And So I Write

[brynwrites]

Are weak plots really bad? Bc I can't really think about a real good one

A plot is merely a series of plot points, so for this, we need to answer the following questions: 

What is a plot point?What makes a plot point strong? 

In order for something to be a plot point to begin with, it must provide a point within the plot where the story could go in more then one direction. In most situations, it’s the character’s choices (generally those of the main character, though not necessarily) which pick the direction the plot takes from this point. 

Looking at a plot point from this angle, we can deduce that the plot has a lot to do with who our character is. This makes sense. Goals are absolutely necessary for almost every story imaginable, because if your character doesn’t want something then you have no plot.

So we have a character who’s striving towards their goal. How do we turn that into a strong plot point? Characters who have goals should also have beliefs, (or in some cases, secondary goals), and these two things must conflict somewhere. Anywhere the character must choose between them, we have a foundation on which to build an interesting, strong plot point. On the other hand, if we don’t have these things, our plot point won’t ever be as strong as it might otherwise have been, no matter how many cool things we throw into it. 

So to create a strong plot point we can start with a character who needs to make a choice in order to reach their goal. We make this choice more interesting by throwing road blocks at the character. It might help to ask yourself these sorts of questions:

What can we throw at this character to make them change their choice partway through?

What can we throw at this character which we know will stress them out personally?

What can we throw at this character after they’ve made their choice, which they’ll have to now overcome because of the choice they’ve made? 

What sort of consequences will come out of this choice and how do we show them?

And if you’re willing to do some work in order to find a realistic way for your character to get out of the situation: What can we throw at this character which will turn this into their worst nightmare; the most awful possible version of this situation?

Knowing what makes a strong plot point, we can finally answer the question: Are weak plot points – and the weak plots they create – really bad?

Plot points and plots with weak foundations are really bad, yes. Weak plot points which don’t revolve around a character making tough choices in order to reach their goals will generally fall flat to readers.

But, not every plot point needs to be a crazy, chaotic mind blowing twist either. 

Sometimes the choices we find most emotional and stressful are the ones everyone else tells up should be easy. The key to engaging your reader in a plot point is to convince them that this is emotional and stressful for your character and that your character believes there will be consequences to making a bad choice, and to instill in them the need to know what choice your character will make and what outcome that choice will bring.

tl;dr Plots don’t have to be constantly unique or fancy or even action-packed in order to engage a reader. They simply need to show a series of plot points where a character the reader is already engaged with has to make a decision which will change the course of the plot.

[oddhour]

pick-me-ups for writers

for the self-conscious beginner: No one makes great things until the world intimately knows their mediocrity. Don’t think of your writing as terrible; think of it as preparing to contribute something great.

for the self-conscious late bloomer: Look at old writing as how far you’ve come. You can’t get to where you are today without covering all that past ground. For that, be proud.

for the perfectionist: Think about how much you complain about things you love—the mistakes and retcons in all your favorite series—and how you still love them anyway. Give yourself that same space.

for the realist: There will be people who hate your story even if it’s considered a classic. But there will be people who love your story, even if it is strange and unpopular.

for the fanfic writer: Your work isn’t lesser for not following canon. When you write, you’ve created a new work on its own. It can be, but does not have to be, limited by the source material. Canon is not the end-all, be-all. 

for the writer’s blocked: It doesn’t need to be perfect. Sometimes you have to move on and commit a few writing sins if it means you can create better things out of it.

for the lost: You started writing for a reason; remember that reason. It’s ok to move on. You are more than your writing. It will be here if you want to come back.

[citizen-zero]

YA literature? You mean books about Super Special White Girl and Her Mysterious Brooding Boyfriend?

[readyalit-blog]

Here’s a list of black YA leads! And ten Native American protagonists! And a list of ladies who love ladies in YA! And genderqueer / transgender YA leads! And more queer titles! And 2015 / 2016 YA books with Asian / East Asian leads! And bisexual YA leads! And Muslim YA leads! And asexual YA leads! And YA Interrobang’s entire section on diverse YA fiction! *confetti*

[hikatebishop]

PLEASE REBLOG THIS

[fixyourwritinghabits]

PLEASE DO NOT THROW THE YA GENRE UNDER THE BUS it is filled with diversity that goes far beyond whatever makes it to the movies! Please give it a chance!

[ferntastic-m]

Dude! Yes!

[f4gf0rfr33g4yb4ll5n0h035-deacti]

Keanu Reeves on Good Morning, America - 1991

[quotemadness]

“Write hard and clear about what hurts.”

— Ernest Hemingway

[thesewrittenhearts-blog]

I haven’t written anything here for a long time. So, here’s a little something that I came up with recently, thanks to a dream that I really wish happened. Well, maybe not the ending, though. Enjoys!

----------------

Now we all get star-struck, sometimes. No matter who our idols may be - a pop star, an award-winning

actor, an MVP or even a business tycoon, once we see them up-close, all common sense seem to disappear. We lose the ability to talk, favoring instead to just making incoherent sounds that resembles nothing in the english dictionary.

I wasn't expecting him to be there. Having been stuck at home for weeks, a dinner out with the gang seemed like a pretty good idea. Which it definitely was.

The food was great, company was fantastic and we were all just about to go when I needed to use the ladies. Along the way, from where we were seated, there was a beam, one of several which I suppose was doing it's job holding the whole structure up. Secured at the top of the beam was the restaurant's speaker that acts as musical entertainment.

The restaurant in itself was not a very big place. Tables were arranged quite close to each other, as the case with the beam and the table next to it. I was ready to make a squeeze when suddenly a man came up from the opposite direction and simply leaned against the beam with his head down. He seemed to be focusing on something and it took me a while to realise that he was listening to the music coming through from the speakers. Then he turned his head away from me and yelled, "Cher O'shay!" to the big group at the corner table. I assumed the Jazz singer's name was an answer to a question they asked which, judging by their cheers, he had gotten right.

But he was still blocking my way.

Suddenly, as time seemed to slow down, he turned back around to face me and there he was, floppy brown hair, blue eyes and a wide grin. Looking right at me, was the man of my dreams.

"Oh, sorry. Did you want to come through?" he asked. His smile faltered a little as he must have realised that I was staring at him.

All I could say was, "South-west Minister. Next stop."

As soon as those words escaped from my mouth, I knew my life was over. I felt the blood draining out of me.

"Oh...kay...," he replied kindly, his smile back on his face, before making his way back to his table.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to dig a hole and bury myself right there and then. Instead, I turned around and walked back to my friends.

As I put on my coat, I blurted, "I just saw Sebastian Stan."

I could feel all their eyes on me.

"What?" one of them said. I wasn't quite sure who as I was looking down, trying to avoid eye-contact. "Where? Aren't you gonna say 'hi'?"

I shook my head and with a fake nonchalance, I said, "Nah." And quickly head towards the exit.

"Wait, did you pee?" Someone else called out loudly. Must be Katie. She has a knack for embarrassing her friends.

"Yup!" I called out, pushing the door open. Trying to ignore the wetness that was slowly spreading from my lap.

[the-modern-typewriter]

“I’m useless to you now”

1) “I’m useless to you now.”  “You’re a person, not a toaster. You don’t have to have a use.”

2) “I’m useless to you now.” “Not quite. I can still find purpose for your death, my darling.”

3) “I’m useless to you now.” “Oh please, you were always bloody useless. I love you anyway.”

4) “I’m useless to you now.” “I’m sure I’ll find something to occupy you, don’t insult my creativity like that.”

5) “I’m useless to you now.” “So’s my appendix, big deal. At least you haven’t tried to explode a hole in my stomach yet. You’re fine.”

6) “I’m useless to you now.”  “Then for old time’s sake, I’ll give you twenty four hours to run.”

[writing-prompt-s]

Years ago, you promised your firstborn to a witch. Since then, despite your best efforts, you can’t seem to get laid. The witch is starting to get pretty pissed.

[korpuscat]

Y’all get together to discuss your options and she starts coaching you on how to get men because she doesn’t want to waste more magic on you without promise of payment. The more time you guys spend together the more you realize you have a bit of a crush on her. Soon you’re sabotaging your dates on purpose to see her again. 

Long story short you fall in love and get married and do the sperm donor thing AND YOUR FIRSTBORN IS HERS BY DEFAULT and you live happily ever after. The end.

[only-1-a]

Baby cries in the middle of the night

Witch: Ughhhhh. It’s your turn.

You: You bought it. You handle it.

[giraffepoliceforce]

I really want a science fiction story where aliens come to invade earth and effortlessly wipe out humanity, only to be fought off by the wildlife.

They were expecting military resistance. They weren’t counting on bears.

[splintercellconviction-deactiva]

Imagine coming to a hostile alien world and being attacked by a horde of creatures that can weigh up to 3 tons, run at 30 km/h (19 mph), and bite with a force of 8,100 newtons (1,800 lbf).

By the time you realise that they can traverse water, it’s too late. The surviving members of your unit manage to make it back by shedding their excess gear and running for their lives; the slower ones were crushed to death within minutes.

You later describe the creature to one of the humans you captured, wanting to know the name of the monstrosity that will haunt your nightmares for cycles to come.

The human smiles as it speaks a single word, slowly and distinctly, in its barbaric tongue.

“Hippopotamus.”

[artdeactivate2025]

This is giving me the biggest, creepiest grin I might have ever grinned 

[skeletonmug]

Imagine being the next crew to go down to earth and thinking “it’s fine, we got this. We have the weapons and equipment necessary to deal with bears and *shudders* hippopotamuses. We’ll be fine.”

And at first you are, you’ve learned how to dodge. You’ve learned where their territories are. You know how to defend yourself.

But then one night you are sleeping in your shelter. You’re in a tree covered temperate part of earth. It seems benign. There are been no sightings of the dreaded “hippos” around. Not even any bears. But there is a slight rustle of the undergrowth. You try and ignore it telling yourself it is just the wind.

Then you hear the rustle again. closer this time.

You peer out into the darkness but see nothing amongst the trees.

The rustle again and now you realise you can smell something. It’s musky and slightly foul. It’s the smell of an omen, a warning. But what of? Where is this smell coming from.

You sit up, but it’s too late. The foul smelling creature is on you. You are hit with 17kg of coarse fur and vicious bites. Long dark claws tear in to you and you are pinned down white the striped creature tries to bite your throat.

It takes some doing but you manage to wrestle free. Blood drips from your wounds and already they itch with the sign of infection. The creature has a bloodied snout, rust rad, mingling with the black and white hairs. It lets out a terrifying growl from the back of its throat and looks to attack again. It’s between you and your knife, so your only choice is to back away.

Eventually the creature gives up and snuffles off in to the undergrowth, down a hole near your shelter you hadn’t noticed before.

When you make it back to your base you once again consult the captive human.

“Badger.” they say, with a solemn nod.

[jabberwockypie]

One word: Moose

[myurbandream]

“Our vehicles are far superior to the local human models, in range, speed, armament, and any other metric you care to name! Nothing could possibly-”

BAMrumblerumblethumpcrash!!!

“That’s called a moose.”

[morebadbookcovers]

Wolverines.

Also.. dolphins.

[ohgodshesloose]

The invasion is going slowly. The humans have caught on and are actively destroying information on the planet’s flora and fauna before Intelligence can capture and process it. All that they have are survivors’ accounts. Bears. Hippos. Badgers. Moose. It is becoming obvious this mudball planet is a full-on Death World to the unprepared, and you are so very unprepared.

You lost Jaxurn to a plant. Not even a mobile or carnivorous plant, just one that caused a vicious allergic reaction on contact that killed him in less than a rai'kor. Commander Vura'ko died to an insect bite, a tiny local pest that sucked a tiny bit of her blood and apparently replaced it with a bit of its last meal, which was full of disease. Backwash. She died to bug backwash. And yet you honestly envy them after that… thing you encountered…

When you got back to base the quarantine officer refused to let you inside. They had to roll a containment tank outside to put you in, because you all knew there would be no chance of eliminating the smell if it got into the ship’s air ducts. Smell. You wonder if your nasal slit will ever recover from this stench.

And the smell would. Not. Leave. After incinerating your gear the Q.O. had you use every cleansing agent they could think of, including a few janitorial ones, and still everyone fled the stench if they were downwind of your tank. Desperate to protect everyone’s nasal slits from the smell the quarantine officer interrogated the humans. From them, a glimmer of hope: there was a cure. Somehow the juice of a certain fruit on this mudball was the only thing that could break up the chemicals in the little horror’s spray. Immediately the Q.O. sent a team to recover buckets of the stuff and made you bathe in it. That was hours ago and it didn’t seem to be working, though. All it was doing was turning your blue skin an interesting shade of purple.

Sighing in frustration you wave the med-assist on duty over, who only approaches after checking the wind direction. Annoyed, you flip on the tank`s vox speaker.

“The humans did say it was “grape” juice that removed “skunk” stench, right?“

[majingojira]

Every night. 

It came for someone almost every night. 

Any soldier alone was a viable target for this native monster that moved unseen by any but the security viewers, usually only spotted in hindsight.  They were taken as silently as this earth-monster moved.  Sometimes they’d find the remains in the morning taken up a tree and hung there, mostly eaten, as if it were a grisly reminder that the monster was still there, waiting unseen, to strike again. 

What little they saw of the monster on the vidfeed showed true horror.  Yellow eyes that shone with all the light it could gather.  It had fangs as long as his grasping digits.  Claws half that size formed curved hooks that allowed it to climb up their fortifications with impunity.  And in the underbrush, its spots made it almost impossible to see clearly in the undergrowth, if it could be seen at all.

Even the native sentients, the humans, had a healthy respect and fear for it. 

The earth natives called the monster a leopard.  

It was a constant fear that muddied the senses, and let the monster hunt even more effectively as the soldiers were always on edge.  Sleep deprived with fear, it made them even better targets for the monster. 

But rumor was that there was worse on this planet.  Rumors of a monster like a leopard but larger, and bigger in every imaginable sense. Stripped instead of spotted, which leaped from the underbrush with a sound.

A sound that burst eardrums, paralyzed entire units, and let the monster kill with impunity.  While the Leopard wrestled soldiers down and ripped their throats out.  This other monster, the Tiger, killed with its pounce alone.

[lyricwritesprose]

“We’ve been through this,” Group Leader 455 snapped.  “The dissection of an Earth life form will help the scientists make weapons to combat the rest of this planet’s hellbeasts.  And these are domesticated.  Harmless.”

The troops were not-quite-looking at her in the way troops do when they don’t want to be seen to contradict a ranking officer, but can’t quite muster a correct Expression of Enthusiastic Assent.  “The name of this species,” she pointed out, “is synonymous with dullness and slowness in the language of the Earth barbarians.”  Well, one language out of several thousand—these creatures needed Imperial guidance more than any other world on record—but there was no point in confusing the rank and file.

More not-quite-looking.  455 bubbled a sigh and consulted her scanner.  “That one,” she decided.  “Alone in the separate pasture.  Scans suggest that it’s a male, which means it’s probably weaker.  Possibly it’s kept isolated so that the females don’t eat it before mating season.  And yes, I know some of you are here on punishment detail, but you’re still soldiers of the Imperium.  This squad is perfectly capable of handling a lone, helpless, pathetic male cow.”

[petermorwood]

I’m enjoying this immensely. Wait until the aliens try Australia for size…

It was a strange creature Tar'van glimpsed at on the vast island known to the humans as ‘Australia’.

“I would warn you not to fuck with us, mate.” Their forced guide, a prisioner, had warned with a chilling grin upon capture. “If you think a moose is bad, wait until you tango with a red back.” To this day Tar'van fears the creature known as the red back, and what horrors it would bring.

The prisioner turned out to be of little help,the stubboness of his people causing them to refuse the danger that the captured human warned of. Tar'van recalls a moment when one of his squad members approached a creature know as a dingo, insistent they had seen these creatures before and they were tame. They barely escaped with 5 of the original 7 members of his squad.

Another moment Tar'van recalls was the brutal mauling they witnessed by the hands of a creature called an ‘Emu’

“Don’t feel too bad,” the prisioner mocked. “We lost a war to the Emu’s as well.”

Now with only 4 members of their squad left, including themself, Tar'van had learned to listen to the prisoner, to be wary of the simplest of creatures. This human was of the sub-species of ‘Zookeeper’ after all.

The ‘Zookeeper’ looks off to the distance, where the creature is.

“It’s a kangaroo, leave it be and you’ll be fine.” Tar'van nods, a human signal of acknowledgement if they are correct. The human smiles a bit.

“That creature cannot possibly harm us.” Tar'van’s squadleader protests. “It is so docile. I will aproach it and bring back it’s head to show this human is a fearmongering liar.”

The human reels back, a look of disgust crosses their face and anger passes through their eyes.

“Fucking do it mate, I dare ya.” The human hisses. The squad leader puffs up their hoinn gland, a sign of pride to their species, and aproached the so called ‘Kangaroo’.

“This will be unpleasant.” A squadmate mutters as they watch their leader raise their fist and bring it down on the creature. The ‘Kangaroo’ looks a little stunned by the impact, before it raises itself upon its strong tail and uses its powerful heind legs to launch their squadleader backwards through the air.

Their squadleader lands upon the ground, unmoving with black blooded oozeing from them. It appears Tar'van is the squads leader now.

“I don’t know what they expected.” the human says, smugness filling their tone. “Kangaroos are fucking shreaded. 8-pack and all.”

Tar'van steps forward to the human, whom inches back in a sign of fear as Tar'van pulls their blade from its holster, and in their first act as leader, frees the human of the bonds around their hands.

“Please,” Tar'van bags. “Get us back safely.”

[seechellemainblog]

This is so beautiful. I love this. Wait till the guys meet rhinos.

[ttran2323]

I’ll give you one better. One happens when they try to explore our ocean? The one place that not even we know about completely?

[ladytemeraire]

This post gets better every time I see it

[fandumbgirl]

Okay but guys think…wasps

[transdreamsicle]

It is impossible to generalize the human species. Evolving on a planet as hostile and diverse as the planet they call Earth has made them an anomaly on an intergalactic scale. The variations of hair and eye color alone can astound. 

It’s difficult to gauge when a human’s fear is a reasonable one. There is a story from early in the campaign of a human male screaming himself hoarse because he was simply taken outside. Our forces were swiftly informed that the man has “agoraphobia” and what we did was incredibly cruel, directly contradicting our words of assurance that we will be gentle and peaceful. Sticking to those words has delayed our efforts to a crawl. 

Another human froze in place at the mere sight of fire. A reasonable fear, but an unreasonable reaction, we think. Some humans have also been tricking us into fearing what we shouldn’t, and into trusting what we should fear. We lost almost 100 units in a single solar cycle roughly nine cycles back. A note: the ripe berry of the solanum lycopersicum plant, coloquially known as the tomato, is the only edible part of the plant. The rest of the plant is lethally toxic if ingested.

Still, that incident doesn’t even compare to what happened today. The subtle signs of resistance have begun to grow into a full-on insurgency effort. We are worried the humans may succeed.

Begin incident report 792: while on patrol in a habitation zone, a suburb we were informed, one of our units came across a local. Human female, just past sexual maturity, but not having reached the milestone of adulthood among her own people. We were told she is something called a teenager, and this group of humans is cause for fear. It sounded like nonsense, but in hindsight we should have listened. 

Squadron leader Vyla asked the teenager to teach the unit about area wildlife. According to the unit report, the teenager smiled and asked if they knew about wasps. We did not know about wasps, and were naively trusting of this suburb-dwelling teenager. She said wasps created nests out of something called paper, and their nests had an incredible shape to them. When asked how the unit could get one of these wasp nests for study, the human said all the unit had to do was hit the nest to scare off the wasps, and then rip the nest down and put it in a sample container. 

Note: do not trust an individual human’s words, this species seems to resent us for our efforts.

We should also note that by this time our units are out of their exo-suits as we have found ways to acclimate ourselves to the Earth’s air and bacterium. Whether we will remain out of our suits is uncertain.

Vyla did as instructed, striking the nest, filled with a type of wasp called a “yellow jacket”, and was immediately swarmed by hundreds of buzzing insects. The human ran, but not before sustaining nearly a dozen stings. Out of a squadron of 25 individuals, only 3 lived. Wasp venom causes what humans know as anaphylaxis. Not all humans will develop anaphylaxis from a wasp sting, we have learned, as the human teenager responsible for 22 deaths is still alive and only in mild discomfort. We have not been able to capture her, only observe. 

Humans evolved on this planet and are very adept at exploiting its dangers. We are beginning to suspect that our efforts here may fail.

[godlovelifemusic]

I am loving this post so much. 

[writing-prompt-s]

You’re in charge of assigning every child on Earth the monster under their bed. One child in particular has caused every monster assigned to him/her to quit. You decide to assign yourself.

[kittenwiskers]

Case: #273402 Status: Disastrous.

I stare at the file and realize I have no options, over the last 2 years every monster assigned to Charlotte Dower has quit, every last one. Her first monster; a giant goldfish-faced humanoid named Bubba, had been with her for four years, and then she wasn’t scared of him anymore. After that it was a string of different common, uncommon, and rare monsters… I even assigned a sentient sock monster to her. He came back crying! I look on my tablet, only one assignable monster left; myself. Field work has never been my cup of tea, but desperate times call for desperate measures. So at 8:03 pm, after Mrs. Gideon tucks in Charlotte and her little brother Daniel; I slither into the space beneath Charlotte’s bed. Across the room underneath Daniel’s crib is a rookie, Chico, a standard Creep kind of monster. I turn my attention to the bed above me, Charlotte is still awake but barely, I reach up over the bed and run an ice cold finger over her cheek, silence, so I do it again. “I’m not afraid of you monster!” She whispers, but her voice is shaking. I can see a small clock on the wall 8:14, a door somewhere in the house slams and there is an audible hitch of breath from above me. A few minutes go by I can hear Francis Gideon yelling at his wife. There are heavy footsteps on the stairs, and loud panting breaths, Charlotte scrambles off the bed and… She. CRAWLS. Under. The. Bed. With. Me. “Move. Over!” Charlotte hisses at me. I do. The door to the bedroom slams open and I smell the stench of human intoxicants before the man even steps inside. I know why Charlotte isn’t afraid of any of my monsters; she’s afraid of her own. Francis reaches a hand under the bed and I thrust my wrist into it, he starts to pull, I slither out. “What the…” I cut Francis’s next words off by unfolding to my full 12 foot height. Looming over the drunken man I caress my cold fingers down his face. “If you ever touch, scare, or harm my child again, I will find you, and I will do the same to you, for all eternity.” I promise to him. As Francis runs from the room he soils himself. I pull Charlotte from under the bed, tuck her back under her covers and kiss her forehead goodnight. “I’ll be back tomorrow night, sleep well darling.” Charlotte Dower is my child, I am the monster under her bed.

[bi-est-witch-of-middleearth]

WELL GODAMN, WE HAVE OURSELVES A WINNER

[gabbyzvolt25]

Holy shit I’m gonna cry that’s beautiful.

[godlovelifemusic]

I love this.

[thesewrittenhearts-blog]

Writing Prompt

You watched as the pool of blood crept towards you slowly. You took a step back so that it wouldn’t stain your new shoes. Your eyes scanned the room and there lies your sister, deep gash ran down each arm. Her bedsheets were covered in blood.

You took a deep breath and let out a long sigh before calling out to your mother. “MUM......!!!! Chole just killed herself again!”

[thesewrittenhearts-blog]

Go to hell.

1) "Go to hell." "I would love to darling, but they keep kicking me out."

2) "Go to hell." "Oh, I will. But not before I send you there first."

3) "Go to hell." "Look around you, sweetheart. We already are in hell."

4) "Go to hell." "And how do you propose I do that? I'm not going to kill myself just so I could save your sister."

5) "Go to hell." "Been there, not a fan. I'd much rather stay here with you."

6) "Go to hell." "Oh, we're going to hell? This should be fun, I've never been to hell before. Would this be your first time too?"

7) "Go to hell." "But I don't want to. Father said if I come home without you, then I would have to tend to the Cerberus for a thousand years."

8) "Go to hell." "Haven't you heard? The doorway is closed. No one is getting in or out of that place."

9) "Go to hell." "But I was just there."

10) "Go to hell." "Quit telling me to go to hell! I've spent the last 500 years there pretending to be you! Now it's your turn to go to hell!"

[thesewrittenhearts-blog]

Writer Ask Game

1 : What age-group do you write?

2 : What genre do you write?

3 : Do you outline according to big ideas or small details?

4 : Which do you prefer--line-editing or plot-revisions?

5 : Do you write better with or without deadlines?

6 : What would be the biggest compliment you could hope to receive on your current WIP?

7 : How long is your current WIP?

8 : What author would you be most excited to be compared to?

9 : What do you struggle most with as a writer?

10 : Do you brain-storm story ideas alone or with others?

11 : Do you base your characters off of real people?

12 : Is your writing space clean or cluttered?

13 : Do you write character-driven or plot-driven stories?

14 : Do you have a favorite writing-related quote?

15 : If you transport your original characters into another author’s world, which world would you choose?

16 : Would your story work better as a movie or tv show? Why?

17 : Do you make soundtracks for each story?

18 : If you could assign your story one song, what would it be?

19 : Would you rather live in your characters’ world, or have your characters come live in our world?

20 : What book would you love to see adapted for the big or small screen?

21 : Do you finish most of the stories you start?

22 : Has your own writing ever made you cry?

23 : Are you proud or anxious to show off your writing?

24 : When did you start considering yourself a writer?

25 : What books are must-reads in your genre?

26 : What would you like to see more of in your genre?

27 : Where do you get inspiration from?

28 : On a scale of 1-10, how much do you stress about choosing character names?

29 : Do you tend to underwrite or overwrite in a first draft?

30 : Does writing calm you down or stress you out?

31 : What trope do you actually like?

32 : Do you give your side-characters extensive backstories?

33 : Do you flesh-out characters before you write, or let their personalities develop over time?

34 : Describe your old writing in one word.

35 : Is it more fun to write villains or heroes?

36 : Do you write with a black and white sense of morality?

37 : What’s one piece of advice you would give to new writers?

38 : What’s one piece of writing advice you try--but fail--to follow?

39 : How important is positive reinforcement to you as a writer?

40 : What would you ask your favorite author if given one question?

41 : Do you find it distracting to read while you’re writing a first draft?

42 : Do critiques motivate or discourage you?

43 : Do you tend to write protagonists like yourself or unlike yourself?

44 : How do you decide what story idea to work on?

45 : Do you find it harder or easier to write when you’re stressed out?

46 : What Hogwarts house would your protagonist(s) be in?

47 : Where do you see yourself as a writer in five years?

48 : Would you ever co-write?

49 : Are you a fast and rushed writer or a slow and deliberate writer?

50 : Would you rather be remembered for your fantastic world-building or your lifelike characters?

[thewritershandbook]

Writing What You Know When There’s No Way to “Know” It

How can you write what you know if you can’t live in impossible worlds, use magic, or go up against fantastic creatures?

[witchelny]

I’ve stated this before but I want to talk about it again: I do not engage with people who believe calling a character a Mary Sue is a valid critique. Why? Let’s talk about it.

First of all, let’s start by introducing my history. I have been in fandom since the age of 10 and I am now 25. I lived through the Mary Sue Witch Hunt on fanfiction.net. I plugged every single one of my OCs through the litmus test. I read hundreds of articles on the different types of Sues and how to avoid them. I hate a number of amazing female characters because the fandoms in which I participated labeled them “Canon Sues.” Then, I grew up, went to school for English Literature, and started freelancing. I have experience in this field. I am not an amateur.

So believe me when I tell you this: telling people not to write Mary Sues is empty criticism and fearmongering.

Instead of calling an OC a Mary Sue you should be criticizing more specific aspects of a bad character. What, to you, makes that character a Mary Sue? Are they too beautiful, too talented, too powerful, too beloved by the other characters? Can they do nothing wrong? Then SAY THAT. The problem with the term “Mary Sue” is that it can be applied too broadly. If an OC is skilled in some way, they can be labeled a Sue. If an OC falls in love with a canon character, they can be labeled a Sue. If an OC defeats the Big Bad singlehandedly, they can be labeled a Sue. But keep in mind that actual canon characters have these traits, abilities, relationships, etc ALL THE TIME. Canon characters can be beautiful and loved; canon characters can be talented prodigies. It has nothing to do with those aspects of their characters as much as it is with how they are written. So instead of slapping the Mary Sue label on them, think critically about WHY you think they are a bad character, because that sort of criticism is infinitely more helpful than just throwing a dated term at a young fan that may have no prior experience in the field of creative writing.

As for the fearmongering comment: going on Mary Sue witch hunts absolutely discourages young writers. It discourages them from creating original characters. It forces them to go back over and over their character bios and fill out endless character charts and take a million litmus tests. The problem with this is that they get SO FIXATED on the process of character creation and making sure every damn little detail of their OC is acceptable that they never actually write!

Plus, consider this: stories are about extraordinary people. Whether they are brave, loyal, strong, charming, funny, intelligent, beautiful, or something else, the core of a character should be what makes them interesting. However, claiming that any kind of “special” trait makes a character a Sue forces writers to strip anything interesting from their OCs. I would even venture to say that the sheer amount of boring, mediocre brown-haired white girl protagonists who “don’t stand out” in YA literature is a result of almost two decades of emphasis on this idea that your character isn’t allowed to be spectacular in any way. The writers who grew up writing fan fiction during the Mary Sue Witch Hunt days are now professional adults and authors who still have that fear of writing a character who is “too special” instilled in them.

So, if you are a young writer: fuck it! Make your characters as stunning and talented and lovable as you like. Make them look exactly like you. Fall in love with the main character from your favorite show. What matters the most is that you need to WRITE. Because any writer can make a “bad” character look good through the magic of developing their character arc, and the only way you can improve in that category is to practice, not to endlessly peruse over your bible of character sheets for all eternity.

[regardstosoulandromance]

Useful Writing Links!

I’ve been collecting a lot of helpful writing tools and tutorials and ideas so I thought I’d put them into one big post! Hopefully others will find them helpful. I’ve separated them into sections. 

Ideas

Seventh Sanctum Generators

Serendipity Generators; fantasy generators

Prompts

AUs to Consider

Plot

6 Stage Plot Structure

How to Plot a Novel in a Day (It WILL take all Day)

The Thirty-Six Dramatic Situations

This is a Plot

On Plot Details

Words

This Sentence has Five Words

Said is Dead; words other than ‘said’

Tip of My Tongue; finding the word you can’t remember

Pun Generator

Tools

Hemingway; a editing app I would die without

Pacemaker; a word count planing tool

FreeMind; a mind mapping tool

Writing Dirty (aka Sex)

Smut Guides of Tumblr

On Kissing

On Foreplay

The Sex Ed Guide your Parents Didn’t Give You

Writing Believable Sex Scenes

How to Write a Blowjob

Tips from Pregnancy Smut

The Dirty Dictionary; dictionary of fetishes, euphemisms, sex positions, ect.

List of All Sex Positions

Kink Wiki

Smut Playlists

Characters

The Mary Sue Test

Ways to Reveal a Character

On Writing a Vampire

Things that say a lot about people

Anti-Villain Motivations Besides “Tragic Past”

Villain Archetypes

How to Use Mental Illness in Your Writing

Surnames Masterpost

About Minor Character Development

World Building

Things that get Over Looked

Critique

Wattpad

FictionPress

Authonomy

Full Immersion Writing Programs

FocusWriter is free and open source

WriteMonkey for Windows is also free

Q10 (for windows) is also free

PyRoom; free and open source

TextRoom; free, open source, works on Windows and Mac and Linux

Write! (also free)

Writer’s Block

Surviving Writers’ Block

10 Types of Writer’s Block (And how to Over Come Them)

[thesewrittenhearts-blog]

String of Words

I stumbled upon the past, this night of all nights. String of words that meant so much so many years ago. Words only now I’ve discovered, or only now remembered.

I should cry, anyone would. But I couldn’t, there are no tears, no heartache, no nothing. Just a hollow feeling in my chest where once was filled with so much joy, so much dreams, so much love.

I find myself gasping for what was gone, left a long time ago. I find myself wondering what it would have been like.

But I am happy. Am I happy?

Theres an odd feeling here in my chest, with a crater that could never be filled. Flowers have grown around, concealing it.

But never in it.