Recently, I noticed my writing friends dropping away. They don’t talk about their stories anymore, they aren’t posting snippets anymore, they don’t talk about this great idea they just had under the shower. And somehow they don’t seem to write as much anymore.
And I get it, you know? We’re all busy. Life doesn’t wait for the muse to come around and we all got some sort of pandemic trauma. But there’s a thing I noticed recently in that I write more if I talk about writing and when I don’t talk about it, I kind of lose the drive. Does that make sense?
So here’s what I’m proposing for one hundred days, starting on June the 1st.
We write. Duh, of course. But I don’t want us to get stuck on wordcounts. Writing is not just about the amount of words we throw on the page, writing is also about developing the story further, the characters, worldbuilding, themes, and all these intangible things.
For 100 days, every day, you write about something that pertains to your stories. It can be about what you wrote of course, maybe a snippet you really liked. But it can also be about a song that fits so well, a faceclaim, a worldbuilding idea you had. It doesn’t have to be long, but it has to be every day.
Yes, I’m dialing up the pressure! I want you to think “oh, I can write about this today on my 100daysofwriting post!” or maybe “oh shit, I need to find something to show for my 100daysofwriting post!”.
Every day. For one hundred days. Write about your writing.
I’m basing this event around this tumblr. Mention this blog (the-wip-project) and use the tag #100daysofwriting so that I and everyone else can see it.
You can make your posts anywhere, of course, I just find it easier to interact with posts here. If you post on a blog or on twitter or anywhere else, maybe you can make tumblr post to link to it? This event is mostly for yourself and if you want to write in your personal journal you are not obligated to share that with anyone. Maybe you see me in a chat somewhere and rather want to write there, that’s fine too.
I hope that talking/chatting/posting about writing will be its own fountain of inspiration.
100daysofwriting, starting on 01. June 2021.
If you register here in this [form], I might chat with you or nag you sometimes about your posts. Let's write!
Plansters The Literary Community live writing class covered organic writing, Pansters (by the seat of) like me and Planning (Plot). Before joining up, I had thought there was only one way: A to Z via B and C, and it held me back for yonks. Because I don’t know my origins, having been abandoned and spending my first two years in Hong Kong orphanages, I felt I couldn’t get out of the blocks. Many people enquiring about my past have encouraged me to get the story down; the first overseas adoptions to the UK in the 50s and 60s and our ground breaking, if somewhat eccentric, experiences. I don’t do straight lines; personality-wise, I’m all over the place, pinging off in all directions. It was a revelation that I’m not alone and some very successful writers are happy to fly this way. Louise Doughty of Apple Tree Yard and Crossfire fame creates from a single striking scene and develops a story around it. In a previous class, she suggested that Chapter One didn’t have to begin at the beginning; I could start in the middle. So I did and I haven’t stopped since. I now have a stream of consciousness anecdotes bubbling forth daily which I’m using to commit to the #100 Days of Writing Challenge that I have often started but never once completed. I’m practising in the same way I taught myself watercolour painting during Lockdown – posting the results and, hopefully, the progress on social media. At some point I’ll get it in some kind of order, chronologically, perhaps, or not. Imagine applying PRINCE2 principles? Project Management. Gordon Bennett, that will make me a Planster. #writing #book #booklover #creativewriting #RamblingOn #MindNinja #ChinWag #Cl-airBrush #memories #memoir #100daysofwriting #journaling #plan #plot #prince2 #projectmanagement #project https://www.instagram.com/p/CpIPbamIy9k/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
Can we all collectively agree not to mention that I've been gone for so long? Great thanks
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Draco likes to fidget when he’s nervous. Harry had teased him for this countless times over the years of working together. Once he had said it was amusing to see Draco, ever the refined and elegant prosecutor, show even the slightest hint of unease. Most people didn’t notice it but Harry knew him well, or maybe he was just more observant of useless things around him because the Head Auror certainly hadn’t noticed Draco’s nearly decade-long crush on him.
Either way, Draco fidgets when he’s nervous and he’s more nervous than ever as he sits across from Harry Potter in a small Indian restaurant. Harry had finally asked him out on a date a few days prior, promising to take Draco to the fanciest and most expensive place in Europe but Draco had refused. Not the date, Draco would sooner fistfight a hippogriff before turning down a date but just like Harry knows his habits, Draco knows that extravagance makes Harry deeply uncomfortable.
After years of waiting, Draco needed this date to go perfectly. So he had insisted on going to Harry’s favourite place which just so happened to be a family-run restaurant that made the best curry in all of muggle London. So Harry claimed at least, Draco had to admit the samosas were the best he’s ever had.
This is how Draco finds himself fidgeting with the paper napkin in front of him as Harry rambles on about whatever. He’s happy, of course Draco is happy, he’s waited for this day since fourth year. But he’s also horribly nervous and before he knows it, the napkin has been folded into a small origami crane.
Harry’s eyes light up when he spots the crane, excitedly asking if he can take a closer look at it. Draco grins and taking a quick look around the restaurant, waves his fingers and sends the crane over to land on Harry’s plate. It’s entirely unnecessary, they’re not that far apart, but the tiny flutter of magic seems to delight Harry further.
“Do you remember that one time you drew that awful drawing of me and sent it to me in class?” Harry asks carefully turning the crane this way and that between his fingers. Draco had forgotten all about that incident but now the memory flooded back. “I kept that crane for months afterward. It was an accident at first, I just kind of dropped it into my bag without thinking but then I found it later when I went to grab my essay and I put it on the table beside my bed. I can’t even tell you how many nights I fell asleep thinking it looked just like you.”
“Looked like me?” Draco asked somewhat startled. Harry laughed and shook his hand to signal that it wasn’t serious.
“Looked wasn’t the right word. But the more I looked at the crane the more I thought about the similarities between you and it.” Harry closed his hands around the napkin crane and mumbled something. When he opened them again, the brown wonky napkin had turned into a crisp parchment crane, not a fold out of place. Harry pulled it apart to reveal the same lousy drawing from all those years ago. “I would stare at this crane late at night and think about how beautiful it was, perfect in every way, but created to be mean and arrogant. You were made by your father to be cruel and judgy in the same way you created this note to bully me. You’re the exact same.”
“You know, you’re inadvertently calling me beautiful too.” Draco was not expecting such a philosophical observation from Harry. Not that he’s stupid, Harry is actually incredibly intelligent when it comes to things he’s passionate about but he’s not known for having such in-depth forethought.
“I can tell you directly if you’d like.” Harry refolds the crane with a simple spell and sends it back over to Draco. He seems entirely unconcerned by the fact that they’re in a muggle establishment. Harry gestures for Draco to open it back up and when he does, the picture has changed slightly.
Harry is still on his broomstick being struck by a bolt of lightning but now there’s a second figure beside him. Draco in poorly drawn stick figure form flies over to kiss Harry on the cheek. Draco can feel his cheeks heating up as tiny hearts pop up around their heads before the loop starts again. Lightning. Kiss. Hearts.
“You’re beautiful, Draco,” Harry whispers lowly. Draco slowly refolds the crane, careful not to mess up any of the creases. Once the crane is whole again and sitting safely to the side, Draco looks up and reaches across the table to take Harry’s hand.
“I think you should take me home now,” Draco suggests and Harry grins.
Every day since then Draco has made a little origami crane, each one with a sweet love note hidden inside. Originally he had planned to give each one to Harry as a way of telling him just how much Draco appreciated him. But he’d been far too nervous at first and then he had an embarrassing amount strewn across his flat.
By the sixth month of their relationship, a new idea began to form in Draco’s mind. It would be very over the top and would require a lot of hope and detailed planning but Draco decided to try anyway.
On their two-year anniversary Draco proposed, again with a hand folded crane and a crappy drawing. To his complete surprise, Harry had also been planning to propose that night and the whole ordeal had ended in plenty of happy tears and sloppy kisses.
Exactly 270 days later Draco stood at the alter waiting for his love to walk down the aisle. Just over two years and seven months of work coming down to this one moment. 999 origami cranes have been strung up and hung behind him. Seeing them all together makes Draco just a little bit emotional.
What does finally make him cry, however, is Harry appearing at the end of the aisle. His white suit contrasts beautifully with his tan skin and the sight makes Draco choke back a sob. All this time waiting and now his soon to be husband is striding toward him. They had talked endlessly about what they wanted at their wedding, how the venue should be decorated but now none of it mattered, all of it paled in comparison to Harry.
Soon enough Harry’s hands slipped into his, only after quickly reaching over to wipe a stray tear off Draco’s cheek. The officiant asked for Draco’s vows first and, taking a deep shuddering breath, Draco pulled a small square of paper out of his pocket. He had written his speech on it but he didn’t read off of it. Instead, as he spoke, he slowly folded it into one last crane. His eyes never left Harry’s as he spoke, making the origami figure had become second nature at this point.
“Back when we were children, I gave you a crane. It had this horrible little drawing making fun of you but you kept it anyway. On our first date, you turned my mean note into a sweeter one and I kept it. Every day since I have made you more notes, some drawings, most of them words, all of them about the things I love about you. In Japan, they say if you fold a thousand paper cranes, you get a wish. This is my gift to you, my love. One thousand cranes, one wish, and me, if you’ll accept.” Draco lifted the finished crane to his lips before sending attaching it to the others.
“I wish to keep you for the rest of our lives, Draco Malfoy.”
Dumb human summoning ritual 11.8.21
The Misfit Class do the demonic version of summoning Bloody Mary at a party and get a confused and terrified little blue haired boy dropped in their laps. They panic the same way human teenagers would panic if their drunk demon summoning ritual actually worked. And, being dumb teenagers, once they stop completely panicking about Iruma doing something to them, decide that they have to somehow disguise this can’t speak or understand the language adorable piece of prey as a demon and take him everywhere with them.
The idea that DBP might have a way of actually dealing with this and they should tell them never crosses their minds for the same reason that upon actually summoning a demon no human teenager supposes that the government has been intentionally suppressing knowledge of demonic existence all along. It’s just a cult legend proving unexpectedly true, not a mass government conspiracy, there’s way too much casual dismissal and suburban disbelief/belief controversy.
(72/100) Written/posted for the #100daysofwriting challenge by @the-wip-project
Today’s prompt was, what do you tell someone who genuinely wants to know...
How do you start writing a new story?
I can only really tell them what works for me. So...I start with a few things I want to see happen -- could be character development, certain events/perspectives, specific conversations, certain rhetorical conceits, whatever -- then I start to puzzle them together in a rough outline (post-its, either virtual or real work well for this), arranging and re-arranging them if need be into an order that works and makes sense. I usually have started to write some of these things out (if I feel so compelled...inspiration is fleeting and I gotta make the most of it when it comes!). THEN, once I’ve got enough of these ‘things that I want to do with this story’ figured out to keep me excited about writing a whole-ass story to accommodate them, I sit down to fill in a more detailed outline with the things that need to happen in order for THOSE things to happen, with the knowledge that things may continue to shuffle around, or additional details may be necessary, or some things may no longer make sense and need to be cut once I begin. I write the parts I’m most excited about first, regardless of chronological order, because I am an absolute hedonist when it comes to hobby writing. But I’m always coming back to that outline...adding/subtracting/refining it as needed.
And here’s what I spent most of my precious free time doing today instead of writing or editing...
Tregrephacard <3 via artbreeder.com, cuz I can’t draw, but I sure do like to look and poke at their lovely faces...
I heard @the-wip-project assigned us mood boards for today, and my brain said “do a page per POV character in the zombie story,” so. That’s what I did. (x)
