#new draft

[justagurl19]

New fic in my drafts, you know what that mean...

Sneak peak:

Summary: reader and her boyfriend mattheo planned a date tonight, so why reader isn't in her dorm room?

[stormblessed7]

What is love without depth but a shallow sea, reflecting only the surface, untouched by the currents below?

„Without depth, will that be love?“

@secret-sad-space

[rmhashauthor]

First chapters are so fucking hard because you have to (not necessarily in this order):

Set the scene

Introduce the characters

Determine the stakes

Establish the basic framework for the world you're building

Set the mood/tone

Set up the Rube Goldberg machine of minuscule plot points that won't make any impression until chapter 27 or thereabouts

Include one early twist/misdirection to subvert expectations

Use at least two tropes, because that's apparently what we're doing now as a society

Showcase your Writer's Voice(tm)

Imply and Speculate

Hide at least one villain in plain sight (and one red herring)

Transition sentences

Do I Have Enough Em Dashes?

Reevaluate your entire life

Establish your Hook

Eventually accept that staying up late will not magically solve your problems with the above tasks and get ready for bed

I have the day off tomorrow, this is now Monday's problem.

[constantbellpepper]

imagine doing 2 hours of research for a new story you-re working on, knowing you’re going to bullshit the hell out of it.

[nothing-in-a-notebook]

Soulless Draft

[Context: I didn't want to post old stuff. I wrote this 5 minutes ago. I didn't check for errors. This world is inspired from a game I will not say which one (If you know you know)]

The war starts about six months before any violence occurs, or at least for the girl standing before the barren frozen wasteland it does. 

There is a glacier surrounded by frozen water that looks like it stretches into an ocean, towering pine trees that seem to lead to a large mountain range in the distance, and of course, an endless amount of snow. She is standing at the center of it all in a thin sweater, jeans, and a pair of boots that were designed to be more fashionable than functional.

She is not cold, she is annoyed.

“Sombra! What the he–” She shouts to the sky and is cut off by the appearance of the figure of a man appearing before her in obsidian black regalia and trailing black smoke from seemingly nowhere.

“Welcome to the battleground, my dear.” He stretches his arms out to indicate the surrounding area.

“Where are we? What is happening?!” The girl storms to close the gap between the two. The figure called Sombra is unbothered.

“You scholars and your questions.” He rolls his eyes but keeps an easy smile, “You wanted answers, I gave them to you. You wanted power-”

“I never wanted power, you offered it–”

“In exchange for your soul.” Sombra begins to trail towards the forest. The girl freezes and the last few minutes of their conversation in the cafe play back in rapid fashion. 

She was talking about the potential of magic in the world, the potential of her field of arcana. He had said he could give her the ability to speed to that future, power enough to bring them to a beautiful era of magic. Some days she thinks back on this conversation and how stupid she was to say yes so quickly. She agreed to Sombra’s promise of power in exchange for her soul.

What is a soul really? In those few seconds before she said yes, she thought of a soul as a folktale. Something that religious people thought could be tarnished and lead to damnation. Something others believed was the source of creativity. She had thought it was akin to an appendix, a part of the body so useless nobody even knew what it was supposed to be doing. 

She was beginning to think she was wrong. She races to catch up.

“So what? I’m here because I don’t have a soul?” 

“Yes.” He stops at the treeline. 

The girl skids to a halt a few feet away. She did not expect to be correct. He knows this.

“A soul does many things, one of which is tethering bodies to their realities. Those without souls come here.” He gestures to their surroundings once again and the girl takes full stock of how far she is from home.

“You knew I would be brought here.” She says it carefully, suppressing the building anger she feels towards this man. He waves her off and casually walks towards her.

“I have every intention of giving you your soul back,” he stops a foot away from her, “but not for free.”

[verba-writing]

Rereading my draft for Morningstar Rising, my second book and... the writing style is far removed from how I write now.

So... I'll basically be doing a complete redraft when I edit 🤦‍♀️

How can creative growth be this much of a bind?

[norse-witchery]

Did a drawing of Tokens face/mask, I have no idea what I'ma make his lil snoz into, bird faces are hard to make flat. This one is a little better that like, anything else I've drawn in terms of them. And a few bites to her personality. I used he/him in the drawing but pronouns feel irrelevant to them, he/him is easiest bc his mask looks like a male bluejays face.

I hope to make the mask out of paper mache and the beak out of some plastic or something, fabric for the jays markings, eyes will be like dark/see through bowls, maybe some kind of ball cut in half

[2015hasbeenfun-blog]

ADMISSION

You predigest your hand before it writes me That’s an open fruit passing over the box That’s your advice that I keep on drinking I spend all day Googling other men with your name Not the fosterling out of Wisconsin Meat-eating? I can’t remember But you dress a pig leg

like any book-lover  An injury clicks into place and you could never want me there though I rescue the hole from a windy house in a towel

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