hallwriteblr - Tumblr blog

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WE'RE GONNA BE PUBLISHED BOYS

"Progress?"

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give me your writing effective immediately

cats arent in stories enough imo smh

where r the kitties my meow meows my prr prr my fluffy itty bitties that chew my earphones and break all my plates

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cats arent in stories enough imo smh

where r the kitties my meow meows my prr prr my fluffy itty bitties that chew my earphones and break all my plates

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@canadjester keeps bustin my ass about how i never use my storage space. bitch i love my 1tb storage. let me mourn when i go down to 799gb free storage space. i survived off of 64gb of storage for way too long i am going to be dramatic about this

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WIP INTRO

WANDERLUST

Genre: Middle grade, high fantasy, coming of age, action-adventure (featuring some religious themes, the ethics of sacrifice and morality, and how far you're willing to go to help someone else)

Status: Outlining & drafting (main wip)

Summary:

This has to be a dream. One moment, Juliana and her twin brother were sprinting through the streets during a heavy thunderstorm, hopelessly trying to escape police. The next, they woke up in an entirely different world, surrounded by concerned onlookers who were... clearly not human. The equally confused group of kids who found them agree to help; but claim that the rings needed to restore the portal are from an old legend and that up until now - no one had any proof they existed. Meaning the rest won't be easy to find. A lot of mystery surrounds the ring and their legends. As their quest bears worse and worse consequences, they begin to wonder whether it's even worth going home.

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A tutorial on a (bit cheating) way of creating fictional maps.

Open your editing software (RECOMMENDING Krita, since it's free and it's very good).

Step 1: Google "X country silhouette" and copy it.

Paste it onto the canvas.

Step 2: Separate the silhouette from the background you copied with it! You can do that by using magic wand selection tool or by making a gradient map with black on 49,9% and transparent on 50% on the slider.

Step 3: Repeat several times with numerous countries and/or islands, cities, municipalities, communes, continents et cetera.

Step 4: Combine, mesh, stretch, rotate, mirror - go ham, make it work.

Step 5: Erase and add.

Step 6: Have your map outline ready, copy/paste it several times in the same doc on different layers and edit in different ways like biomes, kingdoms, mountains and other.

Step Mountains+: To figure out mountains, make another layer on the doc and do something like this:

-and then in every polygon you add an arrow.

Where arrows meet or transfer onto continents, add mountains.

Color the sea with a couple layers of depth and you're done :D

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THE WRITEBLR CLUB

IS READY ON DISCORD!

I made it with the intent of it being a discord server for a limited small number of people, so nobody gets left out or feels too overwhelmed.

More about it under the cut!

With the help of @ink-and-spite and the support of @caxycreations on the idea, I tried to make a pretty simple discord server, as straightforward as I could.

I will give you some screenshots of the channels we have!

On the (obvious) writing section we have plenty of channels dedicated to some topic, such as wip intros, writing advice, writing exercises and more!

And we have channels to talk about other things too! Such as gaming and movies.

Of course we have general channels and such so we can just chat about whatever!

I plan on making weekly writing exercises with writing prompts, regular sprints and stuff like that, mostly things related to writing improvement and practicing.

⊹˚₊‧────────────────────────────────‧₊˚⊹

This is a safe space for everybody, especially LGBTQIA+ people and plurals/systems;

Having said all that, if you want to join, just send me a DM and I'll get you the invite!

The only thing you have to be is over 18.

I'm also looking for mods, so if you want to apply just tell me so! :3

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The Fairest of All Stars Should Be Your Next Read: a presentation by Di, the author

The Fairest of All Stars is my most recent project! A sapphic romance, pirates, sirens--god, what else can someone ask for?

Stars is a fun, short novel. It's currently only being posted on Patreon, but you'll be able to read it for free soon(ish). This isn't an ad for my Patreon, I promise. It's just my system.

If you're not super into fantasy but like some elements from the genre--this is good for you. There's no big magic systems or other worlds, but there is lore behind the sirens.

You'll be able to read it for free in 2024:

On Patreon (join for free)

On AO3

Right here on Tumblr!

It'll be a good time.

Transcript of presentation under cut:

What's it about?

Are you in the mood for some lesbian pirate/siren romance? Of course you are! When are you not?

So, listen, we have Andy. Everyone’s favorite gremlin. She’s the captain of a pirate ship, recovering from not so great tropical fever that wiped out a good chunk of her crew.

One night, her ship comes across a siren tangled in fishing net, not doing so hot. Andy takes her aboard and while the siren recovers, learns a lot about her.

But uh-oh Andy is wanted by a Navy Captain, and he manages to find her ship after years of hunting.

--

Okay tell me about Andy and Syan

Andy:

Never meant to be pirate captain but here she is. Living the dream (not really).

Andy trusts very few people. Despite being brilliant, a brutal fighter and cutthroat at sea, she has a hard time running her crew.

Syan:

The runt of the litter. Not as strong as the rest of her choir, she got left behind during an encounter with fishermen.

She’s curious but prone to bad moods. She’s a loner looking for a place to belong.

--

More about them

Andy panicked years ago while cornered by Captain Bettridge and stabbed him through the hand. She’s been hoping to get her knife back ever since. Bettridge really wants her dead, though, so she has to be careful.

Syan and Andy would be pretty badass in normal circumstances but they’re poor little meow meows in this story

There’s another cool guy. His name is Pinkey. He’s the ship’s gunner. You guys will like him, I promise. He’s Syan’s bff.

Syan and Andy are immediately attracted to each other. Andy is a monster-fucker and Syan is into messy women who are hoarders and misplace everything under piles of junk.

--

Okay but tell me more about the story

Set in the Golden Age of Piracy, Andy and her crew come face to face with danger--mythical and imperialistic. There’ll be sword fighting and gun-wielding and all sorts of adventure.

It’s not really found-family, either, it’s more of like found tolerance.

Is this well-researched? No. Not really. But it’s fantasy, and it’s fun. We can make some excuses here and there.

--

*whispers* is there lesbian sex?

yes of course there’s lesbian sex you think Andy is going to pass up on that opportunity?

--

Can I read this anywhere?

Right now, the only place to read bi-weekly updates is my Patreon--but I promise this isn’t an ad for my Patreon.

I’ll be posting it for free once a substantial amount is up on Patreon. You’ll be able to find it on AO3, Tumblr, and you’ll be able to see it for free on Patreon once I made it public.

Keep your eye out for it! btw, you can also join my Patreon for free and get notifications for when the story goes public.

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After days of travel, the group reached a monument half hidden in the desert. They had not come across any well traveled routes throughout their march, and the monument fared no better. Abandoned and forgotten, its monolith a testament to no one. It looked as though the perfect cube of obsidian that glistened in the sunlight had been tilted unnaturally until it rested on one of its edges before being buried deep within the sands.

“That’s not something you see everyday.” Dank covered his eyes with one hand while peering down at the monument. Vestare grunted as she struggled through the loose sand. The weight of her axe had put her off balance as they traversed the sands and her mood had soured from the lack of alcohol over the past weeks journey.

“Let me see this.” Armand reached Dank’s side and held his warhammer out to the monument. It pulsed blue rhythmically, giving off a soothing glow, “It isn’t evil. If anything, this is a holy site.”

“Those are my favorite.” Dante pulled himself up and onto the crest with the others, “Do you see an entrance?” The duo shook their head as Vestare heaved herself a few feet closer to the group.

“Either way, we have to go in. May as well get it over with.” Orlogg said and began walking the edge of the dune, peering at the exposed rock of the monument in search of a way inside. Before he had gotten more than fifteen feet away there was a yelp as Vestare, who had hauled herself to the top of the sandy ridge the group was standing on, toppled over and started to flip down the side of the dune towards the monument below. When she reached the bottom and came to a stop, she rolled uselessly side to side before regaining her balance and struggling to her feet. From the top of the dune came shrieks of laughter from the gathered group who had watched her fall.

~Day 48 of Weyard snips~

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@canadjester :)

and my blorbos must see the world............

writeblr!! tell us, what keeps you from giving up on your work?

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when you finally get to the midpoint of your wip

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3 reasons why i cannot express how much dialogue can tell us about a character:

the way your character talks - the words they use, the dialect or the slang, or even just how they say things - can tell the reader about so many things. where is your character from? does that place have different speech patterns than your other characters? does this place have a special way of saying something? does your character use their local slang or do they try to talk like everyone else to fit in? these are the kinds of questions dialogue can answer without even needing you to fully explain.

the way your character talks to someone else. nicknames are the easiest way to show some sort of familiarity. or maybe your character is combative, and doesn’t like whoever they’re talking to all that much. so, they give them a mocking nickname. little things like this can go lengths to reveal character dynamics.

what they are saying. of course what your character is saying is important (they’re talking for a reason). but what else this shows is their thought process. they arrived at this conclusion somehow. what they think is important is shown here.

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Sometimes you get famous as a teenager and never get the chance to grow up

Excerpt from Angel:

Angel wanted to vomit the second the car came to a stop, but he knew there were cameras on the other side of the tinted windows. It would be, he had been warned once that morning, bad for the group’s image if he displayed his hangover on the asphalt in front of press. So, he swallowed and smiled and jumped out to greet the feverish clicking of cameras and much too loud shouting from press. Kai took him by the elbow and pulled him through the doors of the theater. As soon as they were inside, as soon as Dae gave them the clear that they were free from cameras, Angel wilted. Kai thumped him on the back. “Stay with us,” he said. “I’ll get you breakfast if you make it to our room.” Kai was nervous, Angel knew. And Angel hadn’t necessarily made things easy on him in the past 24-hours. It really hadn’t been his fault. He was already vulnerable to paparazzi since those pictures of him on a boat had been leaked a few weeks ago. The fuss had just started to die down, but one missed step leading into a hotel after a night of drinking had re-ignited the scandal. NXT Member Angel Tipsily Trips Night Before Golden Music Awards It wasn’t a drunk fumble. It was an uneven slab of concrete that Kai had also tripped over earlier that afternoon. But the picture of him falling to the ground was already spread around the internet. Cradle had been having a field day wondering if rehab was in the conversation or if there would be another scandal brewing soon. Fans were worried about him, he saw from posts on the app. They worried about his drinking habits that had become so public. They worried about the fall itself. He was headed down a bad path, everyone was convinced. Angel needed saving from himself. There was no room in their minds to believe that he was just a 19-year-old who liked to party like any other teenager.

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WIP INTRO

SEASHELLS BY THE SEASHORE

Genre: Coming of age, cosmic horror, supernatural, historical fiction, YA

Status: Outlining

Setting: 1970s Australia

Summary:

Louis never thought he'd see his father again; let alone stay at his lighthouse for the summer in a remote fishing village, alongside his older step-sister. It's a lot to adjust to after the death of his mother. At least he still has them to count on, right? It doesn't help that the residents whisper of an old curse, blaming it for the harsh thunderstorms that rip their fishing boats to shred. During one such storm, a young, amnesiac mute boy washes upon the shore at Louis' feet. No one knows where he came from, no one in town recognizes him. For now, Louis offers him a home in his room, and promises to find his parents, guardians -- anyone who can help. The townsfolk are simply paranoid. The voices that whisper to him every night, beckoning him to the ocean, are just his imagination. Right?

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Storm Warning

It was the first few moments of inconsistent percussion that caught your attention. Was it really that time already? Heading to the window to draw back your curtains you count back the days. Thanks to advancement in predictive software and the growing need for these warnings, storms can be warned about weeks in advance. Peering out the sky has grown slightly ill, a ghost of green hue turning the blue sky teal. Sighing you draw you close the window, lock it, and shut the blinds; you make sure to repeat this process for each window and door in the home. Feeling secure you make your way down into the basement to check on the generator. It wasn’t the best model but it was what you can afford, and it’s served you well enough. It hums to life as you pull the worn cord. It was time to head to the shelter.

The iron slabs slam down and the lock engages. Groping in the darkness your hand brushes against what you hope isn’t a spider's nest. Grasping whatever it is you pull down, the light bulb flickers to life and sheds its amber light into the room slowly pulsing to the cycling of the generator up above. Rows and rows of shelving units stocked with everything you’d need for the coming storm. It was on a hunch that you were able to beat the rush and get the best cans. Moving to the far wall you inspect the signal board, all lights are green, but you see you forgot to turn your computer off. Oh well, it shouldn’t be that much lost work.

Next to this board are the camera feeds, it may have put you into some debt but this shelter really did have everything. The cameras hiss to life at the flick of a switch and you sit for a while adjusting the contrast and exposure. You had only just had your morning coffee and it was already looking like twilight, this storm was moving pretty fast. Nothing to be done about, you head over to the cot and turn the radio on.

You had dropped the damn thing while cleaning the bunker so you have to listen for those pops of noise other than static. Through some quiet moments and resolved frustration you get it tuned to the weather service channel. Perhaps some music would have been better, but the voice coming through made it clear that wasn’t going to be an option. You were never a fan or her…his…it? The machine’s voice. Artificial enthusiasm was meant to be comforting and reassuring, but it just came across as patronizing and a little unsettling. Not to mention that to hear that voice meant that the storm was unsafe even for those with means. So you sit listening to the voice read out the number and letters. Safety and secrecy were important, sure, but in situations like this was it all that likely they were listening in? 

With the message on loop you leisurely make your way to the file cabinet to grab your manual. Chancing a glance at the screens you stop. Midnight at noon. You hurry back to the radio and turn the volume down. Holding your breath you can hear the low drone above of the storm and the sharp notes of the wind. Nodding to nobody but yourself you increase the volume back and get that book. Flipping to the right page you decipher the message. It’s nothing new thankfully.

Attention: The Weather Service advises all residents to seek shelter immediately. Incoming storm is predicted to be a category 5B. This message will repeat until an all clear can be issued. Stay tuned for further details.

Then just as it said, the message repeats. Your stomach growls, oh right, you forgot to actually eat anything today. Setting the radio on the table near the cot you browse along the shelves for anything that sounded remotely edible. You settle on some beans and canned bread. The microwave was acting up last time so you just decided to eat it all cold. It wasn’t the worst meal you’ve had but it was by no means the best. You aren’t sure if that was some thunder or your stomach that groaned, but given some of the cans shifted and rattled, it was safe to assume it was the storm. Sitting on the edge of the cot you just listen to it all. There was a dark beauty to storms. That enjoyment is short lived as you grow bored. To remedy this you brush the dust off the monitor and keyboard of the wall computer and wait for the relic to live once again. The lightbulb swings gently on its cord and flickers rapidly as the electronic device draws power. You have a couple messages waiting for you from friends and family checking in. Your responses are welcomed and the conversations while delayed are a pleasant change of pace. You learn that the storm is thickest around your area, that would explain the urgency in their words, and most of them are even still above ground. Your best friend takes the moment to call you a mole rat, with love of course. 

Eyelids feeling heavy from the dense meal you let the others know you are going to try and sleep out the storm and shut the computer back down. The sheets of the cot are scratchy but at least you have something to cover you. It wasn’t long after you laid down that you woke up to the all clear. Voices of people described in detail the devastation done by the storm, you shut the radio off. Bunker doors opening you inspect the house, not even a speck of dust was out of place. Outside you can see the devastation wrought by the storm; trees upturned, stone and soil marred, the hollow shells of your neighbors standing like headstones in a graveyard. You are ashamed of your relief but thankful all the same. Still exhausted from the ordeal you draw yourself a nice hot bath. Slipping into the water you sigh and let the tension dissolve from your muscles. The comfort of the liquid blanket and steam shepard you back off into sleep. Another storm, another day, another-

A siren.

Your eyes shoot open. You are still in your bunker and the lights have gone out.Your bunker is shaking as the storm outside rages and howls. A siren was an ill omen indeed. People report the weather. Artificial voices report the weather when people are unable. Intermediate tones report the weather when artificial voices can not be maintained. But a siren-the shaking of the bunker ceases. Everything is still. You strain your hearing against the deafening silence. Against the encompassing nothing. You hold your breath to hear anything at all.

The doors to your bunker squeal.

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just realized that all of Feivel's art depicts him with furrowed brows

@canadjester this is your fault

everyone go blame him