing much more thigh than Gojo is ready for. You've been beautiful since you were a child - beautiful in innocent ways, beautiful inherently- but you'd grown past that. You were beautiful in ways that made him want.

"The one with the fox eyes," you said, “Geto Suguru.”

The recent memory of betrayal was bitter between Gojo's teeth. The news of it all had spread so quickly, ripping through whispers and gasps, that he hadn’t thought of the possibility of someone not knowing.

"Nah." He sucked the word through his teeth. It would have been impossible, but he swore he tasted gunpowder and sulfur on the air, “We aren’t friends anymore.”

You nodded as if you could possibly understand.

"Gojo, I'm here to ask something from you."

You twisted to face him, eyes set strong and serious. Even in the dim of night he could make out how you sucked in air through your pursed lips to steady yourself.

"Have you ever..." You walked forward on your hands, pressing into his personal space. The tips of your fingers brushed against the sides of his thighs, so delicate he could barely feel it through the fabric. "Been with anyone?"

He scoffed and chuckled at the same time, almost choking on his own spit. Attention was not new, but touch? Touch was unexplored.

"Yeah," he lied. He moved in sync with you, leaning back on to his elbows to make space for your body to slot above his. It was unnatural and strange, but welcome all the same, "And I’m good at it.”

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you breathed. He tilted his chin up, closing the gap between your faces as much as he dared; any closer and it would have shattered the cocky swagger he feigned. It was you who broke the tension, slipping your fingers under the rim of his glasses and lifting them off, “And you’re lying through your teeth.”

The air pulsed with color - the deep blues and reds of his own energy absorbing yours for a moment, so vivid that it was all he could see.

“Is that why you came here?” he said, conceit dripping from his voice, “Come to steal the great Gojo Satoru’s V-card?”

“No," you replied, “I’m here to give you mine.”

You discarded your shirt. With an ease, your bra followed suit, tits exposed to the night air. It struck him that you were the first woman he'd ever seen naked in real life, imperfect in all the ways porn hadn't prepared him for, but incredibly, wonderfully real.

"Well?"

Gojo realized he had fallen still. You were there, waiting for an answer.

He would've been stupid to say no. Men don’t turn down beautiful women, men don’t say no to sex. Despite that, a bitterness clung to the back of his throat. He swallowed it down as he brought his hand to the elastic band of his underwear and pushed it down.

"If Geto was here, would you have sat on his cock instead?"

You don't hesitate. "No, I don't want my first time to be with a stranger."

That struck him as odd; despite the occasional encounter, he barely knew you at all, and yet you were straddling his waist, skirts gathered at your hips. If anything, the relationship between you was nothing more than a childish dream, something Gojo held on to when he needed to feel human.

"I thought it'd be…" You cocked your head as you gripped his penis, much too tight to be comfortable, "Firmer."

"Ouch," Gojo cooed, only part of his anguish performative, "Give a man a chance to warm up."

"We don't have time for a warm up," you insisted, "He'll kill me if he finds me here."

Before he could question, you moved again. Your panties were suddenly pushed to the side and he was suddenly very aware of just how close you were, core pressed against core. His body reacted the way you wanted it too, but that sick, bile taste rose again-

In some ways, Geto tore holes when he left, nibbled, frayed edges where trust should be. Whatever was between the two of you was different than whatever Gojo had with him, but those jagged pieces ached the same.

"At least-" Gojo fumbled forward, grasping for your face and any semblance of control. Once he had you, long fingers completely covering your cheeks and buried into your hair, Gojo tugged you close, noses bumping, "Kiss me first, damn."

When his lips met yours, you laughed. It's not what he expected, not what he imagined all those times the thought had crossed his mind. It was wild and arrhythmic and loud, uncontrolled and unrefined, so much so that he had to stop so your teeth didn't clash against his. When he dipped in for another kiss, you didn't stop, laughing against his lips and vibrating his face with sweet sounds. It's so sweet that he swore he could taste it, thick and lingering like honey, a flavor he hoped he could sear into his mouth and chest, never to forget.

Then, the taste of salt tinted his tongue.

Gojo pulled back just far enough to see your tears shimmer in the afterglow of fireworks. Suddenly, you didn't seem grown; you were just a child in the same ways he was. Comfort did not come naturally to him, instead locking his joints still in shock.

"Shit, you crying?" he said without thinking.

Wiping your eyes with the palm of your hand, you tried to dip back in for more, but a firm hand from Gojo denied you. That was the final straw; you slumped.

"I don't-" You huffed in, sobs trembling in the corners of your voice, "I'm sorry, I don't wanna do this-"

Gojo knew the taste of mania. The high, the bad choices, all of it followed by the crashing, horrible lows; he should have known something was wrong with you much earlier.

“I’m a little insulted you only want to fuck me because you’re having a mental break down- oi, quick cryin’, I’m kidding," He insisted, but you just kept sobbing, each moment growing louder and louder. When you were younger, your mother would bruise the backs of your thighs with a wooden spoon when she found you talking to guests when it was ‘unearned.’ It was fucked up then, but now, in his arms, it felt much, much worse. If he wasn’t here, would you have cried on your own? Would you hold in your feelings in silence?

“Shh,” Gojo patted your side, “Just say what's wrong.”

The night sat deep, the fireworks gone and the moon only a sliver. Even with his blackout glasses off, he can barely see you; the limited magic you carried dimmed itself down to nothing but dim. Like those glow in the dark stars kids hung on ceilings, he thought, a light so low he wasn’t sure if it was really there.

"Satoru."

Oh. That sat strange in his stomach. Satoru: so strange, so simple.

It struck him that he didn’t remember your name.The whispers about you were always Maid, Daughter, Idiot, Useless.

"Satoru, I'm getting married."

His stomach twisted again. No ring sat on your finger, no excitement laced your voice.

"Oh, shit. When?" Gojo said, “To who?”

"In ten hours," you said miserably, "Some Zen'in cuck//."

Gojo barked out a laugh at that.

"It's not funny!” You were always funny, even when you didn’t mean to be. “They paid my mom for me and this stupid house and now I’m gonna have to spread my legs for some- some- some-.”

It took a moment for Gojo to swallow this. Arranged marriage was supposed to be for the elites, people who carried some sort of weight with their family name, but it wasn’t uncommon for the Zen’in clan to use it to their advantage. This meeting house was a neutral ground, holy in the same ways as a shrine; if you -a beautiful girl with just enough potential to guarantee a curse-user heir- were the consolation prize for owning property…

He doubted a man would turn down this deal.

“Can’t you just… say no?”

You scoffed and covered your chest, suddenly aware of your own nudity like Eve bit the apple.

“Not all of us are important, Satoru."

Since childhood, Gojo had thought of you as normal. You were human, flesh and blood in the simplest, purest of ways, but that spark he had loved years ago had long been stamped out by the world.

And Gojo hadn’t treated you much better. Teasing you through the years, claiming you as a ‘girlfriend’, never learning your name; it was like you were a doll, a simple plaything he could abandon here and return to only when he felt like it.

Geto flashed in his mind for a moment. He’d revel in the ways you saw yourself deserving of this.

Riko would have liked you, he thought. It was a shame you never got to meet.

The world shouldn’t be allowed to cannibalize both of you.

“You should go.”

You pulled away and watched him with wild, wild eyes. Gojo thought that, for the first time in his life, someone might be seeing more clearly than him.

“What?”

He gestured into the forest. The boundaries of it had disappeared into the night, forming a single neverending block. The whole world was in that nothingness, waiting for the night to end or for you to explore it.

"You should run and never, ever come back to this shithole.”

You didn’t even consider it, drawing back away from him.You clutched for your shirt, pulling it back on sloppily.

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

“I can’t.” you press, “Where am I going to go? What am I going to do?”

He didn’t know the answer to that. It was possible you didn’t even have a proper education, let alone experience outside these walls. The human world wouldn’t be kind to you-

But this world never offered you any kindness either.

“I dunno,” he said, “But it’s gotta be better than staying."

The next morning, the buzz started before sunrise. The anger, followed by panic. For the first time maybe ever, he heard others call for you by name, searching every nook and cranny for a girl that had long disappeared. Your mother cried, but Gojo doubted the tears were really for you.

About midday, a dark haired man ducked into his room, wrinkles deepened in fury.

“Have you seen that-” The stranger bit back a curse, “That maid?”

He said maid the same way Gojo used to, with unnecessary weight to the word. If he had less sense, Gojo would have corrected him, but instead he shrugged.

“Why would I pay attention to a housekeeper?”

Luckily, the bra you had forgotten last night was tucked into his luggage already.

As tiny chaos unfurled, Gojo hung onto the memory of your figure disappearing into the night, only sparing him the smallest of glances before you were gone.

That was the last time he’d ever see you, he knew.

He was equally happy and horrified by that.

#sera reads #ns.fw

443 notes · View notes

lecafedezola · 2 years ago

Text

GIRL, WOMAN, OTHER

This book is, more than twelve short stories put one after the other, a whole novel divided in five chapters, subdivided in three parts, each one connected in one way or another to the preceding or following one. I feel like this describes the book better because it is a book about coherence, finding coherence, finding adherence, and roots, to our own story, whether it’s in work, love, family life or friendship, or anything in-between. But the tour de force of this book is that it leaves you picking up pieces, and respects the complexity of the characters to not wrap them up once they’re done : they continue to exist and expand even after the chapter ends. Amma’s chapter ends with her speculating on her daughter :

she hopes she comes home after university

most of them do these days, don’t they?

they can’t afford otherwise

Yazz can stay forever

really.

But it's never told if Yazz actually comes full circle and goes back home. Leaves you wondering, keeps the characters alive and never kills their intricacy. In Yazz’s case, it ends with another beginning for her mother :

and so it begins

The Last Amazon of Dahomey

the play

I appreciated Penelope’s chapter, not so much for the character she is in herself which I found so despicable —but the goal is not to make loveable characters but relatable and realer, logically-built ones (even though I don’t think the latter is an absolute rule at all and we should rather be careful with morally wrong writing and author becoming acceptable for the sake of a good characterisation and popular style), I appreciated it for the work on characterisation : Penelope yearns to be an author and writes and sees the world as such :

The lie was bad enough, although in years to come she came to understand their reasoning, rather, it was the cruelty in their telling of it

This is Evaristo’s incredible flexibility and realistic, observation-based creativity that transpires in this chapter. She incarnates her characters. Penelope has a way with words, for example :

her brain cells were popping like stars dying off into irretrievable oblivion

Each chapter is different style-wise. Of course she keeps the punctuation-free rhythm-orientated, free verse narration that characterises a lot of her books (the emperor’s babe is entirely written in verse).

the evarisonian portrayal

How does Evaristo build a character?

I. accumulation as a description paragraph

Penelope, on the other hand, was tall for a girl at almost five-nine, with the full natural pout and hazel eyes that sealed her reputation as a glamorous beauty at school, she wore her curly, strawberry-blonde hair in a style à la Marilyin Monroe, had ‘a light dusting of freckles’ around her nose, and acquired an easily-won suntan in summer, considered très chic because it gave her a St Tropez glow

à la jet set

II. gives away names and references

quickly scrolling down the reading list for her ‘gender, race and class’ module on her phone, what about Kwame Anthony… Aimé Césaire, Angela Davis, Simone de Beauvoire… Cornel West and the rest?

III. adapts her style to fit the character’s way of thinking, their state of minds.

The rhythm adapts to Shirley’s, we imagine, strict, passive-aggressive, tense tone voice after being interrupted by a younger female teacher she thinks is going to replace her and is her rival :

now

was

saying

She does so without abandoning her own political statement, that she knows how to make catchy. Indeed, sometimes we depart from the character’s very stream of consciousness and own inner thoughts as the backbone of the text to small hints here and there yet visible through the punctuation or the rhythm flow of the sentence :

she and other young women, bonded by motherhood and little else, exchanged advice on how to manage their children, husbands and cook the latest must-have new dishes

Penelope later gets introduced to the Feminine Mystique and reads it often.

The scattered, one-word-per-line writing matches Penelope’s hazzy state of mind after being revealed a family secret. This is not Evaristo’s invention, but she mastered it :

there was no paper trail

she was a foundling

anonymous

unidentified

mysterious

putting art at the centre

The common thread of the book is most probably the first character introduced, Amma, and her play, “the last Amazon of Dahomey”, which ends the book too. While you read, you get to know a lot of different characters (12) who, depending on the chapters, are either blood-related (Amma, Yazz), friends (Amma, Dominique), were teacher-pupils (Carole and LaTisha with Shirly, or Mrs King), but it’s not excluded you see a unexpected but familiar chapter one name pop out, almost out of the blue, in the third chapter. But Evaristo leaves nothing to chance : even though her free verse writing and free-flowing storytelling can discourage some, or lose others in this warren-like narrative scheme (countless names and character developments, or rather details-deepenings, going from one period of time to another, going from the grandchildren to the children to the mother of a 90-something farm-owner with a big family), there’s a beginning and an ending, something to wrap the whole thing : Amma’s play. I loved that Evaristo put the play as the common thread, the linear goal of all these stories. In the last chapter, we see lots of the characters interacting at the opening night after-party, analysing and debating over the play, without ever giving one easy answer that’d stand as the truth. Each character, whether you agree with their opinion or not, adds something to the whole picture. But the wrapping ending is also one of many messages of the book i.e finding your true family, your true self, your people.

I’ve seen critiques saying that this book is “exuberant” “sexy” and “bold” and I agree, but I think I would add that this book is also genuine and cherished. It may be a pretty bland thing to say about a piece of work, but I haven't exactly felt this level of passion and attention in an author before. But it is because Evaristo writes logically-built, coherent, realistic characters whom she seems to care for deeply and by doing so, she achieves the ultimate goal for an author : to put your reader in your characters’ shoes, even when they do and say things you’d hate, or simply when you don’t agree with them. Her complex character’s building and intricate storytelling are more than enough to make every single character interesting and outstanding, and to take something out of their stories for you to carry with you. Because another thing about girl, woman, other is that it’s generous : it gives you art, queer experience and healthy and unhealthy lesbian love, details, black womanhood and black identity, poetry, humour and literary experience, so much so that you’ll never want to drop the book, and you’ll be left with an overwhelming, fuzzy feeling once you’re done. And before you know it, you’re back at it re-reading your favourite characters’ life stories!

the sixteenth of august twenty twenty-two

#bernardine evaristo #girl woman other #book review #wlw books #lesbian #book blog #reading #blog post

4 notes · View notes