I honestly can't believe it's been 5 years since I started this writeblr. I was very active here for quite some time, and I enjoyed this writing community like no other.
I got a doctorate (you may now call me Mischief, MD or Dr. Mischief, which makes me sound like a DC comics villain) and that was obviously a huge privilege and milestone. But it also cost me a lot, particularly in my creative life! I've been taking some time to recover my creative spirit, and I'm ready to wade back into writing.
So consider this my writeblr re-introduction.
Name: Mischief, or Mis for short
I write: primarily scifi/fantasy, which is also my favorite genre to read. I'll dabble into anything though, including the occasional fanfic. You can check out old WIPs here on this blog!
I like: literally anything related to writing including asks, tag games, and getting to know your WIPs!
Details: I'm 25, fem, married, USA, currently living in the CST zone
That's pretty much it! I love the writeblr community so much, and I'd love to find new, at least semi-active writer friends to connect with and support. Please comment, reblog, DM, follow, whatever so I can check out your blog!
Follows & comments will be coming from my OG general blog, @mischiefisgreen. All my writing content is on @mischiefiswritten
"People are afraid of what they don't understand - you'll be something they didn't see coming. USE THAT POWER.”
“her eyes looked up to her ceiling, decorated with posters she had unearthed from the ancient history books that surrounded her. she seemed to find some peace looking at the various colorful images—no holograms this time, only real images of actual places. their importance seemed disregarded each time sebastian failed to look upwards as he entered her bedroom to say goodnight. not once did he dare to look up at the vandalized ceiling.it must have been his—what was the word?— HOLLOWNESS.”
“the world found comfort in women who would speak, genie found home in the blonde woman who said nothing at all. she needed no words to be defiant, her eyes said it all, and genie knew deep down somewhere THERE WAS LOVE.”
THE CRIME IS YOUR HUMANITY ⸻ YOU WILL DIE FOR IT.
genre: science-fiction, mystery, thriller, fantasy, crime.
word count: 0k - rewriting - stage of notes
In Faultless, the story asks the reader to consider what truly makes us human and to look for the good in humanity during times of great sorrow and terror.
Our elders tell us that in one day the world came to its end. Us who are skeptical will say it was within a month. For thousands of years, humanity had written, discussed and predicted what just might bring them to an end. The irony of it all was that humanity itself had pulled the trigger and begin a near seven hundred year apocalypse. Overpopulation and greed would be the end of one of Earths ancient species and those who had survived had many odds against them. While resources began to draw thin along with the patience of survivors being on the constant move. The weather became harsher, buildings began to rot against conditions and books were used to keep fires. Disease to violence to those who were trying to survive. The world was no longer bright from city lights in the night. The streets no longer had people who roamed.
Instead Mother Earth took herself back. Old streets and buildings were outgrown by beautiful ivy and flowers. Humanity died with it’s curse. A new species born as it purged it’s humanity. Or so it thought...
TDLR; a futuristic world where science is the new god, humanity is legend and technology is the norm. what happens when the most ancient species appears in the system again?
> song: finding the pattern.
Hi, all! 2019 was my first real full year in the writeblr community, and it’s been wonderful to meet all you lovely talented people and share some of my work too. As we head into 2020, I thought I’d cover my main current ideas and projects. Wildly varying levels of work have been put into each of these ideas, and no promises are being made about any at this point, but it should give you a rough idea of what content to expect.
THE LIBERTY OF MONSTERS -> [1700s-themed fantasy | tag = wip: the liberty of monsters | ask to join taglist] In a city verging on revolution, secret mage Lord Gabriel Ithistor risks everything to protect those he loves from the supernatural-hating Holy Empire and its tyrannical empress.
A GAME CALLED SURVIVAL -> [young adult | scifi/post-apocalyptic | tag = wip: a game called survival | ask to join taglist] Fiercely independent seventeen-year-old Cadence Huynh fights to survive the experimental Simulations, deadly scenarios experienced through the alien technology of Earth’s invaders.
DAVIS AND WALSH -> [young adult | paranormal/mystery/historical | no current tag or taglist] Skeptical Clara Davis is forced by circumstance to become the assistant of Jonathan Walsh, the eccentric young man claiming ghosts are responsible for Victorian London’s recent string of murders.
OUR SHATTERED STARS -> [young adult | sci-fi/space opera/fantasy | no current tag or taglist] When her people’s ancient responsibilities literally crash back into her life, Eledy Shannara—or Shan—must stop hiding from her tragic past and take up a quest to save the galaxy.
PALE EMPIRE -> [young adult | epic fantasy inspired by the ancient world | tag = wip: pale empire | ask to join taglist ] The lives of a scavenger, a singer and a queen are intertwined in the fate of their world as a slumbering evil awakens.
THE ABYSS BELOW -> [young adult | sci-fi/cyberpunk | tag = wip: the abyss below | ask to join taglist] Waking up without memories in a strange facility, Alexander must escape with a private investigator and uncover the deep-rooted conspiracy in the heights of Nebula City.
Here we are at the last week – thanks so much to @yourocsbackstory for hosting, I've had a blast! As always I've discovered a couple new WIPS I'm eager to learn more about, and I've had the best time digging into Bo's past and uncovering what goes into his prickly and standoffish yet unexpectedly delightful personality.
Bo is a viewpoint character from my current WIP Thorunn, which will be my second young adult novel, and my first published sci-fi tale, and I can hardly wait to share his further adventures with everybody in 2020. But without further ado, the last backstory! (Yes, I wrote my own questions.)
What secrets does your OC have? Is it something innocent, or something that would be their downfall if discovered? To what lengths will they go to protect their secret?
Haven't you wrung enough secrets from me already? Fine I'll bite. No, not literally. Tch. You people.
Anyway, growing up I didn't really have much of a filter – still don't, much to certain people's, whats the word, consternations – so me and secrets didn't mix much. But uh, there's a couple things I can think of that were big enough for me to keep quiet about.
(Hey, Ken, remember that time the Innah's ceremonial spinner-floss robes mysteriously vanished?)
Bo hadn't meant to take them, he really hadn't.
What he'd wanted, just a for moment, were for things to go back to the way they used to be. When P'rraa wasn't gone, and Bo would help him piece together the exquisite robes worn by the Tribe Elders on special occasions. He'd been little, but his father had had him fetch spools and tie knots and snip dangling threads. Together, they'd created delicate, shimmering garments that seemed spun of flowers and wind and sunlight.
P'rraa had always squinched his eyes tightly together and purred deeply whenever he caught sight of an Elder wearing one of his creations, embroidered with scenes telling the wearer's personal history – their battles, their losses, their accomplishments – and Bo couldn't help but bask in his happiness. He'd always been happy when P'rraa was happy.
He hadn't touched anything related to the craft since that awful day five years ago.
And then he'd seen it. While playing hunters and prey with Ken and Seri at the Innah's loft Bo had discovered a hidden compartment cleverly disguised to appear as part of the wall. He'd slipped inside, grinning wide at his success; Ken and Seri wouldn't find him this time! He'd quickly grown bored of the waiting however, certain in his imminent win, and started quietly exploring. The space he'd concealed himself within was cramped but smelled pleasant, like fragrant flowers after a morning mist. Clothes hung all around him, and he felt his ears prick with embarrassment at realising he'd chosen a hiding spot inside the Innah's personal closet.
But he'd wanted to win, so he stayed put and occupied himself by trying to read the histories writ in pictures on her many colourful robes. The very last spinner-floss garment he'd taken into his hands had forced tears to well up. He knew the cut of the cloth, the style of the embroidery, the peculiar placement of the buttons. Afterall, Bo watched Nyss slip on a similar set of robes before hurrying to his work every day, spent hours sitting amongst the forever unfinished projects hanging in his father's long neglected workshop.
Why hadn't P'rraa stuck to stitching? Why did he have to call upon his dusty Igis training and go out to Ethaba with everybody else?
The thoughts overtook Bo like the Laika river dragging storm-broken branches downstream, and he heard the rip before he saw the unwitting damage he'd caused. Eyes wide, he'd stared at the leaf thin garment irreparably shredded between his claws – but no, no it wasn't. He could fix it, P'rraa had shown him how to make them, and he remembered the process.
And so that was how Bo had ended up in his current predicament, feigning a sudden cough to beg off playing, the priceless robe stuffed under his vest while he stole back to the cobwebbed space that was at once comforting and unfamiliar. He laid the ruined material on a dusty workbench and stared at it, close to tears at the extent of the damage. Hours, days worth of work, and he'd destroyed his father's most prized handiwork in a matter of moments. Slash marks tore right through the scene depicting the Innah being anointed Elder, and long trailing threads had pulled away from the fraying edges.
But he could mend it, Bo knew he could, so he blew off the dust and cleared away the cobwebs and set to work.
His first attempt was an utter disaster, wherein he made the problem that much worse, and lost several buttons which rolled away and refused to be found, no matter how hard he looked. He learned then, to test-sew on scrap pieces of fabric first. His second and third and fourth attempts were hardly any better, and he quickly learned to wear gloves to stop his claws piercing and damaging the flimsy bolts of cloth he worked with.
But bit by bit, Bo improved, dashing into P'rraa's workshop every day after school before Nyss could return and ask what he was up to, and taking a sudden, avid interest in spinner-floss production. The ruined parts of the robes he replaced entirely, carefully cutting together pieces from what parts of his father's half-finished garments hadn't been moth eaten. Some of the Innah's story ended up missing, but he carefully drew it as best as he could remember, before following his dark lines with bright coloured threads. The better he grew, the faster he worked, driven by guilt and the memory of the night the robes had been discovered missing.
They'd questioned everybody on the garment's whereabouts, as the Innah used them for all her most important ceremonies, and was not pleased to have lost them, and Bo had almost fainted after squeaking out that he knew nothing of the missing garments. Nyss had thrown a rather sideways look at him, but never thought to look in P'rraa's workshop. Afterall, Bo was known for destroying things, not trying to fix them. He started begging off playing at the loft, electing instead to take their adventures to the river and the mines, unable to sit still for an afternoon in the Tree of Elders knowing the Innah's jaggedly stitched robes sat stuffed into a box in the corner of his workshop.
But the day finally came when Bo could do no more, and he climbed out of his window one night, trying to return the repaired mass of fabric before anyone could see him and discover his awful secret.
“I've been wondering when this day would arrive.”
Bo froze, a dark shadow between the beams of moonlight slanting soft across the floor of the Innah's loft.
“It's alright, child, come closer.” The Innah melted out of the darkness, a pipe in one hand and beckoning with the other.
Terrified, and already caught, Bo did as instructed, almost shifting to s'hinoian form half a dozen times in his fright.
“It was you. I thought so. May I see?”
“It, it was an accident!” Bo stammered out, unwilling to part with his precious bundle right away. The Innah only waited, patience written in every crinkle of her smiling eyes. Bo gathered up what little composure he had left and shook out the cloth in his arms.
Even as he offered it to the Innah, he could tell his best efforts hadn't been enough. The parts he'd added weren't the same colours, and where P'rraa had originally made the scenes life-like and vivid, Bo's attempts looked like a kit who'd just learned to glyph.
“It was an accident,” he said again, trembling, his fur rising puffy from his skin. “I didn't mean to, I'm sorry.”
The Innah took the garment from him, smoothing it over and inspecting every inch. Bo screwed his eyes shut, not wanting to see the loathing in hers when she discovered how badly he'd destroyed his fathers' handiwork, and what a poor job he'd done in repairing it.
“You've worked hard haven't you?”
Bo cracked open an eye to see the Innah still smiling at him, the robes now draped over the soft sleep-tunic she wore.
“I do wish you'd come to me straightaway – the sooner one confesses their misdeeds, the less one has to live with guilt. But I forgive you, child. You've done your best to make amends, even if you don't quite have the touch with stitchery that your father did. Now go home and sleep, and come back and play with Ken and Seri in the morning.”
(Yes. It was me. Surprise!)
I quit sewing again after that, but I never forgot how kind she was to a scared little kit who was convinced she'd throw him out of the tribe on account of his destroying and rather badly repairing her favourite robes. She never told anyone either, despite the looks she got the next time she wore her obviously altered robes to the next important tribal affair, and I was always honest with her after that.
We're done now, right? It's been an. . . a not entirely awful experience, and I'm looking forward to coming back never. Jolene, Matt, Brett – thanks. You've not been terrible hosts, and if this whole thing helps humans be less afraid of klia'ans, I guess it was worth it.
But next time, ask Seri?
Hye guys, when I’m done with the dream estate I’m going to be working on a scifi story. I know nothing about scifi though. So if you have any books or wips about cyborgs and androids, please send me a recommendation!
Today has been a tough one. It's been hard to get the words to flow and to see the scene in my head. But I'm still proud of myself for persevering and getting started. I've written for three days straight now and written a couple hundred words a day. That's a big win for getting my writing practice back in order!
I've been thinking about new ideas of this new sci-fi WIP for a couple months now, and I'm starting to see some more concrete concepts. I've been working on the prologue, which is honestly the only part that I know what I want it to look like lol, but it's been fun so far!
hi! i realise this is the kind of thing you’re supposed to do when you make your blog, but i didn’t know a thing about the community when i did, so, better late than never?
my name’s rachel, and i’m an aspiring author of speculative fiction from england. my main project is the pale empire trilogy, a fantasy series inspired by the diverse civilisations of the ancient world (think celts, egypt, ancient china, the roman empire... with a few elves thrown in). there’s also a cyberpunk-inspired sci-fi novel called the abyss below, and an ongoing superhero universe called beacon house that hasn’t found its format yet. i post regular content for these, so check out my blog and wip tags for more info!
i love all kinds of speculative fiction and fantasy especially, so please reblog this post if you write that so i can follow you! i’m particularly interested in wips with diverse casts, which is a priority of mine. (listen, if you write wlw fantasy, you are immediately getting a new follower.)
feel free to reblog! i can be a bit shy with my anxiety but i’d really like to interact with more writeblrs.
THE ABYSS BELOW + VILLAINS -> edward yates and diana
EDWARD YATES—cold, sophisticated, and brilliant—is the closest thing the future has to a king. In Nebula City, money is power, and Yates was born with it all. You’d think a man like that would want for nothing. They say there’s no red blood in his veins, just ruthlessness, just hunger. They say he has so many enhancements he’s not human.
DIANA is a walking, deadly enigma. Part of Alexander’s life before his memories were stolen, she shrouds her intentions and identity in mystery. She’ll kill to stop him leaving the planet, but won’t raise a finger to stop his efforts to uncover the Order. What is her relationship with him—and was she involved in the murder of Nathan Chan?
