Guys, I edit professionally. This list is legit. Incorporating these suggestions before you hire an editor will save you A LOT of money. Even if you did these and nothing else, you’d see significant overall improvement in your work.
That said, you don’t have to overthink these things when you’re writing a first draft. If you write, “she said angrily” in a first draft, you can always revisit the phrasing in a second draft. I mention this because overthinking style can lead to a loss of momentum, and losing momentum is why so many people never finish a draft. Give yourself permission to write fast, write messy or ugly, and edit your draft into beauty later.
Guys, I edit professionally. This list is legit. Incorporating these suggestions before you hire an editor will save you A LOT of money. Even if you did these and nothing else, you’d see significant overall improvement in your work.
That said, you don’t have to overthink these things when you’re writing a first draft. If you write, “she said angrily” in a first draft, you can always revisit the phrasing in a second draft. I mention this because overthinking style can lead to a loss of momentum, and losing momentum is why so many people never finish a draft. Give yourself permission to write fast, write messy or ugly, and edit your draft into beauty later.
A blanket of silence had enraptured me, warmth suffocating my need to breathe.
Lights, dull. Noise, muted. Awareness, removed.
Clocks stop, time pauses. Silence. Muffled calls.
Repeat,
Repeat,
REPEAT—
A tsunami of noise, a cacophony of confusion.
How much time had passed? Hours, days?
It felt like years, my body aching as if I’d just returned to Earth.
The food court bustles, my co-workers move faster, I try to keep up.
But I can’t.
I can’t.
I CAN’T—
Blockade. The room turns black.
I feel someone else take over.
Is she here? Is she real?
She’s so bubbly, so happy. People love her, others aspire to be like her.
“How are you so perky?”
FAKE.
“We need happy people like you.”
FAKE.
“You’re always so happy, it makes me happy too!”
FAKE.
The crowd disperses. I see her disperse with them, like a shadow on the heels of their feet.
And I, a husk, am swallowed by the repetitive motions again.
Author: Me.
Length: 1311 words
Fandom: Magic Kaito
Characters: Nakamori Aoko, Kuroba Kaito, Hakuba Saguru.
Rating/Triggers: T for Teen. Triggers are wounds, needles, etc.
Chapters: 1 / 2
Summary: “Please… Make it a fair fight.”
A rewrite of Chapter 36 in the Magic Kaito manga. KID genuinely did pass out on top of Aoko, instead of faking it and switching places with her. Aoko and Hakuba are looking after Kaito now the threat has been taken care of.
A/N: ( Written because a lot of people asked for me to continue it. I honestly think the original was pretty done-and-dusted, but I didn’t mind writing a small continuation for those who wanted to make sure our favourite thief was okay. )
( Written at 2am so hopefully it gives you closure more than anything. )
Fanfiction.net / AO3
Aoko wasn’t very good with needles. Especially not red-hot, surgical needles that were supposed to stitch sutures into skin.
Fortunately, Aoko wasn’t the one holding the needle as it carefully threaded through the edges of the cleaned wound embellished on KID’s chest. Instead, she simply watched a trained professional do his job, squeezing the patient’s hand gently in reassurance at every twitch and light hiss he made in his pained slumber. Even if needles made her uneasy, there was something about watching the doctor’s professionalism that kept her quiet, instead of feeling the urge to argue about the knowledge of KID’s identity.
It’s only when the doctor has finished his job does she get up from her seat, brows knitting together to prove her seriousness regarding the earlier conversation. The doctor’s face is written with fatigue, sighing before she can even pipe up.
“If a word about KID’s appearance gets out—”
“He won’t tell anyone, Aoko-san.” Hakuba interrupts before she can finish, startling Aoko when his hand rests on her shoulder. “I know you’re worried, but I hired him for a good reason. We should focus on getting KID back home now.” Aoko sighs in response, Hakuba thanking and waving the doctor away as her eyes fall on the thief’s face. He’s fine, she reminds herself, moving to gently scoop him up into her arms. There isn’t a chance that Aoko will let anyone else touch him unless necessary, her distrust refusing in case someone decides arrest him immediately without giving him a fairer fight.
--
An hour passes before they manage to make it back to Kaito’s house, Aoko propping the exhausted boy upon the bed like one would do a hospital patient. It’s a thick blanket of silence that covers the room, only interrupted by the shallow breaths that rise and fall under the bed sheets. He’s safe, she reminds herself again, beads of tears beginning to prick at her eyes. A moment passes, two, before she turns, pushing Hakuba out the door of Kaito’s bedroom, the door shutting behind them with a click.
“Aoko-san—”
“Hakuba-kun, you can’t be here. Now that you know who KID is, I can’t let you be here.” Her hands are firm on his shoulder blades, her forehead leaning heavily against his back. “You can’t… You can’t use this against him. It’s not fair.”
“Aoko-san, I know that—”
“Hakuba-kun, it’s not fair!” She shouts, regretting her impulsiveness. Her fingers twist the back of his jacket, Aoko using the tight grip to keep her anchored to the spot. It’s the weight of all this information that she can’t handle, the lies he told and the ‘errands’ he made crashing around her like debris from a falling building. Knowledge of who her worst enemy was cuts her like glass, shards of knowing how he mocked her in and out of costume embedded into her skin. How he mocked her father and turned him into a laughing stock, all while managing to sit at their dinner table without a hint of remorse. This knowledge alone should have stopped her from helping him.
Yet here she is, defending him, trembling behind the one person who had helped her. All because, despite Kaito’s lies and actions, she found herself wanting to keep him safe. Fool’s hope in her heart that maybe, just maybe, he had a reason for becoming the person she despised the most. “Please… Make it a fair fight.”
Against her desperate cries, Hakuba’s voice is calm. “… Aoko-san.” He begins, though Aoko’s fingers tighten their grip. Had he already heard these pleas a thousand times, or did he pity her? They shared the same ideology that arresting KID while injured and unable to run away wasn’t right, but what would happen now that he knew where he lived? This place was without a doubt riddled with all the evidence he needed to put him behind bars. The questions she was scared to voice aloud are answered in a collected tone, though it’s clear he’s trying to calm her down. “When I catch KID, I want it to be because I outwitted him in his own game. I won’t use this against him.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. Even if you don’t believe me right now.” The jacket she’s expertly balled her fists into is shrugged off his shoulders, Hakuba turning to wrap it around her as some form of shock blanket. “I’m going to leave now so I can tell your father that you’re safe. I’ll also tell him that KID somehow managed to escape when we had left his hospital bed for five minutes.” His words are lost to the overwhelming feeling of sudden comfort, appreciated more than the option of a hug. She wasn’t sure how well she could hold back the tears that already threatened to move past her eyes if she had any physical contact. “Look after him. He needs you right now.”
“… Thank you, Hakuba-kun.”
--
A violent tug on her hand was her punishment for falling asleep before her patient had woken up. Somehow, she had managed to fall sleep by Kaito’s bedside, drowsy eyes looking up at the frightened teen who was trying to yank his hand away from her’s.
“Aoko! How did you— I can explain--”
“Kaito, please stop.” A hand is placed firmly onto his shoulder, Aoko using all her weight to push him back down onto the bed. Emotional exhaustion had already set in, a deep breath forced inwards as she pushes a hand through her already-messy hair to help her think— To understand his thought process of what may’ve happened between his collapse and how he ended up in bed. “You can explain later. I’m not going to ask you to explain while you’re in pain.”
Kaito wheezes his apology, “I’m sorry—”, squirming slightly against the pressure weighed on his shoulder. Despite this, Aoko doesn’t move, not until he settles. Only then does she release him, helping herself up to stand.
“… Thank you for apologising. Please just rest.” Warmth lights up her tired smile, although it’s clear she’s more relieved than anything else. “You can tell me everything once you’re feeling better.” Her mind swims an ocean of questions, paper boats of doubt floating alongside her. It’s only the relief that he’s not dead that stops her wave of thoughts, replacing it with desperate reassurances that he’s okay. He may not be without pain, but he’s not in a critical condition where she could lose him.
… Remembering the detective, her fingers tug the jacket given to her more snugly around her. Aoko takes solace in the comfort the temporary shock blanket provides, taking a deep breath to clear her thoughts. She’ll have to thank him properly for this. Without him, there’s no doubt Kaito would be worse off. There’s a chance she wouldn’t have even made it past her Dad…
“Is that Hakuba’s?” Kaito finally asks, eyes wild with confusion. As she swum in her own thoughts and doubts, he remained unaware of anything that happened after he had collapsed in costume. She could live with waiting a little bit longer for her answers, if it meant he could be safe and happy again. However, that doesn’t stop her from offering him a small smile, laced with a hint of smugness.
“You owe both me and Hakuba-kun. We’re the ones who got you out of that situation without being arrested by Tou-san.” Confusion is still written on Kaito’s face, though it’s clear he’s not too pleased that Hakuba helped. A thief, being indebted to his biggest detective rival? That’s unheard of. Against all odds, she uses this small moment of Kaito’s despair to feel prideful, grinning as she moves to leave the rooms he can rest.
“Not bad for a mediocre detective and a third-rate inspector’s daughter, huh?”
Author: Me.
Length: 2,028 words
Fandom: Magic Kaito
Characters: Nakamori Aoko, Kuroba Kaito, Hakuba Saguru, Nakamori Ginzo.
Rating/Triggers: T for Teen. Triggers are wounds, guns/weapons, etc.
Summary: “Of course, she does. She’s not an idiot.”
A rewrite of Chapter 36 in the Magic Kaito manga. KID genuinely did pass out on top of Aoko, instead of faking it and switching places with her.
A/N: ( Written because Gosho... Please give Aoko a gun... )
Fanfiction.net / AO3
Against popular belief, the Inspector’s daughter wasn’t an idiot.
You don’t spend most your life with someone, only to not notice them once they change their clothes. A lifetime of knowing someone leads to knowing their quirks— The way they smile, the little twitches of each gesture they make. The way their voice cracks when they’re scared or in pain, and even further along the line, the way they smell. If KID didn’t want Aoko to recognise his identity, perhaps asking her to prop him up instead of allowing and instructing her on the last few locks wasn’t the best idea.
The final confirmation, however was the crack in the pronunciation of her name, and the weight of his frame that had collapsed onto her body. Panic coursed through her veins, hands quick to move him off her so she could breathe.
“Geez! What the—” The boy didn’t even flinch. The door in front of them clicked into motion as her hands pushed at his back, frantic in her attempt to wake him. “Hey— What’s wrong? Get a hold of yourself!” Fingers tried to push past clothes to find the wound and whatever tricks he may have in wait for her before a sickeningly calm voice blanketed the room.
“Wonderful… I’ve always believed that you would be able to open this door, KID.” Blue eyes search for the source of the voice, falling upon the smug smirk of the Chief Priest. “For a long time, this door lay shut, unable to be opened by anyone.” Elegant footsteps are taken forward towards them, though the Priest’s tone changes to one Aoko can only relate to as sinister.
“Ch-Chief Priest Niwano Yasuyo…!? B-But why--!?”
“I shall tell you before you visit Hades. You need not take any souvenirs, right? Grab those two!” Rising onto her feet only made it easier for the smiling henchman to pick her up, arms and legs raised just above the ground. Capturing her wasn’t her concern, however, as she watched the last henchman pick up the injured thief with little-to-no care at all— Aoko’s heart lurching and forcing her to kick her feet in anger. “I thought if you opened this door, the chamber would be filled with sleeping gas, but…” Aoko can hear the Chief Priest breathe pretentiously, “Looks like there will be no need for that.”
“Let us go, now!” Demands from Aoko fall on deaf ears, her feet struggling against the man holding her legs. There’s no magic trick that can pull KID out of that pain-induced coma, nor is there any stopping the Priest from rattling on about the reasons why she’s put them both in this situation. Aoko had to rely on herself alone, mind frantically flying through options of what she could do to free herself.
… Of course! Frisking KID earlier in attempts to help him did give her an advantage.
Kicking her leg out aggressively, she used the push of her weight to give her arm leverage to reach into her collar, not giving herself even a moment to think before she took out the card gun in her shirt and shot at the person holding her legs. The unexpected recoil throws her hand back behind her, fingers accidentally pulling the trigger of the card gun once more to keep it in her grip. There were no bullets that were released from this gun, of course. Simply two sharp cards filtering out anaesthesia, embedded in both the wall and the man’s shoulder. The effects are surprisingly quick, Aoko landing on the floor with a small thud once the man holding her arms falls asleep. This, of course, alerted the person holding KID, dropping him just as Aoko hurriedly shoots the wall next to the man’s head.
The final man collapses beside KID, just as the Priest is about to finish her monologue about her ‘righteous duty’. Aoko finally decides she can breathe, legs shaking as she rises to her feet. There’s no time to check on the incapacitated KID on the floor, fingers trembling in their grip of his gun. Her steps are quiet, controlled as she approaches the Chief Priest. Lips pursed in a menacing line. As the Chief Priest leans to pick up the scroll, Aoko takes it first with her free hand, gun pressing up against the back of the Priest’s skull.
“Eeeh? Is that what this scroll says? That’s why you were using KID, so you could get your hands on it?” The scroll is already so worn, it’s a surprise it didn’t crumble into dust once Aoko’s fingers touched it.
“Kaitou KID!?”
“No, I’m Aoko.” She doesn’t smile, her eyelids lowering in slight annoyance. She thought it’d be obvious that KID, who is obviously injured, is the incapacitated one on the floor right now. You can’t disguise pain like that. Or was it the Chief Priest’s fool’s hope, given that entire monologue of believing ‘only KID would be able to open this door’? Anyone who knew their left and right could open it…
Desperation drips from the Priest’s lips, head twisting towards her unconscious henchman, calling to them not unlike Aoko had called to KID earlier. Those cards KID had loaded into his gun seemed to have a long-lasting effect, however, each member dozing like a child napping after a long day. An invisible fishing hook tugs Aoko’s lips into a pleased smirk, gun still aimed at the culprit’s head. “KID’s cards are kind of magical, I guess! They’re sleeping like babies.”
She pauses, but only so she can take another deep breath to cool down the adrenaline still pumping through her system. “You lured KID to a fake Kannon Statue. You had KID and I fall into a pit and brought us to this labyrinth and locked us in. You disguised the door of the safe as a way out, and wanted KID to open it so he could find the scroll… But, what a pity!” Giving a slightly sadistic smile, she lets go of the scroll’s end, letting it roll out to reveal the crumbs left of a very lucky bug’s meal. “Bugs have made a meal out of the scroll, there’s nothing left to read! But I guess even that’s treasure for a Chief Priest that doesn’t know her left from her right…”
The stampede of footsteps is what causes Aoko to pause in her mocking demeanour, eyes leaving to look at the door behind them. Had the task force found them already? Hakuba-kun was a genius! Even if KID wasn’t really in the position to leave… She’d deal with that the minute her father entered the door.
“This is the end, KID! You’ll never make it out!” The laughter from the priest made Aoko slouch her shoulders in defeat, shooting the rest of the cards at the top of the walls, hoping it’d do something. To her luck, the walls were fake, popping out the moment their attachments were attacked, Aoko giving the woman a pout.
“I’m Aoko! Are you blind?” A slam against the door behind them interrupted the tension in the air, the Chief Inspector’s voice bellowing out for his daughter’s location through the room. Jolting from her spot, she lowers the gun— “Tou-san! I’m okay! KID saved me—”
“K-KID!! It was all that damn KID’s doing!” The wailing from the Priest only served to frustrate Aoko as she moves closer to the thief, as if protecting him from both the task force and the Priest’s cries. “When I returned here, I found KID trespassing… I tried to catch him with the help of the Arizato Juuken people but failed…” So that’s what they were called, “And he stole… Th-The priceless treasure in this safe!”
“Tou-san, that’s not true! Chief Priest—” Her father already seemed to believe the other’s story, until Aoko’s phone beeped as indication that something had been stopped. Pulling out her phone as Hakuba reached her side to check on her, the screen lit up with a finished recording. “Ah…? My phone was recording?”
“Could I see that?” The phone is passed to Hakuba the moment he asks. The sickening calm tones of the Priest sounding off through Aoko’s phone are hard not to recognise, the Priest receiving an accusatory smug glance from the young detective. “Looks like the Chief Priest has a long explanation to give to the police, I’d say.”
“To think, you really managed to find out where KID was… We should probably arrest him while we can.” The Inspector grumbles, only to find his daughter with her arms around KID, lifting him up off the ground with little-to-no struggle. “Aoko… We can get him. You can put him down.”
“Tou-san, we can’t. We can’t arrest KID. He’s hurt, and he saved my life.” Steps are taken away from her father’s approaching figure, bringing the thief closer to her chest. Disbelief is written across Ginzo’s face, mouth opening and closing as he tries to figure out how to respond, like a fish out of water. “He landed on the glass when we fell because he was protecting me from the impact. It’s not right to arrest someone who might not even live to see the hearing!” It’s not her words that stop Ginzo from approaching, but the hot tears that begin to well in her eyes and streak her cheeks. Clapping a hand on the Inspector’s shoulder, Hakuba approaches Aoko instead, leaning in closer to keep the conversation private.
“Hakuba-kun, we aren’t arresting him. It’s not right.”
“… I agree. Follow my lead.”
Hakuba gives Aoko a firm nod, turning to address the rest of the task force. Aoko’s phone is handed to the floundering Ginzo, a serious gaze thrown his way. Aoko is far too headstrong like her father, even if Hakuba wanted to arrest the criminal in this way, he knew she’d take all chances to stop him. “I will escort Nakamori-san and KID to the hospital. He can be arrested once he’s in a stable condition.” As he speaks, his hand is placed on the small of Aoko’s back, pushing her and KID through the crowd of task force members. Ginzo grimaces in defeat with a nod, a shout to his command to let them through and arrest the main cause of this entire case. Hushed whispers were still traded between the two in case of lingering ears.
“I’m not taking him to a hospital, Hakuba-kun. I’m not allowing you to arrest him when he’s in this state, even when he recovers.”
“I know. I’m organising a ride for you to be escorted to a private doctor, and then home.”
“And KID?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
“… Thank you, Hakuba-kun. I owe you big time.” She smiles, Hakuba’s car pulling up once they’re outside. Aoko receives a final nod and a small smile back, the back door of the car opened for her to get in. There’s no time wasted as she gently lays KID down in the backseat of the car, sitting beside him and resting his head on her lap. Hakuba closes the door for her, settling down in the front seat and instructing Baaya on where to go.
A couple of motions are clicked into place, and the car finally starts pulling away from the temple. As they leave, blue eyes capture sight of the Chief Priest in handcuffs being escorted into a police car, a satisfied smile crossing Aoko’s lips in triumph. Justice on one side had already been delivered, Aoko’s only concern now being quick enough to ensure that KID didn’t die from this endeavour they had been deceived into taking part in.
Through the mirror, Hakuba watches Aoko in silence, making note of the way her fingers subconsciously comb through the thief’s hair. A thought passes him as to whether she’s aware of the thief’s identity, given how protective she seems to be over him regardless of her daily professed hatred. Soon enough, that thought is pushed away and lost to the sound of the car’s engine, a knowing smile on the detective’s lips.
Anxiety is that spider that crawls up your back, never seeming to quite reach your shoulder so you can brush it off. It’s the tingling you feel in your gut that something’s there, something’s around and again, you can’t shake off that nagging feeling.
My doctor used to say, “Go for a walk.”
“You used to be really active, right? A walk should help.”
But even as I walk, anxiety is the tool that buckles my knees together every time I take a step. It’s the trigger to the gun I feel beside my head that represents my weirdly calm outer façade. Waiting, wanting to be pulled back to unleash hell upon my mind. It’s the siren that whispers taunting melodies from the past’s mistakes, drowning me in the current my river of tears provides.
My old psychologist insisted, “This is because you lack self-esteem.”
But self-esteem was never really my issue. Not when my anxiety had really developed and was diagnosed anyway. My anxiety doesn’t attack my looks or my intelligence. It attacks the way I think, it cautions my very existence in life. My anxiety is that yank of terror I feel in the morning, after agreeing with my depression that maybe it isn’t worth it to get out of bed today. It’s the car I see in the back of my mind, ready to run me over if I don’t move quick enough or stress about the things it whispers so lovingly in my ear. My depression tells me to just let it happen, but my anxiety keeps steering control of the ship I call my body, sacrificing my rest for its endless desires.
“Anxiety is cute.” I hear thousands say, but I can’t find the appeal. The nervous ticks I have only serve to settle my own moods, and frustrate me to no end. My nails are as chipped and uneven as my mood swings. My hair falls out as the waterfall I recall as my thousands upon thousands of back-up plans are thought about, rethought about and finally reconsidered as I try to make sure each one is just about as bullet-proof as the last. My heart skips as it waits for the rug to be pulled out from underneath me at any and every moment. My feet remain anchored to the ground, prepared to make that strong jump that might just save me from falling into the hole that very carpet once covered up.
My family said, “You’re holding yourself back.”
“Anxiety is a made-up disorder so doctors can fuck you up with drugs.”
If I could choose happiness, don’t you think I’d prefer breathing clean air than swallowing the tears that drown me in my insomnia? My hand was reaching out through the watery depths as I choked, and all I received was empty words with closed accusations. While I suffocated, you spoke of meditation and methods that I, someone who isn’t ‘normal’ could ever use to its fullest potential.
“I don’t understand anxiety.” The people around me screamed. But I don’t know anything about it either. I just learn with my own experience in your place, as you try to shove home remedies and anti- “life traps” down my throat.
“Why aren’t you trying hard enough?”
It’s hard to swim, when everyone just asks why you’ve already sunk.
Want to use a fancy custom language for something, but don’t know how to make one?Use Vulgar!
Vulgar is a conlang (constructed/fictional language) generator created to help literally generate a language for you. No, really. No tricks, and it’s super simple to use. It’s my favourite tool right now for writing fantasy, even as someone who loves creating his own languages, it’s an amazing starting point.
Want a random conlang, straight away, with no prep or fuss? Just visit http://vulgarlang.com/index.html and click “Generate New Conlang”… and that’s it. Scroll down and through your brand new, generated, completely original conlang.
If you’re a little more advanced in terms of conlanging and want to specify IP phonemes to be used, you can add them too, but even with no knowledge of linguistics you can create a language at the click of your fingers.
This version of Vulgar is completely free, sure…. but! the guy who created it has not only made an amazing thing (which I repeat, is absolutely free at it’s most basic point), but is also planning on updating it more and more!
Under the “Buy” tab on the Vulgar website, he links to his email, where you can offer to pay for the full version of Vulgar, which is a total steal right now at a sale price of only nineteen dollars. Considering professional conlangers and linguists could charge you, like, a metric fuck ton of money for the same data you’re getting here for just nineteen, that’s a major steal.
Not to mention, buying the alpha build now gives you free access to all of it’s updated versions, which I can guarantee are just going to get better and better! I’ve already bought it and I adore it, and this is a tool the likes of which we in the conlang community have never seen in such an awesome way.
Please consider helping Vulgar out, because the creator is a damn genius
Fighter’s Block is the best writing app I’ve come across in a long time.
You type in the amount of words you want to write and as you write, your mini lil avatar fights a monster. Each word you write acts a hit towards your monster, and once you’ve hit your word count the monster is defeated!!!
How cute!!!!
Work quick though as how long you spent not writing decreases your avatar’s health. It’s a productive fight to the death against the clock!
Best things about this app:
You can PAUSE it!!!! Need go get a cup of tea? Need to sneeze? You can!!!!!
Settings are adjustable! You can change the monster’s speed and the attacks!
You can change the theme and font!
You can level up!!!!! The number of words you write equals your EXP. You can unlock one avatar thus far, but I believe there may be more in the future!
You can minimise the fight above if it serves as a distraction, and only show the decreasing green bar.
Best of all: If you don’t hit the target word count in time, YOUR WORK DOES NOT DISAPPEAR. In the past I’ve lost so much work because I wasn’t typing fast enough, or sneezed.I cannot express enough how thankful I am that it presents a challenge where the consequence is a knock of pride and not a fit of rage.
Honestly, I urge all writers out there to give this app a go. It’s my new favourite thing.
M-most people don’t t-talk like th-this when they st-stutter from n-nerves.
It’s more…it’s more like going back and…and starting over. Maybe repeating some, some words.
Bonus tip: this is ESPECIALLY true in thoughts. Thoughts are a lot more fluid than speech because there’s no physical barrier to get past when they form into words.
Sometimes writers find it necessary to add more depth to the world surrounding their characters. Here, I’ve collected a few links that should be helpful in this process. Some of these are better for a fantasy stories but could prove useful for all writers in one way or another.
MAP GENERATION
If you have decided to create your own land mass for the sake of your story, you may be grateful to have this link. Users should read the description below before using, but it is easy to use and helpful for anyone unsure of how to go about creating a new island or continent. I prefer using this tool over any others I’ve seen online. This is just the demo, the full version has more ways to edit the map, but getting the full version requires downloading and having proper software. It’s linked to on the page so you can get it if you understand how to and want it. However the demo on its own should be enough for anyone who can’t get the full version for one reason or another.
WEATHER AROUND THE WORLD
Knowing weather details of areas can be helpful when writing about an area, especially if it’s one your don’t live in. This website has the weather of pretty much everywhere on earth recorded, and even provides averages for the past year in specific areas. It’s great for writers who want an understanding of how the weather in their story might affect the characters. For instance if the summer heat is consistently over 100 degrees, the characters might be less willing to go outside, and in need of constant hydration.
FANTASY JOBS THAT AREN’T KNIGHT OR PEASANT
Alright so anyone who is writing a story that takes place in a less developed civilization, be it medieval times, or a fantasy world that hasn’t quite hit its industrial revolution, should probably have this list. Its a simple list of a 100 jobs that you might consider giving to the people in your story to make them seem like real people. The creator of the list even adds a few at the end for younger characters. Choosing any of them for your story may take some added research but it will be worth the depth added to your story.
FAMILY TREE TOOL
If you’ve ever read Lord of the Rings you may know that pretty much everyone in the books has a long list of ancestors. I would never suggest such an endeavor, however, if you feel inclined to come up with a lineage for your character, this is a tool you could use. Its easy to use and allows for adding information beyond name and year of birth/death. Your able to change what information shows up on the table and when finished you can even print it out.
HOME DESIGNER
So this is pretty much only good for if you have time to kill and wanna do some in depth building. That said, this tool will let you designer the home of your characters. You’ll get out what you put into it, so it your character lives in a three story 10 bedroom home, you may have to put in a bit more effort to make this worth anything to you. You could also just create individual rooms if that’s more what you want to do. Over all this tool may take a bit of time to learn, but isn’t very complicated. I suggest it to everyone who wants to explore how the home of their characters looks.
LANGUAGE CREATION
This link will cause you to either decide you are going to create your own language, or give up on the idea entirely. It’s a long process but is complete spelled out in this link and the additional pages it links too. You could also buy the book this writer wrote for $0.99, but all the information is available for free. Either way it should be an easy choice to make after reading through what he has to offer. I think creating a language is for people with more time, patience, and understanding of their own language than me, but it is certainly fun to think about. This is by far the best resource for creating a language in my opinion, since he even discusses different methods people use to create languages and what is wrong with those methods.
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Special note: “Kill someone” means kill someone in the story. Please do not kill random real life passers by every time you hit a block. My lawyer says misunderstanding writing advice is not an acceptable defense. See you all in 25 to 50 years.
