#writingcritique

[seoseorin78100]

“Operation: True Love” or How a Promising Story Imploded Under Its Own Bias (ft. My Disappointment Is Immeasurable, and My Interest Is Gone)

🚨 warning: long rant / essay incoming || mentions of writing critique, manhwa storytelling, author bias, love triangles, emotional gaslighting, and the slow death of narrative integrity. read at your own risk, besties 💅

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Hi, you all probably don’t know me (and honestly, that’s fine). I’m just some random nobody who used to genuinely enjoy Operation: True Love back when it still felt like it had direction, emotional depth, and an actual message about healing from toxicity. But lately? It’s like watching a slow-motion car crash where every new chapter adds another layer of denial. I’m not mad, I’m just tired , the kind of tired that comes from watching a story with potential self-destruct because of author bias and lazy narrative shortcuts.

So, let’s unpack this disaster, the time skip that ruined pacing, the bias that distorted its message, and how this manhwa went from self-love manifesto to “what if trauma but make it romantic?”

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1. The Time Skip That Butchered Emotional Continuity

Let’s start with Chapter 104, because that’s where everything started feeling wrong. The time skip was marketed (and initially felt) like a chance for character growth. “Years have passed! Su-ae has matured!” Except… we never saw that growth. The chapters leading up to it, especially Ch. 90–103 , set up Su-ae’s self-discovery arc beautifully. She was finally realizing she didn’t need validation from Eunhyeok or any boy. She was learning to draw boundaries, recognizing emotional neglect, and valuing herself.

But the skip? It skips over the process. The pain, the therapy, the redefinition of love. We go from “Su-ae learning to breathe again” → “Su-ae is now a put-together adult, trust us!” That’s not character development, that’s emotional teleportation.

Meanwhile, Dohwa’s emotional arc ; his honest communication, his vulnerability in Ch. 87–95, his realization that love can be selfless gets reset like it never happened. We lose all his growth just so the author can rebuild Eunhyeok’s tragic-boy mystique.

And you can feel the tonal whiplash. The pacing goes from emotional realism → melodramatic time skip → forced nostalgia montage. No emotional payoff, just narrative amnesia.

2. The Love Triangle That Turned Into a Bias Billboard

Let’s not pretend we don’t see it, the author’s bias is blinding. When Eunhyeok reappeared in Ch. 112, after ghosting Su-ae for ten years, the framing screamed “endgame redemption.” Cue tragic lighting, wistful inner monologue, and a slow zoom on his eyes like we’re supposed to forget he disappeared with no explanation.

Ten. Years. No call. No closure. Just ✨ trauma ✨.

Meanwhile, Dohwa who literally carried the narrative for over 50 chapters gets treated like an inconvenience. By Ch. 120, the man who was once the symbol of healthy love is painted as clingy. The tone shifts from “patient support” to “persistent nuisance.”

It’s not just bias , it’s rewriting history to fit a trope. The “bad boy redemption arc” that so many dark romances cling to, even when it makes zero psychological sense.

Proof? Look at Ch. 117. Eunhyeok’s return scene mirrors Ch. 22 (his first reappearance post-breakup). The same “sad eyes,” the same “you don’t understand what I’ve been through” energy, except this time, the narrative treats it like atonement. There’s no accountability, no apology, no earning Su-ae’s forgiveness. Just vibes.

3. The “Stalker” Label That Should’ve Been Applied Elsewhere

Let’s talk framing. In Ch. 118, when Dohwa shows up to help Su-ae move, the narration suddenly shifts to calling him “too persistent.” We see his kindness framed as intrusive, as if emotional consistency is something to mock.

Meanwhile, Eunhyeok’s vanishing act gets reframed as “emotional defense mechanism.” He disappears for a decade, and instead of holding him accountable, the story bends backward to justify it.

This is a dangerous trope, because it normalizes neglect as a form of “deep love.” It teaches that the person who hurts you the most must be the one who loves you “the deepest.” That’s not romance; that’s textbook trauma bonding.

Psychologically, this is how toxic patterns get romanticized: the narrative conditions the audience to crave closure, and then rewards the abuser figure for simply returning.

4. Authorial Bias: When the Camera Betrays the Script

One of the most obvious signs of bias is in the visual language. Watch how scenes are framed:

Eunhyeok = backlit, soft filters, sad eyes, nostalgic quotes.

Dohwa = bright lighting, comedic timing, or awkward panels.

This visual coding manipulates readers’ emotions. You’re told through art who you should feel for, even when logic says otherwise.

Compare Ch. 82 (Dohwa’s confession) vs Ch. 113 (Eunhyeok’s reappearance). In Ch. 82, Dohwa’s raw vulnerability is undercut by a comedic cutaway — literally the panel breaks the tension. In Ch. 113, Eunhyeok gets a full cinematic spread, dialogue dripping with emotional gravitas.

The difference? Author intent. Not organic emotion.

And once you notice it, it’s impossible to unsee.

5. The Thematic Betrayal: “True Love” My Foot

Operation: True Love started as a healing narrative. The first 50 chapters were about self-respect, emotional literacy, and breaking free from performative love. Su-ae’s arc paralleled real-world healing: realizing that being loved isn’t the same as being chosen, and that self-worth isn’t something others can validate.

But by Ch. 120–130, that message dissolves. The narrative no longer critiques toxic love it romanticizes it. Eunhyeok’s return isn’t framed as a test of growth; it’s framed as a reward. Dohwa’s empathy isn’t celebrated; it’s punished.

It’s the dark romance trap: mistaking angst for depth, and trauma for chemistry.

6. What Could’ve Saved It (and Still Could, Barely)

There’s still a universe where Operation: True Love could’ve delivered. If Eunhyeok’s arc had focused on earning trust back not reclaiming it we could’ve seen genuine redemption. Imagine:

He acknowledges his absence, apologizes without expectation, and supports Su-ae from a distance.

Dohwa, meanwhile, moves on healthily, representing a different kind of love, one rooted in stability.

Su-ae ends the story choosing herself, closing both doors with peace instead of romantic dependency.

That would’ve honored the core message. It would’ve said: you can love people and still choose yourself.

But we didn’t get that. We got narrative regression, emotional déjà vu dressed up as “maturity.”

7. The Bigger Problem: Webtoon Romance and Author Projection

Operation: True Love isn’t an isolated case. It’s part of a larger trend where authors unconsciously project personal romantic ideals into the narrative, even when it contradicts the story’s own setup. In this case, it feels like the author fell in love with her/his own creation = "Eunhyeok", and couldn’t bear to let him be the villain or just another ex.

The result? A story that started as a mirror for young women’s emotional growth becomes a mirror of authorial wish fulfillment.

8. Final Thoughts (or: My Breakup Letter to Badly Written Romance)

I’m not saying Eunhyeok shouldn’t be the ML. I’m saying he shouldn’t be the prize. Write flawed men, please, but hold them accountable. Don’t give them moral immunity because they’re broody and hot. Don’t punish emotionally available men because they don’t “fit the drama.”

Because stories like this shape real emotional frameworks. Readers deserve better than to be told that love equals waiting for someone who left.

So yeah, I’ve officially exited my dark romance phase. I’ve had enough of watching “maturity” be code for “tolerate neglect,” and “forgiveness” be shorthand for “erase consequences.”

At this point, I want stories that make me feel healed, not manipulated.

[misspetsyourcats]

A response to a friend who asked me to review his essay

[typingoverworld]

Scribbler - July ‘19 - Writing Passport, Vol. 17 - Collaboration

Scribbler’s Advice on Collaborating with a Writing Partner or Critique Group

“Try looking online on Critique Circle or at your local library to find a writing group

Find a balanced writing partner who provides both constructive feedback (about 70%) and cheerleading (about 30%).

Writing in the same genre, or at least for the same audience, is important to a successful writing partnership. Alternatively, beta readers can be readers who don’t always write or read your genre.

Take time to digest critiques before talking them out. If you take a minute (or five hundred) to let your partner’s notes sink in, you will better see the value in what he or she is offering. Apply this to your editor/agent’s letters as well. Read their notes and digest their words for at least a day before discussing. It’s easy to be emotional when it comes to your work. Take a day to be self-righteous, and then get over yourself and come back to the table ready to work.”

[thisiswhatthatlookslike]

7/27/19 - Tyler and Derek

When she really thinks about it, Tyler and Derek were the two catalysts to the whole story. They weren’t even connected at all, at yet they were integral to the development of everything.

Tyler and Jada had known each other for years, having met back when they attended the same university. He was living in the same dorm as Jada’s friend, Cassie. Jada and Tyler got along right away, sort of like clicking into place. They would all hang out in the dorms, listening to music, playing games, and smoking weed. 

Cassie grew increasingly paranoid as she saw how much Jada and Tyler connected. She started checking Jada’s phone in private, and was becoming a little less available, until finally everything culminated. 

After a strange conversation with a mutual friend, Jada reached out to Tyler to make sure boundaries were not being crossed. She asked about his feelings for her, and shared her own. They agreed that they were good friends, and were happy to be in each other’s life. He was happy with Cassie, and Jada was happy for them. There was definitely flirting happening, because the chemistry was palpable, but there was also an agreement. 

The next day Cassie was furious. She spoke to Tyler, confiding in him that she thought that Jada had feelings for him. He consoled her by telling her they he and Jada had talked about her feelings, and that it was all taken care of. 

Cassie, for good reason, felt betrayed. She pulled away from Jada, upset by the whole situation. For almost a year they didn’t speak. But after only a couple months, Jada and Tyler reconnected. 

It was innocent at first, speaking with someone that Jada felt so connected to, and also wrongly detached from. But it slowly developed into much more. In time, Tyler was sharing thoughts about polyamory, a concept Jada had never heard of. It translates literally as “love many”, but is essentially a form of consensual non-monogamy. An open relationship, so to speak. 

He wanted to open their relationship, but Cassie did not. At this point Tyler felt very frustrated, and was deciding that the only other alternatives were to leave her or to cheat on her. However, Tyler didn’t want to break up with Cassie and seemed pretty set on following through. He even created a Craigslist personal ad. Jada somehow got it into her mind that she was the best candidate for the position. 

It just made sense to her. Cassie had already ended their friendship, and nothing had even remotely happened. Yet, Jada only wished the best for her. She still cared about her and didn’t want something horrible to happen with a random crazy Craigslist lady. Jada felt like she was somehow doing both of them a favor. It was a one-time thing, which ended abruptly as she Jada did not feel right about it even in the moment. He left as quickly as he’d come, and soon they were no longer even speaking.

Cassie and Tyler eventually proceeded to open their relationship. Months later, Cassie reached out to Jada, asking to get together. She started explaining how sorry she was, and couldn’t believe she almost threw away their friendship. Jada, feeling that honesty was the best policy, told Cassie what had happened. She gave the whole story, Craigslist and all. Cassie, understandably, was not very receptive to the news. Their friendship ended for good that day. Or maybe it ended the moment Tyler sat on Jada’s bed. 

But, one good thing did come out of all this. Jada’s new perspective on polyamory.

She had never heard of the concept before, but she liked it right away. It just made so much sense. She often felt like she didn’t want to be limited in any regard, and suddenly it occurred to her that her relationships were just another element of her life that had the potential to be limitless. 

After many years, Tyler reconnected to Jada. He and Cassie were still dating, now living with each other, and were still polyamorous, but it was not going well. In her last effort to make things work, Cassie allowed Tyler to pursue his feelings that he still held for Jada. They dated for some time, and it was a magical time indeed. She felt seen and understood, but also challenged and intrigued. He was a different sort of person, unlike anyone that she had ever met. It was like those first days in university, except better because there wasn’t any uncertainty. There was no limit.

But their time was short for he decided he wanted to focus on his relationship with Cassie. It was incredibly rocky, and his relationship with Jada was causing tension rather than easing it. She and Tyler went their separate ways, and she missed him immediately.

Some months past, a new job happened, and new friends were made. Jada began hanging around a new crowd, and Derek was one of them. He was also unlike anyone she had ever met, but in a much different way. He was a little self-destructive, and she would later learn, a functioning alcoholic. 

Their romance was a little slow to start, and it was a little choppy and inconsistent, mostly because of his tendencies. It happened only a couple of times that he came over, she had to sneak him into her house, and sneak him out early in the morning. Once he moved into his own RV, she started going over there. Eventually he moved into the garage at his cousin’s house, and then finally into the bedroom. 

They would go eat tacos and watch B-movies. They would cuddle and sometimes also have sex. She loved the way he smelled like sweet beer. This relationship felt incredibly liberating to her, mostly because it was completely free of obligation and expectation. Her desire for him was always through the roof. She wanted to be close to him, to be touched by him, to have him inside of her. It felt to her like it was a part of her youth that she thought she missed out on. But here it was, in the flesh!

She enjoyed her time with him, even though he was often a jerk. But there came a point where they separated. She can’t remember if it was her idea, his, or maybe it was a mutual effort. Either way, they stopped seeing each other.

This was when Jasper came back into her life.

[wayofthetrumpet-blog]

Critique Help: Smoke Signals Aren’t Intended for Nighttime

Hey! It would be really bitchin' if you read this thing I wrote, it's only the first chapter. I'll try to explain it at the end of what is written (because the next two chapters are not written as of yet, the explanation/reason for the episode doesn't exist yet). Thank you so much for your help, I hope you enjoy it!

Smoke Signals Aren’t Intended for Nighttime:

Alisson slammed her fists on the dashboard as tears streaked down her face like burning bullets. Her eyes were red and raw from crying as she continued driving down interstate 278 angrily and erratically. A low-hanging fog loomed over the highway as if following her to her final destination, wherever that may be, she didn’t know. Her mind raced and she tried to wash it away with a gin and tonic ocean accompanied with self-prescribed irrational action. 278 was going to end soon, along with her journey which had been not much longer than she had thought it would be, how time flies when you’re scared shitless. Alisson smirked as she swerved to a halt, bringing her sedan to a screeching halt laterally across the road.

“If this is how it’s ending, then dammit I’m taking you with me!!” she howled, taking a mouthful of gin and tonic and wrapping her sweater around her. She got out of the car and stumbled over to the edge of the other side of the highway, a sickening drop presented itself to her. She knew she would get the job done if she went fast enough over the side, the sedan may not go through the wall easily, but she could always grab the thing in her arms and jump over the side. Alisson heard its howls from closeby, choosing to try her luck in the car before anything else. It seemed strange to her, to think that it sounded more appealing to plunge over the seemingly endless bridge in her car rather than risk being torn apart jumping over. She shook her head to attempt to clear her thoughts as she lowered herself back into the driver’s seat of her red sedan.

Before she could commit herself to the deed, her phone jingled to her cheerfully. It was probably Andre, and she wanted nothing but to hear his soothing voice, but she also didn’t want him to hear anything that was about to happen. She let it go off until it stopped, and then called him back, but it went to voicemail quickly.

“Hey Andre, it’s Alisson. I was just calling back because I missed your call. I can’t wait to hang out tomorrow, 6, right? Call you later, love you.” the phone beeped twice mournfully and the screen shuttered to a darker tone. It was about to die, not that it really mattered she laughed carelessly to herself. No matter how long they had been friends, Andre would never get her way of thinking and it made her both bitter and sad. A lump formed in her throat and she took a gulp of gin and tonic to wash it down, but the tide of tears began again as she choked on her own fear. Red eyes peered down on her from the hood of the car and she scowled, her tears of loss and bitterness metamorphosing into a wave of anger and hatred.

“Fuck you!” she screamed, her vocal cords straining in protest and squeaking pitifully. Her foot came down on the gas pedal and she barreled through the grass divider, the bridge was coming to an end soon. 5 feet, her eyes were open and her breathing gained pace. 4 feet, the window crashed open as it came into the car, she screamed and shut her eyes. 3 feet, she was covered in glass and had her eyes shut in protest. 2 feet, it was too late to go back now, she thought. 1 foot, her hair was being ripped out, its hand reached between her teeth and grabbed her tongue, she spat and bit, tasting tangy iron on her tongue. Her sedan crunched through the wall and soared over the side of the Harlem River bridge, making a thunderous splash as it hit and sunk into the boulder-filled water. Burning gasoline lined the road where Alisson had careened over the side and smoke filled the sky as the center divider smoldered. The night clouds sucked in the smoke hungrily and blended into the evening sky.

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Explanation:

Essentially, Alisson is mentally insane, she suffers from a schizoaffective disorder  that is not necessarily schizophrenia. She suffers from hallucinations and nightmares that cause her to become violent and self-destructive. I'm planning on a scene in the third chapter, of Andre, her best friend/love that doesn't love her, and of her parents in the hospital room looking over her comatose body speaking about what has been going on in the past few weeks. The thing she is battling is actually a hallucination/ manifestation of her inner battles with wrath and other things later on in the book (lust, and envy/greed/avarice) and they cause her to act out in violent and terrifying ways. I do not anticipate a happy ending.

Thank you for your time and for your critique!

[lizshine74]

Regarding Feedback: Why you don’t have to have thick skin.

Yesterday a writer friend asked my advice on an awkward situation he’d gotten into where he’d given another writer feedback that was not well received. Shocked by the negative emotional response, he wondered what he’d said or done wrong. I’m not going further into that story. It’s his story to tell or not tell, but his bringing me into the question about feedback helped me solidify my own ideas, ideas I’d been mulling over for a long time.

There seems to be a pervading myth that if we want to be taken seriously as writers, we have to develop thick skin, be open to receiving feedback from anyone and not take it personally. I reject this notion. Even considering other questions, such as when a piece is ready to be let go and be commented on by others. Receiving feedback prematurely from anyone is a risk. I wrote a short letter about that a while back after handing a trusted editor a story that had just been born.  Yet, I believe, even when you have worked your piece to a vibrant gleam, you do not have to be thick skinned regarding your work. You shouldn’t be. Fitzgerald said that as a writer “you’ve got to sell your heart.” This is validated in everything I know about the writing process. The way we slip into the skins of our characters in order to feel what they feel. The way we weave a story in time and space into strands of universal meaning. The way we work and work arranging and rearranging words. Why should we have to be willing to give our hearts away to anyone?

The best critiques I’ve gotten are from friends who are truly interested in helping me become a better writer and who understand that I know my work needs work and, from them, I’m willing to hear some possibilities as to how I might go about improving that work. I’m in a critique group now with writers I know and trust, and I feel grateful for that. During the MFA program I graduated from in 2011, we were placed in random workshop groups with people who we often didn’t know, sometimes didn’t trust. I think these types of feedback groups are the worst idea ever.  You give everyone in the group your heart and trust that they like you, aren’t the type of person who is more worried about impressing a faculty facilitator than helping you, and is wise enough not to allow their own aesthetic bias to seep into their comments.

Now, you might say one ought to be prepared to take that kind of feedback too, especially if the plan is to get the work out into the world where anyone is free to stomp on it as they please. But a work sent out into the world is a finished work, you’ve let it go. A work you’re working on should be shared with only people you trust. Believing that thick skin garbage was easy for me. I’ve spent a life time learning to toughen up. Being vulnerable is human and necessary. You do not have to be thick skinned to be a writer.

Buy my books here.

Interested in hiring me as a coach to get you boosted with your writing goals?Find free resources and information here.Some past posts to keep you making time: Adjust your pace accordingly.It’s about the routine and how you shake up the routineThere are things you will have to give upSee it to achieve itWashing the dishesWrite slowlyA celebration of the pauseMonday, a run through the driving rainZen accidentGet out of your comfort zone

Regarding Feedback: Why you don’t have to have thick skin. was originally published on Make Time.

[bottledsalt]

Letters for Sale

I.

Did he know that the letter written in the trenches would never reach her in time? He kisses her photo before picking up his gun, heavy as a lifeless body, and today he'll kill three men and tonight he'll cry for their unborn sons.This was the first secret he'll keep from his own.

II.

She keeps them in a stack tied with twine and Autumn leaves. The glue remains sealed. His face was the freedom of summer, but August would never last and next spring she had met a gentleman from her parent's country club, with polished loafers and slicked back hair the color of gunmetal and a promise of little babies with blue eyes.

III.

The channels only ever played the same story and soon even the country took to ignoring a battle too distant to remember. And his name was only repeated in whispered giggles between girlfriends over Bloody Marys as they gathered stories of summers, girly dreams, and childhood playthings. Their fingers weighted down by stones already looked like chipped porcelain.

IV.

He'll come back and realize the children were taller and the world had never stopped moving, that the only ones who cared were also frozen in time. They'll hug him with blank stares and ask for stories, like what his last words were the night before or if they had shared a bunk together or were you there when it happened. And though they never said it, he could tell from their birdcage handshakes and silent lips that they wished it had been him instead.

V.

And her? She'd been gone for a long time somewhere with little blue-eyed children and a house by the water like she had always wanted. And those letters were lost when the family moved away and here we are sorting through them in a splintered wooden basket at a garage sale on the side of the freeway.