As The Crow Writes

A Bird's-Eye View on Writing, Storytelling, and Fiction

[ardawyn]

quick reminder to myself

first draft: nothing is set in stone

second draft: still, nothing is set in stone

[asthecrowwrites]

You are the writer. Nothing is fixed until you say it is.

[asthecrowwrites]

Trying to Decide...

Between revising an old project and working on a new one... People like the old one but I don’t know if it is worth revising. and the new project feels soooo exciting. I hate revising sometimes.

[asthecrowwrites]

The Second Commandment of Writing: Write What You Know?

This continues my series in which I tackle the great pieces of literary advice. Any writer who has ever studied the craft has stumbled upon this phrase. Some writers swear by it. Some writers protest it. But how many understand this phrase? First, we must understand what it doesn’t mean. “Write what you know” does not mean to restrict you to autobiographical stories. It does not restrict you to memoirs. Nor does it restrict who or what you write. If you are a twenty-something millennial, then it does not force you to only write twenty-something millennials. If you are a teacher or a fast-food worker, it does not limit you to writing fast-food workers. “Write what you know” is not a restriction upon your creativity or ingenuity. Those traits form the heart of any writer’s work.

What does it mean then?

I view this literary idiom as having multiple applications and interpretations.

You Know Emotion

Writers should draw upon their emotional experiences to create realistic emotions and actions within their characters. When you are writing a character who is frustrated or scared, recall a time when you yourself were incensed or terrified. This is something akin to ‘method acting’ (another widely misunderstood term). You use your own memories of those emotions to solidify your understanding of the character’s mindset.

The question arises then; How do I write a character who is feeling something I’ve never felt?

This is where an author’s creativity comes in. Imagine you are writing a character who has just committed a murder. You have (presumably) never committed a murder. How could you ‘know’ what that character was feeling? You mutate and magnify your own experiences. An author is reliant upon empathy. You have never committed a murder, but perhaps when you were young you broke something. You tried to sweep the pieces under the rug so that your illicit behavior would go unnoticed. You can recall the initial panic, the paranoia, the fear of punishment, but also the thrill when you felt you might have gotten away scot-free. A good author takes those memories and magnifies them to fit the situation.

Write What You (Can) Know

We writers are fortunate to live in the modern era. The internet is the greatest asset for modern writers. There is a great wealth of knowledge at your fingertips.

Before you write a character, you should do your research. The more distinct their lives are from your own the more research you should do. Research their career. Research the terms and skills they use. If they come from another place in the US, perhaps there are region-specific phrases you can familiarize yourself with. Perhaps there are different cultural beliefs, or cultural traditions your character would know.

As a writer in the modern era you can know almost anything. Write what you know, but research, and know what you’re writing.

This also plays a part into writing fantasy and sci-fi; You may not know what it is like to walk through the streets of a medieval city, but you can research it. You may not know what it is like to be an engineer aboard a space ship, but you can research what it is like to work on a car motor, or a NASA spacecraft. You should also be just as detailed in your research of your own world. You should understand your world just as much as if you were writing any modern or historical setting.

Write What You See

Writers are notorious for borrowing people from their lives and inserting them into their stories. It is something we are accused off constantly. Everyone wants to know what character is based on them. But it is never that simple.

The people in your life are extensions of your experience and understanding. You may not know how to write a character coming home from war, but perhaps you have an uncle who is a veteran. You can base part of your character upon him and his behavior.

You can also base it off another character in other media you have consumed. As writers we should not feel bad while doing this; it is the natural way literary ideas evolve and propagates themselves. While it is important to understand your characters, a writer should have an equal ability to interpret and understand other writers’ characters, and reverse engineer them.

In the same way, you can interpret and understand people as characters, and reverse engineer their actions to be aspects of your character. Perhaps you notice someone on the bus, looking at their phone every five minutes, nervous about missing their stop. You notice their clothing, their foot tapping, the way they put their book away about five minutes before their stop, just to be sure. You can throw these into your vast library of character traits for later use.

As a writer you must know an entire world well enough to tell a story in it, be it the real world or a fictional one. “Write what you know” is often misconstrued as being a limitation upon the author, meant to restrict and confine one’s writing. Rather it is an instruction to write actively, thoughtfully, and emotionally. The second commandment instructs us to use our emotional and situational knowledge to breathe life into our stories.

As “Write what you know” is a counterpoint to itself, my next post will tackle the third commandment of writing: Avoiding Passive Voice.  

[asthecrowwrites]

Show, Don’t Tell - A Counterpoint

Show Don’t Tell–A Counterpoint

 This post continues my series tackling the commandments of creative writing. My last post explained what is likely the first rule most writers learn: “Show, Don’t Tell”. We show readers through evocative detail, through sensations, rather than telling them. In almost every instance “showing” is preferable.

But, as with every rule exceptions exist. The main benefit that comes from telling, rather than showing, is the brevity. Orson Scott Card wrote about this in his book “Characters and Viewpoints”. His stance on the predicament of Show, Don’t Tell puts a different lens on it. When you “show” a reader a scene, you give it in detail, expanding upon every instance, sensation, and action. You dwell on the minute details. When you “tell” a reader a scene, you do it in summary, painting in broad strokes rather than with a fine brush.

A “shown” scene is multitudes longer than a “told” scene. Think of it akin to the “zoom” on a camera. A scene with a high zoom focuses on the smallest details within a character’s actions. A scene with a low zoom is more general. For more dramatic or important scenes you should zoom in as much as possible, but for other scenes that level of detail is unnecessary. For example, if your character gets fired you would show him confronting his boss. He pleads for his job. Then he has a long shameful walk as he packs up his desk and exits the building. You should write these in great detail. However, the drive home is uneventful, and could be summed up in a single sentence, instead of elaborating on every single passerby in grand detail. When you “tell” the boring or less important scenes you can pace your story and focus on the scenes your readers want to read.

I have also found another use for telling. Showing places you in the character's mindset. Telling does the opposite, removing the reader from the character and creating a distance between them. When you switch between them in prose it creates a sudden dissonance, a literary vertigo. You can use this startling disconnection as a tool. Consider the following section:

He had fallen off the ladder. That was obvious. His legs were bent at odd obtuse angles, his foot pointing this way, his knee pointing that way, like a somewhat abstract sculpture or ballet dancer. His eyes stared straight up. Something about them made him look more like a wax sculpture than a corpse. His bathrobe was wide open, like a royal cape. It looked like someone had spilled fruit punch on the cement, right below his head, had let it run down the driveway and into the grass. Maybe that was his crown.

He was dead all right.

The paragraph is showing. I describe the body thoroughly using comedic tones. The line at the end is telling. I use it as the punch line of a joke. It helps make the scene more comedic by removing the reader from the tragedy of the situation. However, consider if the death was painted more tragically. The telling sentence then could emphasize that matter, to remove the emotion from the scene and let the reader experience the cold bitter truth of this character’s death. To perceive it removed from the moment as an absolute.

I would never claim “Show, Don’t Tell” is a bad rule, or  something we shouldn’t follow. It is one of the most important things to keep in mind while writing, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be mitigated, or maneuvered around. However, if you want to break a rule, it is best to understand it first, and understand what you do in breaking it, and why you are breaking it.

With my next post in this series, I intend to tackle the second most common writing advice you will hear; “Write what you know”. Scripturiently, Crow

[asthecrowwrites]

The First Commandment of Writing: Show, Don't Tell

There are certain rules in writing. The old literary canon handed these down to us, and these old adages are as biblical commandments to writers. If you want to avoid literary hell, you follow these rules. In this series I plan to tackle some of these “sacred” laws of good writing, explain them, and why they are so regarded and universally praised. I also intend to explain when and where it is acceptable to break these rules.

The first rule you learn as a writer almost universally is “Show don’t tell.” This is a concept we treat as one of if not the defining attribute of good literature. But what is showing? Why is it superior to telling?

Keep reading

[writeastorywhere]

A good way to get better at certain aspects of writing is to expose yourself to something similar in real life. 

Having trouble writing dialogue? Listen to podcasts or read transcripts of them. It’ll help you learn the cadences of different people and how to recreate those cadences in writing. 

Having trouble writing action sequences? Watch some live fighting with a commentator, or try out a martial art if you have the time/money. Knowing the moves and how professionals describe them will help you picture that stuff more clearly. 

Trouble with describing things clearly and concisely? Read those image descriptions online, or try and write some yourself! Think about how you’d describe something to a friend, if you had to do it from memory, and copy that down. Look at landmarks in real life. How would you describe them? 

Trouble with character creation and development? Go out and meet new people! Or try some introspection. Think about who you are and why you are that way, and you may find a lot of inspiration!

Above all, practice, and keep writing. 

[asthecrowwrites]

Another good tip for this: Read. Struggle with descriptions? Go read an author who is known for descriptions. Struggle with dialogue? Go read plays or dialogue heavy stories. Struggle with tension and plot? Go read authors or books known for having outstanding tension. Study what you read, don’t just gloss over it. Analyze it. Be purposeful in your reading and learn from it.

[asthecrowwrites]

The First Commandment of Writing: Show, Don't Tell

There are certain rules in writing. The old literary canon handed these down to us, and these old adages are as biblical commandments to writers. If you want to avoid literary hell, you follow these rules. In this series I plan to tackle some of these “sacred” laws of good writing, explain them, and why they are so regarded and universally praised. I also intend to explain when and where it is acceptable to break these rules.

The first rule you learn as a writer almost universally is “Show don’t tell.” This is a concept we treat as one of if not the defining attribute of good literature. But what is showing? Why is it superior to telling?

The concept of “Show, don’t tell” is frequently attributed to a Russian playwright named Anton Chekov. He wrote:

“In descriptions of Nature one must seize on small details, grouping them so that when the reader closes his eyes, he gets a picture. For instance, you’ll have a moonlit night if you write that on the mill dam a piece of glass from a broken bottle glittered like a bright little star, and that the black shadow of a dog or a wolf rolled past like a ball.”

This is one of the earliest examples of the principle, but only captures part of what we perceive as the modern rule. In Chekov’s case, he was calling for a certain style of descriptive prose, in which the writer immerses the reader in the environment through small, defining details, instead of being told about it. We do not see it is night. We perceive the night through the darkness, the shine of the moon, the glimmer of stars, the chill in the air.

As an example, consider:

“The forest was dark and ominous.”

This is a telling sentence. It tells us everything we need to know about the scene, but it does it in such a plain and unevocative way. Compare that to the following, showier sentence:

"The hollow spaces between the trees offered nothing to my eyes, but still seemed to hold something. Like a lump in the throat. Like a moment between lightning and thunder.”

Rather than being told the forest is ominous, you feel the apprehension. You are shown the forest, experiencing it with the character, rather than being told about it.

A large part of this is avoiding telling words. Words such as “felt”, “heard”, and “saw”. For example; “I smelled cookies,” is far less evocative than “A warm hint of cinnamon, chocolate and vanilla hovered in the air and brought a child-like smile to my face.”

However, visceral, grounding descriptions are only part of what we look for. The rest of the theory comes from Ernest Hemingway (You’ll see that name a lot in this series, as we attribute many aspects of modern American literature to him). Ernest Hemingway defined his writing style as “The Iceberg Theory”. He described the principle as “The dignity of movement of an iceberg is due to only one-eighth of it being above water.”  His style focused on omission and conciseness of language. I will probably broach reductivism styles later, but for now, let’s return to the topic.

The iceberg theory makes up the other half of the “Show, don’t tell.” mantra. While Chekov concerned himself with descriptive language, Hemingway focused on themes and characters. His style and theory stated that we should not tell the thoughts, motivations, and emotions of the characters, but convey them through their actions in the story. The actions of the characters are the visible tip of the iceberg. The writer never directly states their motivations, emotions, or relationships. These elements make up the bulk of the iceberg which we leave obscured beneath the surface, and out of view of the reader.

We do not perceive someone as “angry”. We do not see floating neon signs telling us emotions. We experience and understand their anger through their actions. The way they grind their teeth or set their jaw or clench their fist. These show us their anger.

This also goes beyond just the way a person feels. Consider:

“Jeremy walked down the stairs into the kitchen. He didn’t want to talk to his dad. They didn’t get along well. His dad drank his coffee and rinsed out his cup while Jeremy poured himself a bowl. Jeremy left and returned to his room.”

This is very much giving us the whole iceberg. We know Jeremy and his father have a tense relationship because the writer tells us this explicitly. Compare to:

“Jeremy kept his eyes down as he entered the kitchen. His father gave a grunt from the kitchen table. Jeremy grabbed the box of cereal from the cupboard and poured himself a bowl. He didn’t meet his father’s gaze. As his father stood up, Jeremy clenched the bowel tighter. His heart raced, but his father just walked to the sink to rinse out his coffee cup. Jeremy released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He took his bowl and retreated to his room.”

This paragraph describes the same scene. Notice the difference. While the first tells you about their relationship, the second focuses on their actions. Smaller details enable us to draw our own conclusions. We understand their relationship far more because of it.

Last, this principle of “Show, don’t tell” applies to themes. I will not elaborate on this much because I feel like it is self-explanatory. You should not need to explain or directly state your themes. When a story tells you its theme, it invalidates the entire journey and removes the readers’ capacity for a more personal interpretation. It is a capital sin.

Now there are times when it is better to tell. I intend to cover these in my next post in this series. In summary, “Show, don’t tell” asks the writer to portray their characters, scenes, and themes in a manner that allows for the reader to interpret them independently, rather than be told them and told how to interpret them. Telling imposes the authors perspective and understanding upon the reader. Showing enables the reader to experience the author's world in the most authentic way possible. It is one of the guiding concepts behind how we interpret modern literature.

[asthecrowwrites]

Christopher Robin - A Paragon of Clean Writing

This week I watched Christopher Robin. I wanted to see it earlier, but was impeded by work, social, and movie pass restrictions… The movie was overall enjoyable. It had a simple enough message that felt more geared toward the parents rather than the children. The comedy was delightful, and the CGI, while a tad uncanny, still did a good job at bringing these characters to life. But what most impressed me about the film was how clean the writing was.

Now, clean has many connotations. In one sense, Christopher Robin was clean because of the G-Rating and the child demographic. This is not my meaning. When I say Christopher Robin was clean, I mean that the writing was intent-driven. Christopher Robin has a clear moral; That adulthood and childhood must coexist. That growing up means responsibility, but it doesn’t mean giving up on having fun. Work and life must coexist. We must balance our responsibilities and our free time. It is a theme that flies over younger children’s heads but resonates with the older audience members. Every aspect of the film, from Christopher Robin’s job to his relationship with his neighbor, promotes that theme, and develops it in some manner.

Part of good writing is writing with intention. There is a principle in dramatic writing referred to as “Checkov’s gun”. Nothing included in your story should be inconsequential. If you show a gun in the first arch, someone must fire it in a later scene. Christopher Robin takes this to heart. Every character, scene, and detail add to the narrative. There is not a weak or disposable scene, or an irrelevant plot point. Everything matters. The writers knew their theme and they stuck to that. That makes clean writing.

Each character adds another facet to the moral. Christopher Robin is a man who loves his family but obsessed with his work. It consumes him. As his wife says, “You don’t smile anymore.” This is a common trope. The Sound of Music and Mary Poppins come to mind as classic examples of the “career-minded British father”. His character arc, at first, appears the same. He must learn how to play again.

His daughter is another facet. She confessed to her mother “I don’t know how (to play).” She is a child at the brink of losing her childhood without ever having one. She stands on the precipice of becoming exactly like her father, but without having ever played in the first place.

Another integral part of this narrative comes from Christopher Robin’s boss, Giles Winslow. He provides a sharp contrast of Christopher Robin. While Christopher is defined by his obsession over his work and his neglect of play, Giles Winslow is defined by his abundance of play and neglect of work.

Without Winslow, Christopher Robin would have a simple, age-old moral; That adults need to embrace their inner child and make time for play. If the narrative was that simple, Giles Winslow would be a champion of the story, a paragon of that moral. But he isn’t. The story portrays him as lazy and, ironically, childish. Giles Winslow’s inclusion makes a counterpoint: There must be a balance between work and play.

The more you investigate the movie the more details you will find. Some scenes are obviously relevant. His trips into the Hundred-Acre Wood are easy to decipher. He gets lost in a mist, falls into a pit, goes through a metaphorical death and rebirth. His old friends mistake him for a heffalump, only for him to battle a heffalump, concluding with him impaling his briefcase with a weathervane- An inner battle indeed. These make strong cases for it being a clean story, but they should. As major plot points they will reflect the moral. That is their job.

The point that displays the cleanness of the narrative best occurs before all of that. Madeline is laying in bed, and Christopher Robin enters. He tells her he won’t be going on their trip to the cottage. She is sad, but before he goes, she asks him to read her a story.

We’ve seen this play out before. Sitting in the theater I could clearly imagine the next few lines. He tells her “Maybe another time, Daddy is very busy. Maybe you can ask your mother.” And he leaves. Madeline is an unimposing child. She wouldn’t even make a fuss.

But instead, something incredible and unexpected happens.

Christopher looks at her. “Of course. Of course.” He sits down at her bed. Here they fight the archetype. He is making time for her. He is not neglectful of his family. He moves beyond the stereotype.

Then you see a special moment. Christopher Robin reaches forward, and Madeline turns around. Christopher Robin produces a large book containing the history of England. Madeline produces a slender copy of Treasure Island. Christopher doesn’t even notice. He opens the book and reads, and it is boring. Madeline is quiet. She hides the book under her pillow, without even mentioning it to her father. Then she says she’s tired. Christopher Robin looks heartbroken. He doesn’t understand why his daughter is rejecting him.

Instead of playing into the stereotype and following the easy route, the writers chose to add complexity and detail, and advance the moral. Christopher Robin wasn’t neglectful, he didn’t understand how to be what his daughter needed. Madeline didn’t just want her father’s attention and approval, she wanted to play with him, but she too doesn’t understand how to say that. Neither knows how to reach the other. There is a barrier between the adult and the child, and they both must work, or rather play, to overcome it.

Another fine detail is in how the secondary conflict is resolved. Christopher Robin’s secondary struggle involves his work. He manages a company that produces suitcases, and sales are down. He might have to let people go. This puts further stress on Christopher Robin and creates the “work” aspect of his life. He must cut costs, or bring in enough money, to keep the company alive. But when it comes time to show the proposal to his boss, he left it in the hundred-acre wood.

In a less intent-driven story he might have just had a job at a bank, or any other business-like profession. When the conclusion came around, he could have told off his boss, taken that time off that they owed him, and went on vacation to the cottage with his family.

Or Madeline could have rushed to his office and handed him the papers. They could’ve had a moment together. Then he would show his boss the proposal, save the company, and take some well-deserved time off. This would show the daughter growing up and emphasize how much he needs his family.

These would have made tolerable endings, but they wouldn’t have been half as clean. Instead, Maddie tries to get him his papers, only to lose them to the wind. He rushes to her side and tells her they weren’t at all important. That she is more important. Here, we can imagine the story ending. He leaves his job and retires to the cottage, where he makes a living some other way that lets him spend more time with his family. Instead, he finds a solution. He explains to his boss, Giles’s father. If he gave all his employees across all his businesses paid vacations, it would create a strong demand for suitcases, and an increase in profits. It would save the company. It all ties back to a line from the beginning: “Doing nothing often leads to the very best kind of something.” This ending is clean. The solution to the problem is a direct reflection of the moral; A balance between work and life. While the other endings that thwarted the work problem and favored the family, this ending finds a compromise. He connects with his family and finds a solution that can save his company. It is many times over more effective than the alternatives.

In the mid-credits scene, we see all the employees of Winslow luggage, Robin family included, vacationing at the beach. The moral is achieved. Work and life are balanced.

A clean story feeds into itself. Every moment supports the moral. Christopher Robin achieves this. Everything had its purpose, from the characters, to the conflict, to the solutions. Everything supports that moral. When so many films are bogged down with half-hearted attempts at inserting themes, it is good to see a modern tale that is so clean. Christopher Robin has a message to convey, and it is effective and intentional in how it accomplishes that. Scripturiently,

The Murder

[asthecrowwrites]

Starting A Novel

We’ve been there. You’re sitting in front of the screen, ready to write that first chapter. You have that idea, but you don’t know where to begin. How do you start your story?

Introductions are hard. Once you get past it everything becomes easier, but putting down that first chapter can seem impossible. Many times I find it best to skip it. Skip past your introduction and write a scene closer to the middle. After you understand where your story is going, you can return and write that crucial beginning.

There are many ways to start a novel, each with their own advantages and disadvantages. Which style you chose is up to you.

Prologues - The Pre-Beginning

Prologues are usually intense and dramatic. They are often set in the past relative to the rest of the story, and often unrelated to the protagonist. The prologue helps instill tension in the story from the beginning and hint at what might come later, but this can make the tension seem forced. It delays your introduction of your protagonist. Prologues are often extraneous because they introduce the plot, but add no detail or complexity to your main characters.

In the Midst of Things

The second choice is starting “In medias res”. This phrase means “In the midst of things”, and it is a style used throughout classical literature. When you start a story in media res, you forgo the beginning arc and introduce your character in the middle of the story. It has the benefit of forgoing the often slower paced introduction and starting in a place of high tension. You can start at a pivotal point and not waste any time getting into the more interesting events. The downside is that it can obscure the full character arc, or force you to show the backstory through flashbacks. Now, sometimes flashbacks can be effective, but I often find them clunky. The discontinuity can be difficult for some readers.

Just Start It

The third choice is the simplest. Start the story where it starts. Begin shortly before your inciting incident. Introduce the main character.  Introduce the setting. Then introduce the problem. It is nothing fancy, but it is effective in its simplicity. It allows the reader to experience the story as the character does and allows the tension to build in the most natural way. Unfortunately, this introduction can be slower and less interesting than the other styles.

Common Mistakes

Avoid Too Much Exposition. It's tempting to fill your introduction with world-building details or to introduce every part of this wonderful thing you’ve built in your head. Excessive exposition slows your story. It leaves little room for your character’s actions. Introduce more details as needed, but make certain it is forward moving.

Avoid Introducing too many characters—If you have a large cast you may be tempted to cram as many as you can into the initial chapter, hoping they strike a chord with the reader. Too many characters introduced at once takes away from the forward momentum.

Avoid starting too early. Readers don’t want everyday events. They want something exciting. Make sure your first chapter introduces the main problem, or at least a problem, for your main character. Don’t dwell on the day-to-day

Make your character do something. For your protagonist to stand out they must want something. They must act on that want. Don’t allow your character to be too passive or reactive in the first chapter.

Keep it Relevant. The problems and desires your character possesses at the start should remain relevant. Don’t let your inciting action change your character.

I hope these tips help you get your story off the ground. Note that while I wrote this with a longer work in mind, these ideas are universal. Your short story needs just as strong of a beginning as your novel, just more compressed.

Scripturiently, ---The Murder

[asthecrowwrites]

Revision - Murder Your Story

So you’ve finished your first draft. You put in those long hours, and now you have a somewhat complete story. Maybe it’s a short story, maybe it’s a novel. Whatever the length, you can give yourself a pat on the back.  Congrats.

Now to the hard part: Revision.

Revision is the most mystified and dreaded part of writing. A lot of writers hate it. Many new writers fear it, don’t understand what it is, or how to do it. It isn’t something left to your editor. It isn’t something you only need to worry about once you’re Published™. Revision is part of what makes a piece of writing great.

So how do you revise? More so, how do you revise effectively?  

GET YOURSELF IN THE RIGHT MINDSET

Writers must have two minds. One side of yourself is the muse, the inspired artist, pouring words out onto the page in a raw explosion of vibrant ideas. The other is your “inner editor”. I always imagine a grouchy, balding, middle-aged man in a suit. If you’re a good writer, you have them nicely labeled and stored away for when you need them. When you’re drafting, you break out that muse and hog tie the editor. Now it’s time to get that grouchy office worker out and let him do his job.

What this means is you need to examine at your work critically and constructively. We’re often taught as writers to give constructive criticism to others, but in reality, we tend to have little experience giving it to ourselves. Prepare yourself. Sit with your story and remember what first inspired you to write it.  Remember your drafting experience where you felt your story was getting off track. Be prepared to let parts of your story die and be prepared to let it change. Our stories evolve as we write them. No matter how much you plot your novel out, it will get away from you. How you choose to reign it in or let it go free will affect your story.

Be honest with yourself. It is okay if you don’t love your first draft. Chances are it will not be the glorious vision your muse planted in your head. It might not even be close. But you and your inner editor can make it great even if it’s not the same.

READ IT

Read. It. All. Read it out loud. Read it to your roommate. Read it to your partner. Read it to your cat. Read it to your grandma (You should call her sometime). Just don’t read it in your head, to yourself.

Why? Reading it out loud forces you to read every word, on its own. It forces you to slow down and pay attention. You pick up the grammar slips, or where the tense changes, or where you begin three sequential sentences the same way. It makes you more conscious of the language and forces you to perceive the story as a reader. It makes you aware of the flow and dialogue. If you do nothing else, read your story out loud.

BREAK OUT THE RED PEN

Once you have done that, or while you do that, redline it. Take your red teacher pen and go through it. Comb through and find those common mistakes. You can find apps, such as Grammarly, or Hemingway, to help with this search. Tense slips, passive voice, and problem words can weaken your story. Rewrite those sentences. Strengthen them

TRIMMING THE EXCESS

Now you are past the technical aspects, and it’s time for the hard part, where you and your inner editor get to work. your first draft will have unnecessary material in it, and you must cut it out. Go through every sentence, paragraph, and scene, and ask these questions.

1. What is its function?

2. Does it accomplish that well?

3. Is there a better way?

This is where you will find a lot of your word count vanishing. Sometimes your sentences will be too expositional and won’t be entertaining enough to warrant including in the story. Maybe you introduced a character in an uninteresting or cliché way. You could have an entire character who does nothing important. Cut them. If it doesn’t do its job if it doesn’t have a job in your story then it doesn’t belong there. As the writing adage goes “Kill your darlings”.

SHORING IT UP

The last part is shoring up the weak points. Look at your description. Where is it too simple? Where is it too verbose? Examine your character arcs. Map them. Where do they fall off? Where could you add more to them? What characters need more scenes? Map out your tension. Where does it fall off? Where does your story feel off, or weak? Reinforce these weak points. Add more scenes if you need them, but be aware, every scene you add you will need to revise later.

Give yourself another pat on the back. You now have a second draft, and it’s looking good.

Now do it again. Scripturiently, —The Murder

[asthecrowwrites]

Announcement to My Followers

The writer previously behind this blog has been killed by a murder of crows. It has been converted. I, as the most creatively inclined of my flock, will continue to blog about writing and likely expand to other fiction and writing-related topics. I hope to be more consistent than my predecessor. Scripturiently Yours, ---The Murder

[mydearwtson]

self-editing for fiction writers

Showing vs Telling

Do you have any narrative summary, or are you bouncing from scene to scene without pausing for breath?

Characterization & Exposition

What information do your readers need in order to understand your story? At what point in the story do they need to know it?

How are you getting this info across to your readers? Is it all at once through a writer-to-reader lecture?

If exposition comes out through dialogue, is it through dialogue your characters would actually speak even if your readers didn’t have to know the information? In other words, does the dialogue exist only to put the information across?

Point of View

Look at your descriptions. Can you tell how your viewpoint character feels about what you’re describing?

Proportion

Look at descriptions. Are the details you give the ones your viewpoint character would notice?

Reread your first fifty pages, paying attention to what you spend your time on. Are the characters you develop most fully important to the ending? Do you use the locations you develop in detail later in the story? Do any of the characters play a surprising role in the ending? Could readers guess this from the amount of time you spend on them?

Dialogue

Can you get rid of some of your speaker attributions entirely? Try replacing some with beats. 

How often have you paragrapher your dialogue?Try paragraphing a little more often. 

See How it Sounds

Read your dialogue aloud. At some point, read aloud every word you write.

Be on the lookout for places where you are tempted to change the wording. 

How well do your characters understand each other? Do they ever mislead on another? Any outright lies? 

Interior Monologue

First, how much interior monologue do you have? If you seem to have a lot, check to see whether some is actually dialogue description in disguise. Are you using interior monologue to show things that should be told?

Do you have thinker attributions you should get rid of (by  recasting into 3rd person, by setting the interior monologue off in its own paragraph or in italics, or by simply dropping the attribution)

Do your mechanics match your narrative distance?(Thinker attributions, italics, first person when your narrative is in third?)

Easy Beats

How many beats do you have? How often do you interrupt your dialogue?

What are your beats describing? Familiar every day actions, such as dialling a telephone or buying groceries? How often do you repeat a beat? Are your characters always looking out of windows or lighting cigarettes? 

Do your beats help illuminate your characters? Are they individual or general actions anyone might do under just about any circumstances?

Do your beats fit the rhythm of your dialogue? Read it aloud and find out

Breaking up is easy to do

Look for white space. How much is there? Do you have paragraphs that go on as much as a page in length? 

Do you have scenes with NO longer paragraphs? Remember what you’re after is the right balance. 

Have your characters made little speeches to one another? 

If you’re writing a novel, are all your scenes or chapters exactly the same length? -> brief scenes or chapters can give you more control over your story. They can add to your story’s tension. Longer chapters can give it a more leisurely feels. If scene or chapter length remains steady while the tension of the story varies considerably, your are passing up the chance to reinforce the tension. 

Once is usually enough

Reread your manuscript, keeping in mind what you are trying to do with each paragraph–what character point you’re trying to establish, what sort of mood you’re trying to create, what background you’re trying to suggest. In how many different ways are you accomplishing each of these ends?

If more than one way, try reading the passage without the weakest approach and see if it itsn’t more effective. 

How about on a chapter level? Do you have more than one chapter that accomplishes the same thing?

Is there a plot device or stylistic effect you are particularly pleased with? How often do you use it?

Keep on the lookout for unintentional word repeats. The more striking a word or phrase is, the more jarring it will be if repeated 

Sophistication 

How many -ing and as phrases do you write? The only ones that count are the ones that place a bit of action in a subordinate clause

How about -ly adverbs?

Do you have a lot of short sentences, both within your dialogue and within your description and narration? Try stringing some of them together with commas

[tamhonksss]

Female Character: *Everybody is immediately drawn to her for no discernible reason*

Female Character: *Extremely powerful compared to all of the other characters within the story; there’s no reason as to how she became so powerful*

Female Character: *For some reason is able to quickly pick up new skills in a period of time comparable to a genius; no explanation for this too.*

Female Character:  *has virtually no weaknesses except she’s clumsy teehee :)*

Person: Isn’t this kind of a mary-sue?

Tumblr: why do misogynists like to invalidate strong female characters???????????

[edgemarquess]

If we’re going to be fair here, the reason so many people get upset when a female character is called a Mary Sue is because that label is thrown around so haphazardly and so very often handed to characters who really don’t deserve to be labeled as such. The controversy of the term comes from its overuse and misuse.

The term can be used correctly, but it is too often misused by people who see a capable strong female character and have a gut instinct to burn the witch and return to their male hero power fantasy.

[cameoamalthea]

To quote @ladyloveandjustice

“So, there’s this girl. She’s tragically orphaned and richer than anyone on the planet. Every guy she meets falls in love with her, but in between torrid romances she rejects them all because she dedicated to what is Pure and Good. She has genius level intellect, Olympic-athelete level athletic ability and incredible good looks. She is consumed by terrible angst, but this only makes guys want her more. She has no superhuman abilities, yet she is more competent than her superhuman friends and defeats superhumans with ease. She has unshakably loyal friends and allies, despite the fact she treats them pretty badly. They fear and respect her, and defer to her orders. Everyone is obsessed with her, even her enemies are attracted to her. She can plan ahead for anything and she’s generally right with any conclusion she makes. People who defy her are inevitably wrong.

God, what a Mary Sue.

I just described Batman.”

(Source: http://ladyloveandjustice.tumblr.com/post/13913540194/mary-sue-what-are-you-or-why-the-concept-of-sue/amp)

The problem isn’t that characters are unrealistic. Heroes often are unrealistic and it’s ok to criticize media.

However, female characters are criticized where male characters aren’t.

Everything in OP’s post could apply to Luke Skywalker (and definitely applies to Anakin) but those characters won’t be criticized the way Rey has been (even though everything Rey does in The Force Awakens is believable). We are more willingly to believe in a male chosen one who can just do amazing things because he’s the hero.

Boys can have wishfulment stories but girls can only have realistic stories.

[stillthewordgirl]

^^^^

[heywriters]

Character: *Everybody is immediately drawn to them for no discernible reason*

Character: *Extremely powerful compared to all of the other characters within the story; there’s no reason as to how this one became so powerful*

Character: *For some reason is able to quickly pick up new skills in a period of time comparable to a genius; no explanation for this either.*

Character:  *has virtually no weaknesses except they’re clumsy/awkward*

Person: I would watch eight films about this character!!!

Tumblr: Write all the fanfic!!!

[asthecrowwrites]

I think it is important to understand the history and origin of the term Mary Sue. Now, take yourself back to the 60′s, when one fandom ruled them all. Star Trek, The Original Series was at an all-time high. Kirk and Spock were the studs of the universe, and everyone was clamoring after this innovative and progressive television show. We like to pretend that the show was exclusively dominated by male fans, but that simply wasn't true. For its time it was incredibly progressive regarding women, and it had a large female fan base.

Now, the series also had a number of magazines centered around it, and many of them published original stories set in the Star Trek universe. Yep, Star Trek had fanfiction long before the internet, and, as now, a majority of the writers were young women, and a majority of the fanfiction was just shameless self-inserts.

Paula Smith noticed a startling trend in the stories that made it into the fanzine, and she decided to submit her own story which was a parody of this trend. Her story revolved around Mary Sue, a Starfleet lieutenant who was beloved by all. She was as smart as Spock and as brave as Kirk. She was talented in every degree. She was best friends with all the crew members. Then, when all hope seemed lost and none of the other members of the crew could overcome a threat, Mary succeeded but died tragically. She was mourned by the entire crew.

Now, this is something to note: that the origin of the term was a female criticising other women's works. That isn't to say that it is used to repress strong female characters, merely that we should acknowledge its' history. It was not constructed to put down female writers, merely to point out bad writing in general. I personally apply it equally to both gendered characters, and I see it as an important tool in understanding how to write good characters. I think instead of pushing against its application on female characters, we should be more ready to point fingers at male Mary Sues.

A Mary Sue is an ideal character who is effortlessly successful and beloved by all. This deprives a story of all of its conflict. She has no conflict with other characters. She triumphs over any threat without any struggle. She is unwaveringly moral.

Now, with this criteria, yes, Luke, Rey, Batman, and Anakin are all to some degree Mary Sues, but also not entirely. Luke battles with his morals when deciding whether his father can be redeemed. Anakin struggles with his own morals, eventually falling from grace. He is far from beloved by all, and most of the Jedi did not like him much at all. Batman is at times a Mary Sue, but his most memorable stories are when he is not, when he is forced to sacrifice something, or when he is less than ideal.

It is important to understand what a Mary Sue is and what it is not. A Mary Sue is a character that is so perfect as to drain a story of conflict. If some aspect a character is flawed enough to create conflict, whether that flaw is in their ability, their relationships, or their morals, then they are not a Mary Sue.

[chromolume]

it’s all you americans talk about… liminal space this… cryptid that

[sasstricbypass]

america is big, we got.,.,.,. its a lot happening here

[darkbookworm13-deactivated20240]

It’s at least 3,000 miles just from the East Coast to the West, depending on where you start.

If I try to drive from here in Maine to New Mexico, it’s 2,400 miles. 

From here to Oregon, 800 miles from my current residence to my relatives in NJ, then another 3,000 miles after that. 

A brisk 8 day drive that meanders through mountains, forests, corn fields, dry, flat, empty plains, more mountains, and then a temperate rain forest in Oregon.

The land has some seriously creepy stuff, even just right outside our doors. 

There is often barking sounds on the other side of our back door. 

At 3 am. 

When no one would let their dog out. 

It’s a consensus not to even look out the fucking windows at night. 

Especially during the winter months. 

Nothing chills your heart faster than sitting in front of a window and hearing footsteps breaking through the snow behind you, only to look and not see anything. 

I live in a tiny town whose distance from larger cities ranges from 30 miles, to 70 miles. What is in between?

Giant stretches of forests, swamps, pockets of civilization, more trees, farms, wildlife, and winding roads. All of which gives the feeling of nature merely tolerating humans, and that we are one frost heave away from our houses being destroyed, one stretch of undergrowth away from our roads being pulled back into the earth.

And almost every night, we have to convince ourselves that the popping, echoing gunshot sounds are really fireworks, because we have no idea what they might be shooting at.

There’s a reason Stephen King sets almost all his stories in Maine.

[scottislate]

New Mexico, stuck under Colorado, next to Texas, and uncomfortably close to Arizona. I grew up there. The air is so dry your skin splits and doesn’t bleed. Coyotes sing at night. It starts off in the distance, but the response comes from all around. The sky, my gods, the sky. In the day it is vast and unfeeling. At night the stars show how little you truly are. This is the gentle stuff. I’m not going to talk about the whispered tales from those that live on, or close, to the reservations. I’m not going to go on about the years of drought, or how the ground gives way once the rain falls. The frost in the winter stays in the shadows, you can see the line where the sun stops. It will stay there until spring. People don’t tell you about the elevation, or how thin the air truly is. The stretches of empty road with only husks of houses to dot the side of the horizon. There’s no one around for miles except those three houses. How do they live out here? The closest town is half an hour away and it’s just a gas station with a laundry attached.   No one wants to be there. They’re just stuck. It has a talent for pulling people back to it. I’ve been across the country for years, but part of me is still there. The few that do get out don’t return. A visit to family turns into an extended stay. Car troubles, a missed flight, and then suddenly there’s a health scare. Can’t leave Aunt/Uncle/Grandparent alone in their time of need. It’s got you. Roswell is a joke. A failed National Inquirer article slapped with bumperstickers and half-assed tourist junk. The places that really run that chill down the spine are in the spaces between the sprawling mesas and hidden arroyos. Stand at the top of the Carlsbad Caverns trail. Look a mile down into the darkness. Don’t step off the path. just don’t.

[kaasknot]

The Land of Entrapment

[jumpingjacktrash]

here in minnesota we’re making jokes about how bad is the limescale in your sink

pretending we don’t know we’re sitting on top of limestone caverns filled with icy water

pretending we don’t suspect something lives down there

[ceruleancynic]

dammit jesse now I want to read about the things that live down there

meanwhile in maryland the summer is killing-hot, the air made of wet flannel, white heat-haze glazing the horizon, and the endless cicadas shrilling in every single tree sound like a vast engine revving and falling off, revving and falling off, slow and repeated, and everything is so green, lush poison-green, and you could swear you can hear the things growing, hear the fibrous creak and swell of tendrils flexing

and sometimes in the old places, the oldest places, where the salt-odor of woodsmoke and tobacco never quite go away, there is unexplained music in the night, and you should not try to find out where it’s coming from.  

[jhaernyl]

@gallusrostromegalus

[gallusrostromegalus]

The intense and permanent haunting of a land upon which countess horrors have been visited, and that is too large and wild for us to really comprehend is probably the most intense and universal American feeling.

[thebibliosphere]

here in minnesota

We’re fucking what now

[shortkingmoon]

colorado is a strange sort of place, a passing-through kind of place, a place that holds just as many people who stay as leave. the highways stretch like ley-lines or the lines of old palms; 25 north and south, 70 east and west, 76 and 470 and 285 curling all around and tangling in the middle like loose thread

the mountains are their own place, the plains their own, too, with the hogback and the foothills in between like a strangely-comforting barrier, “this far, and that’s enough. this far, and you’re still close to home. this far, and no further.” the people in the mountains rarely make the plains; the people in the plains rarely make the hills, and the people in the middle rarely leave the developments which spread outward every year like creeping moss.

[heywriters]

Summertime in California, when it’s 110 and you wake up in a sweat at 7am and can’t fall back asleep regardless of how much sleep you actually got. You open a door or a window and smell smoke. The air is hazy, the sky is orange, the sun bright red. You go back inside. You stay inside. You don’t worry about the fire, it’s probably miles away. The smoke lasts for days and even after a shower you can’t get the smell out of your nostrils, can’t get the taste off your tongue. You hope your neighbor doesn’t mow his lawn, you hope no one throws a cigarette out a window on your road, or lets a loose chain drag behind their truck. 

The wind picks up, you get nervous. a helicopter passes low overhead, you get anxious. You wait for sirens. You watch more helicopters carrying heavy sacks of retardant, tanks of water, and keep testing the way the wind blows. Somehow, the fire misses you this summer.

Wintertime in California. The yellowed, crackling grass that looks like miles of sand dunes turns gray and falls loose from the baked earth. You pray for rain but you beg that it doesn’t come with lightning. Still, you don’t expect rain because every winter is “dry.” Snow falls somewhere in the mountains where someone skis then comes back and tells you it wasn’t much. No rain means more fire in the summer.

Then, after New Year’s, it rains. And rains. And gushes. The ground is baked stiff and won’t absorb water after an hour of moderate rain. The water rises. It fills streets, houses, threatens levees and dams. After days of this the ground finally softens. The plants, their root systems shriveled and mostly washed away by the flooding, can’t hold the dirt in place. Where it has no choice,the earth gives way to landslides.

The Sierra Nevadas, riddled with abandoned gold mines and in some place stripped by hydraulic mining. The water is always tainted with mercury and alkali. Occasionally a mine collapses and a sinkhole appears. If the house shakes you ask your friends and neighbors if they felt it too, but then you forget it happened. You actually sleep through most tremors.

Everyone knows at least one old mining song. School projects and field trips are to Fort Sumter and the missions. Cracking adobe that predates the country. You can tell vultures apart from other birds of prey easy because they’re the ones you see most often. Orchards that go on for miles and towns built on top of old olive orchards—occasionally a business or private home has kept a few to remind you. They don’t plant them. Those are the original trees.

You’re hiking and you find a massive flat rock with fist-sized holes bored into it. Trees and fenceposts that look like they were used for target practice with a machine gun. You hear what sounds like a lawn sprinkler go off and you get as far away from the rocks as you can, watching where you step.

Sacramento is a concrete jungle of one way streets and sky-blocking towers before endless miles of ugly industrial wasteland. San Francisco is a twisting maze of clogged overpasses where you drive three miles an hour and watch a dense blanket of bonechilling fog climb over the hills and obscure everything before you enter the city and keep your foot pressed flat to the brake at the steepest intersections. LA is a fever dream, a knotted nightmare of traffic you can never escape, air you can’t breathe even when there’s no fire, and someone’s always playing Norteño, which sounds exactly like polka but with melancholy Spanish lyrics.

The Central Valley gets funnel clouds that touch down even less often than snow falls, but you remember once as a kid getting sleet in the Valley and thinking that’s what snow was then later hudding in the school cafeteria because of a tornado warning. You remember visiting the ocean and bringing home kelp and colored glass. In the mountains you found a sticky pinecone the size of your head and a snake with miniscule legs. An owl with a broken wing was brought to your classroom, there are giant statues of golden bears at the state fair, and someone’s always going missing from Modesto.

But in the springtime, the hills are orange and purple and you realize that oak trees are actually green once a year. The heavy wind makes the grasses sway in waves and it sounds like waves and you’re nowhere near the ocean anymore, but it’s right there, endlessly green and almost sentient. The hills are moving. 

[asthecrowwrites]

There is a reason that many horror stories chose Washington as a setting. We have the thick old woods, the towering cedars, and all of the spirits that stay with them. Children here run freely through the woods, but parents bring them all in buy sundown. They're always told it's because of the coyotes, the cougars, the bobcats, all of these animals that own the land far more than we do. But there's the way the trees seem to sway on a windless night, the way they cast the long, inhuman shadows that swallow the world.

My grandmother's house, where I grew up, was built deep into old woods, with trees taller than any building within an hours drive. She would always insist upon my father setting up all these light fixtures outside her house. She said it was so she could go out at night and not trip, but she never went out at night. I think she wanted it to be brighter. I think she wanted to fend off those shadows.

I could explore those woods all I wanted during the day, running barefoot over the mud and through the streams like some fey child, scraping my arms on blackberry bushes, but I knew better than to be outside at night, and I knew better than to stray away from the glow cast by those lights.

[1000storyideas]

10 outline techniques for writers

With this post I listed 10 outline techniques to help writes move their story from a basic idea to a complete set of arcs, plots, sequences and/or scenes. Or to simply expand whatever you have in hands right now.

If you have a vague story idea or a detailed one, this post is for you to both discover and organize. A few technique will work perfectly. A few won’t. Your mission is to find the one that works best for you. That said, I advice you to try out as many techniques as possible.

So, are you ready? Open your notebook, or your digital document, and let’s start.

1. Snowflake method: Start with a one-sentence description of the novel. Then, develop this simple phrase into a paragraph. Your next step is to write a one-page summary based on the paragraph, you can write about characters, motivations, goals, plots, options, whatever you feel like. From this point on, you can either start your book or expand the one-page summary into four pages. And, at last, four pages into a brief description of known sequences of scenes. Your goal is to make the story more and more complex as you add information, much like a forming snowflake.  

2. Chapter by chapter: List ten to twenty chapters, give each chapter a tittle and a brief description of what should happen. Then, break each chapter into three to five basic sequences of scenes. Give each sequence a title, a brief description and a short list of possibilities (possibilities of dialogues, scenarios, outcomes, moods, feelings… just play around with possibilities). From this point on, you can either create the scenes of sequences with a one-sentence description for each or jump straight to writing. Your goal is to shift from the big picture to a detail-oriented point of view.

3. Script: This might sound crazy, but, with this technique, you will write the screenplay of your story as if it’s a movie. No strings attached to creative writing, just plain actions and dialogues with basic information. Writing a script will take time, maybe months, but it will also enlighten your project like no other technique. Your goal is to create a cinematic view of your story. How to write a script here. 

4. Free writing: No rules, no format, no step, just grab a pen or prepare your fingers to write down whatever idea that comes up. Think of possibilities, characters, places, quests, journeys, evolutions, symbolisms, fears, good moments, bad moments, clothing, appearances. Complete five to ten pages. Or even more. The more you write, the more you will unravel. You can even doodle, or paste images. Your mission is to explore freely.

5. Tag: This technique is ideal if you have just a vague idea of the story. Start by listing ten to fifteen tags related to the story. Under each tag, create possible plots. And, under each plot, create possible scenes. Grab a red felt pen and circle plots and scenes that sparkle your interest.

6.  Eight-point arc: With this technique you will divide your story into eight stages. They are Stasis, Trigger, Quest, Surprise, Critical Choice, Climax, Reversal and Resolution. The Stasis is the every-day-life of your main character. Trigger is an event that will change the every-day-life of your character (for better or for worse). Quest is a period of your main characters trying to find a new balance, a new every-day-life (because we all love a good routine). Surprise will take your character away from their new found every-day-life. Critical Choice is a point of no return, a dilemma, your character will have to make the hardest decision out of two outcomes, both equally important. Climax is the critical choice put to practice. Reversal is the consequence of the climax, or how the characters evolved. Resolution is the return to a new (or old) every-day-life, a (maybe everlasting) balance.

7. Reverse: Write down a description of how your story ends, what happens to your characters and to those around them. Make it as detailed as possible. Then, move up to the climax, write a short scenario for the highest point of your story. From there, build all the way back to the beginning. 

8. Zigzag: Draw a zigzag with as many up and downs as you want. Every up represents your main character moving closer to their goal. Every down represents your main character moving further from their goal. Fill in your zigzag with sequences that will take your character closer and farther from the goal.

9. Listing: The focus of this technique is exploring new ideas when your story feels empty, short or stagnated. You’ll, basically make lists. Make a long list of plot ideas. Make another list of places and settings. Make a list of elements. And a list of possible characters. Maybe a list of book titles. Or a list of interesting scenes. A list of bad things that could happen inside this universe. A list of good things. A list of symbolism. A list of visual inspiration. A list of absurd ideas you’ll probably never use. Then, gather all this material and circle the good items. Try to organize them into a timeline.

10. Character-driven: Create a character. Don’t worry about anything else. Just think of a character, their appearance and style. Give them a name. Give them a basic personality. Give them a backstory. Develop their personality based on the backstory. Now, give this character a story that mirrors their backstory (maybe a way to overcome the past, or to grow, or to revenge, or to restore). Based on your character’s personality, come up with a few scenes to drive their story from beginning to end. Now, do the same thing for the antagonist and secondary characters.

So, when is it time to stop outlining and start writing?

This is your call. Some writers need as many details as they can get, some need just an basic plot to use as a North. Just remember, an outline is not a strict format, you can and you will improvise along the way. The most important is being comfortable with your story, exploring new ideas, expanding old concepts and, maybe, changing your mind many times. There’s no right or wrong, just follow your intuition.  

[asthecrowwrites]

Good for any of those out there who are in a nano-rut.

[library-mermaid-blog]

[heywriters]

I might reblog this every time I see it.

[robot-anon]

Hey so I’m going to do kinda a little writer rant

If you like the story please reblog it

Honest I’m so thankful for all the likes but when anyone reblogs it I’m like “OH FUCK! Someone likes my shit enough to share and promote it to their followers!” And I’m instantly inspired to start writing again!

Also yes I’m that asshole that reads the tags and the comments, seriously even a same “!!!!! I LOVE IT!” Or “you fucking monster why did you rip my heart heart out” encourages me to keep going, not to mention when people point out certain scenes they like, ooooh that makes my little heart explode!!

Pretty much what I’m saying is support your favourite writer by reblogging their work and just saying something about it! Really it means the world to us. It doesn’t matter if it’s an old story or their new one just go and reblog and comment! Trust me see how much their work ethic will improve just by doing that.

So If you want to make your fav Tumblr writers day today go through and reblog one of their pieces and leave a comment. I promise you it will make them feel like their on cloud nine.

[asthecrowwrites]

Sharing is caring. It means a lot whenever even one person says they like your stuff. Support your writers.