Young writer | self published | writes short stories, novellas, and novels | huge mess | shey/heir please
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if your story makes you feel things, it will make someone else feel things too. that’s the magic.
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editing is just you vs. past-you in a duel of questionable comma placement and emotional instability
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Six Some Sentences Saturday
This is another excerpt from Memento Vivere!
“The modern Cicero,” Aidan said, a small smile playing on his lips. “Isn’t that what you called me? I rather liked that one.” “Did you also like the part in that article where I said, Whitney never fails to have a scapegoat for the blood on his hands or the part where I said, Whitney’s remarkable silver tongue might lead him to the same places Cicero himself went?” “A great and profitable career? Certainly.” Hugh scowled at him. “I was thinking something more along the lines of decapitated.” “Such violence, Mr. Norton. I trust they don’t let you print that in the papers.”
Taglist: @callmelyrae, @planets-collide, @mthollowell-writes
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characters going “we were lovers once”: eh, it’s okay i guess. it’s nice enough
characters going “we were friends once”: absolutely devastating. one hit knockout i’m gone
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Shout out to Characters who are shells of their former selves! You died and you’re not coming back! You don’t recognize yourself and neither does anyone else, and it’s anyone’s guess what the fuck you’re supposed to be now!
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What do you mean I need to write this part of the story? That lazy freeloader can write itself for all I care!
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writing tip #3838:
brain soup eata tha brain soup
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Two rules for creating anything.
1) Make it weird.
2) Make it with love.
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mystery writers when a character blinks: could it be a clue. was it suspicious. is this man a liar. did he kill his wife in 1983.
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I may or may not be in the bushes, watching you through binoculars. And I see you scrolling, instead of writing.
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I love 'hero living long enough to become the villain', but oughhhh, 'villain living long enough to become the hero' is life altering. Also not just ending in some goddamn sacrifice. They've gotta legit LIVE with those actions. And holy fuck, if they end up caring for someone they previously traumatized and now have to bear being the thing that haunts their nightmares for years? OH, THE ANGST, TAKE ME NOW!!!
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The best advice i can give any creator is do it before you're good at it, do it BEFORE you're happy, do it while you suck, do it while you're doubting yourself and get stuck the fuck in, because waiting around to be "good enough" is a motherfucking trap of the highest degree. You'll get good along the way and better after ever project is complete. Remember, this is the greatest thing you've ever created, and then you'll do something else. You're only ever gonna get better, but not if you stand still.
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Six Seven Sentence Saturday
This is an early extract from The Wasp!
Miss Yellow Lipstick’s smile grew. “It really was quite difficult, you know. Your Camille is terribly fierce, but that Dale of hers—” “Did you come here to talk about Dale?” Marissa asked, sharp. “I was under the impression you were here to show me your ID.” “Well, I suppose it’s not as if Dale is interesting,” she replied, and pulled out a driving license. Marissa took it, half expecting to see yellow painted nails, but her nails were bitten short and plain, white marks impacted onto them.
The question is: who is Dale? 👀
Taglist: @callmelyrae
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the goal is to write well enough to get fan art of your OC
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Heads Up, Seven Up
Thanks to @notwritinganyflufftoday for the tag!
Rules: share seven lines, and tag seven people. This is from my (finished) short story, For Want of a Ticket, which is set in the American West!
“I’m tired,” he said, quietly. “Can I—can I sleep, Cassie?” “You can’t stay here. You know that.” She turned away from him, because if he kept looking at her like that, her resolve would falter. “You’ll get caught as soon as the sun rises, and ya can’t ride fast and hard with a wound like that.” “Come with me.” “What?” “Me and the boys,” Oscar said, and swallowed. “We’d be glad to have ya, Miss Cass. I’d be glad to have ya.” “Don’tcha want me to watch the train?” He made a valiant attempt at getting to his feet, and she caught his arm when he wobbled. “That’s just it. We’re movin’ on. Greener pastures. We won’t be needin’ your train anymore, but we still need you.”
No pressure tags: @aromanticsky, @times-of-drought, @raevenlywrites, @vsnotresponding, @seastarblue
@flock-from-the-void, and for no.7 let's call it an open tag because I cannot remember anyone else I think would be okay tagging them oops
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Six Some Sentences Sunday
Here's the opening from the first draft of my short story The Wasp!
There was a woman outside the club in a leather jacket. This, in itself, was not unusual. There was a woman outside the club in a leather jacket. She was wearing a particularly obnoxious shade of yellow lipstick, leaning up against the wall, watching the CCTV camera mounted opposite her; she had a lollipop in hand that she would occasionally put some effort into licking in a pantomime mockery of seduction. Her hair was cropped short, and she was wearing leather trousers. She was pretty, if one could look at anything but the yellow lipstick. She had been watching the club for four hours now. Marissa’s bodyguards had pulled her from the floor to warn her, but she couldn’t fathom what this woman hoped to gain. She wasn’t standing where she could watch the doors, nor was she standing where she could see through a window; patrons had been avoiding the alleyway ever since the incident of twenty sixteen. The only thing that could be gained, Marissa surmised, was being seen on camera. “Put Miss Yellow Lipstick on a list,” she said, standing up. “I want it documented how long she spends here, and when, and what she does. Don’t bother me about her again.”
Taglist: @callmelyrae
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