#Im literally just stuck on residual plots

[sub-at-omicsteminist]

Why statistics so hard

I just want my funky integral squiggles back

[whimsimmortal]

Plot Bunny

Wow, I’m alive! And posting fanfiction on tumblr, as if I have any idea what I’m doing!! Please check it out on AO3, where I am actually capable of navigating the website: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27441853

Plink. Another small, innocuous sound scarcely registered past Danny’s homework-induced stupor. It could have been a stray raindrop or a kamikaze bug. He had more important things demanding his attention; namely, the book report due tomorrow. This was at least the fifth time he’d rewritten the same paragraph. Words had lost all meaning to him by this point, but he was so close to finishing.

Tip-tap. Clonk, the noise emitting from the bedroom window insisted. He glared suspiciously towards the disturbance, envisioning ethereal arrows or blob ghosts intent on breaking in. He hadn’t sensed anything ghostly nearby, but given his luck, the paranoia was usually warranted. Emitting a groan from the depths of his soul, he rose from his desk to inspect the noise. He spared a second to stretch and shake the pins and needles out of his fingers, trying to wake up. Just in case it was something serious, y'know. Tink. “Alright, jeez, I’m coming,” he muttered, pulling back his curtain.

There weren’t any ghosts, of course. That was somewhat of a relief, even if going down swinging  was preferable to succumbing to a failing high school education. The early sunset gleamed amber off the windows across the street, and the sky was clear, except for— chink— the pebbles bouncing off his window. A lone kid was standing on the sidewalk below, no older than eight or nine. He looked vaguely familiar. He was pulling his arm back to throw more stones and bawling his eyes out.

Danny yanked open the window, sliding up the screen to fully stick his head out. His core vibrated, unsettled. There wasn’t any obvious danger, and the kid didn’t look hurt. Where were his parents? Why was he here? “Hey! What’s wrong, buddy? Are you okay?”

“You, you, you,” the kid tried to start, but great hiccupping sobs interrupted him. He scrubbed his face with his fists, obviously trying to regain his composure. “You’ve gotta send the ghost hero out!”

Danny jerked back, unintentionally smacking the back of his skull on the underside of the window. Well, now he was awake. What? “Uh, a ghost? Here? No, there isn’t—I can’t—what are you talking about?”

The boy was right up against the side of the house now, sniffling loudly and staring straight up at Danny with wide, sad eyes. “Please?” He whined, winding his hands up in the fabric of his sweater nervously.

Well, now he was stuck. Some random kid was going to out his whole identity, but the urge to help was almost overwhelming. “I can’t—there can’t be any ghosts here, but give me a second and I can just come down?” He offered. “Do you want me to find your parents?”

“Noooo!” The kid wailed and stomped his foot, banging on the wall with his tiny fists. “Don’t lie to me! I’ve seen the superman ghost go in there! Let him out! I need him!!”

Oh, crap, someone was going to hear. This kid’s parents were going to freak out, or his own parents were going to notice, and what if they took that kind of claim seriously? Shoot. Literally. He chuckled nervously. “Hey, hey, shhh, okay! You win! I’ll, uh, summon him, or something! But you have to be quiet, or you’ll, y’know, scare him off.” The child nodded solemnly, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve and stifling his sobs.

Danny ducked back behind the curtain, gracelessly crumpling to sit with his back against the wall. He ran his hands through his hair. He’d been seen? When? He’d tried so hard to be careful, and use invisibility whenever he was close to the house. Maybe he’d gotten lazy. Maybe, sometimes, he let the promise of sleep take priority over precautions. Stupid.  He smacked the palm of his hand into his forehead, frustrated. How long had this kid known? Who else had he told? He couldn’t just scare him into silence, he was too little. That was just messed up, he’d give him nightmares or something.

He wasn’t going to figure anything out by sitting here moping. He triggered the transformation, the familiar prickling electric feeling swiftly replaced by the soothing cold. He turned to peek over the edge of the window, checking for anyone else around. It was still just the same kid, kicking at a pebble on the concrete while he waited.

He floated down slowly, not wanting to startle his impromptu visitor, who turned and saw him as he touched down. The little guy gasped, forgotten tears slipping away from unblinking eyes.

“Hi there,” Danny prompted gently. “Were you looking for me?”

The kid kept ogling, mesmerized, and a few seconds passed by before he could shake himself out of it. “Wow, you’re the real superhero guy,” he whispered reverently.

Oh. That was pretty cute, actually. He couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, that’s me. You can call me Phantom,” he offered.

“I’m Wyatt,” the kid mumbled, covering his damp cheeks with his hands shyly. He tipped his head down, still staring through his eyelashes.

A neighbor’s front door opened down the street, and Danny swiftly disappeared. Wyatt startled, blindly swinging his hands back and forth through the seemingly-empty space. “Wait! Come back!” He recoiled with a yelp when his blundering reach made contact with the specter.

“It's okay, I’m right here,” he reassured the kid. “But we can’t let people know I’m here, okay? They’ll—um. I’ll get in trouble.”

Wyatt squinted, reaching forward again. Danny offered his hand, and the little fingers gripped his glove tightly. He looked like he was offering the empty air a fist bump. “Right,” the kid agreed earnestly.

“Seriously,” Danny pressed. “You can’t tell anyone that I li-” he bit his tongue. Don’t say ‘live’. That’s so dumb. “Uh. Hang out here sometimes. Not even your friends, okay? Promise?”

Wyatt’s little dark eyebrows drew together, and despite his trembling chin and small stature, he looked profoundly serious. He shook the hand. “I promise.”

Well, that would have to do for now. “Thanks. Uh, what did you need me for?”

The kid’s eyes immediately started to well up again, but he squeezed Danny’s fingers and pressed his lips to put on a brave face. “C’mon, Phantom, you’ve gotta-” he sniffed. “You gotta save Fuzzy,” he warbled, turning and pulling. The ghost floated behind like a balloon on a string as the pair stepped down from the curb, heading across the street.

Oh, man, if this was about a dead pet, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do. That was closer to Jazz’s expertise. He swallowed his mounting dread. “Who’s Fuzzy?”

Wyatt’s face scrunched up. “He’s my bunny,” he explained, looking away. “I was just tryin’ to show ‘im to Audrey, and—and then,” he sobbed. “He went under the house! And he’s gonna get lost and stuck, and I’m-, never-, gonna see him ever again!” He let go, burying his face in his hands and howling.

Danny rested a hand lightly on Wyatt’s little shoulder, throat tight. He’d never had a pet like that, but he could understand the fear of losing loved ones a little too well, and empathy always felt more forceful when he was in ghost form. Probably something related to ectoplasm being shaped by residual emotional energy, blah blah ecto-science theory. “Don’t worry, we’ll find him.”

The unusual duo walked two more houses down the block and cut through a side yard to a modest backyard, strewn with outdoor toys and an overturned wire fence—likey an outdoor pen for Fuzzy. An even younger girl sat on the paved patio, chewing on the end of her braid. She leaped up as they drew close. “Wyatt! I told my dad about Fuzzbutt, and he’ll call the—um, animal people. But they’re not here yet. Did you find him?”

Wyatt glanced a little to Danny’s left with a guilty expression. Well, crap, so much for his secret. He bit his lip, trying to keep his cool. First things first. A cursory scan of the area didn’t show anyone else in the immediate vicinity, so he faded back into visibility. The little girl—‘Audrey’, he guessed—gave a muffled shriek. “Ghost man!”

“Hush,” Wyatt scolded, voice quavering. “He’s a secret.”

“Oh,” Audrey whispered back. “Hello, mister normal guy man. I think you’re cool.” She beamed up at him.

“Hello, small ordinary human,” Danny quipped, and Audrey giggled delightedly. Wyatt dropped to his hands and knees, crawling up to the house, where a gap between the foundation and dirt was evident. The other two peeked over his shoulder, but there wasn’t any bunny visible past the darkness.

“Fuzzy,” Wyatt choked out. “Hang in there, we’re gonna rescue you!”

Danny turned intangible, letting his molecules seep down through the dirt past the level of his nose. He drifted close to the base of the house, juicing up the glow from his eyes. “Just wait here, okay?” Two grim, round little faces nodded back, and with that minor assurance, he delved beneath the house.

The weight of the floor above loomed. It was claustrophobic, like being buried… well, half-alive. The musty, dank mildew smell was gross, even though he wasn’t breathing. He could taste it. “Here, bunny, bunny,” he muttered. Please don’t be hurt.

A tiny pair of eyes reflected green through the gloom. The little ball of fluff was backed into a corner, and it snorted like a tiny angry bull, stomping its feet. Danny hadn’t even known rabbits could make that sound. It probably didn’t like his creeping, unnatural aura, like most rational animals. “Shhh,” he cooed, reaching for the tiny, grubby ball of fluff and dimming his glow. “I’m not gonna hurt ya.”

Fuzzbutt wasn’t convinced. In a courageous move, it darted through Danny’s forehead, wedging itself under a crooked board and squealing. Danny reached easily through the plank and wrapped his hands around the unhappy creature, sharing his intangibility. It writhed and fussed, trying to bite through his gloves. “Stop that!” He clutched it close to his chest; if he dropped it here, the stubborn thing really would be stuck. He swooped back out into the backyard, startling the anxiously waiting kids.

Audrey shrieked and tipped over. Wyatt recovered first, leaping to his Velcro-sneakered feet expectantly. “Is he okay?”

Danny recovered a more solid form, holding up the wiggling rabbit. Wyatt gasped, fresh tears glittering on his eyelashes. He reached out for the beloved pet, unable to contain his joy at the reunion. “Fuzzy! You’re okay! I love you, Fuzzy!”

“Let’s go inside first, so he doesn’t get away again?” Danny suggested. The last thing anyone needed was an instant replay. Audrey darted to open the back door, and Wyatt led the way inside. He sat on the wooden floor with open arms, and as soon as the door was firmly shut again, Danny deposited the squirming animal into his lap. Fuzzy looked marginally more content to receive numerous sloppy kisses from his adoring owner. He was actually a pretty cute little guy, black and white like a panda.

Even footsteps padded around the corner. “Wyatt, baby? Did you find-” the woman’s question cut off abruptly as she noticed the glowing stranger in her living room.

Crud. At this rate, the whole block was going to find him out before the week was up. He edged back a little, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, I was just, um,” darn it, wrong persona. He cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “Doing my heroic duty, ma’am,” he finished in a falsely deep voice.

Audrey giggled (he didn’t sound that bad!), and the woman smiled nervously. Wyatt hopped to his feet, still cradling his bunny. “Mama! Look, he saved Fuzzy! I’m gonna rename him Fuzzy Phantom,” he declared.

Mama Wyatt dutifully stroked the bunny’s dusty ears. “Fuzzy Phantom needs a bath,” she commented, before looking back up to meet Danny’s eyes. She held out her clean hand, and it took him a second to recognize the offered handshake. He started to reach back, thought twice about his messy glove, and hastily peeled it off to shake her hand. Her fingers were delicate, but they didn’t falter at the chill. “You look taller on the TV,” she joked lightly. “It’s nice to meet you. Phantom, right?”

He nodded. “Uh, it was nice to meet you, too, Ms.-?”

“Sylvie Rosales,” she supplemented. Audrey snuck around her to flounce deeper into the house, taking the adult’s distraction as an invitation, and Wyatt started to follow her, but hesitated. He snuck a hand out around Fuzzy to tug on Danny’s arm, so he leaned down accommodatingly.

Wyatt stood on his tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “Can I come see you sometimes?”

Oh, heck, no. That would be truly asking for disaster. “No,” he quickly replied, but before Wyatt’s pout could evolve into a true objection, he added, “but if you really don’t tell anyone how to find me, I could drop by sometimes.” He looked towards Ms. Rosales. “If that’s okay?”

Wyatt looked over to his mom pleadingly, stars in his eyes. What have I gotten myself into, Danny wondered, but he couldn’t help feeling charmed. Ms. Rosales looked like she was thinking along the same lines, with her thin-lipped smile and folded arms. “As long as you don’t cause any trouble,” she hedged.

“Thank you!!” Wyatt hugged Danny spontaneously, smushing his face into his shoulder. Fuzzy grunted his objection.

Danny ruffled the kid’s mop of hair. “I should get going. Take care of Fuzzy,” he grinned, pulling away. “And stay safe,” he added in his false baritone with a mock salute.

“You, too,” he heard Ms. Rosales call after him as he phased through the wall. He looped above the street once cheerfully before disappearing to sneak back home. He’d left his window open; rose-tinted light and a handful of moths had spilled onto his bedroom floor. This time, he didn’t reappear or turn back until he’d stealthily drawn the window and curtains closed.

He still had an hour or so to plug into his homework. He hummed as he started back in on the paragraph he’d been stuck on. It didn’t seem as daunting now, even with the lost time and near reveal. He’d have to keep an eye on his nosy little neighbor, but in the end, maybe it was the moments like today that made the whole gig worth it.

[toast-the-unknowing]

any tips for writing dialogue? i struggle so bad to make it sound authentic and as a result always turn to descriptive imagery instead. (which is fine if im writing something angsty, but not cute and fluffy ya feel?) any tips would be greatly appreciated! ty

The other day in my D&D party, our hedgewitch (who learns his magic through intense study of books and nature) asked our sorcerer (who has innate magic powers and also sometimes just blows shit up on accident) if she could teach him how she cast fireball. Our sorcerer said "you, uh, you know -- " and she waved her hands around " -- you do. The spell."

I am kind of feeling like our sorcerer right now, because dialogue more than anything else about writing is the part that just sorta happens for me, and when I try to articulate how I do it, it is hard to say anything other than "the voices say stuff and I write it down real fast before I can forget."

I will say, because dialogue is often the first thing I am writing in a new scene or a new story, it gets written out in long chunks with very few other words popping up. I might note the emotions a character is having or the way a piece of dialogue is delivered, or jot down what the character is thinking that isn't getting said so I have it for frame of reference later, and I will write down an action that's essential to my understanding of what is happening in the scene, but it's really mostly just the dialogue. I'm not even doing tags or punctuation at this point. Without knowing your process, writing dialogue JUST as dialogue may help you find a flow, which generally results in more natural sounding lines. It's a theory I have, anyway.

The absolute hardest bits of dialogue for me are when I have a chunk of dialogue from the beginning of a scene, and a chunk of dialogue from later in that scene, and I have to connect them, because oh man it's so hard to force dialogue down a specific pathway. The dialogue wants to run rampant! It wants to be free! It doesn't WANT to go over there where the plot needs it to! Generally there's a way that I could stitch up the hole in these scenes in two lines that would take us LOGICALLY from point a to point b, but that just...doesn't sound good, and doesn't feel natural.

Sometimes I just literally can't get there from here, and either the earlier dialogue or the later dialogue needs to go, but usually what works is to just follow the last line I have with, "okay what's something that the character might say in response to that. What's something the other character might say in response to that. Is that line something that would evoke an emotional reaction from this character? Is it something that would make them think of another topic of conversation?" And just keep writing and seeing where the conversation goes until I find a more natural bridge to the later dialogue.

This may be helpful even if you aren't looking for a connection per se, but are just trying to make dialogue happen, or if you know the general beats your scene needs to be hitting but don't have anything laid out. We often know what we want a scene to ACCOMPLISH, in terms of the plot or the character arc or the relationship, and that can sometimes put pressure on the dialogue to address that. Asking yourself when you get stuck "how would he feel about that" or "what would she have to say about that" or "what mood or agenda or thought process is this person having that their conversation partner doesn't know about" can get you unstuck and ground the dialogue in what's natural for your characters.

Maybe the way the conversation goes when you do that is not where you thought it would or where you need it to. That's awesome! I love letting a conversation wander and just see where it goes. I used to watch one of those shows with a giant ensemble and a dozen story lines every week, and I noticed after a while that there would be scenes where a character would walk into a room, say all of the things that were important to the plot, and then leave, without anyone reacting. Obviously that's a pacing problem, they just had too much story to tell and not enough time, but it was SO WEIRD. And it was boring. The little moments in a conversation where the characters are talking about something "unimportant" are the best moments, I love those! So if you're worried your dialogue is getting off point, maybe follow it, it might lead you to a really authentic moment.

Obviously, don't just have your characters talk for five minutes about, like, the latest Marvel movie, just for the sake of saying something off topic. But this is a really good way of incorporating other elements from your story. Is there something that's thematically relevant to the story even if it doesn't have anything to do with the plot? Is there a side character who's not in this scene that your characters might be worried about, or annoyed with, or making fun of? Is there something that exists in the space because you created it with your descriptive imagery, and now that it exists the characters might comment on it or be affected by it? Is there something that happened earlier in the story that has been dealt with on a plot level but that your characters might still be having some residual emotions about?

I do realize that this tip for writing dialogue basically turned into "write more dialogue," but maybe in and of itself that would help! Practice makes perfect?

I will say, keep each character’s turn with the talking stick SHORT. Speeches rarely sound authentic. You want back and forth. Short lines are good. Short sentences within lines are good, too, although I fully admit to having a weakness for stupidly long sentences. But dialogue lets you bend the rules, go ahead and break out the sentence fragments.

Dialogue also sounds better if it has a chance to breathe; this is something I do actively work at, because it's the part of dialogue that isn't dialogue. If one character says something kind of heavy, or something unexpected, or something that puts a pin on the current topic of conversation, there's probably going to be a beat before anyone else says anything. Sometimes the character needs to take a beat FOR THEMSELVES before they continue with the thing they were saying! Screenwriters have it so fucking easy here, man, because they just get to write (beat) and then the directors get some close ups of actors' faces and the editor cuts that moment to breathe in for them. Prose writers gotta do it for themselves.

For a little beat, sometimes just placing your dialogue tag where you need it to be -- e.g. "he says" before the dialogue instead of after -- can do it. Sometimes you gotta get creative. This is where you can get cliched things like characters constantly raising their eyebrows or shrugging or smirking, which, cliches become cliches for a reason, they work, but you don't want to overdo it. Sometimes it helps to draw on the surroundings and the set up. Put your characters in a setting where things are happening around them, then you can take a beat while you describe one of those things that’s happening. Give the characters an activity to do, and intersperse that action through the dialogue. For the "this is a place that hurts" conversation in it all will fall, fall right into place, I knew I was going to want to have LOTS of beats in that conversation, so I made them go get lunch, and every time Adam wasn't able to say something one of them would eat some pizza or pick up a napkin. I am not a very visual thinker and I write all my dialogue first, so I have to find ways to fill these beats after the fact, and sometimes I struggle with it. This might be something that you can do a great job with, if descriptions and imagery are happening in your head anyway! Put them to work!

The flip side of "keep it short" and "let the dialogue breathe" is don't write superfluous lines. Look for places that you can condense. If you have a conversation where one character isn't really saying anything of substance, but is just kind of interjecting questions like a sidekick asking the late night host "no, I don't know, who was it?" that's probably a place you can crunch your back-and-forth down into one (not too long) line delivery.

Also, seriously, if descriptive imagery is what's easy for you, lean into it! You can totally write fluff that is more narration-heavy than dialogue-heavy, for one thing. But beyond that, is there a reason that descriptions are easier for you to write? Are there tools you use in that writing that you can apply to dialogue? If you're a visual thinker, can you use that to visualize where the characters are to help get in their heads? If you like finding fun little turns of phrase for your description, oh man, puts some fun turns of phrase in that dialogue. I think dialogue can seem like a completely different thing from narration, but at the end of the day, they're both writing. If you can do the one I absolutely have faith you can find a way to do the other. Good luck!