kathryn-writes

[kathryn-writes]

Fanfiction is the reason I'm not as worried about AI (as a writer)

If you've been reading the internet at all in the last few years, you know, according to the CEOs with a vested interest in this being true, that the next Tolstoy is lying in wait in a server farm currently guzzling up so much power it's changing the climate somewhere in Nebraska. AI is going to write books so well that there won't be any need for authors anymore! People will be able to just put in prompts and magically vomit out the stories they have always wanted to their personal standards!

There are not-so-outrageous claims that publishers are flirting with AI-genned and possibly people-guided stories already. And several publishing houses popping up to publish all those amazing AI-generated stories! And I'm not going to pretend that the writer in me didn't feel a twinge of worry.

Are they coming for my stories? Are these server farms going to replace the hours and days and weeks that I put into having an idea, constructing a plot, filling in ALL the words that connect the plot, editing to make the work cohesive all while paying attention to characterization, prose, voice, pacing, world building, realistic dialogue, humor, continuity, theme, and all the infinite little flourishes and details that go into creating a story? Apparently, so say the AI company CEOs who are totally not trying to sell you snake oil!

These insta-stories that people seem to think are a huge market have a really interesting testing ground: fanfiction. Because if there's any place where there is an instant audience voracious for reading stories that often repeat the same themes and tropes and characters, it's here. Look up the two cakes meme if you don't believe me. It's the perfect market for AI slop, providing an endless stream of soulmates fics featuring our favorite blorbos.

But what have we seen in practice? At least in the fandom I'm involved in, the few folks who have tried to make AI slop happen have... had trouble. Not only do the stories get flagged by members of the fandom as being suspicious, but they get very little to no engagement. People aren't interested in these stories. They avoid them. I want to remind everyone that fanfic is free. It's a click and sometime scrolling AO3. The prompts one would need to feed into ChatGPT are really narrow, since you probably already have the tropes you want in mind and the names of the characters. It's exactly where one would expect AI slop to have an audience, and it just doesn't.

If these models have already used the entire internet to train (which they have, even when people have told them to STOP using their content), and the only people who seem to be claiming we're within arm's reach of artificial general intelligence are the CEOs who are trying to keep the venture capital money flowing, then... do I fear that they are going to be able to compete with human creativity? I don't.

Because it can't even get people who've trawled the depths of AO3, of FFN, and even of Media Miner in a desperate search for a bazillion Destiel soulmate ABO fics to turn to the slop that ChatGPT makes.

[kathryn-writes]

truly some people have no genre savviness whatsoever. A girl came back from the dead the other day and fresh out of the grave she laughed and laughed and lay down on the grass nearby to watch the sky, dirt still under her nails. I asked her if she’s sad about anything and she asked me why she should be. I asked her if she’s perhaps worried she’s a shadow of who she used to be and she said that if she is a shadow she is a joyous one, and anyway whoever she was she is her, now, and that’s enough. I inquired about revenge, about unfinished business, about what had filled her with the incessant need to claw her way out from beneath but she just said she’s here to live. I told her about ghosts, about zombies, tried to explain to her how her options lie between horror and tragedy but she just said if those are the stories meant for her then she’ll make another one. I said “isn’t it terribly lonely how in your triumph over death nobody was here to greet you?” and she just looked at me funny and said “what do you mean? The whole world was here, waiting”. Some people, I tell you.

[kathryn-writes]

a writing competition i was going to participate in again this year has announced that they now allow AI generated content to be submitted

their reasoning being that "we couldn't ban it even if we wanted to, every writer already uses it anyway"

"Every writer"?

come on

[kathryn-writes]

a happy lil library 📚

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── bluesky // pinterest // threads

[kathryn-writes]

Sea of Lights

There’s something about watching a slow-moving train wreck. You want to look away, want the horrors to be a mirage behind which is nothing. But twice in her life, the howling sirens of warning that screamed and begged to be stopped, but no one listened.

To survive, sometimes we need to look away from the jagged scrap metal, away from the twisted husks, the cries for help—so many of them. So she looked away, at least for a little while. And she walked away too, up and into the darkness of the hills, away from the city, away from the palpable grief, away from the people.

The quiet of the mountains soothed, and she gazed down at the sea of lights below her: a metropolis the size of which dwarfed more states than it did not. Each of those lights, the sign of people going about their routines. People who woke up to take their kids to school. People who laughed with friends over drinks. People who snuggled into bed at night with their dogs and their books. Who scrolled social media and giggled at sea shanty and cat videos. People who were living their lives.

She realized then, through a fog of her own despair for the future, that in that sea of light were worriers and dreamers and moms and daughters, security guards and poets and baristas and programmers. And so many of them, were looking out upon the world with the same grief.

She was not alone. She descended the hill and submerged herself in that sea again, feeling the sense of belonging amongst the lights.

[kathryn-writes]

An Ode to the Hare

I don’t think you can be a child in the US and not hear the tale of the tortoise and the hare.

A Hare was one day making fun of a Tortoise for being so slow upon his feet. "Wait a bit," said the Tortoise; "I'll run a race with you, and I'll wager that I win." "Oh, well," replied the Hare, who was much amused at the idea, "let's try and see"; and it was soon agreed that the fox should set a course for them, and be the judge. When the time came both started off together, but the Hare was soon so far ahead that he thought he might as well have a rest: so down he lay and fell fast asleep. Meanwhile the Tortoise kept plodding on, and in time reached the goal. At last the Hare woke up with a start, and dashed on at his fastest, but only to find that the Tortoise had already won the race. Slow and steady wins the race.

It’s a statement of perseverance. Of not giving up, of maintaining a steady advance and you will overcome! Because the hare ran so fast and hard it burned itself out and needed a nap.

Burned itself out and needed a nap.

Well… turns out when you are diagnosed with ADHD in adulthood and start to understand the way your brain works, the story of the tortoise and the hare takes on an edge you had not expected.

My brain is the hare. I am the hare. And I have lived in a world that tells me the right way to work is as the tortoise, and it’s a box I have tried to fit myself in for over 40 years. ADHD brains are known for burning bright but burning fast. Hyperfocus is called a “superpower”, but the thing about revving and speeding the engine also burns the fuel faster, so that means that my brain sprints and then needs a nap, just like the hare.

There are a lot of hares like me too. We didn’t sprint out front because we are arrogant (and the hare in this version didn’t either), we did because that’s how our minds work. And because we sprint we need rest. It doesn’t make the hare lazy, it doesn’t make the hare bad or wrong. It makes the hare different. If the hare and the tortoise worked together, then maybe that story could be different and teach a different lesson.

A Hare was one day wishing it could cross the field to get to a patch of strawberries. A Tortoise ambled upon him in his gloom. “What is it?” asked the Tortoise; “There are strawberries at the edge of this field,” said the Hare. “And I do not have the energy to get to them.” The field grass was tall and the Hare could only clear a small patch before becoming exhausted, when all the grass would spring back up. “Oh, I see,” replied the Tortoise, who was also hungry, but too low to the ground to push through the weeds. “What if we worked together?” The Hare was interested, "let's try and see!” When the time came both started off together. The Hare crushed the weeds underfoot as far as he could go, was soon far ahead and needed a rest: so he came back to the tortoise, and climbed upon its shell to fall asleep. Meanwhile the Tortoise kept plodding on, his path eased greatly by the Hare’s hard work. In time they both reached the goal, the Hare sprinting on to clear the trail and the Tortoise to carry the exhausted Hare on its back. At last the Hare and Tortoise had made it, to the patch of strawberries and they ate together, knowing that their hard work and cooperation had paid off. Sometimes it pays to work together and become each other’s strength to achieve a common goal.

To me, this should be the story of the Tortoise and the Hare.

[kathryn-writes]

anyway just a reminder for the myth lovers out there

king arthur was welsh. merlin was welsh. camelot was in wales. the lady and the lake she pops out of; welsh. excalibur; magic inanimate welsh object. etc.

on the way to see family, i drive past a lake that in which is welsh legend, is the last resting place of excalibur.

i’m just saying in my experience a lot of these legends had been so anglo-fied in the past and it’s like, all this cool shit is celtic welsh legend.

[kathryn-writes]

Thinking about purity in stories

I just finished a book-that-shall-not-be-named that got me thinking about the idea of the corruption of the soul. It's a story where the male love interest was tempted to do something taboo, and it plays out as if that one tiny misstep, that one giving into temptation is going to lead that person down the path of being tainted and irredeemable.

And I thought a bit too much about the message that sends.

Too many novels put forward this impenetrable need to resist something at all costs, because to give in, even once, even just slightly, is to blacken you and your soul forever.

I hate the lesson that this teaches, and how common a trope it is. Because it teaches people that even the tiniest mistake, the tiniest lapse, somehow paints a person's whole aura black. And what the hell sort of message is that?

It says a single sin mars your soul, says that you have failed because you were not perfect.

Someone can make a mistake and then choose never to make that mistake again.

I don't like the idea that someone is ruined from one single misstep. I wish we could have a character that was tainted like that, and instead of that person needing to be purified or redeemed, they just... chose not to walk down that dark pathway again. And that choice, that single misstep, helps them build a deeper and more nuanced way to be a good person.

Because everyone makes mistakes, and leaving people with the message that it's the choices they make each day, rather than the loss of control, is what truly defines them is a message I wish that we saw more.

[kathryn-writes]

The Ivy Window

When I gaze up at the dark behind the glass surrounded in lush green, I am reminded of the other great tragedy that took place on a balcony, when two star-crossed lovers whispered sweet nothings at each other, unaware that they were humming the melody of their doom.

I want it to be different, to imagine the lover coming to the window and opening it to the tap-tap-tap of his rocks thrown against it. But Caspian has a wife, and even as he kissed her like one would kiss an overly affectionate relative, he wasn't going to leave her. I am the outsider here, hoping that the dark of the room would light and he would come to see me, like all the times that he does.

I wasn’t even sure what I was doing. Stuck in a stuffy banquet gently pushing off the meddling mothers with debutante daughters. I was a catch, handsome and willowy tall with the air of aristocracy. I danced with grace and comported myself so well in conversations with the men over cards and ladies over poetry that no one seemed able to leave my bachelor status alone.

And the words "I loved once and that person broke my heart" would only work so long. I met Caspian when I was close to the breaking point. A baroness was presenting her youngest to me, and I almost caved and said yes; that's when he walked over and asked if the girl still enjoyed wearing trousers over petticoats. (Honestly, that would have made her all the more appealing to me), shooing away the great lady and her crestfallen spawn.

“Would you have interest in getting some air with me?” He had asked, and when we found ourselves alone on the balcony, he had taken my hand. “I have always hated engagements like this.”

That was when the music picked up.

“Care to dance?” He had asked, and it was the first time I felt my heart flutter at the question.

I had said yes.

He spun me around and left lingering touches on my hand, on my waist, on my chest. And when the music died down he pulled me close and he kissed me, tongues and soft lips and fingers cloying at my skin.

I hate him for that night, because his lips turned my gray world to color for the first time. His hands and touch were why the women paraded in front of me never appealed.

Because I wanted someone like him. Because I wanted him.

It's why I'm here, again, rocks on the window of this particular room. The one with the bed that he and I sometimes share as I come to terms with who I am and what I like. The one he sleeps in when he has "to work late" on the far side of his home that muffles the noises he or I make.

The window opens, just a sliver. Light has not accompanied it. I see a pale white hand and then a piece of paper flutters down to the ground. Before I can say anything, the window slams shut.

I scurry over to the folded note, and I open it, my heart is beating out of my chest.

Catherine is with child, I am to be a father! We are moving to Kent I'm sorry.

It's the last time I will ever talk to him.

I hope he is well, and that he found what he was looking for in fatherhood. I will never get to thank him for giving my world color.

[kathryn-writes]

Photo by Vincent M.A. Janssen from Pexels

What am I doing here? I remember barring the door, like I always do when the sun blinks below the horizon and says goodnight. I don't go into the forest at night, always pulling the blankets up over my head to stifle the whispers and rasps of the creatures outside. The creatures that dance and sing in the inky black.

Why am I among them? I look down and see my threadbare nightclothes and my bare feet. At least the moon is waxing gibbous. There is enough light. I can hear the trickle of water nearby, that too is fortuitous. In daylight, this forest is my domain. I have tracked the spring that is its mother to the lake that is its end. I will be able to make it home.

I must be quick, and I must be silent. Only once was I out this late. I'd had a nightmare, a great bear chasing me from my home and even in sleep my feet had carried me away. Mama found me before I had gotten far, scooping me up and scolding me for my foolishness.

But Mama is gone now. Off to town to sell herbs and mushrooms. I'm old enough to be alone. I know how to keep the worst of the forest away.

Except I have not kept away from the forest.

Help me.

I turn back from whence I came, praying that I have not crashed through the undergrowth on my sleeping steps.

Please help me.

The forest tries to trick you at night. To whisper in your ears a sweet siren song, to lure you further away from what is safe.

Please.

Listening to the lies of the forest get the unwary killed. I should not even be out right now. I am vulnerable. The voice, the pleading, it is not real.

I will die.

I refuse to believe the voice! It is as solid as smoke. All I need to do is close my ears and return to my bed. I will bolt the door and tie my ankles to the bed, so that dreams cannot compel me outside again. I take my first step back toward Mama and my little cottage, my eyes now adjusted to the dark.

I am afraid to die.

That gives me pause. Because I understand. I am afraid too. Not only of tonight, but of the growls and rasps that stalk my home at night, and of the hoots and howls of the village men too. I don't like being afraid. I don't like being afraid to die.

I turn toward the sound. I still cannot find its source. But it's coming from deeper in, away from my home. Should I call out to it? Is it even me that the voice is calling to? Somehow I know that it is.

But I'm afraid too. Because if I speak, the creatures of the night will know where I am. They might find me.

They may have already found the source of the voice.

"Hello?" I whisper. I don't trust my voice to be any louder. "I am here."

Please help me.

It's louder, only a little. But it gives me a sense of the direction I must walk. This is my last chance to turn toward home, last chance to abandon the voice.

It would be smart to abandon the voice.

I turn toward the voice.

"I am coming," I whisper. "Please guide me."

You will... save me?

"I will help you." I don't promise to save the voice. They sound so small and so afraid. I do not have healing herbs nor magic like Mama. All I have is myself; I hope that's enough.

Come this way.

Mama will be so angry to know what I am doing. She would shout and cry and lock me in until I promised never to be so foolish again. And she would be right to do so.

I cross over through the stream, wishing that I could muffle the splashing. The water is cold enough to bite my ankles as I move, but still I continue on. I am moving toward a part of the woods even the most seasoned huntsmen avoid: 'fae forest' they call it.

And I am walking directly into it.

Branches crack under my feet, but the ground is soft, stifling my steps to all but the closest beasts, or those with the keenest ears.

You are almost there!

The voice sounds so joyful, I quicken my pace. Is this how they lure the humans away? Sing to us while we sleep then beg us to venture deeper into the woods?

I should turn and run. But I can't.

The voice might be a lure. It might be a trap. But if it's not, it's someone who needs me. Who is afraid. Who will die.

I will not let someone die.

And then I see the owner of the voice.

It lays on its side, spindly legs splayed out from its body, head bent to hold its magnificent antlers, eyes wide with terror. Something shimmers in the moonlight, like angry teeth.

I break into a run, kneeling before the creature and taking in its ink black fur, its preternatural gaze, and the bear trap currently clamped on its leg.

It's iron. That is probably why it has hurt the great deer so, why fae magic does not work against it. It's a trap that requires human hands to open. That's why they have called me here.

I take each side of the trap in my hands and I pull with all my might. I won't be able to hold it for long, I haven't the strength, but if I can release it just a finger's width, then...

The great deer pulls its leg out of the trap. I can see blood the blood that's pooled there. Or at least, I was able to for a moment, as the jagged lines are shining like moonlight, closing. Fae magic at work.

I scrabble backward as the great deer stands and shakes its body. It turns to me.

Thank you.

I don't speak a reply. I am afraid.

Then a soft nudge comes to my cheek from its velveteen muzzle. Its eyes intelligent and... reverent.

You saved my life even though you were afraid. You came to me, and even knowing what I was still you freed me.

The deer nuzzles me again, and somehow I know that its smiling. It turns from me then and takes three great strides, before facing me again.

For this debt, you shall never have reason to fear this forest. It and all its bounty are yours. And if you should ever have need, just call out into the trees and wind and grass, and I will come.

Then the great deer is gone, and for the first time, the whispers of the forest do not make me afraid. And I know they never will again.

[kathryn-writes]

So I completed a novel. It sits at 110k words and was a labor of love and felt so good to watch it come to fruition!

But then you find out how much the novel is just step one if you, like me, decide you want to give it a go and see if you can get yourself published.

I will say this off the bat, you can do all the research you want (and you should!) but that probably won't be enough to get you ready for the gauntlet that you are going to walk. First, I should say that I have an amazing support network. This includes a therapist, a supportive spouse, and my mom who is my biggest fan. To top it off, I've been in the same fandom since the onset of the pandemic, and have made some extremely close and supportive friends through that. Combine that with having a decent day job and it's a pretty good place to be to try.

I found some amazing resources (namely https://www.reddit.com/PubTips - it's so good. I highly recommend!) that explain where to go and what the process is. In the US, if you have a novel you want to publish traditionally, you can go to Query Tracker and look up literary agents that represent your genre who are also currently open to unsolicited queries. Then you write yourself a query (ie a short but enticing pitch, usually less than 350 words, about your book) to get an agent interested. They'll often also ask for a synopsis (breakdown of the whole plot), sometimes a pitch (a single sentence), the first many pages/chapters of the book, and finally what books that are comparable to yours.

Then you send these out to some number of agents, likely a large number of agents, because they're all getting inundated with over a hundred of these queries a week, and you cross your fingers and hope... and wait.

And then you brace for the rejections. Most of the time they're form letters but there are times that they give feedback.

I think all I want to say about this is build up your resilience. It doesn't matter who you are, you are going to get a whole bunch of "no's." If the agents are kind enough to leave you with feedback, take it. In my case, it has not even been a month yet since I submitted to agents. I got a bit of feedback which has indicated that I have not hooked people into the world I wrote early enough, so I turned to those magnificent fanfic friends to ask them for advice on how I could make the hook dig in faster. (Sometimes those things are hard for authors to see - we live in our worlds and can sometimes be tunnel visioned.)

I have a few regrets. Not about querying this work, not at all! But I wish I had asked people completely unconnected to the story if they could read the first chapter or two and tell me if they felt connected to the world. I wish I had sent my query to be critiqued by reddit (I'm telling you, /r/PubTips is incredible). I wish I had broken my queries into smaller batches, so if a few agents got back with the same criticism, I could hone that first before sending to more.

This is also a process that requires patience, a thing I do not have enough of! I'm grateful that financially, not getting a rapid book deal (or traditional deal at all) is not going to impact me. I want my writing out there and I still think about how amazing it would be to get to write all day! But this whole process takes time. And it takes luck. I could have the perfect query and still strike out, and I could have a mediocre query but an agent who connects with the story. It's subjective and it's a craps shoot.

So I guess that other than writing about my experience, I also wanted to give a few nuggets I'm picking up as I go.

Get critical beta readers especially for the first few chapters!

Use the non-agent resources available, like /r/PubTips for your query!

Send your query out to a LOT of agents, you never know who is going to connect with it. But, it's best to do it in smaller batches in case you get feedback that you can use to improve!

Be patient! It takes time. Find friends who will give it love if you need some whilst waiting (ps THANK YOU to my wonderful friends for giving it love whilst I am waiting!)

And you're going to get a lot of no's. That's okay! It's even okay to be salty and to grumble about it. But don't give up.

Rejection hurts, and it's okay for you to feel it! But you are resilient, you will bounce back, you will persist.

And if you want to beta read a story about a girl who meets a dragon and watches her whole world turn upside down, then please feel free to reach out!

[kathryn-writes]

Do you even REALIZE how much world there is to explore? How many beautiful places my feet have never walked? How many stories told at campfires?

People create more heart wrenching art, moving prose, life-altering scientific insights, and blow-milk-out-your-nose jokes. And we will keep creating those things that make life worth living.

Until I have smelled every flower, studied every blade of grass, laughed and shared recipes with every single person with kindness in their heart, I will not have lived long enough.

And each day, there are more. Even if I had eternity, I would never be able to catch up.

Maybe a day will come when the world feels too heavy and I grow weary of experiencing the novelty of beauty and kindness and awe. But that infinity is so so far away from the starting point that I cannot fathom sinking into despair.

[kathryn-writes]

Writing Tips Master Post

Character writing/development:

Character Arcs

Making Character Profiles

Character Development

Comic Relief Arc

Internal Conflict

Character Voices

Creating Distinct Characters

Suicidal Urges/Martyr Complex

Creating Likeable Characters

Writing Strong Female Characters

Writing POC Characters

Building Tension

Plot devices/development:

Intrigue in Storytelling

Enemies to Lovers

Alternatives to Killing Characters

Worldbuilding

Misdirection

Consider Before Killing Characters

Foreshadowing

Narrative:

Emphasising the Stakes

Avoid Info-Dumping

Writing Without Dialogue

1st vs. 2nd vs. 3rd Perspective

Fight Scenes (+ More)

Transitions

Pacing

Writing Prologues

Dialogue Tips

Writing War

Writing Cheating

Worldbuilding:

Worldbuilding: Questions to Consider

Creating Laws/Rules in Fantasy Worlds

Book writing:

Connected vs. Stand-Alone Series

A & B Stories

Writer resources:

Writing YouTube Channels, Podcasts, & Blogs

Online Writing Resources

Outlining/Writing/Editing Software

Writer help:

Losing Passion/Burnout

Overcoming Writer's Block

Fantasy terms:

How To Name Fantasy Races (Step-by-Step)

Naming Elemental Races

Naming Fire-Related Races

How To Name Fantasy Places

Ask games:

Character Ask Game #1

Character Ask Game #2

Character Ask Game #3

Miscellaneous:

1000 Follower Post

2000 Follower Poll

Writing Fantasy

[kathryn-writes]

My cartoon for this week’s Guardian Books.

[kathryn-writes]

List of 40 character flaws

Stubbornness, Unyielding in one's own views, even when wrong.

Impatience, Difficulty waiting for long-term results.

Self-doubt, Constant uncertainty despite evident abilities.

Quick temper, Excessive reactions to provocations.

Selfishness, Prioritizing one's own needs over others'.

Arrogance, Overestimating one's own abilities.

Trust issues, Difficulty trusting others.

Perfectionism, Setting unreachable high standards.

Fear of change, Avoiding changes.

Haunted by the past, Old mistakes or traumas influencing the present.

Jealousy, Envious of others' successes.

Laziness, Hesitant to exert effort.

Vindictiveness, Strong desire for revenge.

Prejudice, Unfair biases against others.

Shyness, Excessive timidity.

Indecisiveness, Difficulty making decisions.

Vulnerability, Overly sensitive to criticism.

Greed, Strong desire for more (money, power, etc.).

Dishonesty, Tendency to distort the truth.

Recklessness, Ignoring the consequences of one's actions.

Cynicism, Negative attitude and distrust.

Cowardice, Lack of courage in critical moments.

Hotheadedness, Quick, often thoughtless reactions.

Contentiousness, Tendency to provoke conflicts.

Forgetfulness, Difficulty remembering important details.

Kleptomania, Compulsion to steal things.

Hypochondria, Excessive concern about one's health.

Pessimism, Expecting the worst in every situation.

Narcissism, Excessive self-love.

Control freak, Inability to let go or trust others.

Tactlessness, Inability to address sensitive topics sensitively.

Hopelessness, Feeling that nothing will get better.

Dogmatism, Rigidity in one's own beliefs.

Unreliability, Inability to keep promises.

Closed-offness, Difficulty expressing emotions.

Impulsiveness, Acting without thinking.

Stubbornness, Reluctance to accept advice.

Wounded pride, Overly sensitive to criticism of oneself.

Isolation, Tendency to withdraw from others.

[kathryn-writes]

I was getting pretty fed up with links and generators with very general and overused weapons and superpowers and what have you for characters so:

Here is a page for premodern weapons, broken down into a ton of subcategories, with the weapon’s region of origin. 

Here is a page of medieval weapons.

Here is a page of just about every conceived superpower.

Here is a page for legendary creatures and their regions of origin.

Here are some gemstones.

Here is a bunch of Greek legends, including monsters, gods, nymphs, heroes, and so on. 

Here is a website with a ton of (legally attained, don’t worry) information about the black market.

Here is a website with information about forensic science and cases of death. Discretion advised. 

Here is every religion in the world. 

Here is every language in the world.

Here are methods of torture. Discretion advised.

Here are descriptions of the various methods used for the death penalty. Discretion advised.

Here are poisonous plants.

Here are plants in general.

Feel free to add more to this!

[kathryn-writes]

The devastating difference between how much time it takes to write something vs how fast people read it lol