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Pickup Line: Hey bb, I'll Final Resort your Lurker if you Honorable Combat my Uta.
“Be still, my beating heart...”
How to write a novel
I was talking to a girl at ComicCon, the kind of person who has a million creative projects at the same time. As many people do, she has a story she wants to write, with amazing characters she wants to share with the world, but writing is hard and a first novel can be daunting. Here’s what I told her.
Now, this applies to the people who REALLY want to see their story done. These are the main pillars of the cathedral that is your story. Let’s begin.
1- YOUR GOAL IS TO WRITE A COMPLETE FIRST DRAFT. It will be shit. But it will be complete. You can build on it and rewrite, but the most important thing is to WRITE TILL THE END OF THE STORY.
2- SIT DOWN AND WORK. That’s the difference between writers and the million people who say they have a story that they’ll write someday.
Alright, let’s get technical, and start by the end.
3- Art is about causing your public to have emotions. Decide right now what emotion you want to leave your readers with when they close your book. Is it happy, sad, bittersweet, hopeful? Pick one. (This can be changed later if you rewrite and find some other ending, but we are working on the first draft.)
— Maybe you have a nice gimmick, a cool idea for a story, like idk, ‘What if you cloned yourself and that clone took over your life’. This is interesting, but it’s not a story in itself. A story needs emotions. If you don’t pick the emotions you want your reader to feel, your idea is just a gimmick.
4- Now that you have the final emotion, decide your ending in accordance to said emotion. Are characters dying? Is the bad guy defeated? Is everyone splitting up or leaving together as a found family?
Then we go back to the beginning.
5- You probably have a million characters you all want to write. Pick one to be your protagonist. Yes, just one. Multi-characters stories are harder to write and demand experience and time. We want this novel to exist, and not be stuck in limbo forever. Anyway, people tend to always prefer side characters. Who has heard of someone having a protagonist as a fave?? Your side characters will be loved, no worry.
How to find your protagonist: It’s the person who makes decisions and makes the plot advance. Simple as that. Not to be mistaken for the leader of a group.
6- Now that you have your protagonist, you decide what is normal for them. That is your beginning.
7- And then, you break that normality in some horrible way that will prevent your protagonist to come back to it. That is your inciting incident.
Then we write the middle
8- You google Three-Act-Structure and get one of these babies.
(But Talhí, I hear you say, why should I follow this? It’s been overdone, and my story doesn’t follow this, and I have more to write than this… Well, that’s your choice. I’m not the boss of you. I’m just saying that this is a solid model for western storytelling and it’s been proven to work time and time again. You can create outside of this, but again, the main goal here is to get your novel on paper. This is a solid template.)
9- You probably have a general idea of events you want to happen in the story. Place these scenes where you feel they should go on the structure. Like, a confrontation with the main bad guy goes in climax of act three, and the confrontation with the main henchman goes to climax of act two, etc. Be mindful of the rising action and tension: a cute misadventure in the woods would probably go earlier in the story than a fight to the death.
10- Now, a secret: What separates bad writing from good writing? Bad writing is adding a bunch of events in the middle and have the characters go through them like a checklist of scenes. You can often see this in movies. But good writing links the events. Each and every event that happens has to be a result of your character making a decision. Then, an obstacle happens, and your character makes another decision, that leads to your next event/obstacle.
11- Another secret: A character will gain power, money, weapons and allies through the story. In videogames, this is useful to defeat the bad guy. But storytelling is not videogames. Having a superpowerful hero at the end is boring. What we want is keeping the reader in suspense. So you’ll have to take everything from them. Leave them powerless and alone. And then, break their leg. I mean, not literally, although you can do that too, but have them super disadvantaged. And then they can use the personal growth they got in the adventure to prevail. (What is more interesting: a character fleeing from a facility but with weapons and kickass moves, or a character fleeing the same facility without weapons or shoes and with a broken arm? Who do you root for?)
Other tricks
The rest of the crew: I go with what Pixar does for characters: Main character gets three or more characteristics. That’s your Woody. Second tier character gets two characteristics. That’s your Buzz. Third tier characters get one characteristic, like Rex and Mister Potato Head. Keep control of your character tiers and never give too much time to the lower tiers ones, it doesn’t help your story.
Herd your cats: Characters will want to wander in every direction, and you’ll want to follow them. Keep them in groups, and even though you can follow a side character for a scene or two, focus 80 to 90% of your story on your protagonist.
DND is not a novel: I’m pretty sure your campaign is super fun, but you can’t just put it on paper and call it a novel. It needs a narrative arc and serious editing. You can use a campaign as a base, but it needs to be worked as a novel, because you’re changing mediums, and a novel has different requirements.
That’s pretty much what I can remember for now. This should help you with the bones of your novel, and you can add the meat on that. I hope it helps. But honestly, the best advice I can give you is
SIT DOWN AND DO THE THING.
It's my 8 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳
Well shazbat! When did this happen? Apparently, a month ago... Better late than never, I guess! Maybe I'll have to post more things or something.
Here's a picture of my cat insisting on moar pets!
“This is your daily, friendly reminder to use commas instead of periods during the dialogue of your story,” she said with a smile.
“Unless you are following the dialogue with an action and not a dialogue tag.” He took a deep breath and sat back down after making the clarifying statement.
“However,” she added, shifting in her seat, “it’s appropriate to use a comma if there’s action in the middle of a sentence.”
“True.” She glanced at the others. “You can also end with a period if you include an action between two separate statements.”
Things I didn’t know
“And–” she waved a pen as though to underline her statement–“if you’re interrupting a sentence with an action, you need to type two hyphens to make an en-dash.”
You guys have no idea how many students in my advanced fiction workshop didn’t know any of this when writing their stories.
Reblog to save a life
op's redemption arc was nice though
This was a nice progression of character development
"I don't talk like that in real life" stood out to me in this. Because I think a LOT of the people who get attacked for mean posts on the internet and are suddenly confused and defensive are probably pretty nice people irl. (Not everyone obviously, some people do truely suck but that's not the point I'm making)
The internet has fostered and developed a culture of "being needlessly mean is funny". No one is immune to it, even genuinely nice people. Unfortunately, the internet has also bred a culture of the "I was just trying to be funny!!!" defense instead of doing what this guy did and going "huh, maybe I was wrong if so many people are pissed".
Be like this guy, own up if/when you fall for the easy internet trap of "being mean for laughs" and try to see the world from someone else's perspective.
My hat is off to this dude who actually tried the thing he was mean about, found out he didn't really like it or even understand, and still said "hey, I was being a dick, I'm sorry." Good job, my dude.
I have watched it in real time, a guy finally coming to terms, understanding, being genuinely sorry, being respectful. It's in their eyes, like a sunrise.
"idk how tumblr works" it doesn't. hope this helps 🙏
Santa is on strike due to global warming. All presents this year will be delivered by Sasha the Christmas Tiger. Milk and cookies may not be sufficient.
“MUST BRING PRESENTS TO GOOD CHILDREN”
“Yes good”
“AND EAT THE BAD ONES”
“Wait no”
“EAT THEM”
“sasha no”
@burstofhope the Christmas tiger is watching
She is making a list
It is not easy with her paws but she is making it
shes almost here
Okay fine this is the ONE Christmas thing I will reblog before Thanksgiving BUT THAT’S IT
SASHA’S BACK ON MY DASH!
Y’all better behave, you have two months
You better watch out
You better watch out
You better watch out
You better watch out
Sasha the Christmas tiger my absolute beloved
Ah, a splendid specimen of the Yule Cat.
Scientific name Felis navidad, of course.
…Felis navidad. (collapses, snorting in Linnaean)
SANTA CLAWS IS COMING TO TOWN
Always reblogging Sasha. :)
You’re a mimic. You were disguised as a chair in a dungeon when an adventurer decided to take you as loot. You’ve actually enjoyed your life ever since as furniture in a jolly tavern. So when some ruffians try to rob the now-elderly adventurer’s business, you finally reveal yourself.
Okay, so- hey, hey! Stop with the screaming, you’re gonna wake people up! Shut up! If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead. Listen for a minute, already.
I was just minding my own-
I am so serious right now. If you wake Bob up, you won’t like what I do. He’s not young, these days, he needs his rest.
Okay? Okay.
Anyway. I was minding my own business. I was a fairly young mimic, I’d just really sort of settled into my first good morph. When you’re really young, freshly spawned, you sort of rotate through things, and you don’t quite get it right, most of the time.
It’s like learning how to walk for people, I think. You’re small, you don’t quite know what you’re doing… it’s a whole thing.
And I went chair. Now, that’s very exciting. Chairs aren’t a common mimic morph. For whatever reason- the gods? who knows?- most mimics end up containers. Trunks, chests, drawers, wardrobes, I had a cousin who was a barrel.
Chair, though, that’s good, though. No barbarian is gonna poke through your insides looking for loose change if you’re a good sturdy wooden chair. You might get sat on, but, heck, we’re pretty sturdy as a species. No big deal. And, honestly, easier to get some food.
Wha- no, we don’t eat people. We don’t eat flesh, that’s gross. We absorb magic. It’s why we tend to spawn in dungeons, lots of magic there. Though I pity the poor mimic clans that end up in a necromancer dungeon. Ugh.
Most adventurers have magic items on them, you absorb a little energy and get sat on for a bit, no big deal, easy meal. And you get a little variety in your diet, win for everybody.
Sure, we kill people from time to time. But let me ask you this: If you were just at home, minding your own business, and some big guy with no neck bristling with swords came along, bust into your house, walked into your room, and reached into one of your orifices to find valuables, you might take averse to that, don’t you think? It’s not like people don’t know about mimics. Take a little care, you know?
Anyway, I was still pretty young. I’d just settled into my morph. And this guy comes along and, you guessed it, no neck, bristling with swords. And he claps eyes on me and just stops, and stares, and I was like- kinda panicking, right? I’m thinking I messed up the morph, and he’s clocked me and now I’m gonna have to fight this guy.
And then he nudges his buddy and says ‘Hey, hey Jim, ain’t that the most beautiful chair you’ve ever seen in your life?’
And Jim’s like ‘yeah it’s a nice chair so what?’ and Bob- that’s the guy with no neck- he says ‘no, look at it! it’s gorgeous!’
I tell you, if I coulda blushed, I’d have been cherry red from top to bottom. When you first start to settle into a morph, you feel a little self-conscious, you know? You’re just starting to figure yourself out, and someone comes along and just says the nicest things. And he went on for a while. I was so flattered, best day of my life, aside from my first spawning.
Jim says ‘well just bring the damn thing! we have shit to do!’ so Bob does! Just picks me up and straps me to his back, and off we went.
And I went lots of interesting places, met some interesting people. I even ended up doing the watch at night a couple of times. Because Jim, sometimes he has this thing where he just falls asleep, he can’t help it, it’s not his fault. I had to help them out a couple of times. I was fond of the guy, you know? And most mimics don’t get to be part of adventuring parties, it’s just not done, so it was really neat to feel like I was a part of things.
Jim and Bob and their buddy Wade, they end up saving the kingdom, and they all go their separate ways. Bob went back to his home village- that’s here- bought a building, put me in the middle, and said ‘this is gonna be my tavern’. He hangs up his magical weapons around the bar- don’t bother with that, buddy, that glass is tougher than your ax, I promise.
Anyway, I’ve got plenty to eat. I even spawned a couple of times, helped fill out the place. I figure, save him a little money, I start my own clan, and there’s plenty of ambient magic to go around, the place is lively, better than some manky old dungeon any day, right?
Bob, he never quite figured it out. I think Jim was onto me, but Bob- he’s not bright. But he’s just the nicest guy, you know? He’s always got a kind word for someone. He’ll give you the shirt off his back. If you show up here hungry with no money, he feeds you, and often he’ll make sure you get some place to sleep and a job, if you’re looking. Everybody loves Bob.
And I really like people, that’s something I figured out about myself. I like the atmosphere here, too, there’s always new stories to hear. I’ve learned a lot, over the years, I’ll tell you what.
Now Bob, he’s not young anymore, and his kids well- they’re not the adventuring sort, as I think you have already sussed out. But they don’t need to fight, you know? That’s not the kinda life they need to lead.
So, bearing all that in mind, here’s the deal. You got two options. One- put everything down- nice and easy, mind- and leave, lock the door behind you, and this never happened. No harm, no foul.
Or… you can find out just how many times I’ve spawned.
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this one and want to help support me, here’s a link to my ko-fi! If like this story and you want to read more, here is my masterpost, currently updated with all of my tumblr ficlets.
If you screencap this for another website, please be courteous and link people to my tumblr.
hitch your heart to one small thing
reminds me of this!
The sale of nonfungible tokens, or NFTs, fell to a daily average of about 19,000 this week, a 92% decline from a peak of about 225,000 in Se
tumblr user, drinking a bottle of uncontaminated water in post apocalyptic america: i love this?? this is so pure omg
tumblr user, finding a miraculously untouched packet of frozen pastries in post-apocalyptic america: beautiful cinnamon roll too good for this world, too pure
tumblr user, succumbing to dehydration in the wilderness of post-apocalyptic america: my hands are literally shaking as I type this
tumblr edgelord, to a booby-trap in post-apocalyptic america, an arrow embedded deep in their chest: i’m sorry, are you triggered?
tumblr user, attempting to reestablish a pony express mail service across the shattered remnants of post-apocalyptic america: this post is important
tumblr user, standing behind thousands of other refugees from post-apocalyptic america, straining to hear the instructions of the volunteer who is giving them their floor space assignments: say it louder for the people in the back
tumblr user, handing out vials —filled with a cure for the plague which has devastated the world— to the remaining people of post-apocalyptic america: spread this like wildfire
tumblr user, checking the post-apocalyptic town’s notice board for information important to rebuilding: why doesn’t this have more notes??
tumblr user, about to venture out into a dangerous part of the post-apocalyptic world with a small group of volunteers for whom they care for dearly and are concerned about the mental wellbeing of and the impact the adventure could have on them: if you don’t like this unfollow me right now
tumblr user, watching a boy be dragged into the stocks of a post-apocalyptic settlement for the crime of stealing a crust of bread: FREE HIM
Post post modernism
tumblr user, trekking on foot across the burned out plains of post-apocalyptic america in search of refuge for what seems like forever: Is Canada even real?
tumblr user, being offered bark tea to fend off against scurvy in post-apocalyptic america: This tea is HOT!
tumblr user, alone and searching for the warmth and comfort of other humans and being jumped by a group of post-apocalyptic american vigilantes: I came out to have a good time and i’m honestly feeling so attacked right now
tumblr user, caring for a nursery of small children, the last children born into this broken, dying world, gently feeding them watery broth: take a fuckin’ sip babes
tumblr user, watching a suspicious figure approach the gates of their ramshackle settlement in post-apocalyptic america: who is she
tumblr user, looking helplessly at their shattered pole weapon before perishing in the battle circle of post-apocalyptic america: wtf staff
staff replied, post is over
The futuristic vehicle and sci-fi mech designs of Lim Philippe - https://www.this-is-cool.co.uk/the-futuristic-sci-fi-art-of-lim-philippe/
An SR-71 Blackbird once flew from LA to Washington DC in 64 minutes. Average speed of the flight: 2145mph.
“There were a lot of things we couldn’t do in an SR-71, but we were the fastest guys on the block and loved reminding our fellow aviators of this fact. People often asked us if, because of this fact, it was fun to fly the jet. Fun would not be the first word I would use to describe flying this plane. Intense, maybe. Even cerebral. But there was one day in our Sled experience when we would have to say that it was pure fun to be the fastest guys out there, at least for a moment.
It occurred when Walt and I were flying our final training sortie. We needed 100 hours in the jet to complete our training and attain Mission Ready status. Somewhere over Colorado we had passed the century mark. We had made the turn in Arizona and the jet was performing flawlessly. My gauges were wired in the front seat and we were starting to feel pretty good about ourselves, not only because we would soon be flying real missions but because we had gained a great deal of confidence in the plane in the past ten months. Ripping across the barren deserts 80,000 feet below us, I could already see the coast of California from the Arizona border. I was, finally, after many humbling months of simulators and study, ahead of the jet.
I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Walter in the back seat. There he was, with no really good view of the incredible sights before us, tasked with monitoring four different radios. This was good practice for him for when we began flying real missions, when a priority transmission from headquarters could be vital. It had been difficult, too, for me to relinquish control of the radios, as during my entire flying career I had controlled my own transmissions. But it was part of the division of duties in this plane and I had adjusted to it. I still insisted on talking on the radio while we were on the ground, however. Walt was so good at many things, but he couldn’t match my expertise at sounding smooth on the radios, a skill that had been honed sharply with years in fighter squadrons where the slightest radio miscue was grounds for beheading. He understood that and allowed me that luxury.
Just to get a sense of what Walt had to contend with, I pulled the radio toggle switches and monitored the frequencies along with him. The predominant radio chatter was from Los Angeles Center, far below us, controlling daily traffic in their sector. While they had us on their scope (albeit briefly), we were in uncontrolled airspace and normally would not talk to them unless we needed to descend into their airspace.
We listened as the shaky voice of a lone Cessna pilot asked Center for a readout of his ground speed. Center replied: “November Charlie 175, I’m showing you at ninety knots on the ground.”
Now the thing to understand about Center controllers, was that whether they were talking to a rookie pilot in a Cessna, or to Air Force One, they always spoke in the exact same, calm, deep, professional, tone that made one feel important. I referred to it as the “ Houston Center voice.” I have always felt that after years of seeing documentaries on this country’s space program and listening to the calm and distinct voice of the Houston controllers, that all other controllers since then wanted to sound like that, and that they basically did. And it didn’t matter what sector of the country we would be flying in, it always seemed like the same guy was talking. Over the years that tone of voice had become somewhat of a comforting sound to pilots everywhere. Conversely, over the years, pilots always wanted to ensure that, when transmitting, they sounded like Chuck Yeager, or at least like John Wayne. Better to die than sound bad on the radios.
Just moments after the Cessna’s inquiry, a Twin Beech piped up on frequency, in a rather superior tone, asking for his ground speed. “I have you at one hundred and twenty-five knots of ground speed.” Boy, I thought, the Beechcraft really must think he is dazzling his Cessna brethren. Then out of the blue, a navy F-18 pilot out of NAS Lemoore came up on frequency. You knew right away it was a Navy jock because he sounded very cool on the radios. “Center, Dusty 52 ground speed check”. Before Center could reply, I’m thinking to myself, hey, Dusty 52 has a ground speed indicator in that million-dollar cockpit, so why is he asking Center for a readout? Then I got it, ol’ Dusty here is making sure that every bug smasher from Mount Whitney to the Mojave knows what true speed is. He’s the fastest dude in the valley today, and he just wants everyone to know how much fun he is having in his new Hornet. And the reply, always with that same, calm, voice, with more distinct alliteration than emotion: “Dusty 52, Center, we have you at 620 on the ground.”
And I thought to myself, is this a ripe situation, or what? As my hand instinctively reached for the mic button, I had to remind myself that Walt was in control of the radios. Still, I thought, it must be done - in mere seconds we’ll be out of the sector and the opportunity will be lost. That Hornet must die, and die now. I thought about all of our Sim training and how important it was that we developed well as a crew and knew that to jump in on the radios now would destroy the integrity of all that we had worked toward becoming. I was torn.
Somewhere, 13 miles above Arizona, there was a pilot screaming inside his space helmet. Then, I heard it. The click of the mic button from the back seat. That was the very moment that I knew Walter and I had become a crew. Very professionally, and with no emotion, Walter spoke: “Los Angeles Center, Aspen 20, can you give us a ground speed check?” There was no hesitation, and the replay came as if was an everyday request. “Aspen 20, I show you at one thousand eight hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground.”
I think it was the forty-two knots that I liked the best, so accurate and proud was Center to deliver that information without hesitation, and you just knew he was smiling. But the precise point at which I knew that Walt and I were going to be really good friends for a long time was when he keyed the mic once again to say, in his most fighter-pilot-like voice: “Ah, Center, much thanks, we’re showing closer to nineteen hundred on the money.”
For a moment Walter was a god. And we finally heard a little crack in the armor of the Houston Center voice, when L.A. came back with, “Roger that Aspen, Your equipment is probably more accurate than ours. You boys have a good one.”
It all had lasted for just moments, but in that short, memorable sprint across the southwest, the Navy had been flamed, all mortal airplanes on freq were forced to bow before the King of Speed, and more importantly, Walter and I had crossed the threshold of being a crew. A fine day’s work.
We never heard another transmission on that frequency all the way to the coast.”
-Brian Schul, Sled Driver: Flying The World’s Fastest Jet
Always reblog passive-aggressive Blackbird speed check
tumblr guide for new users:
1) there is no algorithm for your dashboard. can't stress this enough. your dashboard is in chronological order of posts and reblogs from people you follow. "based on your likes!" is a joke and they removed that feature in a week
2) because of the lack of algorithm, likes do nothing. if you want more people to see a post, you have to reblog it so it goes on your follower's dashes
3) the vast majority of posts on a person's blog tend to be reblogs. think 90% or so. some of those will have that person commenting on it, and more will have tags
4) comments stay on reblog chains, while tags only show up on your reblog of that post. it's kind of like a whisper voice. in either case, both op and the person you reblogged from see that in their notifications
5) tags don't go in the body of the post. writing "staying in #lasvegas" won't make it appear in the las vegas tag, it'll just look weird
6) it's totally normal to reblog and post multiple things in one day. it's normal to reblog the same post twice in a row. it's normal to have 100 posts+reblogs in a day. post limit (the total number of original posts and reblogs) for a single day is 250. you heard me. 250. go hog fucking wild
7) it defaults to having a visible likes tab on your blog (but only on your blog, not the dashboard) but most people toggle it off
8) "tumblr clout" is a fucking joke. no one can see your follower count, and no one makes money here. there are no influencers. enjoy not giving a shit about maintaining a public persona. it's all anonymous and your employers won't find you here
I don’t think any movie will make me feel the same ethereal sense of otherworldly sorrow and disembodied awe as that scene in Lord of the Rings where the loyal son is sent off into a doomed battle to please his vindictive father while Pippin sings a mourning song of his people
I was like 12 and high off this shit
These movies CHANGED ME
This is one of my favourite parts of the whole trilogy. It’s haunting.
And that Pippin takes actually a happy walking song of his people, because Hobbit songs are generally happy and about food and drink and gifts and things, and *transforms* it into a mourning song.
The song is from Fellowship, before all the heavy plot hits and they’re still in the Shire. It’s about walking, and how eventually all the bad things that scare or sadden you will fade away and you’ll be home warm by the fire.
And Pippin takes it, changes the lines, the key, and sings a song that is truly fit for Denethor’s great hall.
Knowing Billy Boyd gave his own melody to it and everyone had chills after hearing him sing it. This is how you get actors involved with the story and character, this is how amazingly well these films were cast. Fans have been singing that haunting tune in echoing halls and caves and towers for 20 years now and it never loses its beauty.
who is alistare crowly and why should his name cause me pain to read? ive seen his face, got nothin else to go off of
One of the most influential magical practicioners of the last 200 years. Fantastic sorcerer. Terrible person. Very racist. Quite the meme in the occult community.
He was not. Irish Poet W.B. Yeats kicked him down a flight of stairs.
Crowley was the only one casting spells. It's not a boxing match if only one of you has gloves.
yeats was a powerful wizard. spell of 'kick you down the stairs'
So in other words, Crowley was Yeeted by Yeats.