thewritingcoroner

[thewritingcoroner]

enough about how torturous writing is and how much we all suffer. i luv writing. tag ur favorite part of writing/ur fav thing to write. i <3 dialogue

[thewritingcoroner]

i may not have the magic words to fully express how i feel, but the world is better with trans women in it. my life is better with trans women in it. you are a warm light in the dark and your existence brings me and many others joy. you are my sisters and my dear friends. i love you and i'm glad you're here.

[thewritingcoroner]

White men are so fucking funny sometimes. Here is an actual transcription of a conversation I had at work once, names changed but only slightly:

White Man: "Hi, I'd like to sign up for a gym membership. I've been here before, I should already be in your system."

Me: "Cool, what's your first and last name?"

Him: "David Smith"

Me: "Not finding a David Smith in our system."

Him: "Try John Smith."

Me: "John Smith.. let's try searching for your phone number."

Him: "Okay. I go by John sometimes because there's always a David Smith."

Me: "So you changed your name to.. John Smith? Because the David was too common?"

Him, not a hint of irony: "yep!"

Me:"... found your phone number. You're under Ryan."

Him: "ohhhh yeah Ryan is my middle name. Helps differentiate between me and the other David or John Smiths."

Me: ".... okay that'll be 50$"

[thewritingcoroner]

[thewritingcoroner]

The significance of plot without conflict

In the West, plot is commonly thought to revolve around conflict: a confrontation between two or more elements, in which one ultimately dominates the other. The standard three- and five-act plot structures–which permeate Western media–have conflict written into their very foundations. A “problem” appears near the end of the first act; and, in the second act, the conflict generated by this problem takes center stage. Conflict is used to create reader involvement even by many post-modern writers, whose work otherwise defies traditional structure.

The necessity of conflict is preached as a kind of dogma by contemporary writers’ workshops and Internet “guides” to writing. A plot without conflict is considered dull; some even go so far as to call it impossible. This has influenced not only fiction, but writing in general–arguably even philosophy. Yet, is there any truth to this belief? Does plot necessarily hinge on conflict? No. Such claims are a product of the West’s insularity. For countless centuries, Chinese and Japanese writers have used a plot structure that does not have conflict “built in”, so to speak. Rather, it relies on exposition and contrast to generate interest. This structure is known as kishōtenketsu.

Keep reading

[thewritingcoroner]

Trying to give myself permission to write something fun and shallow vs striving for depth and intricate plot lines. Like. My wlw romantasy is just not going to say anything particularly profound about governmental responsibility and the dangers of monarchy. You know what it is gonna say? These gay idiots are gay for each other!

[thewritingcoroner]

I need more people to actually read and listen to bipolar people discussing our own experiences because there's no reason i should have to spend an entire documentary series about elisa lam (who was bipolar) watching random youtubers say "Her behavior didn't make sense! Her mental illness had nothing to do with it!" about things that are all incredibly fucking common symptoms of bipolar disorder

[thewritingcoroner]

My name is Casey Jones. I'm just an American in a land overrun by roaming monsters called The Terrorists. This land is protected by rulers called Presidents, each descended from a noble Founder House.

One time, during a blood test, the results showed that I was one of them. I was an Elite. I was a President.

Now forced to attend the Presidential Academy of Defense, I am taught by instructors Patton and McArt, as I learn to harness my Presidential Power. Will I be able to survive with.... The Blood of Washington?

Featuring: Enemies to lovers, villain relationships, 🌶️🌶️🌶️, Eaglecore aesthetics, Deadly War Academy, morally grey sigma heroes, and an intriguing new feminist take on American Mythology.

[thewritingcoroner]

rising shards comic sans powerpoint

you can read rising shards here!

and here!

you can read evy and stella (18+ series) here!

and my patreon is here!

and my other big series reborn in a fighting game with my rival here!

[thewritingcoroner]

Happy New Year 2025 from WWC

Hello everyone,

Merry, cheery holidays! The WWC team and I have been making many silent strides closer to a writingwithcolor.org.

What we've been up to

While the going has been slow, we've made a lot of progress since raising donations from you guys to go towards a .org, which we've secured ever since. With this support and encouragement, we plan to maintain the blog as a permanent resource.

As for progress and use of donations

Times have been busy and oh, so trying, but we're trying harder. Also, donations (and free time) have been going to good use.

For instance, we've:

Cleaned up (Added, removed, renamed, combined) WWC post tagging for clarity and consistency.

Created mirroring pages on new blog (e.g. navigation, stereotypes and tropes navigation, etc.)

Migrated all blog posts to our standalone blog (4000 some posts)

Maintained the URL ($12 a year, Writingwithcolor.org, hidden from view lately as we get closer to launch, although we've had it redirecting to Tumblr only until recently)

Overall building out blog content on the host site ($15.99 a month)

Next steps are to:

Finalize our theme (The fun part)

Finish blog post cleanup on the migrated posts (WIP!).

More actions at a latter date after publishing

Currently, I have been going through each and every post, one-by-one, to:

Edit, update and refine content

Fix broken links

Improve accessibility, particularly on image-heavy posts

A lot of changed in the world since 2014, so we want even our earliest posts to reflect today's standards or at least note if something is olden days or we have a more helpful post or resource since.

Example of a post on the .org. Final theme and colors not applied yet

Soft launch and new hopeful publish date

This is the end stretch before we have an official SOFT LAUNCH!

We're considering it soft since there are just some things we can't easily correct yet or will just make everything take even longer to wait on. We'll continue to cross-link between here and there as we work on getting it all centralized, though.

But to be clear, as intended, we'll continue to post on tumblr as well as long as it sticks around.

Our new prospective publish date is for Spring 2025, in which we can also re-open to questions, release new guides, invite new members, etc. etc.

But who knows - perhaps we will get a chance to answer some questions in between then.

Thank you and let's catch up!

All of your support and patience has been so appreciated. Thank you for sticking around throughout the extended hiatus. Nonetheless, I do hope our robust depository of existing answers, detailed guides, recommendations, reblogs and so on has been helpful with your creative, professional and academic pursuits.

What have you all been up to? What strides have you made in 2024 and what goals do you have for 2025? Have you published any works? We want to hear it all. Share with us on this post!

Wishing you all a happy and healthy 2025,

~Colette and WWC team

[thewritingcoroner]

Thinking about him (the soldier in Poynter’s Faithful Until Death painting watching an apocalypse unfold around him with horror in his eyes as he tries to keep himself standing beneath a doorway, based on an actual 19th century archeological find of a man in full soldier’s garb under a doorway at Pompeii)

[thewritingcoroner]

Was talking with one of my very lesbian friends about body dysmorphia and how you can look at a fucking gorgeous woman who has a lot of the same qualities as yourself and not realize that the complement also applies to yourself. I asked her if she'd been watching Dancing With The Stars this season and she said no.

So i showed her a picture of Ilona Maher from this week's episode.

Her response:

"Thigh. Thigh. Thigh. Thigh. Thigh."

So anyway, the takeaway here is that one person's 'too masculine' is another person's 'thigh.'

[thewritingcoroner]

in all seriousness it's very alienating knowing theres Something Wrong With You. like seeing your mental illness come through in your behaviour and thought processes and knowing it's irrational and unhealthy, knowing other people are reading you as weird or stupid, and not being able to do anything about it is such a lonely experience

[thewritingcoroner]

I made a bluesky 🤔 thinking long and hard about deleting my Tumblr account. I'd keep my Fandom connects on my sideblog but that's about it

[thewritingcoroner]

"Before You Write/View That Violent or Villainous Scene With That Black Character, Consider:"

A list of things to ask yourself to better comprehend your own motivations while writing, or to comprehend the potential racist bias you may feel about or see in someone else's writing! Whole lesson linked here.

[thewritingcoroner]

you said you were stuck in a time loop, which was fine. i feel like late-stage capitalism has us all in a time loop, ammiright? you came barging in at 5:33. in the morning. i hadn't even processed the idea of coffee.

but you had this look of utter panic in your eyes. terror like the ocean. you grabbed my cheeks. im in a time loop.

i don't know why in movies the first reaction is to deny it. when someone is panicking like that, it's not appropriate to ask them to calm down. it didn't matter if i believed it, what mattered was that you believed it so much that it was consuming you.

so here we are. i pour you some of the dark roast. "you look like utter and entire hell," i say.

you push your fingers into your eyes. "you always say that."

i try to think of something funny to say that i wouldn't have said on previous time loops, but jokes don't land without the proper timing (lol). "remind me to think -"

"-yeah, of a joke that only works in the future. and before you say anything, i know you're pissed i just stole your punchline." you bolt the coffee, which is wild. it's very hot. you don't seem to notice.

i blow on mine to cool it down. i both am very pissed at you and also i can't see you in this amount of panic without wanting to help. but i'm also not really sure what we are, not since i saw you kiss her like that, no offense. it just was like, kind of rude when you knew i liked you.

and besides. i'm just like, barely a person. i write omegaverse fanfiction. i love the concept of a time loop, but what the fuck am i gonna do? send an alpha in there? i open my mouth.

you point at me. "you're about to ask why me. and then say some disparaging shit about yourself. i'm just a nerd who plays dnd or something. that self-own is slightly different each time." you sigh. "i know you think you can't really help me. i don't know who can help me. i only came to you because you fucking believe me." you check your watch, sigh, and throw your head back. you cover your eyes with one hand. "i've come here on 26 separate revolutions," you say. "you have believed me every time. and yeah, i have no idea how you fit into this but i just -" you sigh again. "i just like fucking talking to someone about it."

"do you need more cof-" i start, but you're already holding the empty cup out. i frown at it. "you're not getting any more until you promise not to bolt this one like an animal."

you laugh a little and sit up, pushing your hair out of your face. "okay, that's new dialogue. but to be fair to you, i'm not usually this rude. i'm still pretty new at all of this." you check your watch again. another sigh. i guess you're cruising for a personal best in the Sigh Olympics.

i almost tell you im not an NPC but i've played enough video games. to know i'm very much an NPC. i pour you another cup. "so what happens in the loop?"

"really bad explosion." you mutter into the mug. you put your elbows on the table (rude) and bury your face in your arms like an angsty teenager. one hand floats up while you talk, because evidently you literally can't talk without your hands. "i have to save the day and there's this bomb and i have no bomb training and it keeps moving, you know."

"do i die?"

you peek up from your arms. "yeah. bigtime. you keep trying to run or stay or do anything and you always super die."

"oh."

"to be fair, like, everyone dies in it though.... so you're in good company."

i hate that you make me laugh. i hate that being around you always feels tingly and strange, this electric tension between us. something that is evidently (given how you stuck your tongue down a stranger's throat literally 3 days ago) (well. 3 for me) super one-sided. i take a sip of my coffee and close my eyes.

i die today, i guess. a little spark of panic starts at the top of my hands and starts whipping up my wrists.

"shit," you say. you look at your watch and jump to your feet. "i have to go. if i can come back, i will. i am still trying to figure out when is best to do everything, you know? the order of stuff. maybe morning isn't good for us."

i look up at you and think about how you keep kissing me in the back of my car and in alleyways and in the dark. and i can never fucking get a read on you. and i also think about how incredibly panicked you look. how broken. how long have you been doing this? "i don't want to die," i say.

you glance downwards. "well, you're not really dead, you'll come back in the loop."

"but i will have died." my hands are shaking. i am trying really hard to stay calm.

you push your hands through your hair again. "i really have to go. i will have this discussion with the next version of you, though. it is like, something i am thinking about."

"but i don't get a next version," i say. i don't really have the language for this, because i haven't had 26 tries with you. i only have my memories: you, a week ago. drunk and telling me you loved me in my ear. you, kissing her anyway. you, months ago, throwing up on my birthday, whispering to me i ruin everything i touch, always, over and over. please don't ask. i can't ever fucking have that be you.

i run my finger along the rim of the mug. "i don't want to die in this one."

you seem baffled by this. "i get that but - time will reset, you'll be fine, you won't even remember we talked about this."

"but i know now." i stand up too. "i have to live the rest of this day knowing i could die. knowing i probably am going to."

"you could always die, to be fair."

i feel my hands get out of control. "earlier, you said i always say a different insult about myself. what if you're just going through different parallel universes and those are all just different - but real - versions of myself? what if you're not in a time loop, you're in a fucking universe loop?"

"if it helps, i've wondered this too. also, you're hot in all of them. if that helps."

i point at you. "no flirting. i'm trying to figure out if i die today."

"who's flirting?" you catch my wild hands and give me that long, perfect smile. like we're in this together. "i won't let ya die." you check your watch and sigh again. "well. maybe not this time."

i grit my teeth. you are so not making quips at me while i try to explain the existential dread i'm having. "does the time loop reset if i fucking kill you?"

"honestly i don't know how long it continues after i die, because i just wake up. it could be that the loop goes until the explosion for everyone, and we're all in the loop, or it could be that when i die, the loop restarts. when i die i wake up, is all."

i pull away from you and stalk into the kitchen and start doing all 3 of my dishes. "okay, first, you know i was joking. and secondly, this is exactly my point. you don't know if this is just a parallel universe. maybe in the ones where you died, the explosion happened and nobody reset and it's just you travelling." i have to stop and push my heel into my eyeball. "... how often have you died?"

i look at you. you look at me. you give me this very sad, halfway smile and a little what can ya do shrug. something in that action seems so old and weary that i want to burst into tears.

"i have to go," you say. "really. for real. there's this family of five i save from getting into a car crash. and i know it's like oh but we're all gonna die in the explosion anyway, what's the point. and..." you shrug again. "it matters to me, is all. at least i saved them for now. at least i saved anything."

you pad over to me and wrap me in a tight hug. you always seem so tall against me. i feel your cheek rest against the top of my head for a moment. for a second, it's just us, and the space is warm, and my heart is a little broken hare.

you leave me there, and i stand in my stupid badly lit kitchen with my stupid mugs. i think about you. i start texting my mom that she needs to get out of the city, but it feels pointless.

i don't know what to do. tomorrow is the same day for you. but i have to prepare to die in my today.

[thewritingcoroner]

the author’s barely-disguised stigmatized mental health condition