#but also the parts that need attention on the manuscript are

[physalian]

How to make your writing sound less stiff part 2

Part 1

Again, just suggestions that shouldn’t have to compromise your author voice, as I sit here doing my own edits for a WIP.

1. Crutch words

Specifically when you have your narrator taking an action instead of just… writing that action. Examples:

Character wonders/imagines/thinks/realizes

Character sees/smells/feels

Now not all of these need to be cut. There’s a difference between:

Elias stops. He realizes they’re going in the wrong direction.

And

Elias takes far too long to realize that it’s not horribly dark wherever they are

Crutch words are words that don’t add anything to the sentence and the sentence can carry on with the exact same meaning even if you delete it. Thus:

Elias stops. They’re going in the wrong direction.

I need a word in the second example, whether it’s realizes, understands, or notices, unless I rework the entire sentence. The “realization” is implied by the hard cut to the next sentence in the first example.

2. Creating your own “author voice”

Unless the tone of the scene demands otherwise, my writing style is very conversational. I have a lot of sentence fragments to reflect my characters’ scatterbrained thoughts. I let them be sarcastic and sassy within the narration. I leave in instances of “just” (another crutch word) when I think it helps the sentence. Example:

…but it’s just another cave to Elias.

Deleting the “just” wouldn’t hit as hard or read as dismissive and resigned.

I may be writing in 3rd person limited, but I still let the personalities of my characters flavor everything from the syntax to metaphor choices. It’s up to you how you want to write your “voice”.

I’ll let dialogue cut off narration, like:

Not that he wouldn’t. However, “You can’t expect me to believe that.”

Sure it’s ~grammatically incorrect~ but you get more leeway in fiction. This isn’t an essay written in MLA or APA format. It’s okay to break a few rules, they’re more like guidelines anyway.

3. Metaphor, allegory, and simile

There is a time and a place to abandon this and shoot straight because oftentimes you might not realize you’re using these at all. It’s the difference between:

Blinding sunlight reflects off the window sill

And

Sunlight bounces like high-beams off the window sill

It’s up to you and what best fits the scene.

Sometimes there’s more power in not being poetic, just bluntly explicit. Situations like describing a character’s battle wounds (whatever kind of battle they might be from, whether it be war or abuse) don’t need flowery prose and if your manuscript is metaphor-heavy, suddenly dropping them in a serious situation will help with the mood and tonal shift, even if your readers can’t quite pick up on why immediately.

Whatever the case is, pick a metaphor that fits the narrator. If my narrator is comparing a shade of red to something, pick a comparison that makes sense.

Red like the clouds at sunset might make sense for a character that would appreciate sunsets. It’s romantic but not sensual, it’s warm and comforting.

Red like lipstick stains on a wine glass hints at a very different image and tone.

Metaphor can also either water down the impact of something, or make it so much worse so pay attention to what you want your reader to feel when they read it. Are you trying to shield them from the horror or dig it in deep?

4. Paragraph formatting

Nothing sticks out on a page quite like a line of narrative all by itself. Abusing this tactic will lessen its effect so save single sentence paragraphs for lines you want to hammer your audiences with. Lines like romantic revelations, or shocking twists, or characters giving up, giving in. Or just a badass line that deserves a whole paragraph to itself.

I do it all the time just like this.

Your writing style might not feature a bunch of chunky paragraphs to emphasize smaller lines of text (or if you’re writing a fic on A03, the size of the screen makes many paragraphs one line), but if yours does, slapping a zinger between two beefy paragraphs helps with immersion.

5. Polysyndeton and Asyndeton

Not gibberish! These, like single-sentence paragraphs, mix up the usual flow of the narrative that are lists of concepts with or without conjunctions.

Asyndeton: We came. We saw. We conquered. It was cold, grey, lifeless.

Polysyndeton: And the birds are out and the sun is shining and it might rain later but right now I am going to enjoy the blue sky and the puffy white clouds like cotton balls. They stand and they clap and they sing.

Both are for emphasis. Asyndeton tends to be "colder" and more blunt, because the sentence is blunt. Polysyntedon tends to be more exciting, overwhelming.

We came and we saw and we conquered.

The original is rather grim. This version is almost uplifting, like it's celebrating as opposed to taunting, depending on how you look at it.

—

All of these are highly situational, but if you’re stuck, maybe try some out and see what happens.

*italicized quotes are from ENNS, the rest I made up on the spot save for the Veni Vidi Vici.

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 11 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: When Anna hits rock bottom, she knows she needs to figure out how to put herself back together. But she also knows that leaving Kevin behind once and for all will require her to give up the only thing she wants from him. Maybe a shot at happiness with Bob would have been worth it.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, 18+

Length: 4400 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

If this wasn't rock bottom, Anna didn't want to know what was. She spent Sunday night laying on the floor next to her bed alternating between crying and hyperventilating. Apparently she couldn't do both at the same time, because her body kept giving each activity its full attention before switching again. When she finally started to fall asleep around three o'clock, her ribs were aching so much, she didn't see how she would be able to teach in a few hours. But it didn't matter. She wouldn't be going to campus anyway.

When she woke up at six, she crawled to her computer and emailed everyone in her classes, informing them that she would not be in today and to work through the syllabus independently until their next class with her. All of the other professors pulled this kind of thing all the time, but she still felt guilty which triggered more tears. If Kevin somehow cost her a full time tenure position along with her happiness, she didn't know what else she had that he could possibly take from her.

When she thought about Bob, it hurt so badly she had to run to the toilet. And when she thought about Advanced Calculus and Advanced Physics, it hurt almost just as much. She was in love with so many things in San Diego, but she'd dragged her past here along with her even if she didn't want to acknowledge that fact. She'd brought this dark shadow along that tainted everything and left her wondering if she could fix any of it at this point. If she could even figure out how to start.

As she hiccupped alone in her bathroom, she knew she needed to mentally backtrack to New Jersey for the first time in a long time before she could focus on San Diego. When she crawled back toward her bed, she located her phone and found the contact information for her lawyer's office. It was late enough on the east coast that someone answered after one ring, and soon Anna had to use her scratchy, raw voice to try to communicate.

"When will my divorce be final?" she managed to ask as she propped herself against the wall. She left herself hungry every day, and she was living in this tiny room simply so she could pay these people to help her sort out her life, but the response she got was not ideal.

"Ms. Webber... your husband still has three days left to comply, but he has not done so yet."

Anna wanted to scream, but her throat felt like it was constricting. Why wouldn't he just let her have the one thing she wanted? She wasn't asking for anything extra, just the thing she worked so hard to make her own. She didn't even care about all of the money. But he wouldn't let her have it. Even though she didn't want to fight for anything else in the house, he still wouldn't comply. He was making hundreds of thousands of dollars now, and she wanted none of it back, but he knew that her manuscript was the one thing meant something to her. He would happily drag this out until she had nothing left.

She knew she needed to wait it out. It was her fault she hadn't filed sooner. She let Kevin's words destroy her even when she knew he was sleeping with Alyssa. She let him convince her that she needed him for way too long. "What happens in three days?" she finally asked.

"If he doesn't comply, then you can restructure your end of the divorce agreement, and we can try again."

Anna knew what that meant for her, but she didn't know if she could pull the trigger. Restructure it? There was only one thing she could remove. Kevin would come out clean as a whistle, and she would lose everything she hadn't already.

-----------------------------

When Bob knocked on the door at seven in the morning after barely sleeping at all, Jessica looked concerned when she opened it, and Jake looked annoyed. "What's wrong?" she asked, reaching out and running her hand along his stubbled cheek. "Why haven't you shaved? Why do you look so upset?"

"Why are you even here?" Jake called from the kitchen where he was cooking breakfast in his uniform.

"I need to talk to you," Bob croaked, and Jessica pulled him inside and gently guided him toward the couch. She rubbed his back and didn't rush him as he sat there, and Jake even stopped turning to glare from in front of the waffle iron.

"Did you know Anna's married?"

Bob could tell by the sharp intake of breath and the way Jessica's hand came to a screeching halt on his back that she had no idea.

"She's what?"

"Married," he repeated without any feeling whatsoever. The handful of hours he'd spent around her were some of the best of his life, but he would have never let his friends try to push them together if he'd know. He should have let her keep him in the friend zone when she tried to let him know that's what she wanted. Mutual attraction be damned, she'd made marriage vows to someone else. He just wished he would have known.

"No," Jessica said adamantly. "How? She's got no rings, and she said she lives alone. She mentioned an ex before, but I'm virtually certain he's still in New Jersey. She... struggles with certain things, and if she was married, someone would be helping her make ends meet. I don't know where you came up with this, but no."

Bob took his glasses off and set them down on the arm of the couch while he ran his hands over his exhausted eyes. "Jessica. She told me she was."

"Well," his friend said as she wrapped her arm around his shoulders, "I'll ask her about it at lunchtime today. There must be some sort of miscommunication."

"I don't think so," he groaned softly. "We... slept together, and those were her parting words as she ran out of my house."

"You slept together?!" Jessica practically shrieked. 

"It's about damn time!" Jake called from the kitchen, clanging his spatulas together and whooping loudly.

But Bob was shaking his head and staring at the floor through his slightly fuzzy vision. He had his phone in his hand all night, trying to decide if he should call or text her, wondering if she went home to climb into bed with her husband. Scared that this was the reason why she squeezed herself into her apartment door before closing it abruptly when he drove her home.

"I should have backed off when she friend zoned me the first time. I should have never believed that I could be with a woman like her." A woman that inspired the best poetry he'd ever written in his life. A woman who made him want everything.

It finally dawned on Bob that there might be an irate husband in his future, and he would just have to take whatever came his way. Because there wasn't a chance that Anna didn't have her spouse wrapped around her fingers. Even if she had a lapse of judgement when it came to Bob, Anna's husband would know how good he had it and want to fight for her. Bob would just have to take it on the chin.

When Jessica kissed his cheek and whispered, "I'll try to sort this out," he just nodded with his shoulders slumped and his elbows digging into his thighs. But there was nothing to sort out. Anna would never be his, and now he would have to pay the price for the way she told him she was married about an hour too late to take it all back. Honestly, he never thought accidentally sleeping with a married woman was something he would ever have to deal with in his wildest dreams, and now that he was forced to do it, he was getting pretty mad.

-----------------------------

Anna managed to give her Classics lecture on Tuesday morning with a sore throat after screaming into her pillow off and on for most of Monday afternoon. She hadn't eaten in days, and if anyone noticed her puffy, red eyes, they didn't mention it to her. She had quizzes to grade and reports to read, but when she went back to her office, the overwhelming scent of bread from the cafeteria made her gag.

There was a pack of peanuts in her desk along with a room temperature can of ginger ale, but she had no appetite yet. She was just in survival mode until she decided what to do when Kevin's time was up. Until she worked up the courage to talk to Bob and apologize.

He was the sweetest man she had ever known, and her lapse of judgement was going to cost her any chance with him in the future as well as her friendships. In fact, none of them were ever going to want to speak to her again, and that's what she deserved. If she would have just been honest with Bob, she wouldn't be in this mess. But San Diego was like a balm for her senses, making her feel normal where she knew she wasn't. Maybe Bob would have been willing to wait a few more months until she figured out her next steps. Maybe he would have accepted that she was legally separated from Kevin if her husband would just sign the fucking paperwork.

Tears were burning her eyes again just as someone knocked on her office door. She sat perfectly still, silently begging them to go away, praying that everyone would leave her alone until she could sneak out and go home later.

"Anna?"

She knew that voice so well, and she was shocked to find that it sounded more concerned than angry.

"It's just us," came the second voice, and without another thought, Anna was on her feet, wrenching the door open as she started to sob. "Oh, Anna," whispered Jessica as she collected her into her arms.

Anna stood in the middle of her tiny office and cried and cried in Jessica's arms while her other friend studiously locked the door and dimmed the lights before reaching for the box of tissues on the shelf. "Here," she whispered, and Anna accepted a wad of tissues from her.

She tried to mop at her face, but it was a lost cause. Jessica pushed the loose strands of her red hair back from her eyes as she said, "Anna, we're here for you, but I think we need to talk. For real."

"We have some... concerns."

Anna tried to take huge gulps of air into her burning lungs as she gasped, "I'm really not okay. I hurt Bob."

Her friends looked at each other before Jessica said, "I think it's time you backtracked a little bit. Maybe all the way back to New Jersey."

"I hated it there," she told them immediately, wiping at her eyes as she sat on the edge of her desk, bracing herself for the interrogation to come. 

Advanced Calculus eyed her sympathetically before a look of steel locked in her gaze. "Are you married?"

Anna nodded slightly, cringing as she pictured Kevin's face. "Technically, yes."

"Anna!" Jessica exclaimed. "You slept with Bob!"

They knew. They knew everything. Bob told them, and they knew what she'd done. She cradled her forehead in her hands and said, "I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I hate Kevin. I don't think we were even married two years before he started cheating on me. I'm trying my best to divorce him, but he just won't fucking let me."

"What do you mean he won't let you?" Advanced Calculus asked, cutting off Jessica before she could screech again.

"He is ruining my life," Anna whispered, finally starting to feel more anger than anything else. "Like an idiot, I've let him ruin my life. I put him through medical school. I dropped out of Princeton to work two jobs to put my husband through medical school." Her voice faded into a soft yet harsh whisper. "Kevin promised he'd take care of me after that so I could finish my Ivy League PhD. But then he started cheating on me because I was always tired and boring and no fun. Because all I was doing was working to pay his tuition for four years straight while he fucked another medical student between classes. I caught them having sex in my car."

"No," both women gasped at the same time. But she just nodded as the memories she had tried so hard to keep at bay since she moved to California came roaring back.

"That's not a marriage," Jessica practically growled, reaching out for Anna's hand that she hadn't even been aware was shaking. "Not really."

"You're right," Anna agreed. "I'm a joke." She honestly felt like one. Images of Bob's face and the memory of his kind voice flooded her system. The way he looked at her and touched her felt like love. The things he wrote about her had her almost convinced he could love her back.

"You're not a joke, Anna," her friend told her. "You're a smart, capable woman who should have come to her friends months ago with all of this information."

"I hate Kevin!" Jessica shrieked before biting down on her own fingertips, and it was so comical, Anna might have laughed if she was in a better frame of mind.

"Yes," Advanced Calculus agreed. "Kevin sounds like an asshole. But you know who isn't an asshole? Bob. But right now, he kind of feels like one."

Anna closed her eyes as the tears started welling up faster. "I tried so hard. You have to believe me. But Bob is perfect. And he didn't think I was boring. But I wasn't planning on falling in love ever again."

"You love him?" Jessica snapped loudly. "You love him? Because Bob thinks you are in a loving marriage with your spouse!"

"Jessica, go sit in the desk chair and calm down," the other woman commanded, and Anna watched the petite, bespectacled blonde stomp around her desk. "Now, Anna, why didn't you explain this all to Bob before you rocked the man's whole world and then ran off into the night like Cinderella?"

"I freaked out," Anna whispered, swallowing hard. "He's the perfect man. He did everything exactly right, and he was exquisite." She looked down at the floor as she said, "I haven't been touched like that in years. Like I was worth something. I'm not even thirty yet, and my husband ditched me for someone else while actively bankrupting me." She was mortified by what she was telling them, but she couldn't stop herself now. "Kevin always said I should dye my hair, and he loved it when I wore makeup. But Bob... he likes my hair and my freckles. He likes the books I read. He thinks I'm smart." She felt her face warm up as she thought about his poems. "We had sex, and then he was looking at me, and he started talking about us. I can't be an us with someone when I can't shake Kevin."

Anna could practically feel Jessica freaking out in the chair behind her, but she kept her eyes on the floor. "If you need help with Kevin or money for a lawyer or something-" Jessica said, but Anna cut her off.

"No. I'm fine. But he's going to force me to decide if I'd rather have my freedom or my self worth. And right now, I can't decide what I want to let him get away with when he already took so much."

"Hey," her much calmer friend said softly, and Anna finally met her eyes. "We're here for you. Anything you need, okay? But I need you to promise you'll talk to Bob. The sooner the better." Then Anna watched her reach for her tie dye lunch box which she apparently brought in with her and pulled out one of her fancy containers. "Bradley made you some hummus, and I packed you crackers and veggies to go with it. Please make sure you're eating. And please talk to Bob. I need to go teach Differential Equations, but I'll text you later. Jess, you have Physics III in fifteen minutes."

Anna received two hugs that she barely returned, and when the two women were gone, she sank into her chair and managed to eat some of the hummus without gagging. Then she texted Bob, because if nothing else, she needed him to know how sorry she was for running out on him. How sorry she was for all of it.

---------------------------

Anna wanted to talk to him on Thursday evening. Bob had to fight the urge to offer to pick her up on campus and save her from having to take an Uber to his house, especially after the few details that Jessica told him about her finances. She confirmed that Anna was married. She also promised him that there was no angry spouse waiting to jump him in the In 'N Out parking lot. She also told him that he needed to give Anna a chance to clear the air. So he agreed. He was free on Thursday. It wasn't like he'd been doing anything except going to work and coming straight home all week, even avoiding Suzanne as much as he could. And he wasn't going to break his promise to Jessica, even though Nat told him to delete Anna's number.

Bob sat in his living room, staring at his new bookshelf in disgust. He'd let himself fall into a fantasy where he imagined someday Anna's books would get mixed up with his on the shelves. Where all of her dog eared novels would live alongside his pristine ones. He'd been subconsciously thinking about it since he met her.

His insides were churning with anxiety. Part of him wanted to scream at her that none of this was fair to him, but the other part knew that no matter what, he still didn't want to see tears in her brown eyes. He couldn't let her take all of the blame for this anyway. He'd even told Jessica that she pushed a little too hard and that she shouldn't do that again in the future.

When there was a knock on his door, it was hard for him to stand up. How was he supposed to do this? He dragged himself across his living room to his front door and carefully opened it to find Anna with the saddest expression imaginable on her face. She looked somehow smaller and paler than she should. She looked like she hadn't slept. And that's when Bob realized he must look the same way to her.

"Hi," she whispered, brown eyes darting around his face nervously. She held out a small bouquet of blue flowers and the books she had borrowed in his direction, and Bob noticed her hands were shaking. "Um, I got these for you. They look like the flowers on the cover of the Whitman poems, and I thought of you when I saw them at the store."

"Anna," Bob groaned as he took them from her along with the books. He moved out of the doorway so she could come inside, and somehow he still couldn't decide if he was angry at her or not.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, turning to look at him once she was halfway across the room. There were several feet of space between them, but he could smell her hair. She was wearing the jeans she wore last time she went to the Hard Deck. He knew what that shirt felt like between his fingers. He could tell she was trying not to cry as she said, "I'm just really sorry."

"Why didn't you tell me you're married?" he snapped, unable to hold back. He knew his tone was harsh as he added, "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Because I should have been divorced by now!" she practically shouted, and Bob was instantly more soothed by that sentence than he should have been. "You think I want to be married to the worst man I know?" He had so many questions already, but something told him to just let her keep going. "That's why I'm here. In San Diego. He was supposed to sign the papers so I could get on with my ridiculous life, but he won't!" She sucked in a deep breath before she said, "And it's eating me alive knowing what I kept settling for when you exist! Knowing that I could have been with a man like you."

Her lips were moving like she was shivering, and her eyes were wide and watery. Red blotches covered her freckled cheeks, and Bob just knew she was going to panic again. She made a helpless noise and rushed forward, ready to run, but this time he caught her in his arms, the books and flowers falling to the floor. He let her struggle for a few seconds as she cried, but he held on tight.

"Anna," he said softly. "You can't keep running."

Her body slumped against his. She looked up at him as he held her, and a few seconds later, she let her cheek come to rest against his chest. She nodded against him as she whispered, "I don't really have anywhere to go anyway."

-------------------------

Bob kept his distance while also somehow always being nearby. Anna knew he was probably expecting her to vanish again if he turned his back for too long, but she was too mentally and physically exhausted to move from his living room couch while he fixed some tea. It was getting dark outside, and it was nearly impossible to try to think about anything other than Sunday night when she felt truly free for the first time in years. 

Similar thoughts must have been on Bob's mind, because he was still occasionally looking at her like he used to. Then his cheeks would turn pink, and he'd duck his head before showing her a completely neutral expression. She took the mug of tea he handed her and whispered, "Thank you," as he sat down as far away from her as he could. She cleared her throat as she looked into her drink and said, "You're one of the kindest, most generous people I've ever met." She forced her gaze to his face. "I'm sorry I took that for granted. And I'm sorry I wasn't honest with you and the ladies."

Bob nodded but didn't speak for a minute. His voice was as gentle as always as he eventually said, "I'd like it if we could talk."

"Yeah," she agreed softly now that she felt like the fight inside her was gone and the tears had finally dried up.

"Where's your husband?"

She pictured Kevin standing in the perfect kitchen in the beautiful house on the cul-de-sac. "In New Jersey."

"Right," Bob replied in a reassuring tone. "You said you should have been divorced by now, so does that mean you don't want to be married to him?"

"I hate him," she whispered, back to staring into her mug. "And I'm sure he hates me, too. No, I don't want to be married to him any longer."

"You're separated?" he asked softly.

Anna shrugged, wishing more than anything that she could scoot a little closer to Bob and feel his hand on hers. "Not legally. He won't sign anything."

"Right," Bob repeated again. "Would it be too much for me to ask what happened? Because I really don't understand. I'm trying, but I'm still so confused, Anna."

Her brain was screaming at her to start crying again, begging her to fall apart or hyperventilate, but she didn't even have the energy for it. She took one long sip of her perfect cup of tea before setting it aside and turning to look at him. Even now, he had sympathy in his eyes. Whether that was because he now knew she and Kevin weren't really together or because he was always this sweet, she couldn't say. But he was everything she wanted and would never have again. 

"The short version is that I put him through medical school while he cheated on me. The long version is that he used up every bit of my money, let me work myself ragged, prevented me from finishing my PhD at Princeton, belittled me, and flaunted his extramarital relationship in my face. It was humiliating knowing he was cheating. It's humiliating eating sandwiches and peanuts for every meal now. But the worst thing is that he is holding my manuscript hostage, and no matter what I do, he won't let me have it back."

"Jesus, Anna," he gasped, making the slightest move like he wanted to reach for her before pulling back.

She slowly stood, and he looked up at her, trying to gauge what she was going to do, but she just looked down at him as she tucked her shaking hands behind her back. "You're perfect," she whispered. "You're Sky Writing. You're the handsome man from the bookstore who smells like tea and soap. You're Bob, the guy my friends knew I would fall in love with as soon as I met them." She took a step back, barely able to handle how he was looking at her like she still mattered. "But I don't know how to be an us with you. I know that's what you want, but I never wanted to fall like this again. I tried my best not to. I can't do this with Kevin's shadow behind me all the time. And I'm just really sorry I let it go as far as it did. Because now that I know so much about you...."

That's when the tears arrived, and that's also when Bob stood up. "Anna, I feel like-"

When he cut himself off, leaving the sentence hanging in the air for a few seconds, she took one long, last look at him and whispered, "I'm going to go." He didn't stop her from stepping over the flowers, walking out the door, and heading to the end of his street where she waited for a ride as the night air made her shiver, and her tear streaked cheeks finally started to dry again.

----------------------------------

Oh, they both fell for each other. I'm not sure if Bob feels better or worse now. Kevin is an absolute dick, and we will hear from him in the next chapter. Keep fighting, Anna. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 12

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[cradle-quill]

Surrender, an ABDL Story by CradleQuill (18+)

Disclaimer: All content is fictional, consensual, and intended only for mature audiences. All characters depicted are adults aged 18+ _

Daniel stopped typing and looked up from his manuscript. His eyes wandered to Isabelle, who sat at the other end of their shared table, supposedly chipping away at her latest work project. Her brow was stuck in a permanently furrowed state, and she was massaging her temples as she stared down at her computer screen. She had been at this for hours now. Every so often, a burst of inspiration would hit, and the sound of her acrylic nails tapping away at her mechanical keys would fill the room. Those bursts would not last, though. Before too long, Daniel would notice that the sound of his girlfriend working would disappear, replaced with a suffocating silence that lingered throughout the air, threatening to choke the life from him if he dared say a word.

It had been over thirty minutes since inspiration had last struck, and Daniel knew Isabelle was hitting her wall. He also knew she would be reluctant to admit as much. He looked back to his writing and saw he had hit his word count for the day, so he leaned back and took a deep breath. Daniel eyed Isabelle as he wondered if she was paying attention to his movements.

“You know, honey,” Daniel said with a hitch in his voice. “Maybe it’s about time for you to take a break. Relax for a bit and see if the solution comes to you.”

Isabelle shut her eyes, looking annoyed. She let out a hefty sigh. “I can’t take a break yet. I’m on the clock for another three hours, and I need to finish this by the end of the day.”

Daniel carefully considered his next words. He knew how she got when there were stakes involved, especially when those stakes involved her boss, Jim. He also knew Isabelle had a penchant for building these things up in her head and assuming the worst. “Do you actually need to finish this one today, or is it more so that you’re going to be mad at yourself if you don’t finish it?”

Isabelle shot two twin daggers for eyes at him, and he immediately got the memo. He leaned forward, and in his mind, he debated whether he wanted to continue speaking. In the end, his gut told him to keep going. “You know, honey,” he began, his voice as gentle and soothing as light rain tapping on a window. “It would probably be easier to get a lot more work done if you gave your mind the chance to rest. You don’t want to overwork yourself and fry those thoughts before they come to fruition.”

“And what would you know about that?” Isabelle snapped back. “It’s not like you work an actual job, anyway. I have deadlines, Daniel. People expect me to finish things by certain times, and I’m already behind as is. So please, lay off and let me handle it.”

By the time she reached the end of her little diatribe, she was nearly out of breath, huffing and puffing out of anger. Her cheeks were bright red, but they faded to a lighter shade of pink once she realized that her temper had gotten the better of her. Daniel just sat there, staring at her. There was no judgment in his eyes, not even pain. Isabelle struggled to read him, but as best she could tell, he was unbothered, though also very serious.

She knew she ought to apologize, and part of her even wanted to. It was the mature thing to do. Even if she had a point, she went about expressing that point in the absolute wrong way. At the same time, she could feel that another side of her, a more stubborn, petty side, had latched onto this little spat and decided it was unwilling to move an inch. While she sat there in her purgatory of mind, Daniel stood up from the table. She watched him close his laptop and wander over to where his coat was hung up next to the door.

“Daniel, wait…” She clambered out of her chair and onto her feet.

“Not another word.” Daniel’s tone was stern, but it held the same underlying gentleness as his earlier words. She knew he meant it. He did not want to hear another word escape from her lips, and as hard as that stubborn side of her tried to fight it, she managed to hold it back and keep her mouth shut. She couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes. Instead, all she offered was a nod.

“I’ll be back soon. I won’t be long,” Daniel said before pulling on his coat and leaving through their apartment’s front door. On his way out, she heard the pitters and patters of his boots as he trailed down the stairs to the parking lot.

Minutes passed, and Isabelle had still not returned to her work. Her heart was nearly in her throat. She knew she had messed up, but she hoped it would not be as bad as it seemed. Daniel said he would not be long, and Isabelle would just have to trust that. He wouldn’t just leave her there, all alone, over one fight. If you could even call it a fight. It was more like a temper tantrum. She could hardly call herself a stressed out adult who had been snippy. It was more like she was a spiteful adolescent lashing out at a parent. It reminded her of her teenage years, and for that she felt deep shame.

When another few minutes had passed, and Isabelle still could not get her mind off of things, she forced herself to look back at her computer screen. Sitting there doing nothing would not help. At least if she got some work done, it would be a serviceable distraction until Daniel returned from wherever he had gone off to. He probably just went for a walk to clear his head, Isabelle thought. She hoped it was nothing more than that.

After around another thirty minutes, the familiar sound of Daniel’s boots trudging up the stairs to their apartment rang through the building, and Isabelle let out a sigh of relief she had been holding onto since the moment he left. When he returned through the door, Isabelle noticed something under his arm. Whatever it was, it was double-bagged in two white grocery bags, and she could not make out any signifying labels from beneath the coat of white.

“What’s that?” She asked, but Daniel did not answer.

“Come with me,” was all he said before making his way through the halls and into their bedroom. He had that same tone from earlier, the one that refused to be bargained with, so Isabelle did as she was told. She stood up from the table and followed him into their room, where Daniel was making the bed. He had opened their closet door and pulled out a black leather riding crop, which now sat beside him on the nightstand.

“No, absolutely not-” Isabelle said, but Daniel cut her off.

“You will not take that kind of tone with me. You know better than to speak to me that way, and you know better than to insult me.” He finished making the bed, ensuring it was nice and level for her to sprawl out on. “You also know that I was right about you needing a break. You would never have snapped at me like that if you weren’t so stressed. Now, be an obedient girl for me and lay flat on your stomach.”

Isabelle squirmed where she stood, clenching her legs together and trying not to show how obviously wiggly she was. Deep down, she loved when he got like this. She found him so… irresistible when he took charge. “I-I don’t think now is the t-time…” she trailed off, unable to finish her own thought. Her thoughts seemed to get lost somewhere along the way from her mind to her mouth, disappearing before she could bring them to life through her words.

Daniel simply ignored her. He wore that same unphased demeanor from earlier, and somehow, that made him seem even more threatening. With the crop and sheets all prepped and ready, he bent down and opened his mysterious package, revealing a large bag of disposable diapers, the kinds for little kids who still wet their beds.

“Absolutely not!” Isabelle declared. Her voice was forceful and unwavering. Yet when his eyes met hers, hers darted away. She could not hold his gaze.

“I’m not asking. Lay down on the bed, take your spanking, and then I’m going to put you into something more appropriate for the way you’ve been behaving.”

“I’m not… wearing that.” She folded her arms and gave her best pout.

Daniel turned to face her, not speaking for several seconds. Each subsequent second felt longer than the last, and with each one that passed, Isabelle felt her knees getting weaker, ready to give way. After a full minute of silent stillness, Daniel suddenly approached her. He got right up in her face, forcing her to stand at attention just to avoid him running into her.

Their faces were mere inches apart when he said, “I have seen your BDSMTest results. I know what you’re into. I know how you like to be treated.” He paused just long enough to let her mouth fall open, and for a breathless gasp to flee from her open lips. “You have a safe word. Use it. Or don’t use it, and lay down on the bed right this instant.”

Isabelle could not believe what she was hearing. Even less could she believe her legs started inching their way forward without her permission. Daniel was right. She had a safe word, but she did not utter it. Before she knew it, she was crawling onto the bed, sprawling out over it. Daniel came up from behind her and gave her a forceful push, slamming her stomach onto the bed as she let out a reluctant moan that refused to be held back. A familiar wetness dampened her inner thighs.

As she tried to compose herself, to gather her thoughts which seemed to float around aimlessly in the sea of her mind, there was a sharp sting against one of her butt cheeks, and then the other. The sound of the slaps came first, with the pain settling in whole seconds later. By the time she felt the pain from one, Daniel’s crop was already onto the next. She desperately clung to her physical presence, to keep herself grounded within the moment. She was an adult, a grown woman, someone who was self-sufficient and well adjusted. Except, she wasn’t any of those things.

With each strike of the crop, those illusions, those lies that she told herself, they disappeared bit by bit, until they had faded into nothing more than memories just out of reach. All that was left was herself. Her true self, the one she kept locked away where no one could see. In mere moments, Daniel had beaten it out of her. She could hardly even feel the pain anymore. Instead, it was as if she were floating in the middle of the ocean, with no land anywhere to be found. Or perhaps she was soaring through the air, diving between the clouds, with no rules or expectations hoisted upon her shoulders. She was free. In her bondage, in her submission to him, she was free.

When the spanking was finished, Isabelle’s bottom was bright red and sore. The earlier marks were even beginning to turn purple as her skin bruised. She just laid there, her mouth agape, with tears streaming down her cheeks. Daniel grabbed hold of her and pulled her into his embrace. “There, there, little one. It’s all over. I’ve got you now.” The sternness had left his voice. Now, there was just that same old gentleness, like the first autumn breeze of the year.

She sobbed into his shoulder, and all the while, he held her and cooed at her. He rocked her gently, careful not to exacerbate the pain coursing through her bruised bottom. Once she had settled down and centered herself right there in his presence, in his dominance, he laid her down on the bed. She went limp, ready to let him do whatever he pleased with her. However, Daniel did not take her as she thought he would. No, instead, he ripped open the package of Pull-Ups and slid one over her feet and up her legs. Isabelle’s hands shot up to her face to hide her humiliation, but the childish gesture only served to make her seem more helpless and infantile.

With little effort, Daniel hoisted Isabelle up and pulled the glorified diaper snug into place. She had to admit; it wasn’t so bad. The padding was soft against her princess parts, and the way the garment hugged her hips made her feel swaddled and protected. She was safe. Safe in her Pull-Ups and safe under Daniel’s thumb, right where she belonged. She needed it. She yearned for it.

Daniel wrapped her in his arms once more and laid her head on his chest. He rocked her gently, humming a soft little tune to soothe her. Isabelle closed her eyes and let herself relax, finally. For the first time in longer than she cared to remember, she was at peace. All her worries and concerns had drifted away, and despite her sore bottom and weakened pride, she could not help but smile.

“There’s my girl,” Daniel said. He aimed his own soft smile down at her, and as she looked into his eyes, she did not find disdain or malice there. Instead, she found only wordless comfort and reassurance. “I think someone was extra fussy today and needed an attitude adjustment.” She blushed even more furiously at that.

“D-Daniel…” Isabelle’s meek voice chirped out like a baby bird making its first call.

“Yes, my love?”

“I’m s-sorry… for what I said… and the way I said it.”

“I know you are, sweetie. I know you didn’t mean it. You were stressed, and you lashed out. Little girls do that from time to time.”

“N-no but… I’m serious. I shouldn’t have said those things.”

“Hush, little one. I know you’re sorry, and I know you’re being sincere. I’m telling you it’s alright, that you don’t have to apologize. You don’t have to do or be anything right now. You can just sit here in my arms, and you can just be my little girl, if that’s what you want.” He gave her the kindest smile anyone had ever given her, and in that moment, the last of her reservations gave way. “That is what you want, isn’t it, baby?” All she could do was nod.

That night, she drifted off to sleep in her boyfriend’s arms. Come the next day, she wouldn’t think of him as her boyfriend at all anymore. Instead, she would see him as her Daddy. And by the time she woke the next morning, she would find herself filled with a sense of undeniable bliss, and a new sensation altogether. One of thickness and absorbency between her legs. One that would go on to define the rest of her life to come, and the way her Daddy would look at her as his good little bedwetter.

THE END _

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[rebeccathenaturalist]

I have THE biggest, BEST news EVER--

I GOT A BOOK CONTRACT!!!!!!!!

I am exceptionally pleased to announce that I have just signed a contract with Ten Speed Press (a division of Penguin Random House) to publish...

The Everyday Naturalist: How to Identify Animals, Plants, and Fungi Wherever You Go!

It is slated for publication in early Summer 2025, and will be written for anyone who wants to be able to identify the living beings around them regardless of educational level or experience. A HUGE thank you to my literary agent Jane Dystel of Dystel, Goderich & Bourret LLC, and my editor at Ten Speed Press, Julie Bennett!

This isn't just another field guide--it's a how-to book on nature identification that helps you go from "I have no idea what this animal/plant/fungus is and I don't know where to start" to "Aha! I know how to figure out what species I'm looking at/hearing!" Those familiar with my nature ID classes know that I emphasize skills and tools accessible to everyday people. Whether you're birdwatching, foraging, or just enjoying the nature around you, my goal is to help you be more confident in figuring out what living beings you encounter wherever you go--and not just in the Pacific Northwest. 

The Everyday Naturalist will not only explain what traits you need to pay attention to like color, size, shape, location, etc. and how to use them to differentiate among similar species, but will also detail how and when to use tools like apps, field guides, and more. (And given the current kerfuffle about A I generated foraging books, I will of course include information on how to determine the veracity of a given book or other resource.) And my editor and I have already been discussing some great additions to the book that will make it even more user-friendly!

Are you excited about this? I certainly am! I wanted to wait until the pixels were dry on the contract before going public with this (though my newsletter subscribers got to hear about it last month, lucky them!) It still doesn't feel real, but I'm already working on the manuscript so it'll sink in soon enough.

I will, of course, keep you all apprised of my progress because this project is going to be a big part of my life over the next several months as I write and edit and write and edit and wash, rinse, repeat. So keep your eyes on this space for updates (and feel free to add yourself to my monthly email newsletter here, too!)

[slayingfiction]

Questions to ask your alpha/beta readers

I thought I would put together a master list of all the questions to ask your alpha and beta reader to help you improve your story.

You can choose to ask questions every chapter, every few chapters or after the whole book. This list of questions will be more generic and all encompassing for you to tailor to your needs.

Reminder: Beta readers typically receive a completed and polished version of your story. They give feedback on any last improvements based on the reader’s perspective. Alpha readers read your story or manuscript before it’s completed, usually a rough draft. Alpha readers are best if they also have some writing experience to give reader and writer feedback.

Choose some of the following questions to ask your readers:

Start:

When did you first feel the story was truly starting?

Do you like how the story started? If not, why?

Do you find characters were introduced slow enough to learn them all?

Did you find settings, different languages, and cultural differences were introduced slowly enough to not be confusing or overwhelming?

Were there any moments you found yourself going back over old exposition just to understand what was happening?

When, if at all, did you find yourself being pulled into the book?

Did the first sentence grab your attention?

Did the first few pages draw you into the story?

Did you find the opening paragraph/page interesting enough to continue reading?

Characters:

What do you like about the MC? What don’t you like? Can you name at least one relatable trait between yourself and the MC?

How did you feel about the character(s)’s growth from the start to finish of the story? Did you find there was enough? Was it believable?

Are the MC’s motivations and goals clear and strong enough?

Did you feel the MC’s fears, hopes, excitement, passions, etc.?

Did you get confused between the characters?

Were the characters believable?

Are there any characters you wish were more interesting? Why and how?

Do you feel each supporting character had their own motivations and contributed to the plot?

Are there any characters that seem cliché, underdeveloped, or stereotypical? If so, why?

Were the character relationships believable?

Did the romantic relationships build naturally, or did it feel forced?

Are there any character names that were too difficult to read or sounded too similar to others?

Were there any parts where the characters seemed to be acting out of character?

Who was your favorite character?

Which character, if any, did you wish was more present?

Which character do you care for the least?

What are your thoughts/feelings on the MC’s character arc?

Do you feel like the antagonists and/or villain is just as fleshed out and relatable as the MC?

If you had to remove one character, who would it be, and why?

Which character would you like to meet, and why?

Did you hope or dread any character relationships?

Are there any characters you found annoying and frustrating?

What are your general thoughts and feelings about the MC or supporting characters?

Which character did you find least developed?

Plot:

Which moments in the book did you find the most suspenseful?

Were there any moments in the book you found boring, lagging, or uneventful and unnecessary?

Did you find the pacing to suit the story well? Are there any areas you found moved too fast or too slow?

Was there ever a time you felt like you weren’t excited or intrigued enough to want to continue?

Did you find any plot holes? Any discrepancies in timeline, characters, descriptions, or other details?

Were there any scenes you found did not further the plot at all?

Are there any scenes or events you found to be too long or too short?

Did you find all explanations and revelations came out naturally and at appropriate times?

What was your favourite scene in the book? Why?

What was your least favourite scene in the book? Why?

Are there any chapters you found lacked conflict?

Did the action scenes make sense as you read them? Did you understand how they came to that action scene (or did they feel random)?

Where there any moments or scenes that made you feel emotional? Happy, sad, cringy and disgusted, etc.

Do you find the plot moved logically and naturally between scenes and chapters?

Are there any moments you felt detached or pulled out of the story? When and why?

Are there any events or scenes you found confusing? Either what was happening or how the characters came to that point?

Where you surprised by the plot twist?

Settings:

Which setting in the book was the clearest for you to visualize? Which do you remember the best?

Did you find the setting interesting, with vivid and real description?

Were there any scenes you thought lacked description?

Were there any moments you thought there was too much exposition, or not enough?

Did you find there were moments you didn’t know where the characters were unless stated?

Do you find the culture and historical events are realistic and add depth to the story?

Is there any exposition you found unnecessary? Are there any moments you wish you had more exposition?

Did all technology and science, or magic, make sense or seem believable?

Was there ever too much or too little description?

Dialogue:

Did you find that each character had their own personal voice when speaking?

Are there times where you couldn’t figure out who was talking solely based on how they spoke?

Is there any dialogue that sounded unnatural?

Could you see what the characters were doing and where they were while talking?

Was there any dialogue that seemed to not fit well with the story?

Was there any dialogue that you thought had too much exposition or explanation?

Did you find the dialogue kept your interest?

Ending:

Did you find the ending to be satisfying and emotionally fulfilling?

Are there any questions you had left after the story ended? (Mostly for stand-alone)

What did you hate most about the ending?

Did you find the ending believable?

Did you feel the tension building to the climax?

Was the climax worth the read, or did it feel weak?

Do you feel the ending came on naturally, or did it feel forced or rushed?

Did the book feel too short or too long?

General:

Were there parts where you found yourself skimming?

Which parts of the story did you find it easy to put the book down?

At what moment did you decide you wanted to finish the book? (If not DNF)

What are some of your favourite lines/quotes from the book?

Do you have any predictions for what you think will come next? (Good for chapters or end of book)

Is there something you hope will happen?

Is there anything you hoped would happen and was sad when it didn’t?

Did you find the map and glossary helpful? Is there anything you think would be beneficial to add, such as terms or names?

Are there any moments or scenes you found ethically and socially problematic and unacceptable.

Were there any moments in the story that made you stop and think?

Were you able to identify the story themes? Did you find the themes well developed throughout the story?

Did you think about the story when you weren’t reading it? If so, what were your thoughts?

Were there times during the story where you felt description was told instead of shown?

Does this book make you feel the same as other books in the genre when reading?

Is there anything you really enjoy from this genre that you found lacking in this story?

Did you find the story kept your attention with enough action, conflict, intrigue, and tension?

Do you find the story or writing style like other books you have read?

Are there any moments you found confusing, irritating, annoying or frustrating?

Are there any moments in the story you thought, “this could/would never happen”?

Did you have any questions after reading the book?

What are your general thoughts and feelings about the story?

Is there anything you wish there was more or less of?

What do you think were the best/ strongest aspects of this book?

What do you think were the worst/ weakest aspects of this books?

How would you describe this book to a friend?

Would you recommend this story to someone?

How likely/ eager are you to read the next book in the series?

Chapter specific

On a scale from 1-5, how much did you enjoy this chapter?

On a scale from 1-5, how eager are you to read the next chapter?

What predictions do you have for the next chapter?

What do you hope will happen next?

Please keeping in mind: Don't let another writer tell you what to change or how they would write it. You are the writer, and any changes are your decision. This feedback is only to give you an idea on which areas to improve.

*Alpha and Beta readers should be readers in the same genre that you write. People who mostly read mystery will not be good a/b readers for a romance novelist, or any mismatch. If you write romance, find a/b readers who love to read romance. Otherwise, any advice they give may not be as valuable or useful as you hope.*

If you have other questions you think would be useful to ask your readers, message me or add them in the comments so our list is comprehensive.

Happy Writing!

[devildomwriter]

“…Excuse me? You don’t know TSL? And you call yourself a human?! Just how clueless ARE you?! How could you not know?! Just the fact that you don’t know TSL alone is proof that you’ve been wasting your life! So, I’m going to do you a favor and teach you about TSL. Make sure you pay attention! The Tale of the Seven Lords, otherwise known as TSL, is a series of fantasy novels written by Christopher Peugeot. It’s a heroic epic spanning 138 volumes, and it’s the most widely-read fantasy series in the world. There are even theatrical versions, an animated series, and feature films, too. And it’s been translated into a total of 182 different languages. The 1990s theatrical version was an utter disaster, owing to the fact that they added several characters that were NOT present in the original manuscript. At the time I was like, “this producer totally needs to crawl into a hole and die!” But then the 2015 version came out, and it was AMAZING! Better than amazing! If you ask me, it showed that needlessly cramming a female lead in there alongside Henry was a bad idea. That’s not what he needs. What he NEEDS is a friend who really understands him, and the 2015 version proved that.

Also, the most vital element of the story is that each of the Seven lords is so unique. They’re all so interesting in their own peculiar way. That’s what makes TSL so great! The lords are all brothers…the oldest is called the Lord of Corruption. He doesn’t come across as being so bad at first, but he’s always plotting and planning in secret. The second oldest is the Lord of Fools, a scumbag who’ll do anything for money. The third oldest is called the Lord of Shadow, a brooding recluse. The fourth oldest is known as the Lord of Masks. He masquerades as a high-status, upstanding member of society, but underneath it all, he’s an inhumane monster. The fifth oldest, the Lord of Lechery, only ever thinks of sex. The sixth oldest is the Lord of Flies, and he only ever thinks of food. The seventh oldest, called the lord of Emptiness. He’s weird…you never know what’s running through his head! It seems most people like the oldest lord, the lord of corruption, the best. Everyone always talks about how great he is. But not me. I like the third Lord way more. Of course, I like Henry too. He’s the protagonist. He’s almost as great as the third lord. The second Lord is total scum, a hopeless degenerate that leads a life of extravagance and indulgence. He’s always causing trouble for the third lord. He’s got these magical pigs that can give birth to solid gold piglets, and he treasures them above all else. So Henry goes and talks to the pigs, and using his wit and powers of persuasion, he convinces them to leave with him. Then, he leads every last one of them away, and presents them to the third lord as a gift! Wow…I mean, they’re SUCH GOOD FRIENDS you can almost feel it! It’s enough to make you cry! Oh, and then there’s that one really awesome moment when the two of them realize they both like and respect each other, and they high-five! I just LOVE that part, you know? I wish I could have a moment like that. …I wish I could be like the third lord. I may be a recluse like him, but we’re totally different, because he’s got an amazing friend like Henry. Check it out. See that goldfish in the fish tank there? He’s actually named Henry. I love TSL so much that I couldn’t help naming him after the main character. But I cant really high-five a goldfish, can I?

The original author of TSL, Christopher Peugeot, he’s actually a human, you know? That’s why I’m so jealous of you guys. Humans are so lucky, you’ve got subscription services that let you watch your favorite anime anytime, you can go to Akihabara whenever you want… Why do only you guys get to experience all the good stuff? I mean, humans’ whole concept of pleasure originally came from us demons, you know? We gave it to you. So, why can’t we have a little bit of it back now, huh? I mean, I want to be able to go to a Japanese maid café, too. I want to hear the maids welcome me as if I’m the master of the house, and have them draw ketchup hearts on my fried rice omelette, to experience the magic of it all. I want to cosplay as Henry, and then go stand in the center of Akihabara, or maybe that one building in Tokyo that’s shaped like upside-down triangles. And once I’m there, I want to perform Henry’s super-powerful signature finishing move for all to see and say the incantation that goes with it. I want to shout it at the top of my lungs!...Actually you know what? I want to BE Henry.”

— Leviathan’s longest TSL rant (Chapter 1-13)

[scriptstructure]

About & Guidelines

About the Blog:

In the fashion of ScriptMedic and cohort, this blog is here to answer questions about how to structure your story, and develop your narrative, and themes. If you’ve got your research, and you’ve got your plot, and then you’re stuck on how to make it fit together, or how to use your awesome research, then this is the blog for you!

This blog can provide assistance from simple tips regarding writing itself, through to recommendations for further reading and research. If I’m able I will provide links to relevant texts, or at least attempt to provide ways to find them.

Guidelines for Asking:

FIRST! An important note: I will not read your manuscript!

MS reading is time-intensive and is the sort of thing better left to dedicated beta readers or paid editors, please do not submit part/ all of your MS, and ask me to ‘tell you what’s wrong with it’ or ‘help fix it’.

Sending your ask:

ask box is preferred! Submit box is available if you absolutely can’t fit your question into the ask

I’ll be keeping messenger open in case I need to ask clarifying questions, but I would prefer that initial questions NOT be sent via messenger.

You’ll probably need to put 1-2 sentences of context about your story, and ask about the specific issue you’re having difficulty with

Generally speaking, the more specific your question is the better I will be able to help you – figure out the area that you’re having difficulty with and ask about that in particular. Sending a long rehash of your MS and then simply asking how to make it work is impossible to answer. Tell me what You think the problem you’re having is, and we can work from there.

As this blog grows, there will no doubt be posts related to troubles you’re having, I’ll be making sure to keep up a consistent tagging system so that all previous posts should be simple to find, simply head to the navigation page and look to see if your question has already been answered. If it hasn’t? Then ask away! If I’ve answered something similar to the question you have but haven’t quite hit the nail on the head? Ask away!

Also, you might notice that I’ll often advise people to read certain texts, or recommend stories, shows, films, novels, etc that are similar to what they’re working on. Reading is the best practice for writing, you’ll learn a lot about writing by reading attentively, and it is a process – all writing is a process! There’s no quick fix or cheat sheet that will work for everyone.

If you must send a question longer than the ask box allows, use a browser to access:

www.scriptstructure.tumblr/submit

About the Blogger:

My name is Mason and I’m all about character and narrative development, I’ll be doing my best to try and work through the thorny problems that come with the writing part of writing!

I have a degree in Creative Writing, a minor in English Literature, and an honours degree in Creative Writing (thesis focused on character structure and narrative). I’ve lectured on Character development in adaptation, and I’ve taught general creative writing, as well as writing for the stage.

I have several short stories published, as well as a self published novella, you can find my personal/ author blog [HERE]

[hny-updates]

Translation of the interview "First look at Oreco Tachibana, author of “Firefly Wedding” | From housewife to popular manga artist [unexpected career]"

3 part video series, part 1 linked below.

Location: Shibuya, Tokyo

Satoko, a young lady with only a short time left to live.

Shinpei, a mysterious killer.

Oreco: Satoko’s hand is on Shinpei’s head. Is it okay to leave as is? Is it better to be modest? Or… [When talking about the cover design of Volume 4]

Tachibana Oreco’s debut work “Promise Cinderella” received a live action drama on TBS starring Fumi Nikaidô.

Award Winner of “Everyone’s Choice!! Electronic Comic Awards 2024” Firefly Wedding is currently being serialized on Manga One!

Tachibana Oreco, Manga Artist. Total number of SNS Followers: 680,000 people.

Q: How did you become a manga artist?

A: I’ve always loved drawing, I loved it since I was little. Manga, too. I’ve been drawing since I was in 5th grade. After having a child, I’ve had more time, and I thought I’d try drawing a manga. 

Tachibana Oreco gives advice to post your work online to catch traction, saying that’s how her editor found her.

Q: When you posted your work on SNS, did you think it would turn into a job?

A: I thought it would be nice if it could, it’s always something I’ve loved.

Q: Having a child, was it the reason you started drawing again?

A: I was home all the time and you begin to only think about your children and I wanted to distract myself with other things.

Q: How many years have you been together [with Shogakukan]?

A: It’s been a year and four months.

Q: How long does each cover take?

A: 3 to 4 days. 5 hours working on it per day.

Q: What’s the most difficult part of being a manga artist?

A: It’s not really difficult. The editor helps me manage all the moving parts and helps with time management. You write the manuscripts at your own pace. There really are a lot of details that take too many pages. I can’t make one chapter shorter. I have concerns about my own abilities, when I don’t want to draw until I feel like it. One chapter exceeds 30 pages when it has to be 25. To give a few examples. 

Firefly Wedding Volume 4 Cover Design Meeting

#3 was called innovative. The sex appeal was good.

#2 was hard to understand when Shinpei was grabbing Satoko’s neck.

Special attention to design, the color tone changes each volume. 

Oreco creates the drawings and the designer does the layout. The back cover illustration is also done by Oreco. 

Flowers are selected for each cover.

Editor: If it’s a white lily, it needs some blood on it. Defile something beautiful.

“Karaoke no Tetsujin Ikebukuro East Store x Firefly Wedding

Limited Collaboration Goods”

[lil-ms-darkness]

A Treasure Not Worth Finding - Bigby Wolf x Goldilocks!Reader

A/N: Okay, so here's the next part! Sorry it took so long, I had it sitting in my WIP folder for quite some time, just needing to be edited and instead of editing it, I started working on my manuscript. But, it's here now! Slightly based off Faith from TWAU video game. The music playing in the apartment can be anything you want, as it's technically YOUR apartment haha

Content Warnings: Mild angst, description of death and dead bodies, perceived reader death.

That about does it, hope you enjoy! Feel free to comment if you'd like

Lil_Ms_Darkness

“See you again, soon.” 

That was the last thing she’d said to him. Her voice was soft, light and her eyes matched. It unnerved him, but it was also a welcome sort of discomfort, a kind that he’d come to appreciate. After he caught the asshole trying to poison Snow White - weirdly enough, it was Leland Mouse, of the Three Blind Mice, glamoured into a man [Y/N] wouldn’t recognize, nor would she have suspected to be one of the mice. She had helped him find the perpetrator responsible for trying to take Snow White’s life, purely for greed and satisfaction of being the one to kill the Deputy Mayor for not prioritizing his cases, and for not bowing to his whim when he wanted. And, as she had asked, Bigby had returned to visit her. But, it didn’t become a consistent thing. He mainly visited for information, and was met with some kind of story, a conversation, a muffin or a slice of banana nut bread, she’d offered him a brownie once but he’d denied it. 

He hadn’t expected to see her again so soon, especially not like this. He had gotten a call from Jack about a body dumped into a back alley dumpster. He was nervous, having seen only a leg hanging out. 

Bigby arrived on the scene quickly and found the dumpster, a leg hanging over the lip with the lid flattening it. He grabbed the edge and lifted the lid open, looking down to examine the victim. He felt his mouth fall open in surprise, shock, and pure white hot rage. It was her. 

“See you again, soon.”

He carefully fished her out of the dumpster and laid her down on the rough asphalt of the street, hidden in the darkness away from the street lights. Her hair was soft in his hand as he held her head to lower her.

Now, he looks down at her face, her once golden hair is messy and pale as it cushions her head like a pillow. Her eyes are half lidded and lusterless in death, her skin lacking the warmth- her hands clenched tightly in fists. He notes the deep purple and black bruising on her throat, so thick that it couldn’t have been a cord. He crouches next to her, noting the various wounds around her body- she had fought back. 

He closes his eyes for a moment before he hears footsteps shuffling towards them and he looks up, spotting Jack at the mouth of the alley. The blonde man approaches him, a solemn and uncomfortable look on his face. 

“Any luck?” He asks

Bigby sighs and looks at the body again, 

“Did you see anyone around when you found the body?” The words felt like bile in his throat as he speaks them

“No, I didn’t.” 

Bigby isn’t surprised to hear that, Jack was about as observant as a thumbtack. He examines her hands, noting the clean fingernails, but there is bruising underneath- someone made sure to clean up any DNA traces. 

Damn

He takes a closer look at her throat, finding the rope burns in between the bruises and the broken veins underneath. He can feel his claws threaten to elongate and he actively keeps them retracted, turning his attention to her face, his eyes linger on her swollen, bluing lips. He can’t help but feel guilty, wondering if she’d been murdered because she was helping him. Whether it was to keep her quiet, or for some other reason, he’ll be sure to get to the bottom of it. He will find the bastard that did this.

 Bigby looks back to the body and notices her clothes now. She’s dressed in her Trip Trap uniform, an emerald green dress that was similar to Holly’s, with black wedge heels secured with a strap around the ankle. She had told him how she loved the dress, because it was high quality material without being too expensive and felt nice on her skin, but he can’t recall what material. Now that he can touch it, it’s smooth under his rough hands, thick but not scratchy at all- and it’s dirty from the garbage she was thrown into. 

“What were you doing over here, Jack?” Bigby asks, cautiously. 

“I was coming to visit a friend of mine.” Jack says, shifting from foot to foot.

“A friend?” 

“He said he was going to give me $1,000.”

“What a generous friend, what are you up to?”

“Nothing, honest!” Jack holds up his hands in surrender. 

Bigby looks from him, down to the body, then Jack again. He doesn’t have time to deal with the get rich quick fails of the century.

“I need to go see Holly, she should be working tonight, and Jack? Stay out of trouble.”

Bigby walks down the concrete steps to the heavy door of the Trip Trap, pushing it open and stepping through. Holly stands behind the bar, dressed in her brown dress. She lifts her gaze to look towards the door, preparing to greet a customer, but her face sets into a flat glare when she sees Bigby. Gren glances over his shoulder towards the Sheriff and shakes his head, looking back to his small glass of rum on the countertop. 

The sheriff approaches the bar and looks at Holly, 

“I’m not here to start problems, I just need to ask you some questions.” He says, simply and sits down at the bar a few seats away from Gren.

“You’re always here to start a problem, even when you don’t try to.” She digs her nails into the bottom lip of the bar. 

Bigby shakes his head, “When was the last time you saw [Y/N]?” 

“She was here for her shift the night before last. Why? What do you want with her?” Holly’s eyes narrow.

“She’s dead…” Bigby wills his face to be emotionless, as he watches Gren drop the glass to the counter, tipping over and spilling onto the bartop as Holly stares at him with wide eyes. Bigby couldn’t hope to understand what she was feeling- first, her sister was murdered, and now her friend was dead, the friend who was working with her so that she could grieve. 

“How?” Gren growls, fists clenched tightly on top of the bar

“She was strangled.” Bigby says, impassively, but inside he is anything but. Inside, he is raging and tearing apart all of New York to track down the next murderer, because who knows who may be next. And if [Y/N] was a target, with how likable she is- was- who knows who else may be on a list. 

“DAMNIT!” Gren  stands and turns on Bigby, who only regards him with a stoic guise, “How many have to die before you do your damn job?!”

“I am doing my job.” It’s all Bigby can do not to slam his face into the bar- his patience is fading, and quickly. “I’m trying to find the person that did this, and I’m starting by finding out the timeline of when she died, and where she was taken from. If she hasn't been here since two nights ago, then there’s nothing else that I need.” He stands and Gren steps in his way. Bigby squares his shoulders.

“Knock it off,” Holly snaps, and Bigby looks her way. She sounds sad, “just go, Sheriff. I need…need to figure out what to do.” She sighs and walks out from the bar, vanishing into the back room. Bigby notes a missing attendee-

“Where’s Woody?” He asks, still looking towards the room Holly escaped to for a moment longer before looking back to Gren’s fury laden face. 

“How the hell should I know?” He growls, “I ain’t his dad.”

“For someone claiming to want me to do my job, you’re making it awfully difficult.” 

Gren’s eyebrows twitch and his jaw sets, Bigby prepares to dodge a punch, but it doesn’t come, to the Sheriff’s surprise. “He hasn’t been here in a couple days. He left with [Y/N] after her last shift.”

Bigby’s not surprised that Woody left with her, but the fact that he left with her the same day she was last seen….

“And he hasn’t been back since?”

“No.” Gren bites out through gritted teeth, “Now if that’s all you need, get the fuck out.”

Bigby walks out without much of a fuss, and pulls out his pack of cigarettes. He lifts one and lights it, walking down the street towards [Y/N]’s apartment.

He walks down the hall and stops in front of [Y/N]'s door, but something isn't right. He presses his ear to the door- music? 

That can't be right..[Y/N]'s time of death was hours ago, why was music still playing? 

He hears shuffling, and his teeth grit together. He grabs the doorknob and very slowly turns it- it's unlocked. 

He throws the door open and rushes inside, seeing the silhouette and diving on him. He shoves him face down into the carpet, wrists behind his back. 

"Hey hey hey!! GET THE FUCK OFF ME, WOLF!" 

The Woodsman

"Not until you tell me what you're doing here." Bigby digs his knee into the big man's spine as he squirms. 

"I was helping [Y/N]!" 

"Don't lie to me, Woody!"

"Fuck you, I ain't lyin'!" 

"What's going on- Sheriff! Get off of him!" Small hands grab Bigby's shoulder and he turns, ready to push them back; and he stops. 

He climbs off the big man and stares- 

"[Y/N]?"

"You listen here, Sheriff," she warns, her honeyed eyebrows furrowed in concern and anger as Woody stands up behind her, "out there you might be Sheriff Bigby Wolf and think you have to be mean to get your way, but not in my home! If you lay a hand on my guests again, you can forget about my offer to help you!" 

She's angry, so very angry, he can see it in her eyes, in the way the wrinkles between her brows crease her skin. The fire in her eyes. But she's here, standing, yelling, breathing.

"We found your body," Bigby says, carefully and the crease between her eyes lifts. "We all thought you were dead. And I came by to see if you'd been murdered here. When I saw Woody-" 

"You thought Woody killed me?" She frowns, incredulously, "He'd never." 

Woody puts a large hand on her shoulder. She looks over at him, then at Bigby again. 

"I'm not dead..." [Y/N] muses. 

"Clearly." Bigby huffs and can feel pressure forming behind his eyes. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes when her small hand covers his holding the pack. He looks at her. 

"I'd rather you didn't smoke in here. What with my work and all..." She says, quietly. 

Woody snorts and Bigby considers lighting one anyway- 

"Bigby does whatever he wants." He grumbles. 

Woody was right. Bigby did do whatever he wanted. But one look into her kind eyes and he resigns with a sigh, tucking the pack back into his pocket. He feels naked, and uncomfortable. He ignores it. 

Woody casts him a quirked browed look and Bigby ignores that, too. 

"[Y/N], where were you last night?" 

"Home? Asleep?" She shakes her head. "I finished dropping off orders early, stopped by the store to pick up some more fabric and flour, then came home and went to bed."

"And you, Woody?" He asks, moving his gaze to the bearded man. 

"I was at the Trip Trap."

"Really? Because Gren says he hasn't seen you in a couple days.."

"Bigby," [Y/N] warns and he casts her a cold look, warning her in turn not to interfere with his investigation. He watches her brows slacken a bit as her expression becomes one of concern. He looks back to Woody. "Let's try that again, where were you?"

Woody sighs,

"I was with a woman..." He grumbles. 

"Who was it?" 

"Can't a man keep his personal affairs personal?" 

"Not when he's a suspect in a murder." Bigby says and folds his arms. 

"I told you already he didn't do it." [Y/N] pipes up again and he ignores her completely. She was kind to him, but she is trying his patience. 

He looks at her, "[Y/N], a woman is dead. She could have been you-"

"But she wasn't.." she interrupts, her frown deepens, her look of concern deepening the wrinkles in between her brows and on her forehead. 

"-but it could have been. Doesn't matter that it wasn't, a woman is dead. Dead and gone. And I need to find the one responsible. Now you offered your assistance, but so far you've only made my investigation harder. Either keep it down, or I'll take him in to question him at the Business Office." 

Her eyes widen and she looks at Woody, then Bigby again. The hurt in her eyes was clear as day. She steels her expression and nods, once. She looks at Woody before she walks over and sits on the love seat, legs folded and looking out the window. 

Bigby feels a little guilty, but only a little. He shoves it aside and focuses on the task at hand. 

Woody looks at [Y/N], then Bigby again, a look of anger in his eyes.

"You're a piece of shit, Wolf."

"I hear that a lot, now who were you with?"

[em-dash-press]

Questions to Ask Before Signing With a Literary Agent

Getting published might be your dream, but meeting with a literary agent is more like a job interview. You’ll be professional partners. They should prioritize your vision for your manuscript while guiding you on the best path to bookstore shelves.

If you get to meet with a potential agent for your next book, consider asking these questions to ensure that you’ll work well together.

What Did You Like About My Manuscript?

The agent’s answers will reveal what they’re most interested in working on. You’ll also learn what they consider to be your strengths as a writer.

If they’re interested in your story for reasons other than its intended purpose or your vision, you’ll prevent yourself from signing a contract based on a misunderstanding.

Do You Want a One-Time Client or a Long-Term Writer?

Literary agents are very busy.

The average literary agent makes $37,482 per year and given that most of the big publishers headquarter in New York City or L.A. where the average cost of living requires $63,600 annually in NYC and $30,640 for L.A. rent alone each year, it’s understandable that many agents do their agenting work alongside a full-time job.

Some will only have the time and energy for a one-time client who has a stand-alone project ready to go. Others may have more time in their schedule to commit to a long-term working relationship with a writer.

If you’re interested in turning your manuscript into a series, exploring other genres, or have ideas for future projects, the answer to this question is crucial.

Why Did You Become a Literary Agent?

It’s important to get to know someone before working with them. This is a standard question for anyone in a job interview. You deserve an agent who’s passionate about helping authors, especially first-time authors if you’ve never been published before.

How Long Have You Been an Agent?

A new literary agent could have gained the experience to become great in their own agency by working with other agents at a publishing house for years. Others may have a law degree, but little real-world experience yet.

What you do with the answer to this question is up to you. The new lit agent could be the best person for your book because they have the energy, focus, drive and passion to help you succeed. But you might also benefit from having a more experienced agent if your manuscript will be tricky to sell. (More on that below.)

What Did You Love about the Books You Sold Recently?

You should already know the agent’s latest sold books based on the query research that made them a good person to query. However, looking at a list of titles is different than hearing why the agent cared about those manuscripts in the first place. It shows part of their character and their interests, which may or may not fully line up with your hopes for our writing future.

What’s Your Communication Style like throughout the Publishing Process?

Some agents are very hands-on during the publishing process and some prefer to send occasional updates so you don’t get weighed down by details you don’t understand.

Again, how you react to the agent’s answer is up to you. There are tons of reasons why you may or may not want a hands-on agent, just like there are tons of reasons why agents might keep you posted for the most important info. They can explain a bit more after answering your initial question.

How Many Clients Are You Currently Representing?

Agents with a long list of clients might make enough from agenting that they can handle a big client team and still devote enough attention to be by your side through the publishing process. Others may only have a few clients because that’s the best balance for their work life and communication.

Having fewer clients doesn’t mean an agent is bad news. Don’t forget to follow up to this question if you want more information.

Are You Involved in the Editing Process?

Editors often take over when a manuscript needs work before publishers consider it or after a publisher signs on to sell it. Agents sometimes jump into the work with their clients if they have the time to do so.

Editing can take a while since broad developmental editing almost always happens before agents pitch a manuscript. How many people you want to communicate with throughout that process depends on your communication preferences and the agent’s editing expertise.

When Do You Believe My Book Will Go Out on Submission?

If your agent has read your full manuscript, they may have an idea of how much editing you’ll need to do. One agent who wants major changes could indicate that the process might take up to a year, while another could estimate three months of editing work in your future.

This also means they have different visions for your book’s final draft. You can talk more about that in detail after they estimate the editing time prior to submissions.

How Long Did the Submission Process Take for Your Other Clients?

Agents have to pitch manuscripts to publishing houses. It’s like the query process for writers, but for agents. They often know which houses are more likely to pick up specific stories based on their industry connections and previous sale experience too.

That being said, the submission process takes an average of 4–6 weeks. If the agent’s previous clients took longer or shorter than that, it’s important to know why. They may have been up against industry factors out of their control or could have learned better ways to sell books based on past mistakes that took longer than necessary.

Do You Think My Manuscript Will Be Challenging to Sell in Today’s Market?

Consider your history of reading. At different ages and stages of your life, you were likely into different genres and themes. The book industry as a whole also goes through stages. 

Sometimes, a fantasy book about a high schooler and her vampire boyfriend makes everyone preorder the next YA vampire book they can find. Other times, all people want to read are bubblegum romance books with familiar plot formulas because the latest copies from the biggest romance writers have everyone swooning.

Books can also become more likely to sell if they involve a societal topic or challenge that everyone’s talking about. 

It’ll be more challenging to sell books that don’t appeal to anything readers are currently buying en masse. Challenging—but not impossible. The best agent for your book will identify potential challenges and plan ways to navigate around them or spin them into something appealing to publishers.

They might also pitch editing ideas to tweak your story closer to what sells in a similar age group or genre. Whether or not you agree that those ideas align with what you envisioned for your book is up to you.

Do You Manage Subsidiary, Foreign, and Film Rights?

Subsidiary rights are the legal rights to every non-physical form of your book. A literary agent will know how to handle traditional book rights (rights concerning printing, manufacturing, and distribution), but also managing subsidiary rights makes them an even better advocate for you. 

They’ll negotiate for your rights to do things like have a say in which publications gain excerpts from your book for PR purposes, who can make book-club editions, which company makes an audiobook, and how many languages your book gets translated into.

Foreign rights are the rights for a company to publish your book in its original language in countries where it wasn’t initially published. Related, there are translation rights that go with that too.

Film rights cover things like how much you and/or your publisher get paid when a company purchases the rights to turn your book into a movie. It doesn’t include the rights for the author to be involved in casting or screenplays (unless the author is already super big and/or has a hand in the film world).

Agents who can do all of these things reduce how many pieces of your profit pie you have to give to each person helping your book succeed. They also streamline who you trust with such big decisions.

What Happens if My Manuscript Doesn’t Sell?

Agents set their own time limits on trying to sell a manuscript based on factors like their own schedule, the market’s interest, how many publishers they’ve contacted, etc. 

Some agents set a hard time limit and recommend writing another book if your initial one doesn’t sell. Unfortunately, they may not feel like the right representation for the new book if it’s wildly different from what you initially queried.

Others will try selling a manuscript for a few years. They might believe it will be a hit, but they need to wait for changes in the market or publishers to become available for work like yours.

There’s really no wrong answer to this question. It’s just good information to have, especially if you’re interviewing more than one agent before signing with anyone.

How Many Deals Have You Made in the Last Year and What Were the Figures?

You’ll know the publicly announced book deals the agent has made before you speak with them based on your query research. However, there may be other deals you don’t know about. 

It’s also important to get the figures for each deal to estimate your potential book deal number. You should compare your standing to authors of similar standing that the agent recently helped get published.

If you’re a debut author comparing yourself to long-time authors with six-figure deals, you won’t have a similar experience unless you’re the one in a million who has an instant hit with your book sales.

What Are Our Next Steps after I Sign?

You’d typically ask this in a regular job interview to know if you need to go through other interviews or if you’ll get an employment contract.

After signing with your agent, they’ll lead you through the various steps to getting published. They’ll likely have personal revision suggestions, then want to submit your revised work to editors. Then the editing process begins. 

Your agent should know your next general steps before you sign the contract. If you sign, they’ll get more specific with details like which editors they think will be a good fit for your work and when they can schedule meetings with you to go over their revision suggestions.

-----

Getting to this point with an agent at all is a huge success. So many writers never get published or even send a query letter. Congratulate yourself for getting this far and don’t be afraid to ask more questions than the ones I’ve listed here. More information will lead to a more informed decision when you decide to sign or not.

[itsaash]

O'Knutzy Week! Prompts: Bucket hat & Summer Vacation

I'll be posting parts making up one story each day this week! It's a cubs au where Finn's spending the summer at his parent's house in the Hamptons and Leo is their private chef. yes, inspired by those amazing tiktoks. Logan will be revealed tomorrow 😏

Characters by @lumosinlove, for @oknutzyweek2023

Part 1

It was a day of full July heat, the kind of day that promises a summer full of sunshine, and you can already smell the sunscreen and salty air. Finn and Leo were sitting outside eating dinner, Leo had laid out a large wooden cutting board covered with the fixings to make world class sandwiches. He had arranged the meats, cheese, sourdough bread, fresh rolls, and chopped vegetables in a beautiful rainbow across the tray. It had been entirely too hot to even consider turning on an oven. 

As was their way on these long hot days of summer vacation in the Hamptons, Haley and Ramsey had eaten earlier, and then they spent most evenings at some friend’s or another, returning to the city most weekdays. Finn and Leo tended to eat together a bit later in the evening, so the temperature had blessedly gotten down a few degrees. Nevertheless, they sat in the garden under an umbrella, the shade surrounding them and the smell of the evening flowers beginning to fill the air. Finn always had a book (or ten) to work through editing and he had been spending his days moving with his laptop and piles of manuscripts from one place to another, working in every corner of the property as his attention ebbed and flowed. But on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays, mysteriously the best work spots seemed to always be in sight of the kitchen. Those were the days Leo was there. 

Leo had been working for Finn's parents for a few years now, in the city and at the Hamptons house. But Finn had been away at school and he had only met Leo a few weeks ago when he came home for a summer in the Hamptons. Leo was tall, taller than Finn even, his hair a bleached golden blonde and sky blue eyes that reflected the summer sky. Today, despite the shade of the umbrella, Leo also had a bucket hat perched on his head, mostly blue, with designs of nebulas and stars and space decorating it. Just the ends of his blonde hair curled out the bottom of the hat, and Finn’s eyes darted from Leo’s eyes to those teases of hair and back again approximately every minute.

Having Leo around was both a motivation and a distraction for Finn. He lived for the time in the afternoon when Leo would sit down, taking a break after cleaning up lunch and before he needed to start making supper. Knowing that was basically the only time of the day that Leo would stop was quite an effective motivator for Finn. He would make sure that he had done as much as he could in the morning so he could coincidentally have those hours free too. They had gone for walks, sat in the shade and read together, or sometimes Finn pretended to do his work and really covertly watched Leo make his elaborate grocery lists. Because the food Leo made was nothing less than amazing. 

This Sunday night, Finn was finishing his turkey on sourdough, the tang of the bread combining perfectly with some sort of perfect sandwich sauce that Finn suspected Leo had made himself. The flowers were all in bloom and the trees were the bright green that they got after the spring rains. It was glorious. Finn felt a tether between his heart and this place, this property that he had been coming to since he was a kid. But there was something new growing in his heart too … and it seemed to bloom on the weekends. He doesn’t want it to end. They switched to a fruit pie with cream and sure the food was great, but it wasn’t only the call of his taste buds that prompted Finn to jump.

“Hey, um, Leo?”

“Mmm?”

“I know this is kind of weird, of course you can say no, you wouldn’t have to cook at all! But would you want to stay this week? We can just… hang out?”

Leo paused, gazing at the big brown eyes looking up at him so hopefully.

“Oh, um, that’s real nice of you Finn! But my … boyfriend is expecting me back in the city.” 

Finn’s heart skipped about three beats, then raced to catch up. Boyfriend! But, boyfriend.  

“Oh yeah! Of course!” There was a long pause as they took bites of their pie. Finn felt disappointment fill his belly even more than the food did. Of course Leo had a boyfriend, he was funny, and sweet, and so gorgeous. Even as beautiful as the property was, he didn’t relish week after week with nothing but his work to keep him company. 

“He could come too!”

“Really?” Leo looked up, seeming surprised. “That’s a very kind offer, you don’t have to do that.”

“No really, if you like him, he must be great. And it doesn’t have to be anything else. I just love having you around. I don’t like being alone all week and Alex is barely coming up this summer at all. So, next week, do you want to bring him, and you guys can stay? I promise you don’t have to cook a single thing.”

A smile blossomed over Leo’s face as Finn rambled at high speed. 

“Well, he is actually on summer holiday right now. He’s a teacher,” Leo said. 

Finn perked up. “Wow, that’s so amazing, that’s even better! What’s he teach? I’ll cook, I promise I’m not trying to get extra work out of you.”

“Mmmhhmm, and what do you usually eat during the week then, Finn?” Leo asked, and Finn knew he was caught. 

“Well, nothing like you make, obviously. But I couldn’t put you to work here during the week too.” 

Leo smiled. “Well, I’d be cooking for myself and working on new recipes at home anyways. I don’t mind making some for you too. But maybe I’ll let you do the cleaning up.”

Finn felt a prickle of excitement tingle under his skin. “I can clean up! Dishes, sweeping, I know where everything goes, I can do that.” They laughed, Finn glanced away at the line of trees in the distance. He was being too eager. He took a breath.

“Well I’ll have to ask Lo, but I’ll message you tomorrow what he says, OK? It really is such a nice offer. I know Lo would appreciate getting out of the city after a busy semester.” Finn nodded eagerly. Lo and Leo. He wanted to spend the summer out here, but most of his friends were in the city. But next week he could have Leo and Lo in his house. He smiled to himself, trying to keep his excitement in check. They finished their sandwiches as the evening melded into the perfect temperature. Finn showed he could be true to his word by helping Leo clean up, happy for the chance to talk, and to plan and hope for what they could do next weekend.

[esta-elavaris]

OKAY so from the seminar I attended this morning with a panel of editors, agents, and writers, these were my main takeaways:

They described interviewing an agent as being like going on a first date and discussing marriage - like, that's the level of relationship that'll happen if all goes well, they're part-editor part-lawyer part-therapist, full-advocate. You need to decide if they're for you as much as they need to decide if you're for them, it shouldn't be a thing where you're going in feeling like you have no power and you're begging them for crumbs.

They don't want writers to be nervous. Ofc they get that we will be, but they don't want you do be! They WANT us to send in our manuscripts to them, they're excited at finding new writers to work with, they're so enthusiastic and they want to share that enthusiasm with you.

Obviously different agencies have different query requirements - make sure you tailor your submission to those requirements, don't make them feel like they're just one of eighty getting the same email. They want to feel that you're enthusiastic about them in particular just as much as you want that enthusiasm from them.

Speaking of ethusiasm, that's one of the BIIIIG things they're looking for. They want that sense of enthusiasm and excitement about your story in your email, they want it to be from the heart, because not only does it give them a sense of the PERSON they're considering working with, but it's a loooong process from submission to the book being on the shelf, and with any luck they'll be working with you across your whole career. They need to see that you're as in it as they need to be to do their job well.

They actually do a LOOOOT of editorial work. Like, a lot of the time (more often than not) they will edit your manuscript with you and discuss the project at length and make suggestions (and they ARE suggestions, but you do need to have a level of maturity to take them on board and hear them out) and work on it a lot with you before they take it to publishers, to give you your best chance. One said they had a colleague who'd done this for over a decade and had only had ONE manuscript where they sent it to publishers as is.

And that brings me to the biggest takeaway I had, and the one that stood in sharpest contrast to what I see in online advice that loves to harp on like "if you make any of these ten minor mistakes, you'll instantly be rejected" and, well, basically scaremonger.

They give you soooo much leeway.

They get that you're human, they get that you'll be nervous. They showed example cover letters that contained SO many things that I'd think of as chance killers, and they were like "eh, this isn't ideal, but if I liked the manuscript I wouldn't care", y'know? The only thing that was a BIIIG "instant no" was one that had said "I've read work by your other clients and I can confidently say I'm better than all of them" and like, if you're saying that to an agent, you're an idiot (my words, not theirs!). Which is a good thing, too, because it shows how fiercely they advocate for their clients that they're not willing to entertain comments like that.

With the other mistakes on the queries, though, the consensus was constant "the manuscript matters more, if I like that I'd ignore this error." The biggie was just to pay attention to the agent's website and requirements and follow those, because it shows a level of care and attention.

And how heavily involved in the editing process they are also shows how much leeway you get with the manuscript itself. They don't need it to be perfect, they just need there to be something in there at the core of it that grabs at them, and for you to have enthusiasm and a willingness to work at it.

Overall, I went into it thinking I had an absolutely microscopic chance of ever getting published. That the novel would need to be perfect, that the query cover letter would need to be even more perfect, and that even if both were, it would come down to personal taste.

Turns out, absolutely not.

I literally left the thing feeling 98% more optimistic about my chances than I was going into it. It took SO much anxiety out of my novel writing process - that often otherwise gets so extreme that I can barely work on it.

[redgoldsparks]

August Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut.

Assassin’s Apprentice by Robin Hobb read by Paul Boehmer 

This was my third re-read of this book, and when looking back over my book list I realized that my first read was 20 years ago!! I believe I picked it up in a used bookstore based solely on the cover art, which is a bit funny in retrospect when looking at it, because it is very beautiful but not very accurate to the character descriptions in the book. Regardless, I'm glad it caught my eye because this remains one of my favorite fantasy novels of all time. It's a coming of age story interwoven with court intrigue, magic, politics, and a deep compassion for common folk, the kind of people who fish, farm, care for horses and dogs, who cook and clean around the edges of the lives of royals and nobles. This story follows Fitz, a bastard son of the royal family, from age 6 to about 14, as he learns and grows into what he might eventually become: a catalyst of immense change. The writing in this series is so good, so grounded in real lived details, neither fast nor slow paced but unrolling at a natural speed that draws the reader along and into this rich and complicated world.

Grace Needs Space by Benjamin A Wilgus and Rii Abrego

Grace lives on a space station with one of her moms, while the other is gone for long stretches of time working on a cargo ship. Grace longs to travel, to visit planets, to see trees and lakes. Finally she gets the chance to go with her space fairing mom on a trip to the inhabited moon Titan, but her mom barely has time for her, constantly delaying her requests for games, attention, or adventure. So Grace sets out on her own for the day on Titan with a group of kids she met the day before. This gentle family drama is resolved when engineering mom swoops in to remind Grace and cargo ship mom that working together and being honest is the best way to move forward. I loved the artwork; all of the characters had a cuddly quality and the space ship and station interiors were simple but very effect, especially with the lovely colors.

Witching Hour by Beth Fuller 

A short, beautifully drawn comic about a teen's journey into fairyland and what can be found there.

The Monster Baru Cormorant by Seth Dickinson 

The first book in this series was devastating, with enough content warnings and upsetting aspects that I was genuinely unsure if I'd go back for more. But my book club decided to continue with the series, so here we are. This installment is challenging in a different way. Originally, this book was just the first part of a 360,000 word manuscript that had to get chopped into two volumes. It suffers from middle-book problems; no distinct beginning and no conclusive ending. The majority of the story is a long drawn out chase scene, which is a story structure that works for some but not so well for me. I remain deeply impressed by the breadth of Seth Dickinson's world building. I enjoyed the new POV characters, especially the nonbinary Tau-Indi, who lives in a society that recognizes a third gender. Dickinson can craft a devastating turn of phrase, designed with precision to emotionally injure the reader. But overall I struggled with the pacing of this book, and the constant violence and confusion.

To Shape a Dragon’s Breath by Moniquill Blackgoose 

A wonderful new alternate-history series with dragons! Anequs lives with her family on the island of Masquapaug; her people have lived through the colonization and invasion of settlers from a white, Norse culture who now have cities, trains, universities, and industry on the mainland of the north-eastern part of America, though countries have different names in this story. Also, every region has its own dragons, though Anequs' people haven't seen one of their native dragons in 200 years, since the Great Dying. When Anequs finds a dragon's egg she initially plans to raise it at home, with all of the songs, dances, and stories of her community. But the Anglish have laws about dragons and one of them is that all future dragoneers must train at an academy; if they don't learn to control their dragon's breath, which can break things down to their elemental parts, the dragon will be killed. This is a very smart and thoughtful alternate history. I loved the indigenous lens, and the fact that Anequs sees through the bullshit rules of her school and doesn't let her self worth be judged by an outside culture. If I have one complain it's that the book had too many made up words; I'm fine with the fact nearly every place had two or three different names, but I didn't need made up names for the periodic table of elements. But I'm still very interested in reading the sequel and to see where this story goes!

Liberated: The Radical Art and Life of Claude Cahun by Kaz Rowe

Claude Cahun lived at the crossroads of masculine and feminine, of artist and activist, of blessed and cursed by the circumstances and time period they were born into. Rowe weaves together historical photos, direct quotes, and lyrical imagery to tell the tale of this brave queer icon to great effect. It's short but very informative, and really filled out my understanding of someone I previously only knew from a few fandom photos that circulate on tumblr. I had the opportunity to blurb this book; look forward to it's release in September 2023!

The Infinity Particle by Wendy Xu 

A beautifully drawn soft romance set in a utopian Mars colony, a community full of parks, public transit, and cute helpful robots. Clem booked a one way ticket from Earth to work under her intellectual idol, Dr Lin, who works on AI. Clem is initially wowed by her scientist boss, and intregued by her humanoid AI assistant, Kye. But soon the cracks begin to show in Clem's new life- PTSD from an abusive person in her past has followed Clem to Mars; Dr Lin has an ugly temper and doesn't treat Kye as a being with thoughts and feelings; and Kye himself starts to glitch. The color palette of soft reds and blues and the CLAMP manga aesthetic charmed me, as did the hopeful vision of biological and synthetic beings living in harmony.

The Last Session Vol 1: Roll for Initiative by Jasmine Walls, Dozerdraws, and Micah Myers 

When a group of five teens met in their high school's GSA and formed an impromptu D&D group, none of them suspected the game would last for more than four years! Now in college, balancing jobs, internships, partners, and moves, they have gathered again to play the very end of their oldest campaign. With a hitch: the DM wants to add a new person to the party. The art in this volume is excellent, strong character designs, clean page layouts, and beautiful coloring all support a story of friendship and fantasy.

Royal Assassin by Robin Hobb read by Paul Boehmer 

This is my second or third read of this book, but my first since high school. It's not as well paced as book one- sections in the middle definitely drag, and a few of the dynamics of central relationships feel repetitive especially after the wonderful unfolding of the first book. It also only covers about two years of FitzChivalry's life, as opposed to the eight years in book one. But it's still exciting, and the last third has more twists and turns that many books fit into their entire narrative. I'm so invested in this world and these characters, and immediately started book three because I want to know what happens!

[theeccentricraven]

My Writing Journey

I'm still writing my NaNoWriMo Novel in late March, with April right around the corner. Almost 200,000 words now.

How did I get here?

I chose to be a writer when I was eleven. By the time I was eighteen, I had three incomplete novels, a thick packet of writing notes, and a long list of story ideas I wanted to write before I died. I also had a short attention span that I can blame on my ADHD and ASD, a declining love for reading due to required school reading, and competition with distractions like the internet/social media. I was able to devote a good deal of my spare time on my prize WIP, a unique fantasy titled The Keeper of Maralla. I didn't spend as much time writing as I should have. My writing confidence was low. After I earned my first bachelor's degree in Child Development, several amazing things happened. First, I worked briefly as a custodian (aka janitor or caretaker depending on what part of the world you're in) when I got the idea for my current primary WIP, The Blood Cleaners. At that time, I thought TBC would be an urban fantasy. A few years later, I realized the story worked best as a post-apocalyptic dystopia. I personally feel that you don’t find the stories; the stories find you. Such was the case with TBC. Then, in 2008, I won my first NaNoWriMo when I wrote the first draft of The Star House Club, an MG/YA urban fantasy. It meant the world to me when I finally had a complete novel in my hands, even if the writing was really bad. My next complete novel was finished in 2009, a Christian historical fiction novel called Miriam and Yosef. Then, from 2010 to 2011, I wrote my first really long novel, my sci-fi first contact story called Columbus Day. It was 170,000 words long! The best part was when I wrote my first complete second draft by rewriting Columbus Day. I saw how rewriting really can make things better, even if only a little better. It was also at this time that I earned my second bachelor's degree. I earned my post-baccalaureate degree in English. Then, things kind of shattered. I lost all of my confidence in my writing. I almost gave up completely. I also stopped reading. I've learned that the less you read, the worse your writing is. I went nearly a decade without reading and writing. There were some pluses that happened during that time, such as getting a technical writing job with my current employer. For the most part, I had little ambition and few goals. That was until early 2023, I experienced some epiphanies. I went through some religious/spiritual experiences that allowed me to realize I was meant to be a writer. I needed to get my ideas down on paper before I died or else the world would never know them. I opened up my old writing notes to get to work. I thought about which of my WIP's I would make my primary WIP. It was hard when I felt passionate about a half dozen of them, knowing I would regret failing to finish and publish either. I was hit hard with reality when insomnia hit me. I had been in denial about my need to read. Just as I had to get back to writing, I had to get back to reading. I wanted to say I had read enough and needed to spend time writing. When I discovered reading was the best medicine for insomnia, I realized what I needed to do for both my physical health and writing health. I read about 15 books in 2023. The more I read, the better my writing got. My best read was Scott Westerfeld’s Uglies, a book that reminded me of why I love the dystopia genre. By July, I made the decision to focus on The Blood Cleaners. I spent four months brainstorming and outlining. I began drafting in November for NaNoWriMo. I wrote 50,000 words in 30 days, but the story wasn't over. That brings me to where I am now. My manuscript is almost 200,000 words long. I hope to finish in the next few days. I can’t wait to rewrite and cut this thing. Writing is hard, but it's worth it. My journey isn't over, obviously. I can’t wait to see where this journey goes.

[galaxyedging]

Tim Rockford x f!reader

Warnings: None really.

WC:1.4k

A little twist on a classic mystery.

La Compère

It was a silly thought. One that left your mind as quickly as it entered. It's almost romantic. The two of you catching little glimpses of the other. Both trying to use the like bits gleaned about each other to build a bigger picture.

He was divorced; recently, there was still a tan line where his wedding band used to be. He had kids, both in high school. You'd heard him talking to them, trying to arrange meeting up with them. Their schedules didn't seem to line up. They were busy with friends, hobbies, and school work. He was busy with his work. With you.

The work that was giving him a headache. His large hand massaged his temple. Not for the first time, you wondered if his hands would be rough or smooth. There was a roughness to him, a directness that some people may mistake for lack of tact. The man had tact, he also had things to do. He wasn't there to play games. He was there to work. He'd been in every room, searched everywhere, turned over every piece of the puzzle in his head over and over again. He touched the items in front of him with such a gentleness as if he could coax some answers out of them with the softness of his touch. 

Other's came by now and then as he worked. They would give their opinion. He was dismissive of most of them. After all, he knew you best. He was the only one that read the unpublished manuscript on your desk. The one where you had so clearly poured your heart out onto each page. The fiction woven so tightly with the fact of you. 

He was the one that stared at your collage of photographs of your wall. The ones that showed the light in your eyes and the love in your life. He'd picked through the mementos in your draws. Concert ticket stubs, rock and shells still covered with sand, wrist bands from festivals. 

It only took him five minutes in your inner sanctum for him to decide he liked you. He'd asked them not to disturb a thing. He was drawn to you in your photos with your friend. Your beauty and vibrance made you stand out to him even if he didn't already know to look for you. The shelves filled with books, CDs and DVDs, gave him an insight into your eclectic tastes. The first time he'd skimmed the spines of your books with his finger, you'd stood and watched. He was handsome, with his brow furrowed and lips parted in concentration. The wrinkles at the corner of his eyes showed his age and a life well lived. A life full of laughter. Not one second of it showed on his face at the moment. His lips were set in a hard line as he sat at your desk, looking through his notes. His deep brown eyes scanned the words over and over as if the answers were hidden in the space between them. It was hard to restrain yourself from laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. The way they were hunched over was a far cry from how broad they really were. They were one of the first things that caught your attention when he'd first entered your home. The other being his eyes. The warmth in such darkness. A whole variety of shades shone as they moved in the light. As they searched each sentence for a clue. They only stopped to shut tightly in frustration. This time you didn't hold back from offering a comforting touch. A shiver ran down his spine. It was so deep that he reached for the gun at his shoulder instinctively. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Sat with his back to a windowless wall, all logic told him he didn't need to turn around. Something in his chest, instinct, unease. If he were a more poetic man he'd say his soul, told him to. There was no surprise that the only things behind him were the wall and the better part of the night. 

The clock on the wall showed three am. His mother would have called it the witching hour. The wariness settled in his bones, his eyes burned as he tried to blink away the pull of sleep. Failing for just a moment he let them close. When he opened them he felt more awake than he had in a long time. The feeling was heightened by the soft sound of your footsteps as you entered the room. He'd found you, or rather you'd found him. Here, in front of him, you looked even more beautiful than your pictures. It threw him for a moment before he called your name and explained who he was.

"I know who you are. Thank you for looking for me." The smile on your face added to the sudden sense of peace he felt.

"It's my job." Still, you felt like more than a job to him.

"It's not your job to stay up all night. When was the last time you ate?" The concern on your face was touching. No one had looked at him like that in such a long time.

"Noon, maybe?" He couldn't recall. He wasn't hungry now. "No, later. Your aunt brought me almond cookies."

"You didn't go home for dinner. You stayed." The two of you stepped closer as you talked.

"There's not much for me to go home to." He tried to coat the bitterness in the sweetness of laughter. "I wanted to find you."

"Because it's your job." Your inflection was somewhere between a statement and a question.

"Because I wanted to meet you. To meet the wit behind the words in your book. The woman that so many people thought so highly of they've spent weeks searching for you." He was directly in front of you now. So close that he could see the depth of colour in your eyes that he thought he knew so well.

"I wanted to meet you too. I've been watching you. Watching you comfort those people. Watching you see me, really see me, in a way no-one has." Why did your words make his heart ache? Why was he just standing here? He should inform his bosses that you are alive. That you are safe with him.

"I enjoyed getting to know you. You were more than just a job. Sorry, I shouldn't have said that." Why did he say that? Why was he letting himself stand impossibly close to you?

"It's okay. I'm flattered. I just wish it didn't end the way it did." He watched the pain flicker across your face.

"What do you mean?" This ended well. He found you. You were safe and well. Safe with him.

"You're a good man, Tim. You wouldn't even refuse Grandma's bitter cookies." Something tugged at the back of his mind. A half formed notion that wasn't ready to be heard. Still, it shifted something in him. When you stepped closer, he didn't hesitate to draw you into his arms. The two of you swayed gently, to the melody of an unheard song. His embrace was warm and inviting. "I'm glad you found me."

"Me too. I just wish it had been earlier." The half formed thought fought to take shape but his mind wouldn't let it. He couldn't accept the truth even though all the clues finally fit into place. You'd said Grandma's cookies. He knew the Aunt's alibi was a lie even though it seemed solid. No, there was no place for regret. He'd solved the case. He'd found you. You were safe. So was he. There was no pain for either of you anymore. 

"Better late than never." His lips brushed your cheek until he found yours, parted and waiting for him. The kiss was soft and sweet. 

"What do we do now?" Years of detective work hadn't prepared him to solve one of life's greatest mysteries. 

"I don't know." You had no plan beyond watching him. It hadn't occurred to you. The weeks you had spent watching him, felt like mere minutes to you. "Do you think they'll find me without you?"

Without him. The thought that he desperately tried to ignore, finally broke through. A moment of sadness flashed through the peace he felt. Not sadness for him, sadness for those he left behind.

"They'll have more reason to look when they find me. Everything pointed to your Grandmother. They didn't think of her having an accomplice."

Tags @kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid2 @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @quica-quica-quica @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @graciexmarvel @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Also, also! I'll split the ask because it's a bit long! 😅 But your thoughts on Castle Village villagers' reactions to durians too? Mainly Camilla, Isaac, Alesia, Jadu, if you have some? 👀👀✨

Also, here are a couple of screenshots of my farmer asking the two adventurers that I got from the Ai. I cannot help but see this hilariously a headcanon for the two 🤣

A lover and a hater of durians:

Still, hehe, I look forward to yours, Mousy! Have a good day! 👍🏻✨ My ask will never be short. I apologise for that! 😅 Take your time in replying! 💕

I feel like I asked too many 😅

Isaac, stop being a bitch and just try it, you fucking pus- I mean heya again✌️😃

Here's a reaction from our wonderful Castle Village adventurers and mage ⚔️ Btw, thanks for the answer about the durian (I really don't know what it tastes like, and people's descriptions are all different). Enjoy!

PS: For those who don't know, this is the second part of very long post about reactions to durian. You can find the first one here 👈

Isaac:

When it seemed to Isaac that the Farmer couldn't have been any more annoying, they brought him that damn fruit. And offered it to him. Of all the fruit - why couldn't they at least bring regular apples or pears! - they chose this goddamn fruit that smells like shit a mile away. He's had enough of the "exotics" at the Castle Village markets. He doesn't want to try the durian, and to avoid arguing with the Farmer (because it's pointless, they won't get off his back) he quickly teleports home to Castle Village. Fuck you, and fuck your fruit.

Jadu:

Hmm? Sorry, Jadu was busy reading manuscripts and scrolls. Did the Farmer want somethi- Oh, spirits have mercy, what is that smell?! Jadu had tears in his eyes at the pungent stench. Wait, he knows what it is... durian, isn't it? No, don't even think about it, he doesn't want to be a part of the prank, he'll get in trouble, and anyway- Wait, why are they cutting up the fruit? Oh, the Farmer's just giving him a treat? Ahem, thank you. He's just getting hungry after a hard day's work, and a healthy sweet that tastes like ice cream is just what he needs.

Camilla:

Camilla is an all-powerful witch, talented, capricious, and with high standards - if she wants something, she'll get it (either someone will give it to her or she'll take it herself) whether it's the rarest artifact or an unusual delicacy. So it's no surprise that on the menu of the first witch of the Castle Village, she has durian ice cream for dessert. Unbearable odor? Oh dear, Camilla is a witch: a snap of the fingers and the raw fruit is replaced by a beautiful crystal dessert bowl filled with durian pulp and other sweets. C'mon, open your mouth and taste it. Good, isn't it? ;)

Alesia:

"And I thought that only the old man had a strange taste", Alesia thought with amusement about her one-eyed teacher, gratefully accepting the durian pulp as a gift from the Farmer. She remembered that even when the market stalls in the Castle Village were bursting with exotic fruits, Alesia didn't pay attention, eating modestly (her usual diet included everything she needed for her health). But variety is also good for her (thanks to the Farmer for giving her processed fruit instead of raw fruit with the infamous stench), so the sniper wouldn't refuse a tasty source of vitamins and potassium. Thanks again, friend in arms!