#yo-ho yo-ho a writer's life for me

[triflesandtea]

Weaving words, rainy mornings, long drives, Julie Fowlis, and film sets. A great start to the day indeed. 🌧🖤🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 Today, I'm working on "Merchant of Secrets"! 💚 What are you working on?

[astaraels]

Tensions between Mickey and Ian come to a head in a way neither of the boys expect.

[dreamingbrownie]

Rewrite your stories until they tell you the truth.

This quote from Cornelia Funke in a Zoom Q&A I had the honour to be part of last January has genuinely changed the way I write. For those of you outside the German-speaking countries; Cornelia Funke is one of Germany's most popular teenage- and young adult novel authors, her bibliography at this point eclipses that of some history professors of mine, and her books are what got me into writing 15 years ago. I'm 26 now, so like many of us in fandom spaces, I started very young, got around a lot on the internet, and had my fair share of creator burnout over the years. I also have ADHD, unmedicated for a lot of reasons I won't get into here, so the wip curse is strong in me. I currently have three big longfic wips in three different fandoms - Yuri on Ice, Fantastic Beasts and Merlin BBC - all of which are just lacking the ending. I have worked on all of those for more than a year and a half now. Up until a few days ago, I felt like What few still understand, my House of the Dragon Long Night do-over, would become one of them.

Being on tumblr for something upwards of eight years now (and having created a tumblr account for the sole reason to keep up with the Sherlock BBC Season 4 speculations ahead of the disastrous launch), I have seen a variation on the "we are authors, not creators, for fuck's sake stop capitalizing fandom" post every other week on here for years now. And as wholeheartedly as I agree with that statement, somehow I failed to internalize it. To make it true for myself, for my works, the time and effort I put into them. I don't know if university has made me a chronic perfectionist or the rejection sensitivity aspect of ADHD, either way, I have a high standard for my own work inside and outside of fandom, which isn't a bad thing persé but lately i have found myself dissatisfied with my works as I was writing them. Coming back to them a couple days afterwards usually shows me what sections really do work and what needs editing.

"Re-write your stories until they tell you the truth" - I was never a fan of thinking of a story as a first draft, as the sand you just build your castle out of the second or even third go-around. Writing long fanfictions takes enough time as is, and living with chronic pain especially in my arms, I probably should be writing less than I already am. But this time, with What few still understand, I really tried to follow that advice from one of the authors I admire most in the world: Why does this conversation between three characters feel off? Why do I keep working on it in the back of my head like nagging a loose tooth on the way to work, why does this scene feel wrong days after I have written it? Why did I keep procrastinating the finale? (Because I hate writing battles. That's why.) Now, recently I have been reading everything dear Cecil (@softest-punk) over in the Sandman fandom puts out, and one thing they said a while ago also really stuck with me: Fanfiction isn't the published book world (thank the stars), so we're all just playing doll together. We can have our cake and eat it too. And somehow, this clashes with my perfectionism despite that it resonates with me so much.

So, lately I have been trying to find the golden middle for myself. At which point am I satisfied enough with my writing that I can publish it online and be okay with the result, and what does it take to get to that point without obsessing over the details? How do I get rid of the demon of doubt on my shoulder making the pain worse because I spent too many hours on my laptop pouring over the Targaryen family dynamics in this fix-it world I accidentally created? Let's leave aside this volatile fandom making my anxiety over publishing worse; what I am hoping to achieve is to brighten some people's day. If I am yanking on their heartstrings in the process, promise there's always a happy ending waiting at the end of my stories. I just have to find that happy ending to my own creation process, and that is going to take time, I suppose.

[radiantlyrey]

just spent like an hour rereading some of my TRON fanfic

also went through the (pitifully small) TRON tag on my blog and found the original prompt fill I wrote for the story that eventually became my (STILL UNFINISHED) (SIGH) fic The Outpost. said prompt fill is TEN YEARS OLD?!?!? HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?!

also also one of my "finished" TRON stories is called "Safer", which is about Kevin taking Sam to the Grid the night of Clu's coup--and then sending Sam off with Tron when everything kicks off. I say "finished" because I have had an eye on expanding this story to a full-on fic and have written some sketchy type stuff to that effect.

and basically..... I just really like TRON?? it's so good and it really gets my creative juices flowing and I wish I was better about finishing my TRON stories, because I have So Many Ideas.... ugh. i love TRON so much.............

[writergirl2011]

HEY!! What did I do to get called out like this????

[cant-get-no-worse]

love finding them titles, hate writing the fic

[bluefrogsbestfrogs]

Research

So I was reading over the novelization of the first X-Men Movie to refresh myself on some details for upcoming chapters of Dimensions, and came across this gem:

He didn't move.

His attacker didn't move. Logan could feel the weight of whoever it was on his claws. And he heard the gasp of pain.

A familiar gasp.

His nightmare-fogged mind tried to wake up, remind himself where he was.

Suddenly his door burst open. Cyclops stood frozen there for an instant until Storm and Jean shoved past him, flipping on the light.

Logan was sitting upright in his bed. The claws from his right hand were still extended through Rogue's shoulder and out her back.

She was frozen on the end of his fist, standing beside his bed. He held her there, staring into her shocked eyes, not knowing if he should move or not.

What had he done?

Cyclops jumped to help, but Storm grabbed his arm.

"Don't touch her."

Rogue nodded, then smiled at Logan. "You were having a nightmare," she said her voice raspy.

"I know," Logan said.

Rogue eased one arm up slowly and gently touched his face, as if he were a long-lost lover and this would be the last time she would ever see him.

For a short moment her touch was light. Wonderful.

Then what felt like a blast of electric current shot through his body.

His claws instantly retracted, pulling through Rogue like a knife through butter.

Rogue staggered back, mouth open in a silent scream. Her eyes were wide with fear, with shock, with horror.

The electric charge stopped as suddenly as it had started, the moment her hand left the side of his face. Blackness threatened to swarm in from the sides of his mind and take him, but he shoved it back.

Rogue stood staring at him, with Cyclops, Storm, and Jean gathered around her but not touching her. And as they all watched, her wounds healed, leaving not even the slightest scar. She stood for a moment, a stunned look on her face. Then she bolted from the room.

His fuzzy mind wouldn't let him understand what had just hapened. He was just glad that she was ok.

Then he couldn't hold the blackness back any longer.

This time he didn't dream.

Okay. So let's talk about this.

The writing is just so...boring. It makes me so thankful for the world of fanfic writers out there who bust their butts to create stories, characters and worlds that are so much richer than what we got here. Seriously, way to go for attempting to fix this canon mistake.

What the hell? I mean. What the hell?! First, that's not what happens in the movie. Yeah, yeah, I hear you saying, "But BFBF, it's a novelization!" My response: It's a terrible one. The tension in the movie is so much better than what they wrote here, with one exception...

Rogue eased one arm up slowly and gently touched his face, as if he were a long-lost lover and this would be the last time she would ever see him. Excuse me?! Ahem. This part can stay.

The fact that Storm stops Cyclops from helping is crap, especially considering the next section of this chapter has him ranting about how Logan is putting them all in danger and "Think of the students!"

The fact that Rogue "smiles" at Logan while his adamantium claws are stuck through her chest is just...yuck. Pretty sure I'd be screaming or dead if that happened.

Also, Logan would be immediately aware of who he'd stabbed. By scent and sight. The adrenaline rush would've put all those lovely senses into overdrive, and there would be absolutely no confusion about what he'd done...

Anywho. Writing is going well on the next chapter of Dimensions after a two and a half year hiatus, so I'm hopeful I will have an update for you all soon!

Take care of yourselves <3

[nightingaleflow]

I finished plotting out Violet and Lotus!

It's pretty funny how I originally thought it was gonna have 4 or 5 chapters. It's now gonna have 7 plus an epilogue.

[theladykwiller]

Currently working on series & individual book reviews for THE OUTCASTS series by Minerva Spencer!

The TL;DR is that this series is AMAZING & I definitely recommend it for any Regency-ish romance fans, especially those who like SEX-POSITIVE SASSY LADIES, PIRATES and GREEN FLAG ROMANCE!

Please read review for content warnings & spice levels! 🥵🌶️

20/10, would read again!

[mamawasatesttube]

6 & 29 for the ask game? i love your work!!

6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time?

not "all the time" per se but i've definitely gone back to both fill in the blanks by @mindshelter and blush by @misspickman a few times. what can i say, i love it when tim is besotted and kon gets loved <3

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

okay i DO plan to post this.. eventually... when i finish the other 5 chapters of it... but given that i have no idea when that will be, here's a bit of the "jon's friends keep thinking his big brother is hot and he's in hell about it" wip sfdkjh (under the cut for length!!)

fanfic writer asks!

Any thoughts Yichen had about going to the skate park tomorrow get zapped clean out of his head as an engine purrs, and a sleek, sexy as hell motorcycle peels into the parking lot.

It’s a gorgeous dark red color, with black accents, exposed chrome exhaust pipes, and a front light and handlebars to match. It’s not obnoxiously loud, but its thrum is powerful and satisfying. It sounds expensive, if that’s even possible.

The sexy bike rolls to a stop right in front of the three of them, and the rider rests his foot on the ground for support. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a leather jacket covered in patches and studs—the shoulders are spiked, and a little chain dangles from one of the pockets.

Yichen identifies a few hero logoes among the patches on both the back and front; there’s the Superman family crest, obviously, on one shoulder, and then Wonder Woman’s winged W on a trapezoid. One of the Flash lightning bolts, too, in red and white—Yichen isn’t good at remembering which hero is which, outside of Metropolis. Is that… no, Kid Flash is yellow. Oh well. There’s others he doesn’t recognize at all, like a round yellow-and-black one right over the rider’s heart with a weird… bird-shaped thing, maybe?

Man, he really oughtta brush up on his heroes.

But that’s beside the point, because holy shit. This guy—this is the coolest guy he’s ever seen in his life! That jacket, the boots—chunky, thick-soled, covered in belts and buckles—and the ripped jeans, with barely-visible fishnets peeking out through the tears. This guy has fashion! Ho-lee shit, what is someone like that doing here?

Jon hops down from the brick fence with a sigh. “Alright,” he says, and leans down to pick up his backpack. “Well, I’ll see you guys.”

“Wait,” Priya says. “That’s your ride?”

Jon blinks. “Uh, yeah? Why?”

The cool as hell motorcyclist pulls off his helmet. Yichen’s jaw drops.

It’s like seeing Jon’s dad’s face transplanted onto a guy half his age and so much hotter. He’s got high cheekbones and a square jaw ever-so-slightly dotted with stubble, and piercing blue eyes just like Jon’s dad, and his hair falls in curls that should be crushed and flattened from the helmet but somehow still look amazing.

“Yo, Jonno!” Conner calls. “C’mon, we’re gonna hold up traffic!”

“I’m coming!” Jon hollers back. “I’m just saying bye, jeez!”

Yichen finally remembers how to close his mouth and does so. He doesn’t feel cold anymore—his face is on fire. “Dude.”

Jon tilts his head quizzically. “Yeah?”

“Dude,” Yichen repeats.

“What, Yichen?” Jon glances at Priya for clarification, but doesn’t seem to find any. What the hell does he need clarified here?

“Dude!” Yichen clutches at his hair. “Duuuude!”

“What!” Jon hefts his backpack onto his shoulders. “Stop ‘dude’ing at me and say it already!”

Yichen jumps down from the brick wall and grabs Jon by the shoulders. How does he not get it? How does he not get it?!

“Dude,” he says, as intense and emphatic as he can hope to get. He shakes Jon slightly, then points at Conner. “That is your brother?”

“Uh… yes?” Jon squints at him. “Is that, uh… a problem?”

Yichen clutches at his hair again. “Dude!” he exclaims in consternation. Grabs at Jon’s shoulders again. “Oh my god. Dude! Dude! You never told me your brother is hot!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Yichen almost thinks he sees Conner laugh. Except that’s not possible, because the engine definitely drowned out his words—they’re not that close to the roadside. Priya definitely laughs, though, covering her mouth with one hand.

Jon, meanwhile, wrinkles his nose. “…Ew.”

[astaraels]

a man takes a drink. the drink takes a drink. then the drink takes a man. Lip Gallagher, six months after the finale. (ao3)

The Alibi is silent, still; completely the opposite of a usual night in the bar. No patrons sit in the cracked booths or on the worn-out bar stools. No one plays pool, or watches a game on the darkened TV sets. Lip stares at the figure behind the bar. Frank Gallagher, dead six months and looking healthier than Lip ever remembers seeing him.

“The fuck is going on here?” Lip says out loud. The words fall heavy from his mouth, almost landing with a dull thud on the sticky barroom floor. Frank looks up, his con artist smile and calculating gaze now turned bland and indifferent.

“Tell me, Mr. Gallagher,” Frank says, “what brings you here on a night like this?”

There’s a chip in Lip’s pocket that suddenly feels like a lead weight.

“...not sure, really,” he finally admits, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Why the fuck are you here?”

“I’m here to do my job, aren’t I?”

“What’s that, fuckin’...bartender to the afterlife or something?"

Frank says nothing, only pours a glass of amber liquid and slides it in front of Lip. “Bourbon. Neat. Or do you prefer it on the rocks?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks.” He swallows as he stares at the glass. Tightens his grip around the chip. Clever Lip, smart as a whip. Better hold on or you just might slip…

He reaches out and knocks the glass over, only flinching slightly when it shatters by his shoes.

“Apologies, Mr. Gallagher. I’ll get that cleaned up right away.” When Lip glances down he sees the glass is gone—dream world, right—but the bourbon is still there, sticking his feet to the floor.

“Don’t think I’ve ever heard you apologize for anything in your life, Frank.”

“I’m afraid you must have me confused with someone else, Mr. Gallagher. I’m just the bartender.”

Lip laughs humorlessly, because of course. It’s not Frank, not really. And bartenders only serve the drinks. They aren’t the ones who make you drink it. You put your hand out and you take the glass—your decision, not theirs. He reaches for it now, the glass back on the bar in front of him as Frank finishes pouring more bourbon. Like nothing had happened. Neat and tidy. Nothing between the drunk and the alcohol. Nothing but a man’s own self-control.

He takes the glass, brings it to his lips. Smells the alcohol, strong and unmistakable. Thinks of nights when he would watch Fiona, all of eight or nine years old and outside with a secondhand coat in the Chicago winter. How he’d seen her dragging Frank through the yard all on her own because she’d told Lip to keep an eye on Ian. He thinks of the blackouts, the hazy holes in his memories that he’ll never get back. Thinks of his siblings’ weddings and how he’d gotten shit-faced drunk at both, looking in a grimy bathroom mirror and seeing his father staring back. Hearing the fear in Debbie’s voice when she told him not to end up like Frank. Pleaded with him—it broke his heart, even then.

Lip looks up and sees his father there now. Sees him watching as Lip holds the glass, letting the bourbon slosh gently from side to side. Frank stands there, still. Unmoving. Smile bland and empty.

The glass makes a harsh clunk when Lip sets it back down. Pushes it back towards Frank.

“Man takes a drink,” Lip says. He’s seen this movie before. “The drink takes a drink. Then the drink takes the man.”

Frank chuckles, takes the glass. Takes a drink. “Ain’t that the way, Mr. Gallagher. Ain’t that the way.”

[trashiewrites]

can you maybe do a fanfic for mw2 2022 that the reader gets kidnapped and soap or ghost has to save them

OH HOHO HO

THis one is a two-parter!

A/N: SORRY THIS TOOK LIKE FOREVER!!! NOT ONLY WAS I HAVING A WRITER'S BLOCK BUT ALSO TMNT TOOK OVER MY LIFE SO HERE WE GO!! I AM GONNA DO ALL THE REQUESTS I GET I SWEAR!! Without further delay, enjoy!

Took You Long Enough: Part 1

(Soap x F!Reader)

(Trigger warning: light angst, mentions of violence and death) if case idk if anyone need these Moreofthismainlyinpart2 maybe maybe

"I don't see why I can't go with you guys!" You protested to Soap, "you guys need all the help you can get to get those missiles!" You grabbed his arm, as he continued to walk past. It's not in your nature to question orders but this doesn't make sense to you.

"I get it (Y/n) but that's not your choice to make!" Soap whipped around to face you; his face as serious as he could manage. "I don't quite get LT.'s thinking either but it's not our place to question it. Plus, you get the privilege of interrogation against our little drug lady."

"I don't see how that could be helpful... she already told us where the missile is." You shrugged, "if anything, Ghost is the better interrogator. At least more efficient..."

"Efficiency isn't the focus here lass," Soap grasped firmly to your shoulders, "LT trusts you to get some more info on where she is taking Hassan. I trust you to do it if anyone can; it's you."

"But what if-" you said before being pulled into an embrace. Soaps arms wrapped tightly around you but yet so gentle, his warmth making you melt deeper into the hug. He placed one hand firmly upon the top of your head.

"We will be back before you know it, (y/n)."

——————————————

Watching as the boy boarded the heli was bittersweet, to say the least. Soap's talk yesterday did help you get the idea that it wasn't as pointless as you thought. But the lingering fear of something bad happening just around the corner was irking you. To be honest, you could care less about the actual mission, as much as it was your job that wasn't why you wanted to go.

John Mactavish, your sergeant, you had always been fond of. You both knew each other in your last platoon before the 141. He was the one who recommended you to the captain, who surprisingly agreed. To say you two were close was a gross understatement, in your head at least...

You do one final salute as they head up, John with a sly smirk also gives you a small heart with his fingers. You smile, standing there till the heli is no longer in sight. Heading back inside you went into Alejandro's office; you were glad he allows you to use it to gather your thoughts and prep for interrogations. He also states that if you need anything then call for one of his troops. They have been instructed to do as you ask within reasonable means of course. You lean back in the plush chair, writing notes on how you wanted to begin your approach. ————————————————-

To no one's surprise, the drug lord is a tough cookie. In the beginning, not spilling a word. Secondly, you dug into her relationship with Alejandro. Perhaps her getting riled up would have her slip a thing or two. Within the first day, you had managed to get that they didn't stop the trade for Hassan. Despite their Boss being taken hostage.

"No les importa que yo esté aquí. No importa si muero, El Sin Nombre sigue vivo." Valeria spoke, she spoke deeply with a sick grin on her face. "My legacy will live on even if you decide to kill me now. Especially in the stupid states."

"What do you mean?" You grabbed her by the collar, "Where did you send Hassan; what is he planning?"

"Like I'd say anything to you, puta~" you backhand her straight in the face. Grabbing her face and crushing her cheeks with your hand.

"¡Borra esa puta sonrisa de tu cara, zorra!" You growled, "how could you be proud of yourself, you betray your people, Your home!"

"You know nothing of my home." You punched her gut; you watched as her head dropped low. Taking a deep sigh, and taking a break outside would probably help calm your nerves. Opening the container door, you covered your eyes as the sun blinded your vision. Walking just past the guard stationed in front, you rubbed your temples. Quiet footsteps move behind you.

"No need to cover the door," you raised your hand, "I'm gonna hea-" within moments you felt an arm wrapped tightly around your neck and a cloth held over your mouth. They kicked your shins, having using legs no longer your first thought. After harshly struggling you felt your consciousness slip, fading quickly to an empty void.

Upon stirring awake, eyes flutter open. Your head pounding mixed with the coldness of the surroundings. You attempted to move your arms, hearing an unmistakable clanging of metal chains. You were cuffed? Your mind raced, how in the world did this happen? Where were you and how do you get yourself out of this shit hole? Taking a moment to clear up your thoughts, taking a very needed deep breath. You noticed people talking loudly outside the cell. "You know what happens to those two British guys?" Americans... is Graves behind this? "Yeah, I heard they both fled. One was wounded though." 

"Serves them right, you don't fuck with the commander!" one laughed aloud, "speaking of which!"

"Where's the girl," Graves's voice sounded stern, he was not here for a happy chit-chat; you knew that much... But once you find out what the hell is going on you're going to murder that man yourself... "Open that cell"

"Yes, commander." Both men said in unison. How the mood dropped, silence so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Broken by the screeching noise on the cell doors. There stood the tall man with a disgruntled face.  You stared in horror as behind him two men pulled an unconscious Alejandro behind him. 

"Graves... What have you done?" You stared at him in disbelief... "How could you? After all we have been through!"  

"It's nothing personal beautiful~" Graves crossed his arms, leaning against the frame of the cell doors, "Just a change in command, that's all. Daddy's in charge now!" You felt yourself wanting to vomit hearing such foul words exit his mouth. How crude... Classic for him and his people if you were honest. "Now with how gracious I am, I am giving you a choice. Get out of this heaping shit pile and work beside me, or rot in this rusty pothole!"

"Graves..." You stood up, arms forced down to your side due to chain restrictions, "Where is Soap and Ghost?"

"You worried about those wanna-bes? Those traitors?" Graves chuckled, "Fine, I'll tell ya! Ghost, man is probably running for his life right now from my men! Begging for mercy! I can imagine it myself." You clenched your fist, the thought in your head that this is what he has thought about us this whole time... Our brothers in arms your ass... "And Lil'Soapy boy! Oh," He rubbed his hand on his chin...  "My men shot him up pretty well! I wouldn't see it impossible that he's bleeding out in the streets right now!"

"YOU BASTARD!" You lunged forward, pulled back once again by the chains. Grave's laugh haunted you, not a hint of remorse just utter amusement. "WE TRUSTED YOU! YOU AND YOUR TEAM WERE OUR BROTHERS!" 

"Keyword, 'were' my dear! " Graves eyes within a moment were back to those of a dead cold killer, smiling like a greedy bastard. "You see, 'Brothers' was revoked when they weren't so willing to uphold the chain of command. Now tell me," Graves walks forward to you, "What happens when a small puppy barks at the big vicious dog?" 

"What?" you snarled, and he extended his hand. Grabbing your face and pressing down your cheeks so tightly as to crush your jaw. 

"You. Get. Bit..." Graves lets go, swiping his leg under your feet. You fell back to the floor with a harsh thud. "Now, I'd love to chat more... but I have a lot of work to do!"  he laughed once again before heading to the cell door. "Say. Let me know when you take me up on that offer earlier. Still stands till whenever I guess!"

"Go fuck yourself Graves!" You yelled back at him, "You'll pay for this! I SWEAR IT!"

"Tell me when~" He grinned, "Close her up boys!" As the doors closed you were once again left to your thoughts... Your head was empty, no matter how much you tried only one thing haunted you... 

"John..." You hugged your knees close, resting your head as tears unknowingly flew down your face. "I-I knew I should have come with you..."

Part 2! Out now!

[escargoverse-snellod]

WRITEBLR INTRO

Yo, what up bitches, its me, ya girl, Snellod, Goddess of Snails and I... am a writer!

For just 2 months shy of a year I have been plugging away at my own original fiction, Dawn of the Planet of the Snails - A soft sci fi story featuring snails and such. It currently sits at approximately 36k words and I plan to begin uploading chapters online soon, with ideally one released a week, for so long as I can keep the schedule.

But, you see, I have hit a bit of a snag. Of late, I have been afflicted with a terrible sleep deprivation, and I do not trust myself to continue writing (as it will be dreadful, and I fear I'll just create a big ol' mess that'd be more work than I'd like to fix) and I certainly don't trust myself to do the Very Important Edit that needs doing.

But, the poison has seeped into my soul, the rot afflicted my mind, and I feel the need to be creative building. My thoughts are consumed by my sweet baby DotPotS and in the absence of being able to actually work on the damn thing, I feel the urge to talk about it.

Hence... Writeblr. I've intended to make a sideblog dedicated to my writing a while, a place to share my thoughts, updates and perhaps even extracts from my stories or my various escargoverse MSpaint doodles. Now seemed like a good time. A tradition of two means little but it nontheless makes me happy to have started both my blogs so late in the night as to be inadvisable.

And hey, a little self-promo's never hurt anyone!

Who is Snellod?

Alleged Goddess of all Snails. Confirmed trans woman writer.

My literary loves are the alien and fantastical, and such, I lean strongly towards sci-fi and fantasy of all stripes. The more unique the world the happier I is.

Additionally, I adore an adventure. I love the feel of exploring vast universes, of journeying across unknown lands. Extends to my real life too, where I'll joyously seek out small towns and villages of little note, just to go to a place I have not yet been too.

Talking of my real life, I am an obsessive lover of stories. I strive to attain cinephile status (actually studying film and television at uni! My focus is on screenwriting), I am a Doctor Who fanatic (classic and modern), still think daily of the Magnus Archives and of course, love to read. In terms of physical books, I have just begun the Dune trilogy at the behest of my brother, and with regard to webnovels, my favourites are The Wandering Inn and AUU-16. The former my girlfriend got me into, the latter I got her into.

Sidenote, read AUU-16, its really fucking good, and really fucking under-appreciated. Link here: Zynima Network.

I'm also in love with nature. Yes, being away from cities and such, I enjoy the odd hike into the country, but also just learning about the multitudes of plants and animals and bugs and birds and such of the world. In a similar vein, rather fond of spec-evo. I like to think this fondness seeps into my writing at least time to time, but I don't think I'm clever enough to do spec-evo well, at least not yet.

Oh, and one last thing. Literally incapable of shutting up. Did not mean to spend four paragraphs talking about myself, kinda intended this to be more of an Escargoverse introduction than anything. But hey-ho.

What is Dawn of the Planet of the Snails?

Beneath a kaleidoscopic sky, and adorned in a forest of titanic grass blades, swarming with predators, and home to intelligent life… this is the Planet of the Snails.

Or at least, so the tagline says. Inspired by the sage writing advice of "to write a story you're passionate about, you gotta be at least a little self indulgent" this is my very self-indulgent passion project.

When a research mission to investigate an inexplicable hole opened on a near-future Earth goes awry, its ragtag crew of misfits find themselves castaways in a land as familiar as it is utterly alien. Can they survive this hostile terrain? Can they uncover the secrets of the anomaly that lead to their marooning? And will they ever make it back to Earth to spill the beans?

A pulpy sci-fi adventure you don’t want to miss!

Its science fiction and snails!

Revolutionary!

Thrilling!

Join Arnold, Kasia, Samantha and Ty as they adventure across the mysterious Planet of the Snails… and beyond!

So reads my WiP blurb. Inspired by old adventures stories and cooked up in the middle of a classic who binge-watch, DotPotS is a soft sci-fi action/adventure original fiction. It is fun, exciting, and if I've played my cards right, at least a little camp.

I will likely be dropping more snippets and details as this blog goes on, I have plans for a Characters post, in which I give details on me blorbos, and a setting post, to tell you more about the titular Planet of the Snails.

If you're interested, feel free to ask questions, or suggest ideas for future posts on the road to release. Although, uh, I fear I haven't given much detail for folks to latch onto, be curious about. You'd tell me if my blurb was lacking, right? Right?

Eh. Issue for awake Snellod.

And what is the Escargoverse?

As of yet, highly hypothetical. DotPotS began as a simple short story, a quick dance into a universe, before dancing neatly back out. But as time went on, ideas for new arcs, settings, stories exploded into my brain and my plan for a larger world took shape.

The escargoverse will be a vast semi-interconnected universe full of strange places and peoples, a world that goes beyond the human understanding of what 'should be.'

Ever since reading Discworld as a teen, I have loved connected universes, especially when they're the passion project of one, or a few people. I have always sought my own, to be my legacy and I really think this could be it.

[radiantlyrey]

Trying to figure out my writing plans for the next few months and… it’s very much an “Oops! All TRON Fics!!” sort of situation I’m finding myself in………..

[writergirl2011]

Well, now that I think about it…yeah!!

[raccoonspooky]

cocaine bear (2023) in ur inbox with the q's

13, 58, and 64!

HELLO MY DARLING!!!! I cant wait to watch that movie like I refuse to pay for it I have to wait till its yo-ho territory haha 🏴‍☠️ ʕง•ᴥ•ʔง

13. what’s a common writing tip that you almost always follow?

Chuck Palahniuk and Neil Gaiman have some awesome advice for writers that I hold very near and dear to my heart.

One thing I try to force myself into remembering from Palahniuk is that you go into a scene already knowing the purpose, if you can’t nail down the purpose of a scene its best left out. If it builds on nothing and offers nothing insightful then you should think about how to make such a scene offer something to your writing. Like work scenes in YOUR favor not force scenes into submission by sheer will.

Gaiman also has a great thing about how if nothing in your story is laughable then whats the point and its so important to laugh at your own jokes and that your readers are smarter than you’d otherwise assume. Putting jokes and asides in a story breathes a lot of life into it and it makes it easier and more engaging for people to read. Even in dreary and dark stories, Gaiman always keeps me fkn hooked just by his strong narrative voice and you can so hear HIM in his writing yknow?

58. What part of the writing process do you enjoy the most? (Brainstorming, outlining, writing, editing, etc)

My process is so nonsensical and insane. I rarely have an outline. I also have like 4 notebooks near me and on me at all times for random notes. I guess brainstorming??? on account of my ten million wips?

64. Something you love to see in smut.

I already answered this one in another ask! But imma use this as an excuse to expand. One thing I love is like, yucky vile language lol. If its too explicit for even the smuttiest romance book? Thats my FAV.

Also I like being STRONGLY attached to whatever perspective is there I wanna be stapled into it. Like I dont want any dancing around when it comes to whats happening like tell me abt SCHMEATY MEAT and SLOPPY HOLES hahahahah. I want all the nasty nasty thoughts and feelings. SENSORY DETAILS!!!!!