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✏️ Writing Dialogue That Sounds Like Real People, Not Theater Kids on Red Bull

(a crash course in vibes, verbal economy, and making your characters shut up already)

Okay. We need to talk about dialogue. Specifically: why everyone in your draft sounds like they’re in a high school improv group doing a dramatic reading of Riverdale fanfiction.

Before you panic, this is normal. Early dialogue is almost always too much. Too polished. Too "scripted." So if yours feels off? You’re not failing. You’re just doing Draft Zero Dialogue, and it’s time to revise it like a boss.

Here’s how to fix it.

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🎭 STEP ONE: DETOX THEATER ENERGY I say this with love: your characters are not all quippy geniuses. They do not need to deliver emotional monologues at every plot beat. They can just say things. Weird, half-finished, awkward things.

Real people:

interrupt each other

trail off mid-thought

dodge questions

contradict themselves

repeat stuff

change the subject randomly

Let your characters sound messy. Not every line needs to sparkle. In fact, the more effort you put into making dialogue ✨perfect✨, the more fake it sounds. Cut 30% of your clever lines and see what happens.

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🎤 STEP TWO: GIVE EACH CHARACTER A VERBAL FINGERPRINT The fastest way to make dialogue feel alive? Make everyone speak differently. Think rhythm, grammar, vocabulary, tone.

Some dials you can twist:

Long-winded vs. clipped

Formal vs. casual

Emojis of speech: sarcasm, filler words, expletives, slang

Sentence structure: do they talk in fragments? Run-ons? Spirals?

Emotion control: are they blunt, diplomatic, avoidant, performative?

Here’s a shortcut: imagine what your character sounds like over text. Are they the “lol okay” type or the “okie dokie artichokie 🌈✨” one? Now translate that into speech.

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🧠 STEP THREE: FUNCTION > FILLER Every line of dialogue should do something. Reveal something. Move something. Change something.

Ask:

Does this line push the plot forward?

Does it show character motivation/conflict/dynamic?

Does it create tension, add context, or raise a question?

If it’s just noise? It’s dead air. Cut it. Replace it with a glance. A gesture. A silence that says more.

TIP: look at a dialogue scene and remove every third line. Does the scene still work? Probably better.

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💥 STEP FOUR: REACTIVITY IS THE GOLD STANDARD Characters don’t talk into a void. They respond. And how they respond = the real juice.

Don’t just write back-and-forth ping pong. Write conflict, dodge, misunderstanding. If one character says something vulnerable, the other might joke. Or ignore it. Or say something cruel. That’s tension.

Dialogue is not just information exchange. It’s emotional strategy.

Try this exercise: A says something revealing. B lies. A notices, but pretends they don’t. B changes the subject. Now you’ve got a real scene.

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🔍 STEP FIVE: PAY ATTENTION TO POWER Every convo has a power dynamic, even if it’s tiny. Who’s steering? Who’s withholding? Who’s deflecting, chasing, challenging?

Power can shift line to line. That shift = tension. And tension = narrative fuel.

Write conversations like chess matches, not ping pong.

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✂️ STEP SIX: SCISSORS ARE YOUR BEST FRIEND The best dialogue is often the second draft. Or third. Or fourth. First drafts are just you figuring out what everyone wants to say. Later drafts figure out what they actually would say.

Things to cut:

Greetings/closings ("Hi!" "Bye!"--skip it unless it serves tone)

Exposition disguised as chat

Obvious thoughts spoken aloud

Explaining jokes

Repeating what we already know

Readers are smart. Let them fill in blanks.

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🎧 STEP SEVEN: READ IT OUT LOUD (YES, REALLY) If you hate this step: too bad. It works. Read it. Mumbling is fine. Cringe is part of the ritual.

Ask yourself:

Would someone actually say this?

Does this sound like one person speaking, or a puppet show with one hand?

Where does the rhythm trip? Where’s the breath?

If you can’t say it out loud without wincing, the reader won’t make it either. Respect the vibe.

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🏁 TL;DR: If you want your dialogue to sound like real people, let your characters be real. Messy. Annoying. Human. Let them interrupt and lie and joke badly and say the wrong thing at the worst time.

Cut the improv class energy. Kill the urge to be ✨brilliant✨. And listen to how people talk when they’re scared, tired, pissed off, in love, or trying not to say what they mean.

That’s where the good stuff is.

—rin t. // thewriteadviceforwriters // official advocate of awkward silences and one-word replies

P.S. I made a free mini eBook about the 5 biggest mistakes writers make in the first 10 pages 👀 you can grab it here for FREE:

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Hello, I'm currently writing two first-person books, and I need help as one of them for almost the entirety of the first chapter it's only the MC so I'm stuck writing a lot of 《 I 》 and I'm trying to avoid it... But it's hard when it's all first-person POV. Could I get any help with this? I'm asking for advice if that helps clarify anything.

I'm sorry if this goes against anything, and if it sounds offensive, I'm very sorry...😔

Hi, thanks for asking! Here are some tips that might help out a little.

1. Make the world do the work.

Instead of leading every sentence with "I," try leading with the environment. You'll still be experiencing the world through the character's senses, but the focus shifts so that the reader feels more immersed rather than just watching the character observe it, as well as reducing the use of "I" in your writing.

Instead of: 'I walked through the forest. I could hear birds singing. I felt the damp earth beneath my boots.' Try: 'Branches swayed overhead, birds sang somewhere beyond the moss-covered path, and wet earth clung to my boots.'

2. Thoughts without labels

One of the best parts of writing in first-person is the ability to show internal monologue without constantly saying 'I thought' or 'I wondered' or tags of that element—you can just state the thoughts as part of the narrative rather than announcing that your narrator is thinking. If it’s first-person and we’re in their head, the reader will know.

3. Sentence structure variety

If you feel like you're using "I" too much, the problem may lie in stacking sentences in the same structure rather than overuse of the word. Adding in variation will help keep the flow more dynamic and make it seem less repetitive or robotic.

Instead of: 'I took a deep breath. I couldn't believe it. I was shocked.' Try: 'I drew in a sharp breath, disbelief flickering through me as I stood, frozen in shock.'

4. Body language

You can use body language, sensory reactions, and behavior to replace direct declarations of emotion, and let your readers feel it rather than being told straight out. Consequently, this will also make your writing more descriptive and immersive.

Instead of:' I was nervous.' Try: 'My hands wouldn’t stop twitching. The room suddenly felt two sizes too small.'

5. Zoom out sometimes

Your narrator doesn't have to be narrating every second of their life—rather, they can remember, summarise, or observe in a more omniscient way. By zooming out like this, you're describing the space, mood, and moment and showing your character's feelings through the environment instead of stating them directly.

Instead of:' I sat on the edge of my bed. I tried to breathe, but it felt too hard.' Try: 'The room hadn’t changed, but everything in it felt wrong. The walls leaned too close, the air suffocatingly thick with unsaid thoughts.'

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The bottom line is, writing in first-person isn't about reporting events, but about letting your reader experience them, filtered through your character's personality, humour, wounds, and overall worldview. And keep in mind that you're not doing anything wrong by having a lot of "I" in your writing—writing in first-person entails it. Rather than aiming to banish it or reduce your usage of it, try to find more ways to add variation in your writing and sentence structure to keep it fresh and immersive for your readers.

Hope this helped! Happy writing ❤

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How do I write about a character that does gymnastics? I don't know a single thing about practices, how things are scored, and overall how to describe it.

Hi, thanks for asking! I don't know much about gymnastics myself, unfortunately, but here's some information I gathered (feel free to correct me or add on).

1. You don't need to explain the whole sport.

Your readers aren’t expecting a technical manual—they’re looking for the feeling. When you write about your character, you’re not writing about scoring rubrics or competition regulations (unless your plot absolutely demands it); rather, focus on what it feels like rather than what it officially is.

Ex: Her body arcing through the air, the rush of the landing, the tiny breath she holds before a back handspring, etc.

Instead of complicated terms and things some of your readers won't fully understand or connect to, make it more centred around the motion and emotion.

2. Practices (repetition & drills)

Gymnastics practices can be long and grueling. Athletes drill basic moves over and over to perfection (like handstands, cartwheels, backbends). They'll work on strength (pull-ups, pushups, core workouts), flexibility (splits, bridges), and techniques (like perfecting the way they stick a landing).

A practice could involve:

Warming up (light jogging, stretching)

Conditioning (core, arms, legs)

Drilling basic skills

Working on routines (choreographed sequences for competition)

3. Competitions

Gymnasts usually compete in four events if they’re doing artistic gymnastics (the most common form):

Vault (run, jump, flip off a vaulting table)

Bars (swinging between two uneven bars)

Beam (a 4-inch-wide balance beam)

Floor (a tumbling and dance routine on a large mat)

They're judged on:

Difficulty (how hard the routine is)

Execution (how well they perform it—points are taken off for wobbles, falls, or bad form)

But again, keep in mind that you usually won't need a real judge’s scorecard for your narrative. The point isn't to have a full manual on gymnastics for your reader, but the character, inner conflict, motivations, goals, and plot. For example, a fall usually costs a lot of points, but the focus of your story might be to show your character recovering after a mistake like this rather than earning a perfect score.

4. Describing movement

Gymnastics is full of sharpness, grace, power, and control. When you describe a move, don't get bogged down in trying to name every twist. Instead, use verbs that sound dynamic (vaulted, twisted, snapped, launched, spun, lunged, landed, crashed).

Ex: 'She hurled herself into the air, twisting once, twice, before her feet slammed into the mat with a jolt that echoed through her bones.'

Even without fancy jargon the reader will have to look up or ignore, using familiar language anyone can understand can help them feel it, even if they can't personally relate.

5. Emotional stakes

Any story needs internal conflict and a emotion. Consider what your main character is going through—is she chasing approval? Fighting fear? Battling her own body? Gymnastics as a sport demands a lot, like bravery, pain tolerance, and perfectionism. Use this to fuel your character arc. Maybe missing a trick feels like failing her whole family, for example.

Hope this helped! Happy writing ❤

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Write Characters Who Feel Dangerous (Even If They’re "Good")

╰ Make their unpredictability a feature, not a bug

A dangerous character isn’t just the guy with the gun. It’s the one you can’t quite predict. Maybe they’re chaotic-good. Maybe they’re lawful-evil. Maybe they’re smiling while they’re plotting the next five ways to ruin your day. If the reader can’t tell exactly what they’ll do next — congrats, you’ve made them dangerous.

╰ Give them a weapon that's personal

Anyone can have a sword. Yawn. Give your character a weapon that says something about them. A violin bow turned garrote. A candy tin full of arsenic. Their own charisma as a leash. The weapon isn’t just what they fight with, it’s how they are.

╰ Let them choose not to strike and make that scarier

Sometimes not acting is the biggest flex. A truly dangerous character doesn’t need to explode to be terrifying. They can sit back, cross their legs, sip their coffee, and say, “Not yet.” Instant chills.

╰ Layer their menace with something else, humor, kindness, sadness

One-note villains (or heroes!) are boring. A dangerous character should make you like them right up until you realize you shouldn’t have. Let them charm. Let them save the kitten. Let them do something that makes the eventual threat feel like betrayal.

╰ Show how other characters react to them

If every character treats them like a nuclear bomb in the room, your reader will, too. Even if your dangerous character is polite and quiet, the dog that won’t go near them or the boss who flinches when they smile will sell the danger harder than a blood-soaked axe.

╰ Make their danger internal as well as external

It’s not just what they can do to others. It’s what they’re fighting inside themselves. The anger. The boredom. The itch for chaos. Make them a little bit scary even to themselves, and suddenly they’re alive in ways pure external "baddies" never are.

╰ Don't make them immune to consequences

Even the most dangerous characters should get hit—physically, emotionally, socially. Otherwise, they turn into invincible cartoons. Let them lose sometimes. Let them bleed. It’ll make every moment they win feel twice as earned (and twice as scary).

╰ Tie their danger to what they love

Real threats aren't powered by anger; they're powered by love. Protectiveness can be feral. Loyalty can turn into violence. A character who's dangerous because they care about something? That's a nuclear reactor in a leather jacket.

╰ Remember: danger is a vibe, not a body count

Your character doesn’t have to kill anyone to be dangerous. Sometimes just a glance. A whispered rumor. A quiet, calculated decision to leave you alive — for now. Dangerous characters control the room without ever raising their voice.

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Write Tension that isn't just Yelling or Guns

Listen, not all tension is someone holding a knife or screaming “I’ve had enough, Derek!” at a dinner party. Real, edge-of-your-seat tension can be quiet, slow, awkward, and still make your reader grip the page like it owes them money. So here are my favorite ways to sneak tension in like a gremlin under the bed...

╰  Unanswered Questions (That the Character is Actively Avoiding)

Tension isn’t always about what’s said—it’s about what’s not said. Let your character dodge questions, interrupt, change subjects. Let readers feel the silence humming between the lines. + Great for: secrets, internal conflict, emotional gut-punches.

╰ Time Pressure Without Action Pressure

A clock ticking doesn’t always mean bombs. Sometimes it means waiting for a test result. A letter. A phone call. A knock on the door. Tension = knowing something’s coming but not knowing when. + Great for: psychological suspense, horror, relationship drama.

╰  Small Talk That’s Not Really Small Talk

When two characters are talking about the weather, but both are secretly screaming inside? That’s tension. Give one character a goal (say the thing, don’t say the thing) and the other a defense mechanism. Now sit back and watch the discomfort bloom. + Great for: slow burns, rivalries, “we’re not talking about that night, are we?”

╰ Two Characters Who Want Opposite Things But Are Pretending They Don’t

Someone wants to leave. Someone wants them to stay. Someone wants to confess. Someone is acting like nothing’s wrong. Make your characters polite when they want to scream. + Great for: emotionally repressed chaos, family drama, enemies-to-lovers.

╰ One Character Realizes Something The Other Doesn’t

A power shift = instant tension. One person knows the truth. The other’s still talking like everything’s fine. Let that dread slow-cook. Readers love being in on the secret. + Great for: betrayal, secrets, foreshadowing plot twists.

╰ Body Language That Contradicts the Dialogue

They say “I’m fine,” but they’re picking their thumbnail raw. They laugh too hard. Their smile doesn’t reach their eyes. Show the cracks forming. Let the reader sense the dissonance. + Great for: all genres. Especially emotionally loaded scenes.

╰  Echoed Phrases or Reused Words That Hit Differently the Second Time

When a character repeats something someone else said—but now it’s laced with bitterness or grief? Chills. Callback dialogue is your best friend for building subtle dread or emotional weight. + Great for: heartbreak scenes, arcs coming full circle, psychological unraveling.

╰ Characters Performing a Role to Keep the Peace

Pretending to be “the good sibling.” Faking confidence in a boardroom. Playing therapist when they’re not okay themselves. Tension thrives when someone’s holding it together with duct tape and fake smiles. + Great for: internal conflict, layered characterization, slow unravelings.

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Questions Your Character Is Too Afraid to Ask

(But desperately needs the answer to) Because these are the thoughts they won’t say out loud, but they shape everything they do.

If I stopped trying, would anyone notice?

Do they actually like me, or do I just make their life easier?

Am I hard to love?

What would they say about me if I left the room?

Would they stay if they saw the real me?

What if I’m only good at pretending to be good?

Was it actually love, or just obligation?

What happens if I fail again? What’s left of me then?

How long until they get tired of me?

What if I deserve the things I’m afraid of?

Am I healing or just hiding better?

Why do I feel more myself when I’m alone?

Do I want to be forgiven or just forget?

What if I never become the person they believe I am?

Am I still angry, or just numb?

Why can’t I let go of them, even after everything?

If they hurt me, and I stayed, did I hurt myself more?

Am I building a future, or just distracting myself from the past?

Is this what I want, or just what I’ve been told to want?

What if I was never meant to survive this, but I did anyway? Now what?

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When a Character Is Lonely but Doesn’t Know How to Say It

It’s not always visible. Sometimes they’re surrounded by people and still feel like they’re drowning in the silence between sentences.

⊹ They linger a little longer after conversations. Just in case someone notices.

⊹ They always ask “how are you?” but dodge it when it’s asked back.

⊹ They invite people to things... but laugh it off if no one shows. “I didn’t really care anyway.”

⊹ They scroll through old texts and consider replying. Don’t.

⊹ They talk to themselves. Out loud. Just to hear something.

⊹ Their smile is quick, but their eyes are slow. Tired. Watching.

⊹ They keep themselves busy. Loneliness echoes louder in stillness.

⊹ They volunteer. They help. They overgive, because maybe someone will need them enough to stay.

⊹ They laugh at inside jokes they weren’t there for.

⊹ They crave being chosen. They’ll never say that. But oh, how they ache for it.

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20 Ways to Show Extreme Fear in Your Writing

As I dive into researching signs of fear for my horror WIP, I wanted to share some of the most compelling and visceral reactions I’ve come across. Whether you’re writing a chilling scene or crafting a character’s panic, these 20 signs of fear can help bring tension and realism to your story.

Physical Reactions

Hyperventilating — sucking in air but never feeling like it’s enough

Chest tightens — feels like a weight or hands pressing down

Limbs shaking violently, knees buckling

Complete loss of muscle control — collapsing or unable to stand

Cold sweat soaking through clothes

Heart hammering so hard they feel it in their throat or head

Tunnel vision — the world narrowing down to one terrifying focal point

Ringing in the ears or sudden deafness, like the world drops away

Dizziness / feeling faint / vision blurring

Dry mouth — unable to speak or even scream

Uncontrollable Behavior

Screaming / sobbing / gasping — involuntary vocal outbursts

Panic run — bolting without thinking, tripping over everything

Clawing at their own skin / chest / throat — like trying to escape their body

Begging / pleading out loud even if no one’s there

Repeating words or phrases — “No, no, no” / “This isn’t happening”

Hiding instinctively — diving under tables, closets, or corners

Desperate grabbing — reaching for someone, anything solid

Loss of bladder or bowel control (for extreme terror)

Total mental shutdown — frozen, slack-jawed, staring blankly

Memory blackout — later can’t recall what happened during the worst moment

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Andor makes me want to write a Star Wars fanfiction but it's so scary. What if I write "Glup Shitto was sitting on the balcony, drinking coffee and reading his favourite book", but someone comments "didn't you mean he was drinking glop-goppy and reading a holo-journal? 🤨" so I open wookiepedia to check it out and it turns out that they also never invented balconies in the star wars universe and Glup Shitto can't read because of the freak accident he suffered in the episode 10 of the 2024 show "Jar-Jar and Babu Frik". What then.

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Andor - 'Make It Stop' - S02E10

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The real tragedy isn’t when a character dies. It’s when they survive—but they’re never the same. When the people around them keep waiting for them to “get better,” not realizing that this is better. That this is all that’s left.

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Emotional Walls Your Character Has Built (And What Might Finally Break Them)

(How your character defends their soft core and what could shatter it) Because protection becomes prison real fast.

✶ Sarcasm as armor. (Break it with someone who laughs gently, not mockingly.) ✶ Hyper-independence. (Break it with someone who shows up even when they’re told not to.) ✶ Stoicism. (Break it with a safe space to fall apart.) ✶ Flirting to avoid intimacy. (Break it with real vulnerability they didn’t see coming.) ✶ Ghosting everyone. (Break it with someone who won’t take silence as an answer.) ✶ Lying for convenience. (Break it with someone who sees through them but stays anyway.) ✶ Avoiding touch. (Break it with accidental, gentle contact that feels like home.) ✶ Oversharing meaningless things to hide real depth. (Break it with someone who asks the second question.) ✶ Overworking. (Break it with forced stillness and the terrifying sound of their own thoughts.) ✶ Pretending not to care. (Break it with a loss they can’t fake their way through.) ✶ Avoiding mirrors. (Break it with a quiet compliment that hits too hard.) ✶ Turning every conversation into a joke. (Break it with someone who doesn’t laugh.) ✶ Being everyone’s helper. (Break it when someone asks what they need, and waits for an answer.) ✶ Constantly saying “I’m fine.” (Break it when they finally scream that they’re not.) ✶ Running. Always running. (Break it with someone who doesn’t chase, but doesn’t leave, either.) ✶ Intellectualizing every feeling. (Break it with raw, messy emotion they can’t logic away.) ✶ Trying to be the strong one. (Break it when someone sees the weight they’re carrying, and offers to help.) ✶ Hiding behind success. (Break it when they succeed and still feel empty.) ✶ Avoiding conflict at all costs. (Break it when silence causes more pain than the truth.) ✶ Focusing on everyone else’s healing but their own. (Break it when they hit emotional burnout.)

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Dialogue Strengthening Methods

Dialogue serves as the lifeblood of any narrative, offering readers a window into the minds, hearts, and souls of characters. When executed effectively, dialogue not only propels the plot forward but also deepens character development and fosters emotional engagement.

Authenticity through Observation

Authentic dialogue begins with keen observation of the world around us. As writers, we are avid listeners and astute observers, capturing the cadences, quirks, and real-life conversations. For example, in a bustling market scene, the rhythm of vendors haggling over prices or the melodic lilt of a street musician's banter adds depth and authenticity to the setting.

Character Voice

Just as no two individuals are alike, each character in a story possesses a unique voice that reflects their personality, background, and worldview. Crafting distinct voices involves delving deep into the psyche of each character, understanding their motivations, fears, and desires. Consider the contrast between a grizzled detective who speaks in terse, cynical phrases and a wide-eyed rookie whose speech is punctuated by eager enthusiasm. By infusing dialogue with these individual nuances, characters come alive, resonating with authenticity and depth.

Subtext

Beyond the surface level of spoken words lies a rich tapestry of subtext—unspoken thoughts, hidden agendas, and underlying emotions. Mastery of subtext allows writers to imbue dialogue with layers of meaning, inviting readers to decipher the unspoken truths that lie beneath. For instance, in a scene where a character offers a half-hearted apology, the tension between their words and body language hints at unresolved resentment or guilt. By harnessing the power of subtext, dialogue transcends mere communication, becoming a vehicle for nuanced storytelling and character development.

Showcasing Emotions

At its core, dialogue is a reflection of human emotion—joy, sorrow, anger, love. Capturing the emotional essence of a scene requires a delicate balance of words, tone, and context. Instead of explicitly stating characters' emotions, skilled writers show them through subtle cues—hesitant pauses, clenched fists, tearful eyes. Consider a scene where a parent confronts their child about a secret they've discovered; the trembling in their voice and the quiver of their lip betray a mixture of concern, disappointment, and love. By allowing emotions to permeate dialogue exchanges, writers forge a visceral connection with readers, eliciting empathy, laughter, and tears in equal measure.

Conflict and Tension

Dialogue thrives on conflict and tension, driving the narrative forward with relentless momentum. Whether it's a heated argument between lovers or a tense negotiation between rivals, conflict infuses dialogue with urgency and dynamism. Consider a scene where two political adversaries engage in a war of words, each vying for dominance and advantage. By pitting characters against each other, whether in overt clashes or subtle power struggles, writers create opportunities for growth and revelation.

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WHO DECIDED TO GATEKEEP THIS.

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Text Posts are Unbreakable: Oops All Kira! (1) (2) (3) (4)

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Could You Do Without "Could"?

If you have established the point of view in your story, you don't need to say that your POV hears the sounds, smells and smells and sees the visions.

Of course, you can use could if it adds meaning. Try deleting the word to see if it is actually doing something.

He could hear footsteps clanking down the stairs. -> He heard footsteps clanking down the stairs. -> Footsteps clanked down the stairs.

She could sense that something was wrong. -> She sensed that something was wrong. -> Something was wrong.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

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Text Posts are Unbreakable part 4: Oops All Rohan! (probably one of many)

(1) (2) (3) (4)