The Quirky Novelist @quirkynovelist - Tumblr Blog

I love cryptic old mentor figures in fiction who introduce themselves by showing up out of nowhere and saying something bat shit wild that the main character won’t understand for another 2 seasons

is this a conscious decision these mentor figures make? are they like “nope can’t just shake the protagonist’s hand in a coffee shop, politely give my name, and tell them their quest straight up. I have to accost them at midnight in the eerie light of a nearby streetlamp and chuckle ominously about ‘a hero’s destiny’ and 'the prophecy that was foretold’”

just.

what level of extra

glumshoe

Another shoutout to the demons and monsters that lived under your bed/in your closet and actually obeyed all the arbitrary rules you invented to keep yourself safe, like “if light is touching me at all I can’t be harmed” or “if I’m stepping on carpet I am untouchable” or “if I move my hand in a particular pattern while I walk, I’m off-limits during my voyage through the dark house to the bathroom”.

That was really considerate of them, especially given how biased in your favor those rules were.

lesbian-moon-gf

children create their own magic

featheredschist

And it is powerful magic

amren-rhyssecond

New game reblog this and tell us what your rules were

Mine were the more people in the “dome” around the house the more protected the people inside the dome were and if every part of my body but neck and head were under my duvet I was immune to the demons😂😂

quirkynovelist

Mine was definitely that blankets were all powerful shields and could protect me so long as my body was underneath them. Exception- my head did not count and was usually safe even if not underneath a blanket.

My closet and windows also had to be closed at all times and I tried to keep my nightlight on when I could.

nachosforfree

Have I posted this yet

thesesummersonspoet

THINGS WHICH MAKE WRITERS ANXIOUS:

not writing

writing

people reading their stories

people not reading their stories

memesandlaughs

beeftea78-deactivated20200113

Dismissing Romeo and Juliet as dumb horny teens is OUT, crying because every attempt these children made to show love, kindness and tolerance in the face of senseless hate only led to more violence and death is IN

inkskinned

crosspoint: the entire thing was that they were dumb kids. reading R&J growing up goes in stages: “this was so sad” “they’re so fucking dumb what the fuck” “this was so fucking sad”.

they’re dumb kids. there’s plenty of textual evidence they are both sort of selfish in their love (ie Romeo’s on the rebound, Juliet just super doesn’t want to get married to Paris and is desperate for anything-except-that-guy) and a lot of evidence they didn’t truly know each other/see each other for anything but for a romantic ideal (the entire “but soft” monologue intentionally uses grandiose terms and basically translates to “oh fuck she’s pretty”). they literally can’t even communicate essential information correctly. in my opinion they’re not a good match – and shakespeare knows how to write a good match.

but they should have been allowed to be dumb kids.

the families had gotten to a point that even love - even stupid, selfish, childish love - devolved into violence. while the scenes they share are peaceful until the end, their solo scenes are dominated by violence - romeo with physical violence and juliet suffering the violence of having been essentially sold to an older man. they took the violence that they were surrounded by and turned it onto themselves. they had been raised in it, had been cultivated by it, and when they faced adversity, violence was inevitably the only thing they knew how to control. juliet - soft, innocent, sympathetic juliet - is the final death. and hers is by a wielded blade.

they weren’t trying to be a beacon of kindness or tolerance. but they were just kids. and what had seemed perfectly sensible (after all, the feud had resulted in death in either side, the rage made sense), the suddenness of a truly…. senseless death - who else can the families blame but themselves. no more finger pointing. after trying to hurt each other for so long, they only hurt themselves.

i’m convinced r&j isn’t about a one true love. juliet is the only one who calls it true love, the narrator certainly doesn’t. the first monologue describes it as “piteous“. instead, i think it’s about how it shouldn’t have been their last love. romeo and juliet could have been a romantic comedy about how fast kids fall in love with the stupidest things, how they make declarations of true love by the hour, how they float from one person to another, how they call crushes true love without knowing each other’s middle names.

it could have been a comedy. and i think, kind of, that’s what makes it such a perfect, terrible tragedy.

prokopetz

More favourite tropes:

Overstated warning of very minor threat

Understated warning of incredibly dangerous threat

Comically inadequate safety measures

Safety measures that seem comically inadequate, but actually work

Advisory of oddly specific danger

Advisory that suggests oddly specific precautions, but doesn’t say why

Conspicuous over-preparedness for contextually unlikely threat

Conspicuous under-preparedness for contextually imminent threat

Apparently harmless thing turns out to be dangerous

Apparently dangerous thing proves so, but not for the expected reason

quinnandersonwrites

Writing Advice: it doesn’t matter if an idea has been done before. It’s never been done by you. So long as you do it well, and in your own way, it’s a wonderful contribution.

mumble--bee

*slams fists on table*

THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED

weezley

*flips table*

BEST FRIENDS TO LOVERS

amren-rhyssecond

*Kicks chair*

ENEMIES TO LOVERS

asroarke

*throws lamp across room*

HELP I NEED A FAKE BOYFRIEND FOR MY EX’S WEDDING

tackminyard

*rips down the curtains*

THEY’RE FAMOUS AND THEIR FANS SHIP THEM

bellamynochillblake

*clutches wine glass so hard it shatters in my fist*

THEY WERE ROOMMATES

cinnamonrollwithit

oh my god they were roommates

shadhavar1126

AND THEY PINED MUTUALLY

ghostsofhood

YOU’RE FROM THE ROYAL FAMILY AND I AM JUST A SIMPLE SERVANT

princessbelix-deactivated201808

THEY BOTH HAVE A SECRET THAT RELATES

the-dork-web-deactivated2024030

THEY ARE ENEMY AGENTS

enbyezzie

One saves the other from an unhealthy relationship and they realize they were in love with each other the whole tiiiiiime

just-jordie-things

SSSOOOOUUUULLLMAAAAAAATES

favorite-aesthetic

coolsaddad-blog

Roses are red, that much is true, but violets are purple, not fucking blue.

feels-for-the-fictional

I have been waiting for this post all my life.

marzipanandminutiae

They are indeed purple, But one thing you’ve missed: The concept of “purple” Didn’t always exist.

Some cultures lack names For a color, you see. Hence good old Homer And his “wine-dark sea.”

A usage so quaint, A phrasing so old, For verses of romance Is sheer fucking gold.

So roses are red. Violets once were called blue. I’m hugely pedantic But what else is new?

ineptshieldmaid

My friend you’re not wrong About Homer’s wine-ey sea! Colours are a matter Of cultural contingency;

Words are in flux And meanings they drift But the word purple You’ve given short shrift.

The concept of purple, My friends, is old And refers to a pigment once precious as gold.

By crushing up molluscs From the wine-dark sea You make a dye: Imperial decree

Meant that in Rome, to wear purpura was a privilege reserved

For only the emperor!

The word ‘purple’, for clothes so fancy, Entered English By the ninth century

Why then are voilets Not purple in song? The dye from this mollusc, known for so long

Is almost magenta; More red than blue. The concept of purple is old, and yet new.

The dye is red, So this might be true: Roses are purple And violets are blue

squeeful

While this song makes me merry, Tyrian purple dyes many a hue From magenta to berry And a true purple too.

But fun as it is to watch this poetic race The answer is staring you right in the face: Roses are red and violets are blue Because nothing fucking rhymes with purple.

cryoverkiltmilk

last-flight-of-dickarus

Hirple - To limp or walk awkwardly

Cirple - An old Scots word for the hindquarters of a horse

nobodybetterhavethisoneoriswear

“Roses are red, violets are purple,

My boner for you has caused me to hirple.”

…

My, how romantic!

wouldthatcreationhadformedmeman

DYING. I AM DYING.

kiranovember

Calling theshitpostcalligrapher! We need @theshitpostcalligrapher

theshitpostcalligrapher

@kiranovember u better buy this as a commission lmao

simonalkenmayer

This post has evolved.

libraryspectre

Do y'all remember being a kid and trying to read in the car while it was dark outside and your parents wouldn’t let you turn on the light so you would try to grab snatches of sentences when you passed by street lights

facts-i-just-made-up

I spent like 15 hours on this.

fuckingrecipes

*impressed slow clap*

brendan-j-harkin-deactivated201

This was ridiculously pleasing to read out loud.

rhube

This is a legitimately fine poem. I say so with my BA in English and Philosophy and my PhD. It’s DAMN HARD to write something like this. Be impressed, yo.

naamahdarling

Transcript of poem in screenshot:

First the cracker batter baker bakes a cracker batter batch then the cracker batter mixer door will open and unlatch so the batter mixer nozzle can descend onto the patch where the cracker batter spreads out for the nozzle to attach.

When the cracker mixer nozzle sprays the cracker batter spray and the cracker batch emulsion lies a-soaking in its haze then the cracker batter mixer starts to stir up all the glaze that the final cracker stacker needs to lubricate the way.

Once the cracker stacker handle stacks the cracker batter squares then the cracker batter’s hardened into double stacks of pairs. Now the cracker separator breaks the crackers in the stackers so the wrappers on the stackers fit the finished stacking crackers. Then they’re distributed to Wal-Mart.

naamahdarling

I forgot about this magnificent poem, and you probably did too. Here it is again.

I highly recommend trying to read it aloud, it feels delightful and is almost impossible.