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[wildler]

You’re meeting the friend of a friend for the first time, who’s apparently an empath. When they shake your hand, they immediately rip their hand away from you.

[wildler]

Hello Neil,

in S2 we see Crowley in the bookshop throwing books mindlessly away when something gets his attention. Even thou it is so Crowley it leaves me shocked each time he does it (I'm a bookseller).

Are those real books? What would Aziraphale say if he ever finds out?

Hope you don't mind me asking. -Shen.

While those were real books, they were also highly trained stunt books, and they had rehearsed the bit where David Tennant threw them down, so none of them were hurt.

[wildler]

Share an excerpt that includes the words "light" or "shadow."

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[wildler]

Random writing thought: the best stories are often the ones that only you could have written — but also the ones that you could only write at this one moment.

I couldn't write All the Birds in the Sky from scratch now if I tried. But the me of 2013 couldn't have written The Prodigal Mother either.

[wildler]

spotify users: what is the current title of your daylist and what are the first three songs?

[wildler]

Hey, psssst, want to know a secret?

You do not have to describe the entirety your main character's physical attributes in the opening chapter.

Nothing slows a good story opener down more than stopping for a full paragraph for your main character to wax poetic about their hair falling the wrong way today while 'catching a quick glimpse' of themselves in some unsuspecting reflective surface. (I will groan and close whatever I'm reading if a character looks in a mirror before paragraph five).

Should you describe your character's appearance on some level? Yeah, of course! But does your reader need to know how deeply forest green someone's eyes are, or how precisely they've styled their hair, or how many piercings they have in this exact moment? Are these details absolutely vital for this scene, the opening scene, the most crucial scene for hooking in your readers?

I like to establish what's necessary* to introduce a character to my readers and then honestly the finer details can wait.

*And those deets are subject to change with every story.

My personal favorite trick is to introduce physical characteristics via other characters; their thoughts, first impressions, observations, or comments about them.

Sure, maybe the whole mirror thing is just a personal pet peeve of mine, but I swear you don't need to know every single physical detail about a character right away. Heck, if you've never done this, try writing a story opener without describing your MC at all just to see how it flows. It can be fun to slip in those details as you go anyway.

[wildler]

My mother had told me that the shadow creatures never came out of the darkness, because they didn’t have to. They always found a way to lure you in.

Rae’s mother had never told her anything like that, so when the floodlights at the end of our street stopped working and the surrounding homes were evacuated, she wanted to check it out.

“Missy!” Rae called, leaning on a traffic bollard that supported a road closure sign. “Damn dog, where’d she go?”

I leaned on the bollard next to Rae’s and peered over the sign. I’d lived my whole life under the safe glow of lamps and my eyes weren’t accustomed to cutting through darkness. Which made it hard to make out anything past the curtain of shadow that met our artificially lit end of the street. “You shouldn’t have let her off the leash,” I said, trying to scan the poorly lit driveways and lawns of the furthest houses.

“I know that now, don’t I?” Rae gave me a shove in the shoulder and pressed her lips into a hard line. She was taller than me and I had to hold the sign to stop from falling over.

“There!” My gaze snagged on a yapping knee-high figure in the darkness. Missy was two houses down, on Ms Hudson’s abandoned front lawn.

“Come back girl!” Rae’s desperate voice echoed down the street. Missy’s ears pricked up as the broken floodlight flickered to life above her, bathing the evacuated end of the cul-de-sac in safe, sterile, bright white.

“How—?” I squinted into the lit bulbs. The specialised repair crew wasn’t expected for another day.

“Here.” Rae shoved the leash at me, not waiting to see if I caught it before she hoisted herself over the blockade.

“What are you doing?” I clutched the leash to my chest and tried to grab the back of her shirt in the same motion.

Her sneakers hit the road on the other side of the barrier with a slap. “Getting her while the lights are on.”

“But—”

She didn’t wait for me to finish, taking off down the path, her pony tail swinging behind her. Missy looked up from the patch of grass she was sniffing and gave an excited bark. I watched, my heart drumming in my ears as Rae scooped her up and rounded swiftly, sprinting back toward me with the fluffy bundle wriggling in her arms.

There was a flicker and my breath caught as the floodlight dimmed, dousing Rae in shadows for a moment. A scream stuck in the back of my throat, strangling me while my stomach tipped upside down. Then there was another flicker, and the lights were back. I let out a thin breath. Rae was still running, her face stricken as she closed in on me. Missy fought harder in her arms—tiny legs frantically kicking the air.

“Take her!” Rae held Missy at arm’s length out in front. She was still running, full speed, on a collision course with the barrier.  

I reached as far as I could over the road block. Missy’s weight filled my hands just as the light went out again. Rae was plunged into darkness. Her silhouette barely visible in a churn of moving shadows. She let out a scream and something tugged sharply on the dog in my grasp. I tightened my grip and Missy howled. A freezing swirl of air clasped my outstretched arms. It pulled my stomach into the sign, winding me. I let out a panicked wheeze and wrenched backwards. Icy claws tore down my arms and I fell back. Missy was still in my hands, landing on top of me with a whimper.

Rae’s scream from the darkness was cut off and I scrambled to my feet, straining my eyes and seeing nothing.  No sign of Rae, or the swirling mass of shadows that had smothered her in the dark. It was as though they hadn’t been there at all.

There was a flicker, and the broken floodlight blinked back on.

——

stay out of the darkness this week for @alexprompts .. :) 

[wildler]

My villain is one of those tycoons who ignores what scientists say and proceeds to feed his growth addiction even if it endangers the planet, but it's feeling a bit too cartoonish-evil, as I feel I need to write a personal reason that motivates him to seek the growth of his business, but I could only come up with shallow reasons. Do you have any tips to come up with better motivations for him?

Motivation vs Goal

It's easy to confuse motivation with goal. Seeking the growth of his business isn't actually his motivation at all... that's his goal. His goal is to grow his business. His motivation is why he wants to grow his business. Why is growing his business important to him?

It doesn't have to be a personal reason, at least not in terms of it being selfish or self-focused. He could be guided by a misbelief, he could be in competition with a nemesis, he could be aiming to please or impress someone else (like a love interest or his friends), or he could be trying to impress someone. (See: 15 Non-Tragic/Traumatic Motivations for Villains and Non-Sympathetic Motivations for Villains.) It could even be something like he wants to grow his business so he can afford to revitalize the struggling town he grew up in. It can be anything that makes sense for the character or story, but there does need to be a motivation/reason why he's trying to reach that particular goal.

I hope that helps!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[wildler]

Finally decided to start dropping snippets of my novel, so here! I hope this little bit is self-contained enough to be comprehensible.

“Why'd you do it? Enthrall all those people, I mean,” the woman said. “What was the point?” She was a talkative one, wasn't she?

I snorted. As if she deserved to know my reasons! And in any case, it was a simple case of ambition. I wanted power, prosperity and prestige. Mind magic gave me the means, and I acted on it. There was no real reason, no ‘villain backstory’ or any dramatics. Those were things reserved for stories. Real people, I had found, were much simpler. 

The man shook his head in disdain. “So you ruined all those people for power? They were nobodies. You could've gone for tycoons, politicians, celebrities. Instead you enslaved innocent civilians.”

I wanted to laugh at the fools. Regular mages always thought small, only ever wanting power within their own little systems. I had built my own hierarchy, with me at the very top. Who needed tycoons when I could create my own currency, or politicians when I was all the politics they needed? I was their celebrity, their ruler, their God. And it had been wonderful.

The two mercenaries bore revolted expressions. “You're a real creep,” the woman said. “I'm beginning to think your mother should have dropped you in the lake at birth.”

“There's a reason we advised you not to talk to the captive, Miss Chong,” someone said. It wasn't one of the mercenaries, and I craned my upwards to see a man in a crisply pressed suit walk in. He had silver streaks in his dark hair and crow's feet around his grey eyes. “Good afternoon, Luna Iverius Delacroix. It is a pleasure to see you alive and kicking.”

I narrowed my eyes. How did he know my name, and my full one at that? I'd been careful to erase any trace of my identity. My parents had forgotten my existence, any family of mine recalled me to be a stillborn, and all my childhood friends and acquaintances were resting at the bottom of the Celitane Lake.

“Once again, you forget the presence of technology, Miss Delacroix. Your name and details were in every single database. We have your entire history, from your vaccination history to your grades,” the man said, settling in the chair opposite me. “I am Zacharias Pullman, Head Arbiter of the Mages’ Union of Peakpoint. We saw your abilities, and want to make you an offer.”

An offer? I wanted to puke, to tell them I would rather die than lick the boots of the Mages' Union, but I couldn't. I was a pragmatist, damn my callous heart, and I would never condemn myself to death for the sake of honour. And death it would be, if I refused this offer. I saw it in Pullman's eyes, a cold, sharp steel that cried out for my blood running against it. 

Chong winced at my assessment of Pullman, but didn't dispute it. “You and Mr Baker should leave. This is private business after all,” Pullman said, giving no indication that he had heard or even registered my thoughts.

The two mercenaries left without another word, locking the door behind them. It was just me and him, now, and I didn't fancy my odds.

[wildler]

worst part about getting angry is how much it makes you want to be mean

[wildler]

WILDLEEEEEEEEEEEEER I hope you're having a good day! If you're not, I'll bite the day! Grrrr!

Raaaahuuuul!! Today’s day has been good! Please feel free to give the previous two weeks a massive chomp on my behalf though 🦖 🦖 hoping you’ve had a good day too!

[wildler]

its so disgusting that you actually have to practice skills to retain them. just stay in my brain for retrieval pleaaaaaaassssssseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

[wildler]

a five year old note among my 1588 saved notes that just reads: four-dimensional salmon

[wildler]

2, then 3—but covered in blood 😇

Man passes out from blood-loss and shock after being numbed by adrenaline for most of the scene.

What does his doting, but flippant boyfriend do?

Does he;

Cry and scream

Kill everyone in the general area

Take him to bed and wait for him to wake up

A combination of these things

All of these things

A secret other thing

Do we know, friends, do we?

Because I do not.

And that is a problem.

[wildler]

And now under the moonlight  I cut my wrist with shadows The ones that don’t appear under the sunlight But drown you when the night falls down

- Excerpt from a poem I will never write, Zorya KM

[wildler]

a couple weeks ago this guy posted in the chicago pagan facebook group saying that he’s a djinn and that there’s a portal between here and egypt and only he and one other person had the power to close it and there was going to be a massive sandstorm… like dude, close the fucking portal, why are you even telling us this

[wildler]

I looked the woman on our porch over and frowned—even at this distance it was obvious. “That’s not Nanna.”

Rus’s step faltered out of sync with mine as he glanced up from his shoes. His copper eyebrows climbed the freckles on his forehead. “But she looks like the photos—and she told me she was.”

“The aura’s wrong,” I said, sighing as I came to a stop. My sneakers sank into the dewy plush of Dad’s prized lawn. “Rus—” I glanced at the impostor, lowering my voice. “Some spirits lie.”

His eyebrows changed direction, drawing together and dipping low like swooping birds. “But why—" His scrawny neck bobbled with a guilty swallow. “What does she want?”

I put a hand on his shoulder. “Who knows? Most of them will do anything to get out.”

We looked up at the old woman—the phoney cloaked in our Nanna’s likeness. She waved and beckoned us over, patting the swing seat beside her with an almost translucent hand.  

I let go of Rus’s shoulder and started toward the porch again. “What did you bind her to?” I murmured as Rus fell into step beside me again.

He pulled a locket from his jacket pocket—Mum’s locket—and Nanna’s before that.

I winced. “Did you have to pick something so valuable? You realise we gotta break it to send this thing back?”

He handed the necklace over, his jaw tensing. “I didn’t think we’d have to break it, I thought it was her.”

I balled the locket in my fist, shooting him a look before climbing the front steps. I stopped short of the wraith in the swing seat, choosing to lean on a drying stack of firewood rather than get too close.  

“My darlings.” Nanna spread her arms wide, offering an embrace. A grin revealed rows of pointed teeth very different to the dentures we’d buried her with.

“Nanna!” I tried to look overcome with joy, compensating for the disgusted look Rus was wearing. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to see you two of-course.” She gave us another sharp grin and I glimpsed a sickening grey tongue pressed up behind her teeth.

Rus must have seen it too. “Um Nanna?”

Her head swivelled to where he stood, the rest of her body motionless. The stiff movement twisted her neck to an unnatural angle well past her shoulder. “Yes darling?”

“What’s going on here?” He gestured to his mouth—meaning hers.

As if summoned, her tongue crept out and over her teeth like a hungry slug. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from gagging.

“You worked it out?” she hissed, her gaze turning dark. Impossibly large pupils drank Rus in.  

“Oh yeah,” he replied, “pretty hard not too—especially up close.”

Nanna’s gaze turned slowly back to mine, greed welling in the bottomless pits of her pupils.  For the first time since seeing the impostor, fear replaced revulsion in my gut, gnawing at my bones.  

“What are you really doing here?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Her lips pulled back, the full force of her needle-like teeth and rotting tongue unleashed in a disgustingly unbridled smile. “I told you already darling.”

Dread trickled through me, seeping into my marrow and making my knees weak. “You’re—”

She was out of the seat in a blink, rushing at Rus with an ethereal speed impossible to comprehend. He flinched, raising his hands to his face.

Snap.

The locket broke into two. Both halves splintering into shards of metal and glass under the piece of firewood I used to pound it.

There was an echoing shriek as Nanna disappeared, leaving a wisp of cold air to fall over Rus and me like a winter breeze.

“Thanks Hunter,” Rus said, lowering his hands.

I let out a breath, waiting for my heart to slow to a regular beat. “Don’t ever do a summoning without me again.”