It is I, Michelle Heller, a person you've probably never heard of until now. I am an extremely obscure indie horror writer with two official titles and a whole mess of goofy short stories I share for free.
I am a humble cryptid that enjoys comedy horror, cosmic horror, and body horror (often all at once). I don't restrict myself to those categories more than I tend to get the most ideas for them, though. Expect me to eventually wander off into another subgenre.
I may occasionally post my bad doodles of various monsters/characters, but art really is not my strength, so they'll be pretty sparse.
Under no circumstances will I ever, nor have I ever, used Generative AI for my works. Every single thing I write is 100%, organic, human-made. I will rant for days about how much I hate that godforsaken technology, lol. I do NOT give permission for any of my works to be used for the training of the slop machine. (I am certain the pro-GenAI crowd will ignore this, but, alas, it must be said).
If you want to support my shenanigans with money:
💀BUY ME A COFFEE
💀PAPERBACKS
💀FREE E-BOOKS
All of my novels will have eBook counterparts that are 100% free, for all eternity. Whether I have two, ten, or a million. I'm doing this because my true desire in life is to have readers.
I have wasted far too much time trying to monetize my passion and ultimately spent more money than I made, when all I really wanted was for people to actually peek at my weird little worlds. The only thing I ever do that will cost money are my physical book copies.
I sincerely hope you have fun here. I certainly am!
I am so tired of short-attention-span, trim-the-fat culture.
All writing advice these days is for how to write like Chuck Palahniuk. "Cut 'think', cut 'feel', cut 'wonder' - only action, only pushing forward, show and move and move and move." What if I could emulate this style, and still don't want to? What if I want to write like Henry James, with three paragraphs of introspective musings between each dialogue line?
The music advice is, "make it shortform, make it Tik-Tok compatible, make it punchy, hit the refrain as soon as possible." What if I want that 10-minute prog rock piece? What if I want that symphony? What if I want it slow and luxurious and lazy?
Movies. Series. Poetry. Bodies. Everything is "trimmed trimmed trimmed trimmed, stripped bare, you have three seconds to win me over, make it airport chic." I don't want to win you over, then, I guess.
I want the fat left it.
I want the pleasure and the indolence and the indulgence.
Fuck this art-advice that's always "your art needs Ozempic."
Sometimes I forget I have this blog because my brain cells are actually all goldfish.
HELLO handful of followers.
I am going to be at AuthorCon in 2026, in Williamsburg Virgnia. This means I'm taking a break from my fun silly side projects and buckling down to finish a fun silly novel.
i took it huge deal slower with your other book, sour doe, because well, school and life and whatnot
i really liked the mystery of it all! and i learnt a bunch of new words which is cool. 'jenny' being the main one. in hindsight it makes a ton of sense that there would be a word for the female counterpart of jackass lol
'Worse yet, my ass crack made a guest appearance.' had me laughing a lot, almost made me drop my phone on my face haha
and the final showdown!! that shit was so tense i loved it! :D
Aaa! I'm so glad you enjoyed it :D
I went down a RABBITHOLE of homesteading research and my algorithm still thinks I want to live on a farm, lmao
DISPLACEMENT - an original story with our own ocs.
A month ago or so, me and my friend came up with our own story and characters. If you're interested, here's the info!! :
It's called displacement, it's a story set somewhere in the late '90s in California, about these group of people (a kid, a teen, 2 young adults, and one old lady) who were doing their thing in the mall, when an EXPLOSION!! had stuck them together in this weird place that resembled a mall, but it wasn't their mall.
The story is set in a 3rd person limited, and might not get consistent updates, but me and my friend will try to write whenever we can💓 if you wanna see the first chapter, check it out!!
Tags- SFW, there are swears here, original story, idk what genre this belongs to, mystery??
Divider credits go to: @uzmacchiato
Chapter 1 - Rewind
To miss Nicole Windsor,
We write this letter to tell you that we are opening up a charity a fortnight from now, the team discussed, and we decided that you—with your kindness and generosity, you could help raise some funds for the kids who are suffering from the consequences of war. This event will be held at the Mallcourt Mall, at 12:00 PM, July 14, 1990. You have such a big influence across the world, you’ve touched many hearts. So, we hope you write back.
Sincerely, the department of ‘Shining Beauty.”
“NO, NOT THERE!”
Multiple people dressed in black blouses and slacks scattered across the room, each doing something, one was sweeping the floors, one was lighting the candles on the chandelier, and one was placing a big giant bow on the window.
A woman, dressed a lot more classier, strutted towards the shivering maid, she bent down to her level.
“Do you think that’s correct?” the woman had asked, nearly patronizing the poor maid.
She shook her head instantly, “No–”
“Then WHY is it like THAT?” the snob yelled, “Y’know, people like you always think they’re better than everyone, don’t you? you think you’re better?” she asked.
Before the shorter girl could respond, another person had walked into the scene, she was dressed in a polished pink uniform with a blazer. She had a nametag that read: Valentine (Assistant.)
“Miss Nicole?” Valentine had spoken up, a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. “A letter from Shining Beauty has come, I read it, and I believe it could be a great deal for your character and your status.”
The woman from earlier, Nicole, was already walking away. Valentine catching up, following her like a dog. Once her assistant finished talking, she turned to the brunette.
“Why bother me with that . . . foolish company?” She complained, her hands raising in the air in exaggeration, “Do you know what they do, Vallie?” she asked.
Valentine nodded, hugging the clipboard close to her chest. “Yes, ma'am, they’re a beauty company, one of the most ethical–”
“No,” Nicole scoffed, “They’re a bunch of idiots that spend way too much time and effort on. . . ugh, the lesser.”
“Isn’t that, like, a good thing—”
“NO, Valentine, it’s not!” The snob yelled, “Now, shoo— shoo! Go away! Assist the bow on the window situation.” She was waving her hand off, almost hitting Valentine in the face with her manicured nails.
Two weeks later, Nicole ended up being at the event, despite her initial resignation—she realized that it could actually be a good deal.
So, here she was, on the small stage the mall had set up. There were 2 couches next to each other, guests from several backgrounds had come to also promote the charity and the company.
Nicole sighed, lying back on the couch cushions. She wore a dark sparkly dress that she thrifted to be ethical as she sat on the one million dollar couch.
“What even is the point of me being here?” Nicole muttered to one of the hosts, the man smiled. “Well, Miss Nicole, they’re only going to be guests, while you’ll be giving the big speech.”
She blinked, rubbed her eyes for good measure, then she actually stared into his eyes, “what?” She finally choked out.
“Yeah,” he replied, “Didn’t you read the follow up letter?”
Nicole bit her cheek, she didn’t read it. At all. She felt that it would be a waste of time, so she had . . . burnt it down.
“Yeah. . . Yeah, I did. I did read it.” Nicole said, slowly. “I was just. . . um, pretending!” She then let out a chuckle, which the man followed with a rather loud laugh.
“Ha- ha! You’re a diamond, miss Nicole,” a smile was on his face now, "good luck out there. ” he said, patting her shoulder before standing up to the mic.
Meanwhile, just nearby, was Mr. Stupid Pete’s Chicken Wings, a dine-in that was often claimed by either depressed old American men—or rough college drop-outs that sell drugs (they’re actually expired grinded mentos) to high school kids.
In one of the maroon booths were two guys; Hunter and Aiden.
“Are you sure we gotta do this?” Aiden asked, furrowing his brows.
Hunter nodded, “Yeah,” he said, “We gotta get into the music world!”
“Didn’t you say you wanted to get out of Cali?” He asked, “To become a DJ in Indiana?”
Aiden sighed, “yeah. . . I did.”
Hunter grinned, and pulled out what seemed to be gas masks, “Now put these on!”
Meanwhile, at the center of the mallcourt mall..
“Get back here you little thief!” The guard yelled as he was chasing after the child. The chase then continued on for five whole minutes until the child tripped and his bag full of coins fell along with him. “Got you now, you punk!” The guard then grabbed the blonde boy by the arm. The boy then tried to escape the man’s grip, flailing his arm around. “Urgh—let go of me!” The boy pleaded. “Please sir I need this!” the boy cried. “I need money for food!”
A woman of dark hair was walking by, she snickered,
“crazy kid. . .”
Then, when she turned her head, she realized that she was mere milliseconds into colliding with—
“GAH!”
The dark haired woman fell backwards, concerned with the ache on her lower back, then noticed that her shirt was wet and smelled like coffee.
When she looked up, she saw that it was a rather old looking lady. “Watch your steps next time,” the old woman sneered, “you eyeliner freak.”
“I’m sorry?” The other woman asked, standing up to her feet. “Your wrinkled orange ass can’t be speaking.”
The older woman gasped, “How DARE you? I’m—this—it’s. . . It’s a tan! I’m not orange!”
The dark brunette crossed her arms, “yeah, sure, tell yourself that.”
As the two ladies bickered— a group of people was just passing by, eyeing them up and down. “Tch, weirdos..” one of them said, a man with short black dreads. “Chris! Stop giving them weird looks before they think you’re a perv!” One of the guys in the group replied, his words laced with a teasing tone. “Yeah yeah, I’ll shut up, Matt.” Chris replied back.
The event was starting now, podium lights lighting up the already bright room, crowds started forming in front of the stage—it was seriously packed.
“Welcome California!” One of the hosts had raved into the mic, stirring up a rather eager crowd. . . What was this all about again?
Right, a charity, one that Nicole quite didn’t care about. Those children could hang themselves in front of her and she wouldn’t bat an eye.
“. . . And now, presenting: Nicole Windsor!”
The crowd applauded, some standing up, some yelling, and some even trying to get over the barricade.
Nicole got up, slowly, like she was purposely delaying the inevitable. Her dress suddenly felt too itchy, her hands felt dry, and everything felt like it was melting away. She took a deep breath, standing up to the podium, nodding at the other important person (she didn't care enough to know who) before holding onto the microphone.
Her eyes scanned the crowd, then beyond, she saw what seemed to be a young woman and an elderly arguing, a young kid getting chased around by the police, and a group of teens snickering nearby. . . Well, at least she wasn't the only one having a crazy day right now.
Nicole took another inhale of cold mall air, closing her eyes for only a moment. She had decided she could do this, until-
“PUT THE WEAPON DOWN!”
The demanding voice had distracted everybody, all turning their heads to the scene: the police, surrounding this man—who had something round in his hand, and a stupid looking gas mask on his face.
The guy scoffed, “man, this isn't a weapon! It's just a bomb!” He had said that with way too much certainty, removing the mask to reveal Aiden.
“Bombs are classified as weapons,” one of the policemen replied. “Now, please, surrender yourself and the weapon.”
He shook his head, only holding the bomb closer to his chest, like a stuffed toy of some sorts. “Nuh uh! I need to rob everyone here so I can become a DJ in Indiana!”
The policeman stared at him, “So what do you even need a bomb for?”
Aiden grinned, “for accessory!”
The captain—assuming he is, by his stance—whispers to his crew, then, they all start marching towards him. They believed that he didn't have the mental capacity to actually fight back.
Everyone was looking now, the group of teens were using their camera to record this, the kid was stealing coins from the fountain while the police were distracted, the two women were still fighting. . . And Nicole was just relieved she didn't have to give this speech.
As the policemen were about to have their hands on him, Aiden suddenly gasped.
“Oh DIP!” He yelled as he threw the bomb onto the middle of the mall, which rolled onto the floor, and bumped onto the fountain.
It ticked, then ticked, and everyone had just registered the timer that glowed in red: “00:01,” that's when everything went dark.
Authors note:
hii! I'm so glad you read it!! If you have any form of criticism or advice on our writing, please feel free to give.
I'm so excited to continue this story eheheh, writing is one of the things I want to pursue in the future, I'm just sad it may not be possible. I will continue to write nonetheless!!
OKAY. Nine thousand years later, I have a day off, I am so sorry it took me so long for this!!
I love that plotline. Backrooms-style stuff is so my jam. It's a very good hook.
In no way do I consider myself an authority on writing, so don't take my constructive crits as gospel! I do proofreading/editing for my friends (and, myself of course) but never professionally.
In general:
I see a lot of passive voice here. This is a hard thing to explain (for me, lol), and I struggled with it too. Truly, whenever I come across it, I don't see it as a detraction from a story, but the wider audience for stories tends to find it in the category of "this could have been worded better". SO:
The rule I learned for Passive Voice (and avoiding it) is that if you can add "by/with zombies" to the end of a sentence and it makes sense, you've used passive voice, and can improve that sentence by ditching it.
An example from this story:
Before the shorter girl could respond, another person had walked into the scene,
That sentence makes total sense and paints the scene, but, she can walk into the scene with zombies. A way to make this sentence more active:
A woman in a polished pink uniform briskly entered, interrupting the shorter girl's train of thought.
The gripes about passive voice pretty much lie in the fact that it just slows down the story a little, as far as I understand, at least. Reducing instances of this (with the goal of abandoning it entirely) can help your scenes flow better.
Another unrelated thing you can do to improve flow is limit the use of -ly words like quickly, horribly, etc etc. These words are NOT banned, mind! Adverbs are great! But in action scenes or fast-paced scenes especially, they can almost always be replaced with a plain old verb to keep sentences clipping along. This is just a little random bit of advice I remembered more than it's something I think is an issue with this story, though! I love adverbs too much and had to clean up so many action scenes when I was editing my novels, haha. Just a quick example to paint that picture, though:
He laid there, ribs hurting horribly, trying to catch his breath.
Versus:
He laid there in agony, drawing shallow breaths.
It just keeps things going NYOOM
Also:
You can make your work snappier/more impactful by limiting "feel" statements.
Her dress felt itchy, her hands felt dry, and everything felt like it was melting away.
This character is not a fan of being on stage and is feeling anxiety. This is the part of "show, don't tell" that rings true (I generally think that advice is taken too extreme most of the time so seriously do not hold yourself to it like it's a law, lol, I will explain that soon).
Try something like this instead (I went with clammy hands here because usually your palms don't dry out when you're nervous, but this is a stylistic choice that you can ignore :D):
She stood, feeling like her dress was made of burlap. Rubbing her clammy hands together, Nichole's focus on the stage muted the rest of the world to her senses.
We can imply the world feels wobbly and melty all around her by being a little less direct with our language. For a long time, I wrote in a way where I wanted my readers to know exactly how I meant everything, and it took me so long to just let them be free. It allows you to leave a lot to implication, interpretation, and focus on the things that you really want to get across.
Just as with passive voice, there are folks that prefer we limit the use of 'was' as well. It is impossible to avoid 'was' and 'feel' statements 100%, but it's really a matter of knowing when they fit and when they start to get repetitive. Identifying these and other filter words can help you polish your work all shiny and nice! There's some really good writing advice I loosely follow that I'll link at the end of this.
Re: Show Don't Tell (but not always, imho) -
Sometimes characters really, truly know things, and that's okay. "Jeff felt like shit" is a completely fine sentence that conveys what you need. Never fully abandon a word, I say. Because 100% adhering to "show, don't tell" will have you being overly flowery a lot of the time. You do not always need half a paragraph to convey a feeling. We are allowed, I'd say, to just be direct when it suits the story, lol.
So, some days, Jeff is stuck in a miasma of his regret, staring into his coffee until it's cold. Other days, he just feels like shit. It allllll depends on what you want that scene to say.
Anywho, this is some PRIMO writing advice that I try to remember whenever I'm building a story.
But even with all that in mind, I say the same thing I did about "show, don't tell". That writing advice does not always work for every single scene. Keep these structural ideas in mind, but do what serves your story every time, even if it breaks a "rule". Because, in my opinion, there ARE no writing rules. I ignore so many "rules" myself, lol.
I also want to comment on your dialogue. Dialogue is honestly the hardest damn thing to flesh out. I get a good sense of who's talking, which is fantastic! Giving each character their own unique voice is one of the more annoying/difficult things so big kudos there. Characters talking to each other is one of the things I rework the most.
I'll just choose a specific passage that I can use as a good example and give you some groundwork for editing and writing further scenes!
The guy scoffed, “man, this isn't a weapon! It's just a bomb!” He had said that with way too much certainty, removing the mask to reveal Aiden.
“Bombs are classified as weapons,” one of the policemen replied. “Now, please, surrender yourself and the weapon.”
He shook his head, only holding the bomb closer to his chest, like a stuffed toy of some sorts. “Nuh uh! I need to rob everyone here so I can become a DJ in Indiana!”
Starting strong! But I would rework this something like this:
The guy scoffed, replying with inflated confidence, "man, this isn't a weapon! It's a bomb!"
"Bombs count as weapons," an officer replied. "Surrender now. Disarm your weapon."
He shook his head, clutching the bomb to his chest like it brought him comfort. "Nah. I got plans, and I need a lot of money."
Lots of changes made here that I will explain as well as I can!
First -- it seems that we are seeing clear POV shifts between Aiden and Nichole. This scene reads, to me, as being through her eyes. Unless she knows Aiden personally (She might! I could have missed that!), him removing his mask wouldn't change his identifier from "the guy" to "Aiden". Plotwise, it would be a bad move for him to remove his mask in front of the cops as well. He still has a chance to get away scott-free, and them knowing his face would not be conducive to that plan.
THAT SAID -- characters are allowed to make stupid decisions. So, if Aidan really would do that, keep it, LOL.
He also doesn't need to make his motives known so soon. A lot of this is a stylistic choice on my end, however, but I'm hoping these points give you the perspective you were seeking.
Also. Is that a Good Place reference I spy?! I love it lmfao
I always knew there was like smth off with some of the things I wrote buuuutt I didn't know what it was... and now I do!! I know that show don't tell is really important but I genuinely suck at that sometimes lol.
Also, Aiden IS stupid and would do that on purpose, he didn't even need the bomb to rob the place anyway.
About Nicole possibly knowing Aiden, no, she doesn't. I did that pov shift for some reason and now that I'm reading it, it looks a bit weird now.
I am gonna edit that❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹
If you know how to improve on the whole 'show don't tell' thing and how to write characters from a 3rd pov with limited knowledge without spoiling who they are PLZZ tell me!!!
I hate to give such a cop-out answer on improving things but, these things really do work I swear lmao:
Just keep writing. Stretch that muscle.
More importantly: READ! Read books with stellar reviews in the genre you want to write especially. Read books with BAD reviews and try to pick out why they weren't well received. I have two speeds when I read:
For fun, where, I simply experience the awesome
AND
For my skills, where I really look at sentences, how the person writes. Is there a line that just has you saying, "FUCK, that's a GOOD LINE"? Examine why you love it. Does it just hit something you wish you could hit on? Is it opening new synapses in your brain for making up new metaphors?
I'm a massive fan of Terry Pratchett. The genre is irrelevant here. That man took the English language and made pure art with it, line by line. He is a master class in thinking outside the box when it comes to conveying a scene, a character, etc.
This did just pop into my head though:
Third person limited is my preferred writing style (though I absolutely love present tense tbh) and I approach it as if I myself am the main character. Not a self-insert, but, "getting into character". You can world-build all you want; I know I do! I have a 130k word file on one single novel of just backstory lmao. But when you're writing it:
If you were that character, in that scene, instead of the writer laying it all out, you would not know probably 90% of all that lore you thought up. Think of it as you watching a TV show you've been spoiled on. You know everything that's gonna happen. And you have to watch that character figure it all out, still knowing everything. You want to tell them! You wish they knew! But the fun is watching them go through it.
SO: if you wouldn't know, they wouldn't know. (Probably. There's probably going to be instances where that's not true lol but it's a good rule of thumb that's done me well so far!)
DISPLACEMENT - an original story with our own ocs.
A month ago or so, me and my friend came up with our own story and characters. If you're interested, here's the info!! :
It's called displacement, it's a story set somewhere in the late '90s in California, about these group of people (a kid, a teen, 2 young adults, and one old lady) who were doing their thing in the mall, when an EXPLOSION!! had stuck them together in this weird place that resembled a mall, but it wasn't their mall.
The story is set in a 3rd person limited, and might not get consistent updates, but me and my friend will try to write whenever we can💓 if you wanna see the first chapter, check it out!!
Tags- SFW, there are swears here, original story, idk what genre this belongs to, mystery??
Divider credits go to: @uzmacchiato
Chapter 1 - Rewind
To miss Nicole Windsor,
We write this letter to tell you that we are opening up a charity a fortnight from now, the team discussed, and we decided that you—with your kindness and generosity, you could help raise some funds for the kids who are suffering from the consequences of war. This event will be held at the Mallcourt Mall, at 12:00 PM, July 14, 1990. You have such a big influence across the world, you’ve touched many hearts. So, we hope you write back.
Sincerely, the department of ‘Shining Beauty.”
“NO, NOT THERE!”
Multiple people dressed in black blouses and slacks scattered across the room, each doing something, one was sweeping the floors, one was lighting the candles on the chandelier, and one was placing a big giant bow on the window.
A woman, dressed a lot more classier, strutted towards the shivering maid, she bent down to her level.
“Do you think that’s correct?” the woman had asked, nearly patronizing the poor maid.
She shook her head instantly, “No–”
“Then WHY is it like THAT?” the snob yelled, “Y’know, people like you always think they’re better than everyone, don’t you? you think you’re better?” she asked.
Before the shorter girl could respond, another person had walked into the scene, she was dressed in a polished pink uniform with a blazer. She had a nametag that read: Valentine (Assistant.)
“Miss Nicole?” Valentine had spoken up, a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. “A letter from Shining Beauty has come, I read it, and I believe it could be a great deal for your character and your status.”
The woman from earlier, Nicole, was already walking away. Valentine catching up, following her like a dog. Once her assistant finished talking, she turned to the brunette.
“Why bother me with that . . . foolish company?” She complained, her hands raising in the air in exaggeration, “Do you know what they do, Vallie?” she asked.
Valentine nodded, hugging the clipboard close to her chest. “Yes, ma'am, they’re a beauty company, one of the most ethical–”
“No,” Nicole scoffed, “They’re a bunch of idiots that spend way too much time and effort on. . . ugh, the lesser.”
“Isn’t that, like, a good thing—”
“NO, Valentine, it’s not!” The snob yelled, “Now, shoo— shoo! Go away! Assist the bow on the window situation.” She was waving her hand off, almost hitting Valentine in the face with her manicured nails.
Two weeks later, Nicole ended up being at the event, despite her initial resignation—she realized that it could actually be a good deal.
So, here she was, on the small stage the mall had set up. There were 2 couches next to each other, guests from several backgrounds had come to also promote the charity and the company.
Nicole sighed, lying back on the couch cushions. She wore a dark sparkly dress that she thrifted to be ethical as she sat on the one million dollar couch.
“What even is the point of me being here?” Nicole muttered to one of the hosts, the man smiled. “Well, Miss Nicole, they’re only going to be guests, while you’ll be giving the big speech.”
She blinked, rubbed her eyes for good measure, then she actually stared into his eyes, “what?” She finally choked out.
“Yeah,” he replied, “Didn’t you read the follow up letter?”
Nicole bit her cheek, she didn’t read it. At all. She felt that it would be a waste of time, so she had . . . burnt it down.
“Yeah. . . Yeah, I did. I did read it.” Nicole said, slowly. “I was just. . . um, pretending!” She then let out a chuckle, which the man followed with a rather loud laugh.
“Ha- ha! You’re a diamond, miss Nicole,” a smile was on his face now, "good luck out there. ” he said, patting her shoulder before standing up to the mic.
Meanwhile, just nearby, was Mr. Stupid Pete’s Chicken Wings, a dine-in that was often claimed by either depressed old American men—or rough college drop-outs that sell drugs (they’re actually expired grinded mentos) to high school kids.
In one of the maroon booths were two guys; Hunter and Aiden.
“Are you sure we gotta do this?” Aiden asked, furrowing his brows.
Hunter nodded, “Yeah,” he said, “We gotta get into the music world!”
“Didn’t you say you wanted to get out of Cali?” He asked, “To become a DJ in Indiana?”
Aiden sighed, “yeah. . . I did.”
Hunter grinned, and pulled out what seemed to be gas masks, “Now put these on!”
Meanwhile, at the center of the mallcourt mall..
“Get back here you little thief!” The guard yelled as he was chasing after the child. The chase then continued on for five whole minutes until the child tripped and his bag full of coins fell along with him. “Got you now, you punk!” The guard then grabbed the blonde boy by the arm. The boy then tried to escape the man’s grip, flailing his arm around. “Urgh—let go of me!” The boy pleaded. “Please sir I need this!” the boy cried. “I need money for food!”
A woman of dark hair was walking by, she snickered,
“crazy kid. . .”
Then, when she turned her head, she realized that she was mere milliseconds into colliding with—
“GAH!”
The dark haired woman fell backwards, concerned with the ache on her lower back, then noticed that her shirt was wet and smelled like coffee.
When she looked up, she saw that it was a rather old looking lady. “Watch your steps next time,” the old woman sneered, “you eyeliner freak.”
“I’m sorry?” The other woman asked, standing up to her feet. “Your wrinkled orange ass can’t be speaking.”
The older woman gasped, “How DARE you? I’m—this—it’s. . . It’s a tan! I’m not orange!”
The dark brunette crossed her arms, “yeah, sure, tell yourself that.”
As the two ladies bickered— a group of people was just passing by, eyeing them up and down. “Tch, weirdos..” one of them said, a man with short black dreads. “Chris! Stop giving them weird looks before they think you’re a perv!” One of the guys in the group replied, his words laced with a teasing tone. “Yeah yeah, I’ll shut up, Matt.” Chris replied back.
The event was starting now, podium lights lighting up the already bright room, crowds started forming in front of the stage—it was seriously packed.
“Welcome California!” One of the hosts had raved into the mic, stirring up a rather eager crowd. . . What was this all about again?
Right, a charity, one that Nicole quite didn’t care about. Those children could hang themselves in front of her and she wouldn’t bat an eye.
“. . . And now, presenting: Nicole Windsor!”
The crowd applauded, some standing up, some yelling, and some even trying to get over the barricade.
Nicole got up, slowly, like she was purposely delaying the inevitable. Her dress suddenly felt too itchy, her hands felt dry, and everything felt like it was melting away. She took a deep breath, standing up to the podium, nodding at the other important person (she didn't care enough to know who) before holding onto the microphone.
Her eyes scanned the crowd, then beyond, she saw what seemed to be a young woman and an elderly arguing, a young kid getting chased around by the police, and a group of teens snickering nearby. . . Well, at least she wasn't the only one having a crazy day right now.
Nicole took another inhale of cold mall air, closing her eyes for only a moment. She had decided she could do this, until-
“PUT THE WEAPON DOWN!”
The demanding voice had distracted everybody, all turning their heads to the scene: the police, surrounding this man—who had something round in his hand, and a stupid looking gas mask on his face.
The guy scoffed, “man, this isn't a weapon! It's just a bomb!” He had said that with way too much certainty, removing the mask to reveal Aiden.
“Bombs are classified as weapons,” one of the policemen replied. “Now, please, surrender yourself and the weapon.”
He shook his head, only holding the bomb closer to his chest, like a stuffed toy of some sorts. “Nuh uh! I need to rob everyone here so I can become a DJ in Indiana!”
The policeman stared at him, “So what do you even need a bomb for?”
Aiden grinned, “for accessory!”
The captain—assuming he is, by his stance—whispers to his crew, then, they all start marching towards him. They believed that he didn't have the mental capacity to actually fight back.
Everyone was looking now, the group of teens were using their camera to record this, the kid was stealing coins from the fountain while the police were distracted, the two women were still fighting. . . And Nicole was just relieved she didn't have to give this speech.
As the policemen were about to have their hands on him, Aiden suddenly gasped.
“Oh DIP!” He yelled as he threw the bomb onto the middle of the mall, which rolled onto the floor, and bumped onto the fountain.
It ticked, then ticked, and everyone had just registered the timer that glowed in red: “00:01,” that's when everything went dark.
Authors note:
hii! I'm so glad you read it!! If you have any form of criticism or advice on our writing, please feel free to give.
I'm so excited to continue this story eheheh, writing is one of the things I want to pursue in the future, I'm just sad it may not be possible. I will continue to write nonetheless!!
OKAY. Nine thousand years later, I have a day off, I am so sorry it took me so long for this!!
I love that plotline. Backrooms-style stuff is so my jam. It's a very good hook.
In no way do I consider myself an authority on writing, so don't take my constructive crits as gospel! I do proofreading/editing for my friends (and, myself of course) but never professionally.
In general:
I see a lot of passive voice here. This is a hard thing to explain (for me, lol), and I struggled with it too. Truly, whenever I come across it, I don't see it as a detraction from a story, but the wider audience for stories tends to find it in the category of "this could have been worded better". SO:
The rule I learned for Passive Voice (and avoiding it) is that if you can add "by/with zombies" to the end of a sentence and it makes sense, you've used passive voice, and can improve that sentence by ditching it.
An example from this story:
Before the shorter girl could respond, another person had walked into the scene,
That sentence makes total sense and paints the scene, but, she can walk into the scene with zombies. A way to make this sentence more active:
A woman in a polished pink uniform briskly entered, interrupting the shorter girl's train of thought.
The gripes about passive voice pretty much lie in the fact that it just slows down the story a little, as far as I understand, at least. Reducing instances of this (with the goal of abandoning it entirely) can help your scenes flow better.
Another unrelated thing you can do to improve flow is limit the use of -ly words like quickly, horribly, etc etc. These words are NOT banned, mind! Adverbs are great! But in action scenes or fast-paced scenes especially, they can almost always be replaced with a plain old verb to keep sentences clipping along. This is just a little random bit of advice I remembered more than it's something I think is an issue with this story, though! I love adverbs too much and had to clean up so many action scenes when I was editing my novels, haha. Just a quick example to paint that picture, though:
He laid there, ribs hurting horribly, trying to catch his breath.
Versus:
He laid there in agony, drawing shallow breaths.
It just keeps things going NYOOM
Also:
You can make your work snappier/more impactful by limiting "feel" statements.
Her dress felt itchy, her hands felt dry, and everything felt like it was melting away.
This character is not a fan of being on stage and is feeling anxiety. This is the part of "show, don't tell" that rings true (I generally think that advice is taken too extreme most of the time so seriously do not hold yourself to it like it's a law, lol, I will explain that soon).
Try something like this instead (I went with clammy hands here because usually your palms don't dry out when you're nervous, but this is a stylistic choice that you can ignore :D):
She stood, feeling like her dress was made of burlap. Rubbing her clammy hands together, Nichole's focus on the stage muted the rest of the world to her senses.
We can imply the world feels wobbly and melty all around her by being a little less direct with our language. For a long time, I wrote in a way where I wanted my readers to know exactly how I meant everything, and it took me so long to just let them be free. It allows you to leave a lot to implication, interpretation, and focus on the things that you really want to get across.
Just as with passive voice, there are folks that prefer we limit the use of 'was' as well. It is impossible to avoid 'was' and 'feel' statements 100%, but it's really a matter of knowing when they fit and when they start to get repetitive. Identifying these and other filter words can help you polish your work all shiny and nice! There's some really good writing advice I loosely follow that I'll link at the end of this.
Re: Show Don't Tell (but not always, imho) -
Sometimes characters really, truly know things, and that's okay. "Jeff felt like shit" is a completely fine sentence that conveys what you need. Never fully abandon a word, I say. Because 100% adhering to "show, don't tell" will have you being overly flowery a lot of the time. You do not always need half a paragraph to convey a feeling. We are allowed, I'd say, to just be direct when it suits the story, lol.
So, some days, Jeff is stuck in a miasma of his regret, staring into his coffee until it's cold. Other days, he just feels like shit. It allllll depends on what you want that scene to say.
Anywho, this is some PRIMO writing advice that I try to remember whenever I'm building a story.
But even with all that in mind, I say the same thing I did about "show, don't tell". That writing advice does not always work for every single scene. Keep these structural ideas in mind, but do what serves your story every time, even if it breaks a "rule". Because, in my opinion, there ARE no writing rules. I ignore so many "rules" myself, lol.
I also want to comment on your dialogue. Dialogue is honestly the hardest damn thing to flesh out. I get a good sense of who's talking, which is fantastic! Giving each character their own unique voice is one of the more annoying/difficult things so big kudos there. Characters talking to each other is one of the things I rework the most.
I'll just choose a specific passage that I can use as a good example and give you some groundwork for editing and writing further scenes!
The guy scoffed, “man, this isn't a weapon! It's just a bomb!” He had said that with way too much certainty, removing the mask to reveal Aiden.
“Bombs are classified as weapons,” one of the policemen replied. “Now, please, surrender yourself and the weapon.”
He shook his head, only holding the bomb closer to his chest, like a stuffed toy of some sorts. “Nuh uh! I need to rob everyone here so I can become a DJ in Indiana!”
Starting strong! But I would rework this something like this:
The guy scoffed, replying with inflated confidence, "man, this isn't a weapon! It's a bomb!"
"Bombs count as weapons," an officer replied. "Surrender now. Disarm your weapon."
He shook his head, clutching the bomb to his chest like it brought him comfort. "Nah. I got plans, and I need a lot of money."
Lots of changes made here that I will explain as well as I can!
First -- it seems that we are seeing clear POV shifts between Aiden and Nichole. This scene reads, to me, as being through her eyes. Unless she knows Aiden personally (She might! I could have missed that!), him removing his mask wouldn't change his identifier from "the guy" to "Aiden". Plotwise, it would be a bad move for him to remove his mask in front of the cops as well. He still has a chance to get away scott-free, and them knowing his face would not be conducive to that plan.
THAT SAID -- characters are allowed to make stupid decisions. So, if Aidan really would do that, keep it, LOL.
He also doesn't need to make his motives known so soon. A lot of this is a stylistic choice on my end, however, but I'm hoping these points give you the perspective you were seeking.
Also. Is that a Good Place reference I spy?! I love it lmfao
Hii!! I'm a huge fan of your writing! I've read some of ur stuff, and oh my gosh it's amazing. Like I genuinely get scared but then I snap out of it because smth funny happens, and I also really like how descriptive it is, and how structured!! Ohmygosh I love the structuring...
Soo now, umm Idk if it's okay to ask if you could take a peak at what me and my friend is writin, and share your thoughts and stuff... but if it's not okay, then just ignore it. It's ok!
Buuuutt if you're interested somehow... here's the link !!
The info is in the post, and if u have questions, just ask!! Thank u so muchh. I can't wait to hear ur thoughts!
Oooo! Okay first of all I am SO sorry for taking 60 years to get to this, I caught the dang flu and my day job hit me with mandatory overtime in the same three weeks (I'm much better now lol).
Okay so I did say to write a more in-depth reaction to your book, so now after having stewed on it for a few days I can write something more coherent lmao. I’m going to try to not spoil anything for other people who may want to read the book. Alright let’s get to it
First off, the fight scenes are awesome. High energy, had me hookeddd
Second, the turn of phrase of some sentences are just so funny. The first one coming to mind is: “Everyone turned to see what had my heebies so jeebied.” Some light hearted beacons of joy in a traumatising sea of horror if you had to live it yourself, haha
Third, THE MONSTERSSSS YEEESSSS!!! Detailed descriptions yet vague enough to let the reader’s imagination help to bring it to life. Also the drawings you included in the post are horrifying (in a positive sense!). Also also, I do kinda feel bad for MacDonald though :(
I literally yelled “NOOOOO FUUUUCK!!! D:>” at That One Part of chapter 8. I had to put my phone down for a few because I realized I got a little bit too invested lol
If Worst Summer has zero fans I’m dead, etc. I will be looking forward to more of your writing!! :D
I'm so glad to hear you enjoyed it!! Ahaha this ask made my week. I'm fighting a flu right now and this seriously made my day better.
I like to have a lot of fun with character voices and ignore Proper English so I'm glad to hear that my weird turns of phrases were amusing, haha!
I want to draw the rest of the creatures one of these decades and MacDonald is up there on my queue!
Binge-read through the entirety of The Worst Summer of My Life, it's 3AM and I need to sleep, I'll write a better ask/reaction/whatever in the morning, but FUCK I can't believe I'm moved to tears over a guy named Kyle😭😭 (I loved it :] <3)
YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME CRY
I'm so glad you enjoyed it!! T_T
I have a whole series planned and have been tinkering with the sequel 👀
