#worst writeblr ever

[writtenbymarlo]

editing your own writing is like telling your baby it’s ugly

[melodicwriter]

[charbroiledchicken]

does anyone else die inside a little when they do novel outlining? like i love the brainstorming/daydreaming stage as much as the next person, but actually getting it down into words? in chronological order? in a non-confusing way? i would rather jump out a window into burning fire and then inhale a jar full of bees.

[drchenquill]

Me, talking about any of my characters: They have so much depth, their mind is so complex with so many layers, each more unique than the other.

Me, talking about Azul:

[reneesbooks]

writing share tag

pulling an old one from @space-writes <3 anybody remember the dragon wars au here's birdie and fabin discussing. well not their feelings. but something like that

"You can't seriously be considering this," Birdie demands, launching to her feet. Every muscle in his body is tight, warning her to stay back, but she ignores the curl of fear in her stomach. "Those villagers are innocent, they don't deserve this!"

"You don't need to concern yourself with the war," he says, his knuckles white around the hilt of his sword. His back is to her, the hand not on his sword gripping the central post of their tent with such force she can hear the wood creaking. "This isn't yours to handle."

"Because I'm just your whore," she seethes, and he whirls around with anger burning in his gaze, but she keeps going. "I'm not someone who you talk to, who you even care about; I'm just something you stick your cock into when you're bored, or need a pick-me-up after a long day."

He stares down at her, his fangs digging into his lower lip, and she trembles with anger and fear. Silence presses down on them until all she can hear is her own pounding heart.

"I do care about you," he says quietly, and she thinks for a moment that she misheard him. His hand comes up and she flinches, but he cups one side of her face with more gentleness than she thought him capable of, and it makes something in her tremble. Fabin's thumb sweeps over her cheekbone, his eyes burning into hers before they drop to her lips. "I…" He says something in Draconic, closing his eyes. "It's because I care about you that I need you to let this go. I won't put you in danger."

"How am I in danger?" she presses, watching his expression twist. "I am here; you said yourself they'll never find me."

"It's not the villagers," he says, his voice tight and frustrated. "I am not the most powerful person in Fierodia. There are those who would throw you from the cliffs above the City." Birdie swallows a sudden lump in her throat, seeing him wince at some memory. What threats against her life had been made to him? "So you will stay out of this and I will handle it."

tagging @oh-no-another-idea @k--havok @serenanymph and anyone else who sees this and wants to share something <3

[vsaintsin]

A trend I've noticed in most online writing communities is that people HATE the editting/revisions stage of writing. Often with a passion, almost? Maybe it's just my hyper-literal brain misunderstanding a bunch of sarcastic jokes but idk?

The first draft is always where I feel least at home with a story. It's messy and too cramped and too open and I wind up with 600 separate docs containing various versions of the story and I'm mostly puzzling them all together but sometimes I can't even be all that sure they're in English because they're such nonsense to my language processor. God Forbid first draft V remembers that settings exist at all or that anything might need to be described in ANY WAY.

I love editting and revisions. That's when I get to watch my stories turn into SOMETHING and not just a garbled string of consciousness desperately trying to cling to themes and context and continuity.

My first draft is just stick-built suggestions of a house, editting and revisions are the walls and the flooring and the furniture and everything that makes the story feel like home. I love that process. It's where I strain all my confidence in my work from, when I finally feel like I'm doing more than yelling into the wind.

Maybe that's the artist in me that dreads starting any kind of illustration but loves the rendering process. Maybe it's the part of me that knows that the life of the work is in the part that AI just can't do - the human hand that adjusts and tinkers and is thoughtful of single lines that maybe nobody will ever notice.

Probably though I'm just a chronic over thinker who likes to be able to find a practical application for something that usually causes me so much trouble.

[superbeans89]

No one:

Porn writers:

[ghostmarmot]

While I haven't been published in too many, I have slogged through the submission requirements for many (dozens!) of places, and I can say, without a doubt, these are the worst I have seen.

Pages? No word count listed, which is unusual, but not unheard of. Usually some form of font size or spacing is mentioned and always has been on those listing page numbers only. On some of the larger zines and for tradpub, they even specify the font for submissions.

This is everything. No mention about what they want the zine to be geared towards, no themes, nothing. That sounds great, right? Easy to get into? Except that a zine that changes themes or never even arrives at one will have a hard time getting a subscriber base. And most people know that, so they definitely have a plan for the zine. So you're going to be upsetting a lot of people who submitted good pieces that don't fit your idea, simply by not being clear about your submission guidelines. Which will cause a lot of frustration for the staff and the submittors, who may have pieces that fit better, they just didn't know what was being looked for.

And the next complaint is mostly a minor one, but a WordPress account is free. If your sole point of contact for people is Instagram for things that are the written word, I think they may be a bit lost. How are people going to download the zine? Or, if it's as I suspect, they are just going to post the images of the pieces on their account, can that really be called a zine?

[mintandcreme]

I’m so sad 😭 I had a dream with an amazing Soljae fanfic idea, and then I woke up so excited, only to not remember a single detail. WHYYYYYY 😭 rip 😔

[nixie-writes-and-reblogs]

Can someone please give me some girl names that mean memory or new life or something like that? Google is absolutely no help😭

[jukeboxwitharms]

Just hit 50k in the new wip estimated amount left 10k(probably 15k) huge win everywhere.

[avocado-frog]

Happy STS! What is the best novel you've ever read? What did you like about it, from a storytelling perspective? Has it influenced or informed your own approach?

Hi thanks I've got another ask from you from like two weeks ago that I forgot about whoops

On the jellicoe road has had me in an absolute chokehold since December. It took me a while to get into it because it's a little confusing for the first 100 pages, but my English teacher last year gave it to me because I didn't get a book from the library (it's also worth noting that he gave me a copy that did not have the title on the front, and it was scratched out on the spine, so i did not know what the book was called until i looked it up later)

From a storytelling perspective, it follows two storylines, one is the present, the other is about 20 years into the past, and I'm not going to spoil too much of it, but the parts from the past are written by the protagonist's caretaker, and are in third person, while the present bits are in first. It's definitely worth a reread because of the way the two storylines tie up in the end

I don't think it's really influenced much of my own writing, but I do think that my characterization skills have improved because of it

[brianmostcertainlymay]

Pulling a timeline of plot details for the super secret self-indulgent self-insert fic, and let me tell you, it isn't as fun as it sounds. ;- p

[ahungeringknife]

365: May 28

DNI if you're a Mara stan. We are not the same.

---

Uldren stood akimbo in front of his sister's Kell throne watching a pair of Corsairs bring in a single woman. One held her by the arm. A Guardian by the Ghost floating at her shoulder but her face was covered by a helmet and hood. He cocked his head looking at her and stepped down from the dais. "Well well what do we have here?" he sneered as she approached. "Trespassers was it?"

The woman pulled her arm out of the Corsair's grip. "No. I have an introduction. Your Corsairs threatened to blow me out of the sky before I could do anything."

He almost laughed. It came out more like a cough. "An introduction, for a Guardian? Who knew you luddites knew proper decorum when visiting royalty," he sneered.

"I can't imagine why Guardians wouldn't follow procedure when they have this to look forward to," the woman said. "Where is the Queen?" and she stepped forward. Or tried to. The Corsairs grabbed her by the arms to stop her.

"I don't know why you think the Queen meets with anyone who trespasses in the Reef?" Uldren asked, stepping closer, one hand comfortably curling around the grip of his knife.

"I wasn't trespassing," the Guardian said. "And if she's not here I'll wait." She yanked her arms out of the Corsairs' grasp and folded her arms. Uldren eyed her. There was something... familiar about her. Like a word on the tip of his tongue. "But I'm not leaving. I will see the Queen."

"So aggressive just like all Lightbearers," Uldren scoffed. "Perhaps the Queen will acknowledge you and-

"Yes. I will," and he straightened from his leering at the sound of Mara's voice. He turned as Mara stepped out from around her throne. "What does it want?"

"This Guardian claims to have an introduction."

"I will take it," Mara said as she slid onto her throne languidly.

Uldren did his best not to scowl and turned back to the Guardian, holding out a hand. "Let's have it," he ordered sharply. The Ghost dropped a sealed letter onto his hand. He stalked back to his sister. Before handing it to her he used his own knife to pop the seal to save her having to do it. Then he handed it to her, unopened.

Mara delicately opened the paper introduction and her ice blue eyes scanned it. 'Aldrix Soshohl cannot be trusted,' Mara's voice drifted across the front of his mind. Uldren struggled to remember who that was. He couldn't recall. A nobody of import then. But a Reefborn if Mara knew them. All Uldren knew was Aldrix had given this Guardian an introduction and he was no longer welcome near the heart of the Awoken. Whatever asteroid he'd called home would be where he died.

Mara finished reading the introduction and casually tossed it onto the throne, unimpressed by the introduction. "It doesn't know how to be polite in front of royalty. Soshohl said it was," Mara said dismissively.

"Pardon, your... Majesty," she said slowly. "We don't have royalty on Earth-

Uldren couldn't help the choked laugh that escaped his lips. "Isn't that what your Warlords were?" he sneered.

"Well I don't know what those would be either. Is it the helmet?" Then quieter, almost too quiet for Uldren to hear, she said, "Lightless so weird about the helmet." She pulled it off with a hiss of her suit decompressing.

Uldren wasn't the only one who flinched when 'Rhyla,' ripped through his mind from Mara all searing iron that for a moment left him unable to talk. The two Corsairs also flinched away and shivered as the name echoed through their own minds. This name Uldren did know and it was one of the few times Uldren had ever seen his sister angry. So angry not even Sjur had been able to soothe her. It had been a foolish mistake but one that had upset many of her plans and left her humiliated. He couldn't even try and tell Mara she was wrong, mistaken. It was Rhyla. Or the woman who'd been Rhyla. Now there was a dead thing walking around in that girl's body. He was sure her mother would be beside herself if she knew. There was no disputing the purple eyes or the pale cerulean skin. So much like her aunt and yet not nearly as useful.

"I didn't mean to insult. I'm here for help," the Rhyla shaped thing said.

"And what help do you think you need?" Uldren asked, yellow eyed narrowed.

"I need to get into the Black Garden," once-Rhyla said.

Uldren didn't flinch visibly but his mind recoiled at the very name. "Why?" he asked and it almost caught in the back of his throat.

The once-Rhyla frowned and looked at her Ghost. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Do you know where it is?"

Uldren laughed. Laughed off the dread curled around his shoulders. Laughed off the red flowers that sprang to his mind. "Everyone knows where it is. The hard part is getting in."

"Well I was told you could help me."

"By who?"

"Look, can you help me or not? If you won't then I'll just stop wasting both our times," she huffed. "I didn't come to play games. I am here on business. Help me or I'll just leave."

"And why...would we...do that?

"Brother," Mara said making him turn and look. "A word," and she stared into him.

He cast a baleful look at the Guardian and went back to his sister. He took a knee by her throne. "You don't think we should help that thing, do you?" he asked her quietly, nearly at a whisper.

Mara had turned from him and was looking at once-Rhyla. Staring at her from her throne like she wanted nothing more than for once-Rhyla to drop dead for the second time. "If it goes into the Black Garden it may never come out. If it fights a Gate Lord it will probably just kill it," Mara whispered back.

"If you feel that is wise," Uldren said.

"How dare it show its face to me like this," Mara said, tight lipped. "I would send it to its death for the humiliation. Tell it what it needs to know," her blue eyed met Uldren's briefly.

"Yes, that's good. That's good. Why not?" he stood up from where he knelt and faced the Guardian, stepping down from the dais. "We'll make you a key...how's that? All we need is the head of a Vex Gate Lord."

The Ghost and Guardian-that-looked-like-Rhyla shared a look before looking back at Uldren. "Why do you want a Vex head?" she asked.

"Oh, we don't...and I doubt we'll get one either. But it's your only hope of getting into the Black Garden," Uldren said with a slow smirk.

Once-Rhyla sighed. "More fetch quests," she said more to her Ghost than to him. "Fine. We will return," she nodded at him, overly confidant.

"Or die on Venus. Either way," Uldren said and his least charming smile.

"I don't do that," and then with that she turned on her heel and walked off, he waved the Corsairs off and they followed the Guardian to make sure she returned promptly to her ship.

Uldren looked back at his sister. "Are we really going to help that thing?" he asked her mildly, hanging limp before the dais like a puppet on loose strings.

"Who's killed a Gate Lord?" Mara asked instead.

"Alone? No one. Not even one of those Guardians," he scoffed.

"Then we will not see it again," Mara stood up from her throne.

"But if we do?" Uldren asked.

"Heh. Let the Garden kill it if the Gate Lord couldn't. Lightbearers are weak, fragile things, tied to their Ghosts."

"Should we tell her parents their daughter is dead?"

"They know," and Mara left. Uldren stood there after she was gone for a few more moments before he too went to tend to his Crows.

[deanwax]

If you wanna build a world where a certain class of people is privileged enough to feel comfortable doing just about anything and you want that to be a bad thing, consider someone in broad daylight in a public place, pissing into the bushes from the footpath. They hear someone approaching on the path, turn, see them, scowl, turn back, adjust their footing slightly and then continue pissing. They put their genitals away and then turn and fix the stranger with an angry glare as if they have invaded their private space by the act of using the footpath for walking instead of pissing.

'Cos that's exactly the cunt I just passed on my walk today. The reality of privilege is not always glamorous. It can, and should, be disgusting to everyone involved at times. The ignorance of the privileged isn't that they don't know they're privileged at all, it's that they know they are doing something disgusting and they still have the gall to be defensive about their actions and act as if the other people are the problem.

[bunnymermaidwrites]

This was totally accidental on my part, but Endre truly goes from being this hissing wet cat of a preteen to having a major glow-up in his teens and onwards, and I think that's quite realistic, actually