#thewrongwords

[thewrongwords]

New Writeblr

Hello. I’m pretty new to tumblr and the writeblr community, and thought it was about time to introduce myself. I’m predominantly a sci-fi writer; I study psychology, and I have been writing professionally since I was 15. I’m currently working as a social worker until I’m fully qualified as a psych. I love what I do, but I also see the best and worst of what people have to offer- I leave a lot of myself, what I think and how I feel at the door for work, so writing is really key for me in maintaining my sense of self.

I have two (and a half) books I’m currently exploring; here, I’ll mostly post drabbles I’ve written to better my writing skills, rather than large text extracts. I’d love to hear about other peoples’ writing (I love to read), and I’d also love to hear about what you enjoy about writing! :) If you’re a writeblr, reblog or pop a like on so I can see your amazing writing!

[julianscorpio]

"THE WRONG WORDS" Get the print on Zazzle, Society6, and Indiewalls. See link in Bio or Visit: the8thhouse-art.com https://society6.com/juliantgardea https://www.zazzle.com/store/j_t_g_art_gallery #thewrongwords #wrongwords #art #painting #paintings #painting🎨 #paintingsforsale #paintingsofinstagram #paintingprocess #artgalleries #artgallery #artshow #arts #artstudio #acrylicpaintings #acrylic #abstractart #abstractpainting #abstractexpressionism #expressionistart #expressionism #expression #expressionismart #expressionismo #expressionistpainting #expressionist #expressionismo #expressionismabstract #artist (at Albuquerque, New Mexico) https://www.instagram.com/p/CaijIf-rNYy/?utm_medium=tumblr

[anemptyvoidforall]

THE NOTIF SPAMMERS OFFICIAL MEMBER LOG

@the-perks-of-being-edgy @melancholy-starlight @thewrongwords @zarohk @im-p-short @writerray

[made-in-manetheren]

Find the Word Tag Game

Find the words your tagger gives you in your WIP and share the lines they were in!

Tagged by @hklunethewriter :D Thanks for tagging me in!

4 words for me to find...sense, beg, happy, and reason

...”A chemical anesthetic is not the only way. Mirari magic can shield your mind from the pain; you won’t feel a thing, I can promise you that.” Still, the man hung back, wary. “What’s the catch here—you let the pain hit me later if I don’t tell you what you want? This doesn’t—you’re not making sense.”

Mendelevi paused a moment before speaking, her breaths coming haggardly with the searing pain that was coursing through her body. Her wounds begged her to let the medic return, but she couldn’t risk anyone overhearing what she was about to say, and she still couldn’t cast even a simple muffling spell.

“Captain, this is too much to ask any Kiramean in good conscience. I’m happy to take any other duty but that, sir, please.” Urdahl sighed and slid his gun from its holster. “That’s a pity, Prewitt. You would have made a fine lieutenant in a year or two.”

For now, Jason needed to focus on dodging Volandi’s inevitable roadblocks. She’d had nothing on him when he’d been arrested. And it was the only reason he’d survived that nightmare. But she’d keep digging for leverage, and eventually, she’d find it.

I tag @scripturient-manipulator, @forlornraven, @thewrongwords, and @absinthianajones...if you feel like joining in :) and I give you 3 to find: point, weak, and warm! 

[blueberrypoptart]

Last Line Tag

I was tagged by @mezvii a little while ago and tottally forgot to do it! And I was recently tagged by @mental-multiverse thank you guys!

Growing up he was told everything happens for a reason, but what was the reason behind this? What was the reason behind leaving

I’m tagging @cat-connor @thewrongwords @dogwrites and @katelabo if you guys wanna do it/haven’t already been tagged!

[wrongwordsblog]

August

[guitarsandbongos]

#sirlordvonraven #theageofmachines official music video coming soon! #guitarsandbongosrecords #thetimeflys #gregashley #thegrisgris #thewrongwords #drunkhorse

[thewrongwords]

Character Development Tool / Game

Hello! I have been working on some character development tools and techniques to assist with my draft re-write (and also as procrastination so I’m not re-writing my draft, let’s be honest). Something I had an idea about is that all of the characters we write are sort of reflections of ourselves - things we love, hate, fear, desire, imagine. The idea has helped me draw out some more information about what really defines my characters and their behaviours, and I’d love for you to use it so I can get to know your characters and writing style better, too. So, my question to you is this: If you and your characters stood at a mirror, looking through but seeing only each other, what would you say? What would you thank each other for? What would your character curse you for? Would your character think you a god? A tyrant? 

My example for my WIP is below. @beatlesandbards @morriganwrites-0124 @whalesarefromspace would you like to have a go?

Adam has spent a lifetime mistrusting, a lifetime calculating for his survival. Perhaps he would not speak, would not trust himself to do so. I would not be a god, or a tyrant: I might be an equal, but ultimately, he would believe himself to be the master of his own fate. But – there are questions he would be confused about, things he wanted to ask. I would want to tell him that he was good in ways he could never understand, and that made me sad in ways that only he could. 

Adam would break the glass, and never once regret his silence.

Clara would make me wait, alone, watching the empty glass for days, if she could. I wonder if she knows how many secrets she has yet to tell me; a younger Clara might worry at the secrets I had left to tell her. Clara, now, neither knows nor cares for my words. To Clara, I would be a spectre, a ghostly judge whose words she long ago stopped hearing clearly, forestalling her askance of the one question she might have had. 

Clara drowns in whispers, and only stays long enough to see if any of them are mine.

Lark would rage against me, against all the agonies and injustices I had placed in the world. Perhaps I would explain that those agonies and injustices already existed, I just put them into words – somewhere where maybe they could do some good. Perhaps he would continue on his path to anger – or, perhaps, there would be silence. It would depend on the Lark I met – the one at the start, or the one journeying towards his end.

“I didn’t believe in you at first, you know,” I would say. “But I do now. I do now.”

Larisa would make me laugh.“I don’t know how you survived so long. I hardly even know where you came from!” I would insist, smiling and chiding us both in equal measure. Ever the cat that got the cream, she would smile, and perhaps agree that it was in fact her own intention that brought her into being.The conversation would flow, after that. Larisa would sit by the glass, cross-legged and smiling, as we talked. She would have the same questions as Lark, though he had not the temperance to be able to ask: the hows and the whys of the world she had been made in. Larisa would delight in having answers, even when she could not delight in the answers themselves.

Eventually, I would leave her, thinking it a pity that I had written her just to die.

Jason would have questions. Thousands, from the littlest thing to the largest. Shrewd, and more cunning than I, Jason’s questions would spring from an ingenuity that I am still in awe that he possesses. 

I would walk away long before Jason came to realise having all the answers wouldn’t change a damn thing, as his story has long been written. 

“Tell me how it ends.”

Eve has one command, and she repeats it: “Just tell me how it ends.”

[thewrongwords]

I will forget you because that is what we both deserve.

[thewrongwords]

Being Good

Perhaps as we get older, the definition of “being good” changes. When you are a child, you are “being good” if you follow the rules set out for you. As an adult, perhaps you are “being good” when the rules you set for yourself are kind and thoughtful.

[thewrongwords]

Telling yourself you can becomes more important, the more that it seems that you can’t.

[thewrongwords]

Small Wins

When I am in joy, I find the right words elusive. My need to write diminishes, cast downwards to slumber deeply inside my memories.

When I am in sorrow, my world fills with blank pages, choked with the need to write, but so burdened by doubt that such a feat becomes impossible, and words remain unwritten.

Some days, it seems a wonder I have ever written anything at all.

[thewrongwords]

Extract from an Unfinished Work

Hello. I’m relatively new to the writeblr community, however I notice some of you pop in short notes before your writing, and I thought I should do the same to explain some of my writing. I’m predominantly a sci-fi writer; I study psychology, however have a strong interest in other sciences, so I guess that makes sense. I’m mostly just writing here to prove to myself that I can, really. Maybe along the way I’ll find that other people have an interest in the stories I have to share.

I have two (and a half) books I’m currently exploring. The below is an extract from the first. 

“The human race has always walked the razors’ edge: between good and evil, light and dark, survival and extinction.

Or, perhaps, that’s just what we’d like to believe. After all, history is just what we’ve written- we set the stage, we wrote the scenes. We forgave our heroes, condemned our villains to a fate we convinced ourselves they deserved. 

And maybe they did. Or maybe we chose to see black and white, right and wrong, when there was nothing different between the two at all. Perhaps it is the design of all humans to choose this strange balancing act for themselves. To live their lives truly believing they know wrong from right.

Before us, humans had always walked their line alone. Perhaps that is why they fear us- they fear what we mean, what we say about their neat little lines. That is how the struggle for humanity begins: not for the race, but for the word. It begins with realising you have blood on your hands, and that you’ll do anything to keep from admitting your sins.”

[thewrongwords]

A Matter of Perspective

Writing exercise! I have been writing up blurbs for my book from the perspective of different characters. I can’t post them all here because that might ruin all my plot twists, but here are three from some of my main characters. They are somewhat vague, as all blurbs are, but introduce most of the important names and ideas from the book (Dragonskin). Also yes I know lots of the names in my text are drawn from history / mythology / pop culture - I’m shit at naming things so my solution was to take names from other places which add meaning to the text. E.g. Alexandros means “defender of man”, and Zion was the last human capital in the Matrix (but sort of not really).

***

EVE

For as long as memory serves, Dragonskin have fought an impossible battle: for freedom from themselves. Though granted fortitude far greater than that of other humans, Dragonskin are also cursed – living within each one the potential to emerge an all-consuming madness, born of fear and rage, capable of devouring all within its’ path.

Though divided, long having retreated behind their own walls, tensions between Dragonskin and humans are near breaking point. Though Clara, the reclusive leader of the Dragonskin, has refrained from out-right intervention in Brandings for decades, violent slaughters have begun to occur during the ceremonies. More Dragonskin are rumoured to be born to human parents by the year, causing Zion to be increasingly secured, and travel dangerous. It seems only a matter of time before the Dragonskin colony is uncovered, and Solis burns.

Eve couldn’t think of a worse time for a person to begin losing their mind. Dreams plague her, visions pull her from consciousness with increasing frequency. Already on the run, Eve knows her only chance at survival is to return home to the colony. But having spent two years living among the humans, “home” seems to have an empty ring to it that calls out too many questions.

LARK

For as long as memory serves, Dragonskin have dogged the footsteps of mankind, spreading their disease and spilling blood. More monster than man, inflicted with an illness which slowly corrodes their sanity, until the madness inside eats its way out. Early on, a Dragonskin might be contained, defeated, but whilst still wearing the faces of your loved ones, they are hard to find. Once fully taken by the disease, a Dragonskin – then a Draconian - becomes insatiable; a ravening hunger sets in, to spread their affliction, and lash out at those who most loved them.

The Branding is a mercy, then: to know you will be put to death, before you are lost. All citizens undertake it, by will or by force. Such is the sacrifice one must make: to save humanity, your own and others, some lives must be taken prematurely, or spent in the pursuit of a cure.

Lark’s branding has long since passed, the welt beneath his collarbone heaving silvered over years ago. So long has it been, Lark hardly notices the day it disappears entirely, melting back into his skin. With tensions between humans rising due to a rumoured increase in Dragonskin being found within long clean bloodlines, Lark couldn’t think of a worse time to suspect he might be becoming a monster.

ALEX

For as long as memory serves, the Sapius have served the people of Zion as the first and last shield against the Dragonskin plague. As healers, as hunters, as defenders of the weak and executioners of the damned. For longer still, Alexandros’ father, Nereus, has held Zion in an iron grip, squeezing every last drop of Dragonskin blood out – even that of Alex’s mother, and infant brother, so many years ago.

As a soldier, and as a son, Alex couldn’t think of a worse time for Nereus’ strength to be waning. The people whispered of Dragonskin within the walls of Zion itself, and outlying settlements being wiped out, Branding ceremonies forever stalled by ritualistic killings.  Draconians had begun to appear in ever greater numbers, tearing their way through the desert wastes and prowling Zion’s outskirts. Travel in and out of the human capital had all but dried up, leaving the Sapius useless behind Zion’s walls. Humanity was faced with a fight for its very survival, and from where Alex stood, was losing.

A Sapius soldier, and the son of a man regarded as a living god - and in less than half a heartbeat, Alex had managed to tear both legacies down.

[thewrongwords]

I fell in love with you

Before I learned

To love myself.

Perhaps that’s why it didn’t hurt

When you left

And all that remained

Was the familiar ache

Of loneliness

[thewrongwords]

I imagine the greatest fear of other people to be the clamoring of too many voices within their heads. Voices that cry out for change, with others fearful and rejecting of the new. A voice which pleads for reason, whilst another tempts with wild promise. A voice sinister and sly, insisting on to-the-death combat with the voice which loudly espouses your many virtues. Each demanding attention, and where your attention wanders, so too does the balance tip in that voices’ favour, but still not granting you a moment of peace.

The chief distinction for writers, then, must be our fear of those voices falling silent.