#nanowrimo story

[little-hermit-crab56]

I've been writing for a while so I thought I'd share some writing tips I've learned along the way.

1. Never sacrifice the flow for a quirky line.

That bit of dialogue or flowery paragraph you really like but it kinda disrupts the flow? Scrap it. I know it hurts, but you need to. If you really want to keep it, find somewhere else to put it where it actually fits in.

2. Dialogue is a dance.

Dialogue should go at the pace of an actual conversation, back and forth with little breaks and pauses. Add as little dialogue tags as possible while still making it clear who is speaking. You can also describe what is happening during a pause in the conversation rather than saying they paused, unless the pause is important.

3. Show don't tell is a guideline, not a rule.

Show don't tell is a very useful guideline, but if you're ALWAYS showing it can get exhausting to read. Skip the boring bits and just tell us what happened, then we can get to the good stuff.

4. If it's boring to write, it's probably boring to read.

If you can cut out a whole scene with little consequence to the story, you probably should. As I said before, you don't always have to show us, you can always tell us.

5. Everything needs to have a purpose.

I know there are probably lots of interesting or cute scenes where your characters are just fucking around, but if it doesn't develop character, relations, conflict, or plot, why should we care? Definitely still write them if they make you happy, but if you're gonna add it to your final draft, make sure it matters.

6. You don't need to explain everything all at once.

I know it feels tempting to put all the lore, and all the character's intentions, and reasonings into the first few chapters, but please refrain, you can reserve that for your character and worldbuilding sheets. Instead, take the time to let us get to know the characters, and the world, in the same way we'd get to know a real person. Make your exposition as seamless and natural as possible. It will take practice to know when to reveal information and when to let us wonder, but you'll get there.

7. Write in a way that comes naturally.

I know you probably have an author you wanna write just like, but that is unlikely to happen. Embrace your natural writing style and perfect it, rather than trying to be something you're not. Writing is an art, you need to find your own style and polish it as best you can.

8. Try to make us feel connected by cutting out certain words like "felt".

"Chad felt like a glass of water." Can be replaced with, "Chad was thirsty, so he reached for a glass of water." Both sentences tell us Chad wants a glass of water, but one makes us feel more connected to Chad than the other. Though both sentences have their time and place, you want to make your audience feel as close to their protagonist as possible. Make them feel like they're there, rather than just an onlooker.

9. We don't need to know every physical detail of your character.

I know you probably spent ages creating the perfect characters and you want to give us the perfect image of what they look like, but it can get monotonous and boring, why do we care that your character has brown eyes unless the colour has some sort of significance? Try to list off only the most notable features of your character and put focus only on the relevant details. Sometimes you can even not describe them at all and throw in little bits of information about their appearance for the audience to put together. We read to imagine, not to have a perfect image painted for us when we could be getting to the plot.

10. You're allowed to be vague.

Allow your audience to assume things, with some things you can just be lazy and let your audience's imagination do the work for you. Of course, don't do this with important things, but you can save so much time you might've spent researching an irrelevant topic when you can just be vague about it. You don't have to know everything you're writing about, so long as you know the bits that matter.

11. Writing is a skill that takes practice.

Don't be so hard on yourself if your writing is a bit cringe, we've all been there. The important part is that you research how to get better and keep writing those super cringe chapters. One day you'll reread something from a while ago and realize you're actually not as bad as you thought.

12. Leave your work to rest.

I know you wanna start editing right away, but once you've finished, leave it for at least a month. The longer you leave it the better, but that depends on your attention span. A month to six months is good if you're really impatient but want a good result. If you keep writing in that time your skills will continue to improve, then you'll be editing that draft with fresh eyes and fresh skills.

And if you're a fanfic author, I usually leave my chapters for a week before editing and posting.

Hope this helps anyone struggling, I thought this might be especially relevant now with nanowrimo.

I recently realized how much knowledge I've been accumulating over the years, I definitely have more but this is all I can think of for now.

I'm no writing guru, but if anyone has anything they're struggling with, I can do my best to help you out, so dont hesitate to ask questions.

[hezzabeth]

There was someone singing in the greenhouse, someone with a pitch-perfect deep voice. Revati closed her eyes, pressing her ear against the glass door.

In a field where the paper daisies grow,

Underneath the sun's harsh glow,

I wander through, light and free.

Paper daisies, pink and white,

Your petals so bright.

I sing to you as the world beyond burns.

The smoke coils in the sky far above,

But your petals still dance around me.

Don’t be afraid; soon the rains will come.

Everything lost will grow again.

Paper daisies, pink and white,

Your petals so bright.

I sing to you as the world beyond burns.

The stars begin to rise,

My hands scooping your seeds.

Soon you will take flight

Towards the soft moonlight.

There was an old, prop piano in the abandoned Holly Bush Tavern. The only person who could play it properly was Mr. Gupta. During holiday festivals, he would coax melodies out of the sticky keys while Mrs. Gupta sang in a nasal voice. This was different. The singer’s voice filled Revati in a place she didn’t know was empty. The singing stopped abruptly as Revati’s weight caused the door to creak. Of course, the door creaked. The greenhouse was a wobbling claptrap box made out of welded-together old windows. Miss Grassroots, a tourist who had been dead for almost six years, had built it. Inside lay the heart of Baker Street. The heart had begun as a rose garden. Nanni was the one who began picking up the fallen red petals, drying them, and turning them into tea.

Revati only had vague memories of the first day of the invasion. Mrs. Grasston and Dusk had invaded the kitchens and gift shops. Together they managed to pool together seeds and cuttings in order to grow a small food supply. There was a wall of tomato vines, grown from several seeds found in old slices left in the bin. There were the garden beds where the potatoes and carrots grew. In fact, the potatoes were what kept Baker Street from starving to death. Next to one of the largest windows, the herb and weed boxes grew. Revati’s father was the one who ripped open gourmet tea bags in their home, discovering dried seeds inside. Bridgadeiro Bun was sitting under the lemon tree. “You’re a pretty good singer,” Revati said gruffly. “I was just trying to cheer up Deshia; she’s been feeling a bit depressed lately,” Bridgadeiro said, patting the tree's trunk. “Who’s Deshia?” Revati asked, faintly confused. “The lemon tree, of course! She said nobody's chatted with her for years,” Bridgadeiro said. Suddenly, the tree shook its branches, causing a fresh lemon to fall into Bridgadeiro’s lap. “Thank you for the gift, sweetheart,” Bridgadeiro said, patting the tree again. Revati stared at the lemon tree, not quite sure what to think. Could a tree really be depressed? It would explain why the lemons were so withered and small.

“All Buns speak plant; it's the same gene that causes our pink hair," he said. Revati glanced around, her eyes briefly falling on the giant pumpkin vine near the door.

"Are the plants talking right now?" Revati asked curiously.

"Most of them fell asleep hours ago. When they were awake, they just kept jabbering on about a golden lady," Bridgadeiro remarked.

"So, the lemon tree is depressed? I could get Aurora to come in here and read to her," Revati conceded.

"It's more than that. She misses the lady who planted her; she doesn't understand why she vanished and never came back," Bridgadeiro remarked. Revati found her hands stroking the book of fairy tales nervously.

"If she's talking about Mrs. Grassroots, she died," Revati replied flatly. Six years ago. Six years ago, there were over a hundred tourists living on Baker Street. Nanni, who had spent years living with mother, insisted on moving into an abandoned hat shop near the edge of the park.

The day the tornado hit was the same day Nanni decided to tell Revati all about her family history.

"I always carry the death stone in my handbag, along with everything else I'd ever need in an invasion," Nanni pointed out. Technically that was true; Nanni's giant handbag was filled with almost anything.

Outside, Revati could hear her father trying to roll down metal shutters. There was the sudden horrible roar, and Nanni's wall exploded in a cloud of rubble.

"A lot of people died," Revati finished, her voice trailing off. First came the tornado that caused a gap in the mirror walls. Then the trickle of automatic vegetable cleaners who decided to exploit the crack. Finally, the battle on Mansfield Park between the cleaners and a group of tourists.

"The lady that planted this tree was actually a member of the Lost Princess rebel army; she convinced a bunch of tourists to fight with her," Revati remarked, shaking her head. Then she firmly opened the book of fairy tales.

"It looks like some people survived," Bridgadeiro replied.

"I don't want to talk about it; I just want to read! Here, you can read with me; you might like this story," Revati replied.

Once long ago, in a lost village near the foot of Mount Raya, there lived a special little girl. She was known for her kindness and her deep love for nature. Everyone in the village called her Naisha. Naisha had a special gift; she could talk to plants. The villagers often saw her whispering to the flowers; they adored her magical gift.

One day, Naisha learned about a legendary tree called the Kalpavriksha. The old ladies in the village whispered that it had the ability to grant any wish. Drought, fearsome and terrible, had swept through the land. Flowers withered, no longer able to whisper. Trees forgot their songs. Naisha decided she must seek out the tree and wish for one thing alone: rain.

"Wake up," a voice screeched, and Revati's eyes snapped open, the book of fairy tales tumbling onto the ground. Aurora was standing above her, the bright morning sunlight making her hair glow.

"Morning," Revati yawned and then jumped when she realized Bridgadeiro was asleep next to her.

Bridgadeiro slowly awoke, smacking his lips together.

"Juniper said you were in here; she never mentioned the boy," Aurora remarked coldly as Revati slowly stood up.

"Anna made him sleep in here; I must have passed out while reading," Revati said.

It was then that Revati realized Aurora was holding a tray filled with fresh strawberries.

"Hmph," Aurora said, shooting Bridgadeiro a suspicious look as he also stood up, patting the tree trunk.

"Let me guess, Queen Victoria sent these with an apology?" Revati asked.

"Yes, and a request to fill her vodka order," Aurora said, placing the tray on the ground.

"If she was really sorry, she'd give us a strawberry plant," Revati pointed out.

"Oh, you don't need one of those! You have the fruit," Bridgadeiro remarked.

"You can't just shove a strawberry in the ground and hope for the best; it rots," Revati replied. Bridgadeiro merely leaned down, examining the strawberries. After a few moments of careful examination, he picked up the biggest, brightest berry.

"You can; you just need the right formula," he said. He vaguely walked towards one of the empty garden beds that was going to be turned into an onion patch. Carefully, he dug a small hole and placed the strawberry inside before covering it in earth. Then, he reached into his massive jumpsuit pocket and this time pulled out a small vial of portable perfume.

"One pump should do it," Bridgadeiro remarked before pumping a cloud of perfume onto the soil. The earth began to twitch and vibrate, and Revati gasped as greenery sprouted from the soil. The plants quivered and then twisted as white flowers bloomed. The petals then shriveled and fell off as the center of the flowers grew into green berries. A few seconds later, the berries blossomed into a deep red.

"They shouldn't be doing that! Strawberries take two weeks to grow," Aurora gasped.

"I suppose they would in the wild, but I just gave them a pump of my Gene Grow fusion serum!" Bridgadeiro said, leaning down to examine the strawberries.

"They should produce fruit every day, but only if you talk to them nicely," Bridgadeiro added as he picked a strawberry and handed it to Revati.

Revati sniffed it suspiciously before taking a tiny bite. It tasted just like a strawberry.

"Does that stuff work on all plants?" Revati asked curiously.

"It tends to go a bit haywire when you spray it on legumes; you end up with giant beans that have no nutrients," Bridgadeiro said.

"I saved your life; think it's only fair you spray all the plants in here," Revati said firmly.

"It would be better if I planted their seeds outside and created new crops; otherwise, the rapidly growing plants could burst outside the walls," Bridgadeiro replied. Revati nodded crisply.

"I'll be sending someone to check on your efforts later today; I'll be far too busy working," Revati replied with as much dignity as she could muster in a sleep shirt before marching out of the greenhouse. The book of fairy tales lay abandoned on the ground.

Revati carefully changed into her work uniform. When she was a child, her wardrobe consisted of souvenir t-shirts from the gift shop fashioned into dresses. Now that she was almost an adult, Revati had to get creative.

Most of the gift shop sweatshirts had been swiped long ago. Instead, Revati put on the top half of the cafe's old uniform. It consisted of a magenta and purple striped waistcoat with a navy blue blouse covered in tiny clocks. The bottom half should have been a matching bustle skirt. Revati switched it with the men's purple trousers. Revati then carefully redid her braid and applied some more soot lipstick. Aurora, still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, was waiting for her in the kitchen.

"You're wearing your second best outfit," Aurora remarked.

"I suppose I am," Revati replied as she grabbed her coat.

"I thought you said you were done with romance after that whole mess with Little Hardi last summer," Aurora said, and Revati stopped walking.

"I am!" she protested, and Aurora pressed her thin lips into a disapproving frown.

"You were sleeping with him."

"God forbid I fall asleep next to another human being," Revati said as she marched through the cafe past Nanni, who was sewing something.

"You kept him! You gave him a job," Aurora added knowingly.

"I didn't keep him! He's not a feral child; he can leave whenever he wants," Revati snapped as they stepped outside, and she put on her sunglasses. Olde Landon was always at its worst in the morning. Like all major tourist attractions and cities, Old Landon had an atmospheric blanket high above the park's surface. It meant that nobody in the park froze to death at night, but it also meant the morning light was far too bright.

"Is that Little Hardi and Queen Victoria standing next to the fountain?" Revati sighed wearily.

"They both arrived at sunrise; I told them you were busy, so your mother made them breakfast," Aurora remarked.

"Sunrise; of course, they sacrificed sleep so they could get here first," Revati remarked, marching towards the two other leaders. Queen Victoria was wearing one of the park's costumes, a stained white lace wedding dress. Little Hardi, on the other hand, was wearing a deep blue doublet with a ruff collar and matching tights.

"Little Hardi, is your brother still unconscious?" Revati greeted him.

"We took a vote last night, and he played Macduff," Little Hardi replied.

Revati, who knew fully well what that meant, had to stop herself from flinching.

"You killed him? That's a little harsh," Revati pointed out.

"It was for the best; we need a strong leader during a time of invasion," Little Hardi remarked practically.

"Time of invasion? Isn't that a little dramatic?" Revati had to ask.

"There must be another crack in the wall; thank Jane, it's probably not too big! You two would be far too young to remember the vegetable cleaner invasion," remarked Queen Victoria.

"I was twelve," Revati said dryly.

"I was fourteen; the tornado destroyed the Hamlet's haunted castle ride, and the appliances killed the actor playing Ophelia," Little Hardi pointed out.

"You're both still tiny children as far as I'm concerned; I can't believe this is who I have to work with," Queen Victoria replied, and Revati brushed past her with annoyance, heading to the dress shop across the street.

The shelves of the dress shop had long ago been stripped bare. All that remained were the three Penny Farthing Bicycles that had been part of the shop's window display. Revati wheeled her Penny Farthing outside only to see Queen Victoria having a heated discussion with Aurora.

"What do you mean she's going to ride to the wall by herself? All representatives from all towns should go!" Queen Victoria was screeching, slapping Aurora's shoulder with her fan.

Revati parked her bicycle and marched towards Queen Victoria, grabbing her hand.

"Slap my assistant again, and I'll break your fingers; you know I can do it," Revati growled.

Little Hardi, who was now sitting by the fountain, laughed.

"I was just speaking the truth! We have a treaty; during times of crisis, we unify," Queen Victoria said, her voice tight and a little frightened.

"I don't see Lady Morganna here," Revati pointed out, referring to the ruler of Medieval faire.

"You know perfectly well Medieval faire cut us all off after the tornado hit! They probably all died off years ago," Queen Victoria snapped back. Queen Victoria was right. Medieval faire was located in the center of a massive fake castle complete with a drawbridge. After the invasion, Lady Morganna had yanked up the bridge and refused to speak to anyone. Anna and Nanni had tried to visit several times with baskets of dried lemons. They were horrified when someone from above threw the contents of their toilets onto the streets.

"My new friend said he saw naked people in the wilderness dancing around a murdered television! Sounds like Lady Morganna to me," Revati merely replied, pointing to Bridgadeiro. Bridgadeiro, who was in the middle of taking several pumpkins out of the greenhouse, waved.

"Could be a coincidence; regardless, you are not going to the wall! We need to have a proper group committee meeting first! Then a vote," Queen Victoria's.

Revati just rolled her eyes and released Queen Victoria's hand, causing her to stumble and fall onto the floor. Revati then reached into her jacket, pulling out her stun gun, shoving it into the queen's stomach. The Queen made a faint whimpering sound as her eyes rolled backward, and she collapsed again. Revati then aimed the gun at Little Hardi, who held his hands up, protesting.

"I'm not going to stop you! I came here to propose marriage," Little Hardi insisted.

"Marriage? To me?" Revati asked dubiously.

"All kings need a consort, and I'm not interested in Big Hardi's husband," Little Hardi said, slowly getting down on one knee.

Revati stared at him and shook her head.

"I'm seventeen," Revati pointed out.

"Well, the wedding wouldn't be for another couple of years," Little Hardi replied.

"I thought we agreed to keep our relationship professional after the handkerchief incident," Revati pointed out, and Little Hardi held a hand to his heart.

"I told you dozens of times I had nothing to do with my brother's plot," Little Hardi insisted.

"He accused me of cheating on you using an old prop handkerchief as evidence, and you believed him despite it being the exact same plot of the play Othello," Revati pointed out. The entire incident occurred over a year ago and ended with Revati kidnapped and tied up on the stage in a white fluffy nightgown.

"I'm a very insecure person," Little Hardi pleaded. Dating while trapped in a fun park during the apocalypse was difficult. Before the feral children came along, Revati was the youngest person on Baker Street. All the teenagers in Whistleton were raised to be incredibly prissy. Most of them refused to do anything more than dance or hold hands. Little Hardi had been a fun, age-appropriate choice. Little Hardi was happy to do far more than hold hands.

"No," Revati said firmly.

"No? Really?" he asked, sounding faintly surprised.

"First of all, your legal system involves killing criminals on stage in the middle of plays, which is horrifying," Revati pointed out, and Little Hardi shrugged.

"Secondly, I'm not an idiot! You just want to marry me so you can take over our greenhouse," Revati pointed out, and Little Hardi gasped as if looking deeply insulted.

"That's not true! If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damasked, red and white, but no such roses see I in her cheeks," Little Hardi pleaded as Revati climbed onto the penny farthing.

[novlr]

Cut out the boring bits

If you are bored when writing a scene, then chances are, that scene will be boring for readers.

If you find yourself bored, take a step back and analyse why. How can you improve it, and if you can’t, is it necessary for your plot?

[rightwriter]

Indigenous Storytelling

A lot of the stuff I've posted so far is pretty white western-centric views of telling stories. The whole article is very informative! An excerpt: "Many of the main characters in Plains Indian mythology never end. Not only are they immortal and indestructible—where they may be killed in one story and are right back at it in another—they also age with the listener. Coyote stories for children have childlike morals; for teens Coyote is a much rougher character; and, for elders only, grandpa Coyote is smart, and his stories are deep and filled with complicated plots and plans."

[yesornopolls]

did you know that nanowrimo is basically allowing ai to be used in their events?????

[novella-november]

today's countdown: 11 days 23 hours til Ominous October (see my pinned post), and 42 days, 23 hours til Novella November!

[slowandsteddie]

Steve, so softly: “Eddie?”

Eddie, just as soft: “yes, my love?”

Steve, closing his eyes: “just… don’t break my heart, okay? I don’t think I’d be able to recover if it were you to do it. I’ve had my heart broken so many times, but I’m confident that you could shatter my life irreparably.”

Eddie, leaning in and kissing Steve’s forehead before gently wiping a stray tear away with his thumb: “Babydoll, I wasn’t kidding when I told you that I am yours forever.”

Steve, looking up at Eddie, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s crying: “that’s all I’m asking for.”

[snailtaco]

A story never told.

(Explanation under cut)

In English, my teacher made us participate in NaNoWriMo where we write for the whole month. Of course the rules were more lax (we only had to get to 11,000 rather than 50,000), but we still had to plan and write an entire story (or beginning of one in my case).

If you couldn’t guess from the image above, I basically made a glorified fanfic oops (note: this will never see the light of day.)

The main story plot line (at least the beginning) is based off of "in this game, no, you're not the only target" by gin (tabanthas) (great fic would recommend!) but with a worst case scenario cuz I'm a sucker for trauma bonding (i hope thats not weird, i just like my favorite characters suffering)

I did have to change names as to not raise suspicion from my teacher and alter some basic features, but ultimately I got to just shuck a whole bunch a head cannons on these poor boys.

Left is the reference to the boys. The right is just the top image without shadows cuz I'm indecisive.

Sorry for making this lil rant so long I never get to talk about this unfinished story and I really wanted to recommend another :)

[nanowrimo]

How to Choose the Right Story Idea

Every year, we’re lucky to have great sponsors for our nonprofit events. Scrivener, a 2023 NaNoWriMo sponsor, is an award-winning writing app containing all the tools you need to get writing and keep writing. They’ve teamed up with S J Watson, bestselling author of Before I Go To Sleep, to get some tips on deciding if your story idea is a good one. 

If you’re writing fiction, the thing that must come first is the idea. Without that we have nothing. But what are ideas; how do we get them; and crucially, how can we choose which ones are good enough to sustain a long piece of fiction? 

These are big questions, so let’s consider them here. 

What is an Idea?

I came across two interesting dictionary definitions of what an idea is:

Something such as a thought or conception that is the product of mental activity; and

A sense that something can happen, a notion or expectation.

The seeds of ideas are everywhere. Everything we see, hear, read or watch can spark a thought, and we need to remain alert to those sparks, as some might become useful ideas. But being alert is not enough. Rarely do ideas arrive fully formed. Usually we have to actively work on promising nuggets in order to turn them into gold. We can’t just sit around and wait for the lightning bolt to strike.

Instead, get used to actively, and playfully, interrogating your daily musings. Ask yourself questions. ‘I wonder what would happen if…’ or, ‘Why did that person just..?’ etc. Don’t censor yourself. Let your mind take you to wild and fanciful places. You can always reign it back in later. Fill your notebook.

Choosing an idea to work on

Not all ideas are created equal. So how do we choose? Look at the second definition above. Some ideas seem exciting at first but they’re limited. It’s hard to see how they can lead to interesting characters and high-stakes conflict. Others invite you into a world brimming with possibilities. They seem to open doors. These are the ones to work on.

The best, most fertile ideas, are magnetic. They grow by attracting other ideas to them. You’ll notice connections, and find yourself asking ‘What if..?’ and ‘I wonder why..?’ more and more. When this happens, you know you’re on to something, but at this point it can still help to ask yourself some questions.

First, which ideas excite you?  Are there any that you can’t quite believe no one else has written? If so, go for it! If not, then perhaps proceed more cautiously. Don’t reject them outright, necessarily. Maybe you just need an extra ingredient or two. Give it time and wait until you do get that glimmer of excitement. 

Next, can you see a protagonist with a goal and obstacles that stand in their way? If not, maybe you have an idea for a situation, but not an actual novel. ‘What if a totalitarian regime came to power?’ is not an idea for a story, but ‘What if two people fall in love in a world governed by a regime that has outlawed romantic attachment?’ is. Again, keep going, stir the pot until you can come up with characters and conflict.

Also ask, are the stakes high enough to maintain a reader’s interest, and if not can they be raised? Are their problems, if not universal, then at least relatable? A professor searching for the key to immortality is one thing, but a professor searching for the key to immortality because his wife is dying is suddenly something else. Keep going until you feel that tug of universality. 

Finally, does your idea seem original?  This is important, but beware! Almost everything has been done before, the key is how you combine ideas and what you do with them. Don’t reject every idea that is reminiscent of something else, but instead look for how you’re going to make it your own. 

In short, daydream, be playful with your thoughts and observations, and sooner or later something will come along that seems on fire with possibility. Congratulations! Now the hard work starts…

SJ Watson is author of Before I Go To Sleep, which was turned into a film starring Nicole Kidman. He has since published two further psychological thrillers, Second Life and Final Cut, and has set up The Writers’ Lodge, which aims to help and support writers at every stage of their creative writing journey. S J Watson recently launched a public novel writing project called The Experiment. He writes using Scrivener.

All NaNoWriMo participants receive 20% off Scrivener for macOS and Windows from now until December 7, 2023, with the code NANOWRIMO23 .

Top photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash.

[projecttreehouse]

self editing tips (first pass)

you want your work to be awesome. i want your work to be awesome. i would love to help you make your work awesome. but sometimes, the first step is doing an initial pass over your draft before passing it off to """""professionals""""" like us. so here are some tips to get that party started...

print your book. you can print it out onto a bunch of sheets of paper and staple them together, or, if you don't mind spending $9 or so, you can get barnes and noble to print it into an actual novel for you! i highly recommend the latter. it helps you view your work as an actual book, not a mess of computer words.

set up the atmosphere. put on some nice ambient music, get yourself a nice coffee or tea or whatever drink you like, light a candle! make your editing workspace feel awesome.

don't change anything during your first pass. this is part of why i recommend printing it! i just want you to take notes, baby. highlight things in different colors if you want. jot down notes if you want. use transparent sticky notes, annotate onto the page, whatever your vibe is. but don't actually change anything right now.

compliment sandwich. after every editing session, write down one thing you think is working from what you read in that session, one thing you want to change or improve, and one more thing you're happy with.

keep a growth mindset, not a fixed mindset. this isn't a bad version that isn't up to your standards and is therefore hopeless. this is a moving part of your book's journey! this is step one. you can't get to step two without acknowledging the value of step one and thanking it for its time.

give yourself breaks to read, listen to music, or watch something with similar vibes to what you're going for. for me, this looks like reading books in the genre i'm writing in, watching shows with characters i really love, listening to music that fits the vibe, or reading poetry about the emotions relevant to my work.

log your progress. maybe write a checklist of every section/chapter so you can check parts off as you finish your first pass. this helps you feel productive, like you're really Doing Something even if you only edited six pages.

second pass tips coming soon! for now, happy writing, and please feel free to send us messages if you have any questions :)

[yujo-nishimura]

The Escape - Working title

Warning: A little bit of angst and sadness, female reader, One Piece based storyline mixed with my own weird creativity. This will be my personal Nanowrimo project I want to share with all of you. Hope you can enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing.

Content notes: Small buggy turning into big Buggy later during the story, love, romance, female reader who will experience a strong character development, SFW for now, might add NSFW later.

Word count: 778

You had felt tired and hopeless for a while now. The once captivating sunsets had lost their enchanting glow, and the islands you encountered appeared indistinguishable from one another, as if you were trapped in a recurring loop. Nobody in the crew had realized how you felt, but there was no one to talk to anyway - everyone had their own dreams and goals, their hopes and their desires.

Surrounded by individuals brimming with enthusiasm, their eyes shining with purpose and ambitions, you couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness within yourself. Unlike those driven pirates who embarked on their journeys to fulfill their dreams, you found yourself adrift without any grand aspirations to chase. Gold? Fame? Wealth? Power? Nothing seemed appealing to you.

One day, under the silvery glow of a full moon, a decision took hold within you. The ship belonging to the Snowland pirates, to which you had reluctantly become a part, had worn on your patience for far too long. The crew showed little interest in forging genuine connections, the laborious tasks assigned to you felt utterly purposeless. It had become abundantly clear that this was not where you belonged.

You had stumbled upon this crew while seeking refuge on the wintry shores of the island called Klaki, your own vessel in need of repair. The charismatic captain of the Snowland pirates had enticed you with promises of camaraderie and acceptance, and initially, you had felt a glimmer of hope as you seamlessly integrated into their ranks. But as the weeks turned into months, the allure had faded into disillusionment.

Now, a full year had passed, and the once captivating glamour had completely faded away. All you desired was to escape this stifling environment as swiftly as possible. You untied one of the smaller lifeboats while everyone was asleep after a full night of partying and alcohol - you chose to escape during full moon, knowing the danger of the light giving away your escape. But it was seldom that everyone was so drunk that they wouldn't realize a missing crew member. You had packed your bag and took a deep breath as you finally started rowing into the night and into freedom and liberation.

As consciousness returned, you were greeted by an overwhelming sensation of thirst. Your dry throat pleaded for relief, while a throbbing ache pulsed through your head. The wet fabric of your clothes clung stubbornly to your skin, as if fused together, and even your hair felt matted and sticky. The scorching rays of the sun beat down upon your scalp, intensifying the discomfort.

Blinking repeatedly, you struggled to focus your weary eyes, attempting to find out about your surroundings and piece together the events that had led you to this disorienting state. Your boat is gone. So was your bag and your shoes. You were laying on the shore, with your face and your belly in the sand, the pain from your head reaching down to your arms and legs. The realization washed over you like a crashing wave - you had become the aftermath of a shipwreck.

"What is this?"

"Rather - who is this? I can clearly see she is a girl and not a thing!"

"Maybe she is a pirate. Then she is dangerous and we should not touch her!"

"Hahaha! I am a pirate myself, dear friend, I do not fear anybody, especially not a small hurt girl like her."

"Is she maybe.. dead?"

With all your might you force yourself to look up, ignoring the pain in your neck, trying to figure out who the voices belong to, which seem to talk about you and your desolated condition.

As your gaze lifted, you beheld the peculiar sight of two small, otherworldly creatures. One stood before you—a man with disproportionately short arms and legs. His moss-green hair framed a face adorned with dark eyes and a beard. Strangely, his body seemed to meld seamlessly with a wooden treasure box. He had no torso, but was stuck in a box.

Beside the moss-haired man, another diminutive figure emerged—a clown who appeared similarly downsized, with short arms and feet attached directly to his neck. Adorned with a hat unmistakably bearing the emblem of the notorious Buggy pirates, this peculiar duo stood before you, their appearances both strange and comical.

The moss-haired man offered a warm smile, his eyes twinkling with an unspoken understanding. Meanwhile, the clown dwarf took a tentative step closer, his eyes reflecting a mix of caution and intrigue.

"Are you dead?" the box man asked.

"I wish I was!" you moan and let your head fall back into the warm sand.

[erithel]

I've been working on a novel for NaNoWriMo and I'm almost at the 50k mark, so here are some of the character concepts for the story.

[hezzabeth]

Revati knew, as she walked back to Baker Street, that once again she was on the edge of things.

Revati could barely remember the first edge she encountered, four years old and holding a balloon while drones flew above.

The second edge, seeing her father’s twitching hand under the rubble.

And now, Amma standing in the doorway with Dusk.

Her arms were folded, and she glared when she realized Camilo was with them.

"Hello, Camilo," Amma remarked.

"Sugafanna! I haven’t seen you since…" he began.

"Jay’s last birthday; you drank too much of your honeymede and threw up on the walls," Amma pointed out.

"Ah, yes," Camilo blushed with embarrassment.

"And I suppose you’re here to help Revati with this insanity?" Sugafana asked coldly.

"Is saving the ones we love really that insane?" Camilo asked Sugafana, who sighed, rolling her eyes.

"I’m going to the station now, Amma; where’s Nanni?" Revati asked.

"I’m right here, Dimpy," Nanni said from behind mother.

"Don’t die while I’m gone; you’ve lasted eighty years. You can last a little longer," Revati said firmly.

Nanni pulled her down, kissing her forehead, and then draped something around Revati’s neck.

It was her precious Kasithaali, a gold chain dotted with gold and coral beads.

In the center of the chain, there was a tiny golden idol, its features finely carved.

The Kasithaali was ancient, trailing far back to the first Sheik born on Mars.

The coral beads had been picked from a long-ago dead and abandoned Earth.

"Nanni, you know I can’t take this! Raiders will try to steal it," Revati pointed out.

"Hide it down the front of your clothes! You will need Lakshmi’s protection," Nanni said firmly.

"You will also need this," Amma replied, sliding off one of her bangles.

"Why are you both giving me wedding jewelry? I’m going on a rescue mission; I’m not getting married," Revati asked as Amma slid the bangle onto Revati’s wrist.

Amma tapped the bracelet four times, and it suddenly glowed a faint purple.

"DNA approved user confirmed, current balance nine thousand six hundred and eighty-three credits," the bracelet chimed.

"It’s not a bracelet; it’s my portable bank account! You’re not going to go out into the world with no funds," Amma said as Revati stared at the glowing numbers.

"Is this a lot of money?" She asked curiously.

"It’s enough. Now here’s everything else you asked for... including your sister's hairbrush," Amma asked, handing Revati a bag, and Revati nodded.

"Good, well, I best be off then," Revati said, and Amma nodded.

Revati realized it was probably time to say something else.

"I love you both," she added before reaching forward to embrace Amma.

Revati firmly believed in only hugging on her terms.

Still, Amma deserved it.

It took a moment to realize that Brigadeiro Bun was politely following her and Camilo.

"Why are you trailing behind me?" Revati had to ask.

"He's following you as well, as well as what I suspect is the android wearing a cloak," Brigadeiro pointed out.

"I need Camilo to help me at the train station," Revati replied as they reached the maze's entrance.

"I’m pretty sure I can turn the train on for one ride; I salvaged a power cell from the dragon," Camilo explained.

"Well, I’m following you because you’ll need my tent if you want to survive the elements," Brigadeiro replied.

"You got your tent back, then?" Revati asked as they entered the maze.

In the distance, Revati could hear someone giggle among the leaves.

"Yes, Isabeau found it in the lost property pile," Brigadeiro replied.

"And you’re going to give me your tent?" Revati asked.

"I’m going to share it with you; it’s a two-person tent! My ex and I were supposed to travel together, but we broke up," Brigadeiro said with a small shrug.

"You don’t seem that upset about it," Revati pointed out as they turned a corner.

The giggling was coming from two small children in medical dress fighting with sticks.

"I was; then I went out to find diamond roses for her, and everything else happened," Brigadeiro admitted.

"So you’re going to travel with me for an indefinite amount of time? Finding my sister plus take weeks or months," Revati said as they turned right.

"Or years; when appliances want to hide things, they stay hidden," Camilo pointed out.

"Well, I’ll stay with you until we reach a public teleportation station; then you can keep the tent," Brigadeiro said, and Revati shrugged.

"Fine, that’s a fair exchange for saving your life twice," she admitted.

The maze suddenly opened up onto the grand entrance of Olde Landon.

The ticket booths, in the shape of castle turrets, had long ago been abandoned.

The giant Elizabeth Twin statue was covered in gently glowing fungus.

Revati stared at them briefly.

One of the queens was in a grand solid carved ballgown.

The other in a neat suit and hat.

Both of them had lizard faces.

"We have the exact same statue on the South West Sydney Space station; apparently, the lizard faces allowed the queens to live for centuries," Brigadeiro remarked.

"That was just a myth; come on this way," Camilo replied.

The park bullet train ran from the park to Leeryasoar, the country's capital. Years ago, the station teemed with tourists. Feet would pound over the shiny tiles, the exact same gold and purple as the domed train. Creatrix vending machines were constantly humming next to the benches. Revati remembered Amma punching in several numbers to get Dityaa a bottle of mango lassi. There had been a stand in the center of the platform selling park maps and plastic magic wands. Pink and red roses grew in orderly bushes. Holographic signs floated on the walls, stating that all data cloud technology would stop working inside the park. Revati had dim memories of her father checking the news on his communications bracelet before they went inside. The signs had long ago been smashed to pieces and were now nothing more than broken screens. The Creatrix vending machines had been looted and were now filled with spiders. The roses all grew in wild tangles flowing over the garden beds.

"Wow; these roses have gone feral! They're singing about how much they wish they could prick people with their thorns," Brigadeiro remarked as Camilo approached the abandoned purple shuttle train with his tool belt.

"Are we far enough away from the wall?" Revati asked.

"We should be! All the vending machines were, so they led the attack during the invasion! The only thing that stopped them was the station's power supply getting cut off," Camilo said, gesturing about. Camilo was right; the station was dim and depressing under the grey Martian sunlight. Revati nodded and whisked the cloak off the figure. The maternity droid stared back at her. Camilo had taken the time to repaint its face. Its lips were a deep scarlet, its eyes bright cheerful green. Camilo had also replaced its broken legs with bulky steel ones he had spray-painted blue with cheerful flowers painted down the side. The belly door had been reattached and was now filled with a healthy white light.

"Hello, I am your custom-built Materno 4000 Deluxe prenatal droid! Would you like to grow a new baby or link to your pre-existing infant?" The android chirped in a flat metallic voice.

"Pre-existing infant," Revati said, and the Android's eyes fluttered.

"Your pre-existing infant is 218 months old, is this correct?" The android asked.

"Correct," Revati said, and the android blinked again.

"Your pre-existing infant is currently out of detection range; would you like to create a new infant?" The android asked.

"No! I want to talk to the lady who was using you as a microphone before," Revati said.

"You have to tell it to open maternal communication! I turned the channel off," Camilo said from where he had managed to open the front panel of the train.

"Open maternal communication!" Brigadeiro said eagerly.

The android's eyes fluttered shut once again. There was nothing.

"I don't think we're far enough away from the wall," Revati sighed.

But then the humming began. A faint, child-like humming came from behind the Android's lips.

"Whispers in the motherboard, a haunting tune,

A phantom dancing in the light of a digital moon," Brigadeiro sang along, and Revati shot him a confused look.

"It's humming Circuit whispers! From the hit musical 'The Android of Music,'" Brigadeiro explained.

"I've never heard of it," Revati confessed.

"You've never heard of 'The Android of Music'? Praise group! Once you've rescued your sister, I'll have to take you! Everyone needs to hear 'The Android of Music,'" Brigadeiro said firmly. Before Revati had a chance to reply, the android's eyes snapped open again.

"Thank Krishna! Finally, a decent signal; it's been eighteen years," the android exclaimed in an incredibly annoyed upper-class woman's voice. The Android reached clumsily toward Revati, snatching her bag. Then it reached inside, pulling out Dityaa's hairbrush. The belly door swung open, and the Android shoved the hairbrush inside.

"Did it just do what I think it just did?" Brigadeiro grimaced.

"How else do you expect me to trace my daughter's DNA?" The Android asked, and then her belly glowed green.

"Right, the last recording of her DNA imprint was in New Singapore six hours ago! Let's go find my baby," the android said firmly and cheered as the train burst back into life.

[sincerely-sofie]

The end of an era.

[theverumproject]

I have succeed again!

This is the third time that I did this!

I reached my goal of 10k and still have nine days to spare!

Fun fact: The part that I am currently writing is over 4k words long. My longest part until now was 3.6 k I think. New highscore!

(For my WIP Verum II: The Robotic Era btw)