#Writing writingly

[irepookie]

As an ace, I'm loving these so much

REVERSE TROPE WRITING PROMPTS

Too many beds

Accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss

Really nice guy who hates only you

Academic rivals except it’s two teachers who compete to have the best class

Divorce of convenience

Too much communication

True hate’s kiss (only kissing your enemy can break a curse)

Dating your enemy’s sibling

Lovers to enemies

Hate at first sight

Love triangle where the two love interests get together instead

Fake amnesia

Soulmates who are fated to kill each other

Strangers to enemies

Instead of fake dating, everyone is convinced that you aren’t actually dating

Too hot to cuddle

Love interest CEO is a himbo/bimbo who runs their company into the ground

Nursing home au

[humanteethmarksonhumanbone]

fictober 2024 prompt 6 “im not giving up”

fanfiction

fandom: the silt verses

word count: 406

characters: Sister Pippa Strider (OC) & Lyra Christopher (OC)

tags: disabled character, tree climbing, fluff, original characters

“Look, Pippa, I appreciate this very much but I think it’s a lost cause.” Lyra looked up with an affectionate, if a bit concerned smile, at Pippa who was struggling to get good footing up the tree.

“Hey I've already made it this far and I'm not giving up.” She said as she hoisted herself up to the next branch.

“See? Not so hard!” Pippa said, gasping for breath as she reached for another branch. “Be careful!” Lyra was beginning to lose sight of her through the branches and leaves.

For a tense few minutes Lyra waited, half expecting Pippa to fall out of the tree any minute.

“Pippa?” Lyra made their around the tree, trying to see some sign of her and not seeing anything.

They scouted to base of the tree for another few minutes, holding the handle of his cane so tight his knuckles were turning white.

“Pippa, I swear to whatever God is listening, if you get hurt trying get some stupid-“

There was a crack followed by a gasp and Pippa’s leg appeared through the thicket and a small branch came tumbling down.

“Damn it Pippa! Be careful!”

They were not in the mood to watch their best friend fall face first out of a tree he had made the mistake of mentioning was home to one if his favorite plants.

Pippa’a face appeared next out of the top of the tree, grinning like a madman, a bright purple flower held between her teeth,and  jumped from a branch just high enough to make Lyra uneasy.

“For you, sir” Pippa said through wheezes and a smile as she held out the flower, “the last one I could find.”

Lyra took the flower, giving Pippa a peck on the cheek in return,

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you.”

Lyra had begun picking out the stray leaves and branches from Pippa’s hair

“Sap, But don't you go doing anything reckless again- you remember the last time you-“

“Yes yes yes,.”

“I love you but Id rather not have another heart attack over your antics again.” they teased, detangling a burr from her coils. 

“Love you too” Pippa’s smile just about made their near panic attack worth it.

The sun was setting as they made their way back to the parish. With their free hand holding Pippa’s and their favorite flower sitting delicately in their breast pocket, Lyra was sure no greater happiness could exist.

[yinyuedijun]

my b, i did not read bluebird (chapter one), i read its prologue. may need to take a breather before i read it but again, ur writingly === hauntingly beautiful like its full of these gorgeous emotions and anguish just loitering the background.

HELP "anguish just loitering in the background" is the funniest fucking description of my writing ever but it's exactly what Im aiming for godbless. I will keep this feedback close to my heart always

[erinsharing]

Vagrants of the Vortex episode 1

This is the first episode in a (hopefully) ongoing story of two time lords now both in their 2nd incarnations bc I don't like writing origin stories

I'm still a bit worried about pacing and a lot of other writingly details so if you have any criticism please put it directly in my comments even if its really mean I wanna hear it :)

[inyoursheets]

17 (👫🍑🥦🥖🥓🌮🍭🍫🧃🛒😉😉😉😌✨) and 23, please?💛

17. fics you’ll continue next year

idk why but since like, august? i havent really been writing. and im sad about that. im trying to get back into tangerine (i see those emojis!!!) but any time i do i just feel pulled to a different wip (the swimming pool!AU). i think if i’ll manage to write anything at all it’ll probably be for that fic. but since it’s uhh drought season, writingly speaking, i have no idea if/when/how i’ll do any of that. i do wanna finish chlorine and the grocery store!AU tho, i just. am miserably not writing

23. fics you wanted to write but didn’t

honestly so many. or well i got stuck with all my active ideas. but i definitely wanted to write a multichapter fic (like warm water length) and i really didnt lol. i didnt do what i wanted to do this year. on many fronts

ty 💖💖 end of year fic qs?

[adamantseal]

i confess, anonymously, that i must ask you questioningly to write, writingly, about this anonymous confession itself - itselfingly - if you would, could, might or should. won't you? good.

This was fun :D Your poem is here.

[mdrajuahmmed]

Ai Writingly

[celialadygarden]

GHOSTLY WRITING

GHOSTLY. WRITING my dear ladies and occasional gentleman well may you ask.

I’m back working with my dear ghostly writer friend on our NEXT BOOK  with the working title of:

‘ENS FER PETTIN’. Spellcheck is struggling with the DEVON DIALECT!

Yours Writingly

Celia

[dontburnflowers]

An untitled poem and some comments.

Here comes the sad and the

joy the mortal coil and

lackadaisy, crazy, sprain

and crane your coy neck you see,

here the court says to me, chain

your jowl, make merry and wither,

like chewing cherries we gave each other

juice down our chins from when we

were young together, spritely lost,

back when play was hard and we

toiled over the world,

the biggest toy of them all.

Commentary:

I'll preface this by saying I rarely write poetry and I'm just not a poem kinda person.

All the poetry I write is idle writing when the mood strikes, and sometimes I take that opportunity to practice putting words together in different ways. I like the sounds a lot, so most of the time I'm just trying to stick wordsounds in some kind of interweaving pattern. So, it's really obvious in lines 2, 3, and 4, where [k]/[cr], [oi], [ain], [azy] sounds chain together. Yes, I know I'm using phoneme notation wrong, I'm sorry.

I extrapolated “lackadaisy” from lackadaisical, and I was thinking about bringing back daisy or some flower-like word later in the poem, but I didn't.

After the first 4 lines or so, I realized that I was using a lot of monosyllabic words and it was creating a staccato effect that I thought was somewhat neat. You know, in the same way they say a trochee sounds like funeral dirge (do they say that? I don't remember). I am really bad at intuiting English meter (English is my native language but I think of Russian, which has stress, as a more intuitive example), which is something I need to work on.

But anyway, I then tried to keep to 6 or 7 syllables for the beginning and ending lines to keep that plodding feel and have a midpoint peak of sorts. This resulted in enjambing the first line in a way that exposes “joy the mortal coil��� as an explicit run-on without any type of connector. I have a hard time letting myself do this in general in poetry, so I forced myself to keep it as practice.

It's really tempting to rhyme sometimes, just on the basis that it will sound nice, but I try to avoid it (especially tail rhyme) because I think it makes my stuff sound cliché. In lines 3 and 4, “you see”/“to me” was incidental and I just kept it. I used “court” to bring back the [ort] sound from “mortal.” What also ended up happening is that “here the court says to me” might be heard as “hear the court says to me,” which I also thought was neat upon reflection.

I wasn't intending this but after using the [ch] sound with “chewing cherries” to link with “chain,” I realized I had brought into my head two kids eating fruit on a summer day, sitting on a stoop, juice dribbling down their chins, with a vague nostalgic aura of young innocent love. This made me quite annoyed. First of all, I think it's a little cliché, and second of all, it's a memory rooted in movies and advertisements, and not in anything I've ever experienced. But this is what happens when you just writingly wander through poetry, so I just went with it, albeit unwillingly.

So it took a while to figure out a decent way through that image. I still think “juice down our chins” is a weak and derivative image (and also phrase), but I kept it for narrative reasons, as well as the [j] and [ch] sounds.

I didn't realize this at first but the way line 7 ends creates a neat garden-path-sentence-like effect. So that was ok. It also makes line 7/line 8 a little suggestive, (like, am I saying that they gave each other their 'juice?' Uhhh..) but that's okay I guess. I'm just very skittish about those kinda things.

I suppose also you might think of popping cherries, which I realized just now.

I did find it very cool that neck/jowl/chin somewhat anatomically ties together, which happened serendipitously.

'when we // were young together' is also a phrase that I find weak, and it's something that works better in song lyrics (a lot of songs probably have that phrase verbatim). But I was sort of giving up at this point.

As for the last 3 lines, I ran out of motivation and I just gave up. I was trying to force 'toil' and 'toy' too hard (to refer to 'coil' and 'coy') so I just slapped them on and called it a day. I had the “chewing cherries” line be the long syllable line and an obvious focal point, and I was too bored to be creative about it.

I was gonna put 'before we learned // the world is not a toy' but I couldn't make it work.

I was thinking about using 'before we learned how to cry' and then repeating with rhyme 'before we learned how to lie/die' but honestly I couldn't justify how silly it was. It was just a little too cliché. I also thought about 'little boy' with 'toy' somewhere but I didn't want to push the youth image that much.

A final aside is that I just don't know how to play with punctuation with purpose. That is, peppering poems with slashes, pipes, partnerless brackets/parentheses and the like. I haven't figured out anything that adds to the poem without saying so obviously: 'look at me, I'm using punctuation differently, how postpostpostmodern!' Part of it is that I'm very unread poetry-wise, and I am probably an unintentional philistine. Even when I'm writing complete stream-of-consciousness prose-poetry I don't experiment enough with atypical punctuation.

Ultimately, breaking rules doesn't bother me, but I want to break them in a way that makes the resultant object more powerful.