dhruvk-writes

[dhruvk-writes]

Story of a Myth, Pt. I: The Pokemon Extremes

We all love stories. I mean, what are you even doing on my blog if you don’t?

Humanity as a whole loves stories. We’ve been telling stories ever since we could. And, thousands of years later, we don't just narrate them to each other out loud—like I’d assume we used to. We read them, act them, imagine them, hear them. Arts, music, prose, theatre, films—we use all these mediums to tell our stories today.

In fact, language itself is storytelling. Count the subject of the sentence as character, and the verb as action, and try to imagine any single sentence that isn’t telling you a story.

And as I’m writing Myth, I can’t help but wonder… that this story has a story too. A story of how it came into being.

A story of how I created this story.

How cool is that idea, right? Stories are all around us, and even stories have stories that we don’t ever talk about in the story.

I wanna talk about it. I wanna tell you the story of this story that I’m writing. And, you won’t believe me, but this shonen dark-fantasy novel began as a Pokemon fanfic.

***

#01. Welcome to The Myth

First, I believe I should tell you about Myth and what it actually is about. Myth follows Ishaan Kulkarni—in a world where sapiens often discriminate against cannibals—and his quest to kill his father and the King, and bring about the Cannibals’ Revolution.

So, info-dumping time: Myth is set in a world where sapiens and cannibals co-exist on the Amian Isles. Both are different species of humans and look the same, but what makes cannibals different from sapiens is Bloodlust—cannibals have it, while sapiens do not.

Bloodlust is a condition where a cannibal, under immense emotional pain, loses their minds and becomes a monster. They secrete more mana—a life-force that makes humans stronger or weaker—and act like savage animals.

Bloodlust can result from great anger or despair. Their eyes turn red and they attack the nearby humans around them. Often, their savage instincts mean they even kill people and suck out their blood. That’s why it’s called what it is. Controlling yourself under Bloodlust is possible, but developing that skill requires a lot of time, patience, and practice. Once a cannibal could control their mind under Bloodlust, they can use the extra mana secretion to effectively fight in a battlefield.

Anyway, the Amian Isles is being ruled by the Dansamian Empire and its Seth dynasty. They’re sapiens, and they go really hard on their cannibal citizens. Cannibals are often framed and given harsh punishment by the courts. In prisons, they’re exposed to inhumane working conditions, where they often perish.

Everybody knows the Seth dynasty is trying to wipe cannibals off from Dansamia. Yet nobody does anything about it.

Ishaan, or Itsuki, is a sapien who was framed as a cannibal and thrown into such a prison-camp. His crime?

He killed his mother.

No, he actually did not. When he came back home, she was dead, and his father was missing. This can only mean one thing: his father killed his mother.

He was just fourteen. When he turned seventeen, he broke out of the jail with his friend, Haruto, and began his quest of searching for the seven Fragments throughout the Isles. Now, what are Fragments? Nobody knows.

All we know is that they’re mentioned in the Great Canbalasian Myth—the prophecy of how the Great Sinner would bring about the Cannibals’ Revolutions for equality, as he commits the greatest Sin ever. What Sin? Again, nobody knows.

Okay, I’m done telling you guys the basics. Let’s head forward.

***

#02. Inspiration

I used to watch Pokemon a lot as a kid. Not that I loved it too much—it was simply an obsession. All of my school friends would often talk about the new episodes and pokemons that appear in the anime. In my country, mostly, the first couple of generations were the only ones dubbed and telecasted, but soon, that changed and even newer ones began floating in. It was a golden time to be a Pokemon fan in my country, and I was certainly on the ride. But that obsession soon faded away as I grew up. I don’t know when, why, or how it happened—it just did. Over the years, I’d shifted from cartoons to smartphone games. Or something else, probably—not that I can remember.

Four years ago, when I was just a newbie in writing, I was re-introduced to Pokemon through its games and manga. And by games, I mean the older games—GBA ones. I had downloaded a GBA emulator on my mother’s smartphone, and Pokemon Liquid Crystal was the first game that I ever completed.

Yeah, I know Liquid Crystal is an adapted version of Pokemon Crystal, which was developed for GBC instead of GBA, and isn’t an official game. I know my stuff, man.

Anyway, that game kinda opened up my imaginations, lol. I’d always imagine being a character in my own Pokemon anime series, with different parts of the game being different episodes of the show. A character would say, like, two-three dialogues max, but I’d then imagine a whole monologue out of them, filled with my own character’s reactions and all. And as I’d try to complete side-quests and other sections of its story, I’d always be thinking how my character would react or what he’d say as he walks or runs through the wilderness.

I was one imaginative kid, after all. The games had just enough blank-spots that could be filled by a kid’s dreams and stories. And soon, as I began reading the XY manga, I got to know that Pokemon can be far more exciting than it actually is. The show is for kids, and I tried several times—with no success, I must add—to get into it again, but I’d simply outgrown it. I’d even outgrown the manga series—I read only the first one-two volumes of the XY series, if I remember correctly.

And the games? I tried XY, Sun and Moon, and even Black and White. I’ve tried all generations at least once, but Liquid Crystal was the only one that I ever completed. Seemed like I’d soon outgrown the games too, after that one. Though, if I’m being honest, just thinking about these games kinda make me want to play them again.

Anyways, I was into dark and mature kinda stories at the time. I was just fifteen, but Monster and Parasyte: The Maxim allured me a lot more than Naruto.

I saw the potential in Pokemon, but I felt like it wasn’t being used by the brand. Pokemon can be dark and mature too, I believed. We, the audience that used to watch the show and has simply outgrown it, can still enjoy it—only if the story was a bit tweaked.

Pokemon XY generation was my favorite—Ash, in the anime, had been so close in the tournament, yet lost in the finals. He was just one fight away from becoming the Pokemon Master, and… he lost. That story-beat touched something in my fifteen-year-old’s heart.

Imagine being so close, yet so far from what you really wanted all your life. That was gonna become the foundation of my fanfic—The Pokemon Extremes.

***

#03. The Pokemon Extremes

The idea was simple—it’d be a Pokemon fanfic. But, taken to the extremes. Hence the name.

I came up with new mechanics of Pokemon-battling. It was simple: the trainer had to use their aura to power the Pokemon, and can even throw their own mana on the opponent’s Pokemon. So, the battle was an important test of the trainer’s physical capabilities and endurance too, not just their pokemons’.

It wasn’t simply a game of strategy anymore, where the trainer would tell the pokemon what to do. The trainer would be an equal fighter in a battle, standing behind their pokemon yet on the front-line just as much as their pokemons.

I think this is where the concept of mana first emerged in the story. In the world of Myth, mana is a life-force that a warrior can use to either infuse on their blade to make their attack deadlier—which is called bound-mana—or throw mana directly at their opponents in various ways—free-mana. Bound-mana techniques are simpler to gain and use, while learning free-mana techniques take a lot of time and dedication.

I’d not really named it as mana in the fanfic, though. I just had an idea that for the trainers, the battle would be physically exhausting too, and that the trainers would be an equal part in the fight with their mana capabilities.

But then the Gen-Z arrived, and the word aura gained just another meaning altogether. So, I changed the word from my WIP.

In fact, if you think about it, the idea of Fragments oddly resembles the concept of collecting gym-batches in Pokemon. When I was turning the fanfic into the idea for an original dark-fantasy, I tried to adapt as many ideas as I could, and that of Fragments was one of them.

Something about roaming around the world, collecting random specimens that makes the MC powerful, inspired me so much that I decided to keep it as that. But, I had to decide how I was gonna make the Fragments fit into the story.

***

#04. Fanfic to Not-a-Fanfic

I kept stalling the fanfic. I was always busy with writing other original fiction. I was excited about the project, but let’s just say, not too excited.

Something about writing a fanfic never really motivated me, to be honest. See, I was greedy from the start. And I understood that I couldn’t really monetize a fanfic… So it seemed like a waste. Not that I was able to earn through any other crap that I was writing at the time—but at least they had a chance, legally, to be sold for money.

And fanfics were, after all, somebody else’s world. You’re using another writer’s characters and world to make your own story. Something about that fact didn't fit right with my younger self.

So, I decided. I was gonna turn it into an original piece of fiction. And, guys, that’s where the journey of Myth really began—as The Canbalasia Extremes.

***

Conclusion

And that’s it for this episode of Story of a Myth. In the next one, I’d talk about how I turned The Pokemon Extremes to The Canbalasia Extremes, and what stories actually inspired me to do that. If I try to merge that part, it’d be a really, really long post, and I don’t want that to happen.Till then, you can read An Ode to Her. Follow me on Substack and Tumblr for more blogs like this. I’ll see you in the next one. Until then, sayonara!

[dhruvk-writes]

Everything's finally fine in my life again. Just like it used to be - like the past couple of months were simply a dream. Like nothing had ever changed, and that I was simply hallucinating.

Then why am I haunted by this sense of emptiness? Why do I go back to the time capsules of those songs that still make me nostalgic about the past?

Only if we could rewind time and remind ourselves of what we'd lost. But some things are better forgotten, I guess.

[dhruvk-writes]

An Ode to Her

I love music. It helps me through a lot of stuff. Whenever I’m sad, I start listening to sad songs. At the gym, I’m vibing over hip-hop. And generally, I’m listening to random pop. Music truly gives me a soundtrack to my life, and most importantly, act as a time-capsule to remember these times and feelings that I’m going through.

My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy reminds me of my second semester at college. Charlie reminds me of when I changed schools back in eleventh grade, and experienced my first ever heartbreak. Goodbye and Good Riddance reminds me of the lonely monsoon last year, when all of my friends were busy searching for colleges and work while I was bored in my room, reading books and studying writing simply because I had nothing else to do.

And… The Marias’ Submarine reminds me of her.

Today, I wanna tell you guys a story. It involves love, confusion, and most of all—music. 

***

I’ve tried talking about it. I don't know why, but I don’t feel like this is something I can explain, y’know. Like, not completely. I don't know what’s wrong, but I try to tell somebody the details, and they never come out right. There are always parts that I’m too embarrassed to share, or simply ignore at the heat of the moment. I don't think anybody has ever got me when they say they do after they’ve heard the whole thing and start bombing me with comments, suggestions, or advice that I don't need.

Everything was just so… confusing. Dumb, even. Just too many coincidences for it to ever sound believable. But it happened.

Yeah, it did happen. And I think only we know about it.

So, let’s head back a couple of months. I was going through one of the worst times of my life.

University, lol. No, I’m not kidding.

First of all, I hate my university, and the kinda students there. Everybody’s just so… different. High-class. Pretentious.

Arrogant.

Yeah, not everybody. I understand that not everyone is the same, and personally, I now know a lot of good people. But overall, the crowd’s pretty bad, and I don't recommend a simple guy like me roaming there and experiencing the worst inferiority-complex of their lives. It was always so overwhelming—everybody came from good backgrounds and schools, had such a resume already which was filled with actual achievements and experiences. And then there was me, who had nothing to show but this blog.

Not that I’m proud of it, lol, but it’s just… not an MUN win or something, y’know.

Anyway, I was learning to mingle with these kinda people. Understanding their body language, clothing styles, conversation skills, and all that stuff. I was lonely, but I wasn't alone. I had a couple of friends that I saw around the campus every now and then, and could spend some decent time with. Even though it was rare, I had at least one good conversation a week.

And that’s when it began.

It was just a silly joke. But my roommate was furious at me—he tried to choke my neck. We got into a heated argument, where he called my mom. Cursed at her. Tortured me mentally. A lot of stuff happened.

I involved the warden, and things calmed down. I was told to bear it all. And that’s what I did, but silently. I refused to stay in my dorm-room—I’d just go back to sleep or change clothes.

I wasn't comfortable in my own room. I’d always roam around—in the mess, library, or random classrooms. Went to the gym every evening.

Everything was too much to bear already, and not having a comfortable place where I could be by myself made it even worse. I felt like I was always being watched, judged. I already had a couple of anonymous students talking about me online. I hated that time.

I couldn't think straight. I still can’t believe that I was actually feeling that down at one point of time. I was simply… surviving. Yeah, that’s what it was. I’d completely stopped thinking about the future at all. Whenever I woke up, I went straight to work—freshen up, brush, bath, cook, and then the classes. Gym in the evening, then you boil your eggs, and then you go search for an empty classroom where you can write for the next two hours. Then go have dinner, and then back to sleep. Repeat the cycle the next morning.

No friends. Always be on time or you know your anxiety won't let you live. You can't go write because you have a thing at seven-thirty? A club meeting? To heck with that club. You skip the thing and go to write. Or else, your anxiety won’t let you live.

You’d curse yourself for getting out of your shell again and trying it out. Don't you remember what happened last time? Somebody tried to choke you. The kinda crass humor that you’re into isn't for the arrogant, pretentious people that surround you here. They can't take a joke. They can't take a single damn joke. And they can’t stand that somebody thinks differently than them. Stay serious in front of them. Don't open up, and don't sacrifice your own stuff for them. Because you know your anxiety won't let you live.

And my anxiety didn't let me live, either. I don't know if you could call it PTSD, but I received a call from this guy today, and I felt a punch in my chest. And I cut his call.

I wasn’t able to sleep beside him at night. Only when I knew he was out of campus would I have a good night’s sleep. The only time I would smile or laugh was when I was scrolling Instagram, and then I’d feel even worse because… because I don't know. Because I felt that I didn't have anything or anybody else who could make me laugh like this anymore. It’s just me and this Instagram account.

I began trapping myself within the world of my earbuds. Kanye West, Juice WRLD, Eminem, Charlie Puth, Gracie Abrams, SZA, Tame Impala, Hayd gave me comfort. They became my catharsis.

I didn't think about the future anymore. I didn't think about my degree, my grades, my readings, my… my novel, my blog. I simply did my work.

These vacations, I’ve got a lot of stuff planned for my novel. And I’m completely changing the look and vibe of my blog. I’m pumped up these days. And on one completely random day, when I was fine again, was when I realized how unwell I was back there.

Only when you suddenly feel alright again is when you understand how bad your lows were.

***

It was at such a time in my life when, on one random day, I got a follow request from a random girl on Instagram. She had a weird PFP which displayed only her left eye. I don't know what I saw in that eye, but… I followed her back. I don't do that at all—I don't even let some people that I know follow me on Instagram, especially if I feel that I wouldn't be comfortable with them seeing my posts and all. I’m too picky about who can and cannot see parts of my life, after all.

But I let her in my world. I used to spam memes on my stories in those days, and she was the same. It was the same kinda weird memes that I liked so much. So one day, I messaged her.

I was at the mess when she texted back. Since I’d just finished dinner and was scrolling reels anyways, I immediately opened her DM and we began talking. It was around nine-forty-five PM, and the day… wasn’t exactly a good one.

I began talking to her about my problems. The social exclusion, inferiority-complex. Everybody hates me, I hate them—all that kinda nonsense. She shared some of her heavy stuff too. I told her I had to go search for a classroom to study—we could shift to a call and continue our conversations.

I gave her my number, and soon received the call. It was kinda awkward at first—yeah, we’ve been talking with each other just a minute ago, but talking on call… was just different. We tried our best and broke the ice.

And man, I felt alive again. I got a small classroom, but I absolutely did not study at all. I kept talking to her.

After that, we’d talk on most nights. Randomly flirting with each other, cracking jokes, yapping about mindless stuff. I just assumed she liked me back, and… it was probably the first time in my life that my assumption wasn't wrong. She gave me all the hints.

Yeah, I soon found myself in an online situationship. I’d not even seen her by that time—all I had was that PFP of her left eye. But her voice… and how she treated me—I was obsessed. We both made it clear that we liked each other, but we lived five-seven hours away from each other. We decided we won't make it official until we haven’t seen each other IRL at least once.

For a couple of months, she was the only friend that I had. The only person who would talk to me. When all my good friends were so far away, and the new, shallow friends of my university just disappeared randomly, she was the only one who understood me. Helped me. We’d talk for hours on end, every night. I’d share all my problems with her, and she’d yap about random stuff all night. We’d laugh and cry and sometimes even argue and then make up—all in a couple of hours.

All in a single phone call.

I’d experience so many emotions after so much time, and I loved her for it. She was quirky, funny, weird, just unapologetically true to herself. Just my kinda person. Not like those arrogant, pretentious people that my university was brimming with.

Yeah, she made me laugh again.

I felt a lot better every night after I talked to her. I was obsessed. I was addicted to this feeling. I was… in love.

***

We were talking about our music tastes, and one day, she randomly recommended me No One Noticed by The Marias. In the refrain, Maria sings about how she needs a virtual connection, and asks the other guy to be her new video obsession. She sings from a place of loneliness, asking for help, desperately.

Maria’s voice, for some reason, resembled too much with her voice. I always felt like she was talking to me whenever I heard that song. I’d soon start listening to it day and night.

And, all that time, I couldn't stop feeling that she was confessing her love for me whenever Maria would sing.

I soon tried the whole album, and it resembled just too much with her. Run Your Mouth resembled how she’d evade my confrontational talks, Paranoia resembled how we were always paranoid about this online thing, Real Life and No One Noticed resembled how we used to hate that we could only talk online over calls like that.

***

Three-and-a-half months later, we both felt that we were losing the spark. And, talking about an online situationship was always too embarrassing for both of us. There was no way we’d meet IRL ever. She’d never come to Delhi. I’d never visit Jaipur.

So, we broke off. Vacations had begun, and I was healing. Her loss didn't devastate me at all. I kinda wanted to end it, because I was so frustrated that I couldn't make any realistic plans to visit her at all. I tried, and I felt that all of it would be worth it, but… when I began feeling that she didn't like me that much anymore, I had to reconsider. I began losing interest too.

I should've talked it out. We could’ve walked through it, I believe. But… I just couldn't take that step.

And losing her made me realize just how much I miss the feeling of being loved. She made me feel special. Wanted. Attractive. She helped me through thick and thin.

I was used to talking about my problems with my friends, but there were always different problems that I shared with different friends. It’s not like I hide other problems with them, but… it’s just that I feel they won’t be able to help me out like these other friends would, y’know.

But she was the first one with whom I could share anything. I lay all of my life bare open for her to see.

I took risks for her, and I believed I could do even more. I had a lot of first-time’s with her.

She’d made me addicted to love. Once she left, I couldn't fill up this void inside of me. All the self-confidence that she’d instilled in me had just vanished again.

I was desperate for love. Downloaded the dating apps, but they don't work for me. Began skincare, got a better haircut. Nothing’s working.

For a moment, I felt that I’d never get anybody to love me back ever again. I still feel the same—the feelings are just not that intense anymore.

We all talk about self-love when we’re single. We all are told to love ourselves before we step into a relationship, because you’re not ready for a relationship until you do that.

But even though self-love is really important, I don't think you can replace love with it. You can feel that you look good all you want, but it’s all pretense until somebody else echoes those thoughts. You just crave that sort of validation.

And you actually feel like you’re getting something in return when you give. You’re used to giving and giving and giving, but only when you experience love is when you begin to understand what it feels like to be repaid for that.

You may adore, but once you get adored yourself, you can never go back. Especially not to a world of being single anymore.

***

One day, I really gave a try to the final song of the album, Sienna. And if No One Noticed was all the things she wanted to tell me, Sienna is everything I wanna tell her.

It has a really abrupt ending. The song was at the height of its tension, and then, it just… stops. You hear the bubbles, and then the album is over.

That says something.

Unfortunately, one thing I kinda regret is that I never got to tell her how much I love the song, and the album I discovered simply because of the song that she suggested to me. On a random night, we’d talked about it simply for three-four minutes before we shifted to talking about The Weeknd. Lol, she hated him, and I loved Die For You.

Yeah, she left. I can take that. But I cannot take the fact that I never got to recommend her to listen to the whole album.

***

I’m not attractive. Not conventionally. I’m mid, I’d say. I work on myself and try to look cool, but that rarely gives me results. I’m kinda unlovable, I feel. Because it’s not like my personality is attractive either. On top of that, I’m short. I curse a lot. And say and do a lot of dumb shit. I’m shy, under-confident in many scenarios. I’m not physically strong either.

Am I insecure? Not really. I feel that these are just facts that now, as a soon-to-be twenty-year-old mature guy, I should accept. It’s not like I’m never gonna feel that kinda love again—I understand this. But it’s gonna be hard for me. It’s gonna look a lot different than this one.

And, it’s gonna take a lot of time for me to find somebody again. I’ve tried on a lot of girls, but I don't know how to flirt and talk romance, y’know. Those things were just never taught to me. I observed and tried to imitate, but never understood all that.

All I can do, for now, is to wait for somebody to find me again. And, probably, I’d be listening to Submarine until then.

***

I hope you liked the story. It’s the first time I’m speaking about all these things in such details. I just… couldn't keep it inside me. I’ve gotta let her go. And make space for new connections, or somehow fill up this void.

Because everything is fine until I don't look over that void. I can’t escape it. So I gotta heal it.

Subscribe to my Substack and follow me on Tumblr for more. Also, consider reading An Ode to a Life of Writing too if you liked this one. As usual, I’m gonna see you again in the next one. Sayonara!

[dhruvk-writes]

Since I've come back home for vacations, I've been feeling a weird sense of nostalgia I don't know why. I mean, I come back home every other weekend, had spent my winter breaks some months back here too - what's different this time?

The backside of my high-school that's under construction these days, the roads I used to bike on with my friends sitting behind me, the middle school I attended for most of my life and yet I don't have any good memories of... Can't say I hate it. But I kinda do, because I'm being pulled back to see the past for one more time without my consent.

But all of it reminds me of how far I've come - how alive I used to feel before my university began, before everything went downhill... My childish dreams and innocent desires once again stand face to face, to help me focus on me and my future again. I'm loving this vacation - I finally feel alive again.

Clarice Lispector, from a letter to Fernando Sabino featured in Why This World: A Biography of Clarice Lispector

[dhruvk-writes]

ugh, i think majority of writers might have lost the slow burn romance storytelling skill because it’s either way too much or not nearly enough these days. and it’s my favorite trope/storyline. I don’t always like the immediate sex, love, relationship or even caring between couples in the beginning. i need something to wait for, to ache and hurt for. *SIGH*

[dhruvk-writes]

Original Post

when I was a young child, I loved the night sky.

I only could ever see three little stars though

a big bright one, I dim-ish one, and a very very feint one.

but sometimes,

when I whispered “This isn’t all there is, right?”

I would hear something whisper “Of course not”

and the sky above me would erupt into color

red, blue, purple, yellow, green, and oraange dancing with colors I still only see in the depths of my mind

glittering white sparkles winding between the explosions of color, forming beings of light that danced and sang songs of joy and life

and the whisper would tickle in my ear “This is how it was supposed to be”

and I would blink and the three sad stars would return

and I would cry, because That’s How It Was Supposed To Be. And yet, all I got was my three sad stars, begging to be seen.

The images haunted me all my life, urged me to pick up a pen, a paintbrush, a stylus.

and even now, the images wrap around me like a hug and whisper “One day your hands will bring us to life” they whisper “You can see, and you will create for us”

and I feel a little thrill deep in my Soul as I know

soon, I can show the whole world

How It Was Supposed To Be.

[dhruvk-writes]

on a serious note though, i hate it when somebody says to an author "nobody would wanna read this kinda story". like, no.

there are eight billion other humans in this world. all of us are born in different situations and settings, different cultures, have different experiences - can you REALLY vouch for all of them?

i'd love an anime-esque slice-of-life where nothing really happens and characters are just living in the countryside. I'd love it, please. don't tell the authors there's no market for such stories.

“no one wants to read this” ok but you do. and that’s enough. and also wrong. i want to read it. hand it over

[dhruvk-writes]

it’s so crazy for a writer to spend hours rewording and editing on something as simple as one paragraph never feeling it’s good enough only for the reader to spend maybe 30 seconds on reading it.

it isn’t a diss to either the reader nor the writer but it makes you realize how overcritical we all are. what you, the writer, may feel is average or non satisfactory to the reader is exciting and new to them. they can’t wait for your next words and where the story will go. you see endless errors and insecurities but they see the beauty of your words, the effort into the story and how well you bring it all together.

overthinking will ruin happiness and your work. give yourself some grace.

[dhruvk-writes]

fiction & story telling are the only reasons i have faith in humanity still. they make me believe there still might be love and goodness in this world. and In this life we need to be a little delusional to survive and be happy.

[dhruvk-writes]

The Danger of Writing Like Your Favorite Authors

I've been a reader and a writer for a little over a decade. I get it. On the reader side of things, you discover amazing stories. You immerse yourself in more of the author's work. You might even take a break from writing. Reading is an excellent way to "study" literature, but there is a huge danger that comes from too much reading and not enough writing... writers may plagiarize more than they realize. It's not a crime to admire the style and story details of an author. Many writers "borrow" ideas from other writers. However, for the majority of your own writing, you want the story to be unique. You need to develop your own style.

You shouldn't abandon reading for the sake of writing. You can, however, practice healthy tips that will keep your story from sounding like every other story.

Branch Out

Don't limit yourself to one genre, a handful of writers, or a certain aesthetic. If your mind is occupied with a plethora of imaginative scenes, it's a lot harder to plagiarize. If you do "borrow" ideas from a multitude of writers, it will sound more original than basic, cliche ideas from a few authors, depending on how you mix it. Add your own thoughts and plot twists, too. The more you force your brain to think, the more creative it will become.

Breath

Do not read right before you write. Give yourself some time to breath, letting go of your favorite scenes. You don't want it sneaking into your work. It doesn't matter if you are gradually working through a book or if you've just finished one. It's in your mind, whether you like it or not. Start writing the next day, pretending your reading never happened. Sure, you can be inspired by what you just read, but let it be fuel, not a means to plagiarize.

Fan-Fiction

This may sound dumb, I know. Some people call fan-fiction lazy. I call it practice. A writer can still use their creativity to come up with unique characters in fan-fiction. Additionally, it's extremely hard to stay true to an unoriginal character's personality. You don't want to change what's demonstrated in that particular fandom, but you also want to have fun and add twists and turns, too. While it sounds as though fan-fiction would only help plagiarizing along, it's not true. Depending on how you write, of course. Go crazy with the original plot. Anything to satisfy your love of reading while still practicing writing. That fan-fiction may never meet the eyes of another person, but it doesn't have to.

Evaluate

Many read for entertainment, which in turn encourages writing for entertainment. If you are simply a reader, it doesn't really matter. If you want to be an engaging writer, you should be aware of what you consume and how you consume it. Think about what you're writing as you're writing it. You glance at the paragraph before... is it sounding like someone else? In the dead of night, right before falling asleep, you think of an idea that you quickly discard, realizing it's been done before. The next morning, you figure out a way to make that idea more unique. If you are treating every word you put down as a precious piece of your puzzle, you're bound to get excited over your work. Eventually, you'll get so excited... you almost forgot about the writers who inspired you. Chances are, you'll re-read sections and laugh over how bits and pieces of other stories made their way into yours, but no one besides you would know, because you changed the expected outcome.

Write!

Force yourself to write. I'm not a mood reader myself, but I know many people are. When it comes to writing, don't let mood control you. Write whether you like it or not. Something, anything. You don't need "just the right book" before writing your own work. Keep the two separate. If you read certain books when you feel like it, there are no issues. If you do the same for writing, gradual plagiarism may follow, or expectant readers will grow tired of your progress. For your own sake, be consistent.

[dhruvk-writes]

[dhruvk-writes]

Rain is here, soft on the window painting art with every fall each drop a caress of the soul, we’ve never touched but I feel you in the hush. The air thickens a damp heat curling around my spine pulling memories we haven’t made from some place deeper than dreams allow. I sit with the feeling, let it bloom slow like the scent of wet earth pretending it's you. And I wonder if you feel it too, this sudden hunger which clouds cannot explain this ache to be the reason someone aches.

[dhruvk-writes]

consolations constellations / i knew about you, yeah, i just never knew you / paper napkins to paper planes / scattered flashlights / halo-tattooed / eyes on my eyes / yellow is the color of fleeting / strange, a stranger

[dhruvk-writes]

Love in War

But love-stories start and end like this all the time. There’s no time for shit like romance in the middle of wars like this. Itsuki had bigger things to do—bigger enemies to fight. And Sayaka…? It is what it is.

Just the way some stories end, huh?

[From my current dark fantasy WIP, lol.]

[dhruvk-writes]

I've decided

My first year at the university recently ended, and man, it was horrific. Like, really. A lot of stuff happened that I’d wanna forget and move on from.

Anyway, this blog isn’t supposed to be me bitching about my university life, lol. What I wanted to say is, I’ve been at home for the past one month, and now that I’m over a really hard part of my life, I was pumped to do something. And, I looked over at this blog.

It’s a mess. I post, like, twice a month, and I have a really lot followers count. I see other authors around me with such a strong branding done that I feel a little jealous. So, I’ve decided. This gotta change.

For the past one month, I’ve been brainstorming about what kinda brand I wanna build for my name—Dhruv Kumaar. And it’s tough, because there’s a lot of things that authors do that I cannot. For example, I tried opening a authortube channel, but I guess showing my face on camera just isn't for me. I’m too shy, and my parents keep disturbing my personal space anyways.

So, a YT channel is outta the window. I wanna do something that I can, y’know, and that’s where I turned to this blog and thought that this is what I wanna do, but better. Far better than I currently run this.

More brainstorming later, I think I do know what I should do with this blog now. Currently, it’s a heavily writer-focused blog, where we discuss tips and rants about the art and craft of the written world. That type of content isn’t going anywhere, but to increase the output and gain some more followers, I’m gonna turn to some reader-centric content too.

Why this shift, you may ask? It’s because I need to target some readers. I need to build an e-mail list where I also have readers who are interested in my life and my works. I’m currently working on a novel and playing with several other ideas in my head for now, and I have big things planned for these projects.

My current WIP is a dark fantasy, shonen-like novel series named Myth. I wanna yap about this too, y’know. And I wanna yap about the other two slice-of-life novels that I’m actively outlining these days. And I wanna yap about the books that I’m reading—The Book Thief, After Dark, Stephen King’s On Writing, Wait for Me Yesterday in Spring, and a lot more that have been on my TBR list for years, at this point. I wanna talk about my favorite films and anime. Yet, I wanna keep ranting about writing and the techniques and processes that I follow to work on my projects.

So, I’ve shifted from Wordpress to Substack. So, welcome aboard, my Wordpress subscribers! How’s this new look?

So, you might ask how this blog is gonna look like, then. And, to be fair, I don't know. I have a lot of content ideas in my head right now, and I think I’ll be posting here at least once a week now. But, I don't know how I’m gonna do it. I used to simply write and then hit the submit button, but I think I also need to edit and schedule posts now, and I don't understand how I’m gonna take out time for all that. I’m kinda bad at organizing tasks, y’know.

Anyways, all I wanted to say is: expect some new changes soon. I still have a month of vacations left, and I wanna get this new thing running before I go back to that awful place I have to call my university.

I’m really excited for this. I think this is the biggest thing I’ve ever set out to do. I love to write, to yap, and to yap about writing. I want you guys to read the dark fantasy that I’m working on—it’s my magnum opus, I’m convinced. I’m gonna talk in a later blog why I think that’s the case, lol, but for now, I feel I’ve got a lot of stuff figured out. And I’m confident I’ll figure out the rest. But I don’t wanna do it without you all. I wanna give you all the safe space that I personally never had when I began writing.

So, subscribe to my Substack. Please, guys, I wanna stay connected to you all. I want you all to witness this journey and be a part of it. Also, I’ll help you to take the steps that I personally took, so it’s a win-win!

This is where we part for today. I hope to see you all on the other side! Sayonara!

[dhruvk-writes]

Worldbuild Differently: Unthink Religion

This week I want to talk a bit about one thing I see in both fantasy and scifi worldbuilding: Certain things about our world that we live in right now are assumed to be natural, and hence just adapted in the fantasy world. With just one tiny problem: They are not natural, and there were more than enough societies historically that avoided those pitfalls.

Tell me, if you have heard this one before: You have this fantasy world with so many differnet gods that are venerated. So what do you do to venerate those gods? Easy! You go into those big temple structures with the stained glass in their windows, that for some reason also use incense in their rituals. DUH!

Or: Please, writers, please just think one moment on why the fuck you always just want to write Christianity. Because literally no other religion than Christianity has buildings like that! And that has to do a lot with medieval and early post-medieval culture. I am not even asking you to look into very distant cultures. Just... Look of mosques and synagogues differ from churches. And then maybe look at Roman and Greek temples. That is all I am asking.

Let's make one thing clear: No matter what kind of world you are building, there is gonna be religion. It does not matter if you are writing medieval fantasy, stoneage fantasy, or some sort of science fiction. I know that a lot of atheists hate the idea that a scifi world has religion, but... Look, human brains are wired to believe in the paranormal. That is simply how we are. And even those atheists, that believe themselves super rational, do believe in some weird stuff that is about as scientific as any religions. (Evolutionary Psychology would be such an example.)

What the people will believe in will differ from their circumstance and the world they life in, but there is gonna be religion of some sort. Because we do need some higher power to blame, we need the rituals of it, and we need the community aspect of it.

Ironically I personally am still very much convinced that IRL even in a world like the Forgotten Realms, people would still make up new gods they would pray to, even with a whole pantheon of very, very real gods that exist. (Which is really sad, that this gets so rarely explored.)

However, how this worship looks like is very different. Yes, the Abrahamitic religions in general do at least have in common that they semi-regularily meet in some sort of big building to pray to their god together. Though how much the people are expected to go into that temple to pray is actually quite different between those religions and the subgroups of those religions.

Other religions do not have this though. Some do not have those really big buildings, and often enough only a select few are even allowed into the big buildings - or those might only be accessible during some holidays.

Instead a lot of polytheistic religions make a big deal of having smaller shrines dedicated to some of the gods. Often folks will have their own little shrine at home where they will pray daily. Alternatively there are some religions where there might be a tiny shrine outside that people will go to to pray to.

Funnily enough that is also something I have realized Americans often don't quite get: Yeah, this was a thing in Christianity, too. In Europe you will still find those tiny shrines to certain saints (because technically speaking Christianity still works as a polytheistic religion, only that we have only one god, but a lot of saints that take over the portfolios of the polytheistic gods). I am disabled, and even in the area I can reach on foot I know of two hidden shrines. One of them is to Mary, and one... I am honestly not sure, as the masonry is too withered to say who was venerated there. Usually those shrines are bieng kept in a somewhat okay condition by old people, but yeah...

Of course, while with historically inspired fantasy settings make this easy (even though people still hate their research), things get a bit harder with science fiction.

Again, the atheist idea is often: "When we develop further scientifically, we will no longer need religion!" But I am sorry, folks. This is not how the human brain works. We see weird coincidences and will go: "What paranormal power was responsible for it?" We can now talk about why the human brain has developed this way. We are evolved to find patterns, and we are evolved (because social animal and such) to try and understand the will others have - so far that we will read will in nature. It is simply how our brains work.

So, what will scifi cultures believe in? I don't know. Depends on your worldbuilding. Maybe they believe in the ghost in the machine, maybe there si some other religions there. You can actually go very wild with it. But you need to unthink the normativity of Christianity to do that. And that is... what I see too little off.

[dhruvk-writes]

AND THEN YOU GOTTA PULL UP YOUR NOTES APP right in the middle of the night, and your half-asleep mom beside you is scolding you for using your phone late at night and you're just annoyed, trying to ignore her because she doesn't understand and nor can you make her understand.

Cause of my insomnia number one: