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lacependragon · 3 years

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I’m struggling to put this into words.

I’ve been so grateful for every comment, every kudos, every bookmark, every hit, that I have received on my works – especially over this year. I reread comments constantly. I think about them all the time. I stare at the kudos and bookmark lists of my fics and I tear up at how many people care about what I write.

I want, so badly, to keep writing for all of you. I love my fics. I love how you all interact with them. I love the theorizing, and the reactions, and the wacky red string boards that people make. There’s been fanart and edits and memes and it’s always so beautiful. So, so beautiful.

I never want people to think that they are pressuring me, or stressing me out, or making me not want to write. I don’t want you all to stop interacting. I don’t want you all to stop being your enthusiastic, wonderful selves who give me so much joy and so much enthusiasm for writing.

The stress, the pressure, everything – that’s on me. That’s something I need to deal with. I’ve built up my fics to these behemoths that I can’t possibly live up to, created this pedestal that they all rest on, staring down at me, judgingly.

I need to work on that. I need to stop pressuring myself so much with my fics.

I… I think it’s been at least three chapters since I genuinely adored writing Silver Rings. I’ve had a scene or two per chapter I’m excited about, but I spend the rest of the chapter panicked and terrified that I’m not living up to the legacy.

I need to work on that.

I punish myself when I don’t write. I punish myself when I don’t write enough.

I need to work on that.

I panic over late updates even though this is a hobby, not a job. I fear how long it’ll take to finish them. I fear they’ll never be done. I get stuck staring down the barrel at the distant end of these fics, at all the storylines I need to juggle, at the stupid changes to ratings and warnings and tags on fics because I am changing things. I feel like I’m disappointing people.

When I miss an update, I feel like I’m disappointing people.

When I have to change a rating or a warning, I feel like I’m disappointing people.

When I add or remove tags, I feel like I’m disappointing people.

I constantly, constantly, feel like I’m disappointing people.

I need to work on that. This isn’t the fault of anyone who interacts with my fics or anyone who I talk to. You are all wonderful and this pressure, this stress, this is something I shove into myself, into my interactions, out of some misplaced belief that my worth, my existence, my likeability, my everything is tied up in my writing.

I don’t know what the point of this is. To explain, I guess. To ramble, maybe. To just, put into words why I keep going on hiatus, why I keep taking so long, why I act so weird.

I don’t know.

I’m sorry.

Thanks for reading.

#lace speaks

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actualbird · 6 years

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fic writers asks!!

tagged by @icouldwritebooks! thanks for the tag :Dc

What’s your total word count on AO3?

oh boy. my ao3 stats say 307,484 and i really dont remember writing that much. but then again ive had my ao3 since....2012....

How often do you write?

everyday. i try to make a habit out of it. scene snippets, outlines, skeletons of stories. the real question is how much of it is decent to show to other people. the answer 98% of the time is NOPE NOPE NOPE.

Do you have a routine for writing?

write an outline. more on that here because ive been told my outlining process is terrifying. this step takes the most time and suffering...

stop talking to everybody both verbally and online. only exceptions are my dogs. i cant seem to multitask on using words for a piece and using words communicating with the world.

sit down and write until one of the following happens. 1) i pass out, 2) i hate the thing so much i cant continue, 3) i finish it.

i should ideally have an editing and revision step but i never do that with fic jdfhkdjfks

What are your favorite tropes/pairings?

COMEDY. thats a genre not a trope but GOD i love a fic thats just hilarious to the fucking bone. i love writing it and i love reading it and i love reading it again and again to painstakingly pick apart why it was funny.

AUs!!!! im most obviously a sucker for magic/supernatural creature aus but every au immediately has my attention. it’s all about how well the fic manages to convince me of the premise.

mutual pining. im basic like that

not rlly a trope but Take Your Fandom To Work was a thing i ran into a bunch of fandoms ago and i LOVED IT. it was basically like, write ur fic as an au of what you do as a day job. i really really loved reading fics about jobs very clearly written by people who knew exactly what they were doing and all the consequences of that (i.e. ppl shading their own jobs djhkdsfs). broadway theatre tech!au, realistic teacher!au, shepherd!au, it’s WONDERFUL. i learned...so much...

Do you have a favorite fic of yours?

On One Condition and goodnight moon. theyre the fics that i had the Most self indulgent fun with. like i genuinely just said “fuck it” and filled it with all the dumb stupid magic stuff i loved and logically knew wouldnt mesh with more audiences but i had fun and thats what mattered.

i also just realized now that these are two fics where the main characters are dragons.

Your fic with the most kudos?

Professional Werewolf Witch wins with a whopping (oh lord) 4,758 kudos. is this a forest comes in second with 3,192 kudos. i very much prefer forest to pww cuz as much as the kudos are astronomical, the teen wolf fandom’s fic engagement rate was like //holds fingers very close together. this much. lotsa kudos but not much feedback which feels like a big crowd of people silently giving you a thumbs up. it’s awesome!! but i’d take comments over kudos any day ksjfhkdj

Anything you don’t like about your writing?

pacing/cohesion. this is something that my writing profs have rightfully chewed me out for several times. i have trouble making scenes go from one to the next so i very often resort to scene cuts or in built fic structures like the 5 + 1 to avoid making one flowing thing. of course, pacing differs in every story for stylistic and tone reasons (i often use it for comedic effect. like trying to emulate how it happens in movies like. NOTHING WILL GO WRONG //cut to everything going wrong) but i use scene cuts and choppy pacing so often that by now i realize it’s a crutch for how i cant string my scenes together very well.

exposition dump. you know that bit in a fic where everything is just Explained. yeah. yeah i do that and i hate it.

wording. this is me being nitpicky now but i hate how i phrase things on a visceral level. it always feels overly pretentious. sometimes i read the things i write and i can hear my voice instead of the character’s voice and that isnt necessarily a bad thing but i do Not Like It At All.

rambly. slightly related to above. if im not paying attention, i write like how i talk and my sentences just never end. i like a good long sentence as much as the next person but theres gotta be a good balance to it and i havent found that balance yet. lately ive also been reading some fics and stories that use a more concise writing style (shorter sentences, more focused on moving forward than describing, every detail like a gut punch) and it’s gorgeous. i really wanna learn to pack a punch in less words than more.

i could....keep going....but i think thatd be going overboard.

Now something you do like?

im told im funny and good at dialog. on good days i can believe this.

Tag People

hhhshfdkdfh i never tag anybody in these cuz im chicken but hey if u wanna do it, go for it!!! talking about writing is so much easier than writing after all ksjfkdjf

#i feel kinda guilty answering this given that i havent made any fic in months but im bored so //shrug emoji #dootdootdoot #OKAY i did this to procrastinate on showering dkjfhsk. GOTTA GET CLEAN

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hopeyoulietome · 6 years

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\ let me love the lonely /

PAIRING: Michael/Y/N

RATING: PG

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

A/N: this imagine is based on the song ‘let me love the lonely’ by james arthur so give it a listen :) although this little imagine is a bit happier than the song but yeah feel free to give me some feedback if you’d like to, i’m really excited to get into the 5sos writing world

When Luke and Ashton dragged Michael out of his apartment to come to some party with them, he was expecting to seriously hate his night. What he wasn’t expecting was to see a beautiful girl across the room the moment he stepped into the crowded house. Throughout the night he kept an eye on her, catching a few things about her that he’s almost positive no one else notices.

Luke makes some shit joke, you laugh because everyone else is - although you’ve heard the joke before at the last party you ran into Luke and Ashton at. But unlike that last party, their friend and fellow band mate Michael hadn’t tagged along. You noticed him the moment he stepped into the house. Seeming as though he was enjoying this party just as much as you were. You catch Michael’s eye as he too laughs at Luke’s shitty joke, his lips pressing into a tight smile as he realizes you’re looking at him.

An entire hour goes by and neither Luke or Ashton get the hint that Michael wants one of them to introduce him to the beautiful girl he feels he can already connect with, only after a few stolen glances. Now he notices you sitting by yourself on the couch that’s pushed into the corner so people can stand around the living room. Michael takes a deep breath, another big sip of his beer for liquid courage and then walks up to you.

“Hey, is someone sitting here?” He asks. You look up at him and find yourself staring, he was just really cute up close.

“No,” you answer after a few terrifying seconds that make Michael want to run and hide. But once you do say no, Michael smiles and takes the open seat beside you.

“I noticed you’ve been holding that same drink for a while,” Michael says but instantly regrets from how creepy he must sound to you.

You lift up the bottle half full of some shitty kiwi flavoured cooler, “yeah, it kinda sucks,” you tell him.

“Oh, did you want something else? I’m sure there’s another option somewhere for you,” Michael says, looking around the house but only finding the crowd doubled in size since he last looked around.

“No, it’s fine, I don’t really drink anyways,” you admit.

“Me neither,” Michael sighs, picking at the label on the beer bottle he’s hanging into.

“Why come to the party then?” You ask. It’s stupid to question him, seeing as you had just said you don’t drink either. But as you glance at the cute unnamed boy sitting beside you with his face all screwed up and him pushing his glasses up his nose you end up smiling.

“My friends dragged me here,” he states. “What about you?”

“Same, this place is my friends. She never let me miss a party if she’s hosting it,” you explain.

“Quite hostile of her,” Michael says, earning a chuckle from you. “I’m Mike by the way,”

“Mike?” You repeat, making sure you heard him right as the song had gotten more upbeat and louder almost.

“I meant Michael, no one really calls me Mike except my dad when he’s trying to sound cool,” he rambles out, talking with his hands. It’s cute, you think while giving him a smile.

“Michael,” you try his name again. This causes him to blush, his pale cheeks turning a faint shade of red as he hears his name fall off your tongue. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Y/N,” you say.

“I’m sorry if I like came over here and bugged you, I just noticed you were alone and thought you might be lonely or something,” Michael catches himself rambling to you again. But again, it earns a soft chuckle from you followed by a sweet smile he’d probably dream about tonight.

“It’s fine, you’re right,” you shrug, “parties can get kinda lonely,”

“I totally feel that too,”

“Yeah?” You question, brows pulled together. “Usually I say that to people and they think I’m crazy,”

“Well I don’t,” Michael says, “I kinda feel like that one string of a guitar that’s out of tune when I come to these things,”

You somehow manage to furrow your brows together even more, utterly confused by his choice of words. But it makes you laugh again. This guy was both cute and endearing. You nod your head, causing a piece of your hair to fall into your face so you’re quick to push it back behind your ear before meeting Michael’s gaze again.

“Funny way to put it, but I get it,” you say. Michael smiles, that adorable blush still on his cheeks. You can tell the conversation is sorta near it’s end, and you don’t want it to be like at all. “So you play guitar?” You ask, aware his answer is mostly going to be yes. But it sparks up an entire conversation with the cute boy that’s making you feel a little less lonely.

Just as the conversation was getting good, someone is shouting your name from across the room. You glance away from Michael and see your best friend waving you over.

“I gotta go see what she needs,” you tell Michael.

“It’s fine, I should probably check on dumb and dumber to make sure they’re not making a fool of themselves,”

“Luke and Ash are always making a fool of themselves,” you chuckle.

“Fair point,” Michael says, chuckling along with you. And with one last smile, you’re walking off to where your friend is shouting at you again. Almost instantly Michael’s mind is full of regrets. He should’ve got your number, or gone with you or anything. Maybe he’d get to you again during this stupid party.

You’re grinning at a couple, but Michael finds it like you’re a lighthouse without a light. Something he knows because he feels the same way too. Before you can catch his staring, Michael turns away and walks off into the dining room where he knows both of his idiot friends are playing a game of beer pong. Losing, which is no shock.

It’s stupid to think, but Michael is stupid so... he stares at you across the room again a while later. You’re still smiling without your eyes. It’s clear as day that you’re not enjoying your night, well it’s clear to him but not anyone else it seems. But Michael thinks to himself, maybe he could save himself from this party if he saves you. If he had to stand in this dining room and watch his drunk friends any longer he might lose his mind. For a second he thinks of how much better his night would be with some shit anime show. But then he finds you across the room again, time to make this night better.

“Hey,” Michael says as he approaches you again.

“Hi again,” you smile.

“I was, uh, I was wondering if you wanted to get out of here,” he says - really shooting his chance here. “I just noticed that you don’t really want to be here and I don’t really want to be here and I saw this pizza place down the street and-”

“Michael,” you cut off his rambling, grinning at the blush that creeps to his cheeks again. “I’d love to get out of here and get some pizza with you,” you say.

Michael really can’t believe it. You’re walking beside him down the staircase to the street, your white converse avoiding the puddle while he’s too busy watching you to notice the puddle - his boots now wet as the two of you walk down the sidewalk together. If someone were to tell him he’d met a girl at this stupid party and end up getting some greasy cheese pizza while sitting inside a less than busy pizza and donair shop, well Michael wouldn’t believe them. And yet here he was, scrambling to get his wallet out before you can pay for the pizza.

“It was my idea,” he insists as you narrow your eyes at him in a joking matter. You smile and lean your hip into the counter, crossing your arms at your chest. There’s no missing Michael’s eyes darting down to your pushed up cleavage as you do so. But it’s fine, cause he blushes after and looks to the floor.

“Okay, but I’ll buy us a milkshake to share,” you state while turning back to look at the menu that hangs above the counter. “Do you like chocolate or vanilla?”

“Either,” Michael squeaks out, clearing his throat before adding, “whichever you want,”

You smile, your cheeks were beginning to hurt from all the smiling this guy was getting you to do. “Chocolate milkshake please, just a regular size,” you tell the worker before paying.

The two of you sit at the booth by the window, indulging into the delicious pizza before getting into some ‘get to know ya’ kind of conversation. You learn each others full names, your favourite colour (which sparks up a fight of wether or not black was a colour or a shade), and your both watching on Netflix at the moment.

“I’m a photographer, mostly for local based clients that pay me to amp up their Instagram feeds, LA people you know,” you joke while telling Michael about your job. Which you did love a lot.

“So your good then?”

“Um, yeah, I guess,” you shrug. Then you get a brilliant idea, opening your camera on your phone. “Pose,” you say, chuckling as Michael’s arms move like a horribly functioning robot - clearly not sure what to do. But then he just smiles, and the way the neon sign beside you two shines on his face does your photo more justice that you could hope for. You take a minute to edit the photo quickly before turning your phone to Michael and showing him.

“That’s amazing,” he says, picking up your phone, “never would guess you took this on an iPhone,” he adds.

“Thanks,” you smile.

“Can I post it? Amp up my Instagram,” he says, smiling.

“Yeah, of course,” you nod and take your phone back from him. “What’s your number?”

“And here I thought I’d be the one asking for your number tonight,” Michael says. You chuckle at him and shake your head.

“Well, for the record, I would’ve gave it to you,”

Michael smile grows wider as he lists out his phone number to you. You send him the photo and then as he’s posting the Instagram he asks for your tag. Without another thought you give him your username and smile as the notification comes through.

“You know,” you pause to take a sip of the milkshake (you’ve been drinking most of it), “I thought tonight was going to be another shitty party,” you state.

“So did I,” Michael nods.

“Thanks for getting me out of there,”

“You’re welcome,”

The night continues on with even more smiles and laughter between you two. Michael has to be one of the sweetest guys you’ve ever met. And if someone was to tell you that you’d find a cute nice guy at one of your bets friend’s shitty parties, you sure as hell wouldn’t believe them. And yet here you were, hoping and praying this night would never end honestly. But it does, the worker coming up to you two after some time to let you know they’re closing.

“I should probably head back to the party anyways, I’m staying the night there,” you explain while walking out of the shop with Michael holding open the door for you.

“Yeah, I have to head back with Luke and Ashton soon too,” he states while glancing at his phone. Both the guys had texted him recently, asking where he had gone.

“I really had a great time tonight, Michael,” you say. Michael notices your smile is much different from the beginning of the night. It’s more real, more genuine and just as heart warming as the last to be honest. Suppose he just really liked you.

“Mikey!!!!”

You both look away from one another to see Luke running towards Michael, arms wide open to engulf his friend in a hug. Ashton’s close behind, laughing at the sight. You can’t help but chuckle as well. The two of them are talking to Michael a million miles an hour, it’s almost intimidating to stand by and watch the boys. It’s nearly two in the morning, yet they’re shouting as if it’s two in the afternoon. You reach back and scratch the back of your neck.

“Our Uber’s here!” Ashton shouts, running towards the white car that’s pulling to the curb.

Luke follows behind him, smacking Michael hard on the back as he glances your way. You give him another smile, it doesn’t meet your eyes this time though. Maybe you’re as sad as he’s feeling that the night’s come to an end... Michael kicks his boots against the pavement, looking down for a quick second before glancing back up and meeting your gaze.

“Can I take you to dinner tomorrow?” he asks, the overwhelming feeling of courage hitting him in the chest again.

“I can’t,” you say. Michael’s face drops at your words. “I have plans, but I’m free the next day?”

Michael mirrors your smile, “I’ll text you,” he says before turning on his heels and jogging to the Uber where his drunk friends are awaiting him.

“That chick was hot,” Luke says as Michael gets into the back seat.

“Yeah, good pick,” Ashton agrees from the front seat.

Michael simply rolls his eyes at his friends. You weren’t just a ‘good pick’, he felt like he already knew you before he got to know you at the pizza shop. And unlike usual, he didn’t hide away and stare from afar, he actually took a chance and it paid off. Michael looks out the window, catching the sight of the neon signs of the pizza shop you two had just sat in for almost two hours. He’d probably text you tomorrow morning, knowing he couldn’t wait that long without hearing from you again.

#5sos imagine #5sos blurbs #5sos #michael clifford #michael clifford imagine #michael clifford blurb #5sos drabble #5sos imagines #idk about the 5sos writing world here on tumblr yet but guess i'll get to know it lol

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trash-aged-like-fine-wine · 7 years

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Ectober 16 Blood

Alllllllright first shot! tagged body horror to be safe. The real horror is my writing though! AYYYYY finger guns didn’t edit this as much as I wanted, but I figured if I didn’t post it now, I never would.

Ow. Ok,that hurt. Moving was a bad idea. Danny gritted his teeth and tried to untangle his... tail? He thought he’d had legs, but he couldn’t feel them hit each other when he moved. Oh well. He didn’t care. His legs were the only part of him that didn’t hurt. The felt numb, which was probably something to be concerned about, but he was too distracted by the pain everywhere else.

Danny cracked open his eyes. His entire body screamed in agony even at the simple movement. Ignoring it, he braced his arms on the ground and tried to sit up. His arm sank much farther into the ground than he’d expected.

Danny jumped at a scream, nearly blacking out again from the pain of moving. When he opened his eyes, he saw Sam’s face hovering in front his. She was crying.

“Please, just lie back down,” she begged, “just rest. Don’t move. Just lie down and don’t look.”

It took a moment for his sluggish brain to register Sam’s orders. Danny honestly didn’t have the energy to argue with her, so he followed her orders and looked everywhere but at himself.

He was in the Nasty Burger’s parking lot. It looked like a tornado had blown through. Danny dimly remembered a fight with Vlad, though, so that probably wasn’t far off. He wasn’t still here. Neither was…

“Where’s Tucker?” Danny’s larynx felt like it couldn’t handle the simple vibrating of that statement. It felt like it’d given out. He doubted he could say anymore even if could string his thoughts together long enough to have anything to say.

“He’s talking with your parents,” Sam replied, rambling nervously. “You’re… You… Something came up and he has to talk to them. Danny, please just lie back down.

Danny didn’t. He’d been sinking farther into the asphalt… Wait. Danny looked down, ignoring Sam’s protests, and saw what she’d been shielding him from. He was destabilized. Melting.

It didn’t scare Danny as much as it should. It honestly didn’t seem real. He knew this was real because i aligned with the last thing he remembered: using his wail as a last resort even though he knew he didn’t have enough energy for it.

‘This must be the price for overexerting myself,’ he thought, studying his sinew and bone with morbidly detached curiosity.

That’d explain his legs going numb; he supposed they’d already melted. Really, all of him was losing feeling now. The pain was ebbing as his nerve endings melted. At least, that was what he guessed was happening.

He got jerked out of his thoughts by two large, orange-clad bear arms scooping him up and setting him in some ghost containment unit. He heard his parents shout out observations of his condition and a whole bunch of other scientific jargon to each other as his dad carried the tank to the emergency lab in the GAV.

Well, wasn’t this the perfect time for his head to start clearing. Right in time for him to panic.

Danny shifted, ectoplasm pouring off- no, out of-him. He tried to shout at them that he wasn’t doing anything. Can’t they just leave him alone?

Of course, his vocal cords had melted a while ago, so he ended up just coughing out ectoplasm, the jerking motions melting his already fragile genetic bonds even more. Desperately, he was about to try again, when his father’s voice stopped him.

“Danny-boy, stop. Just hang in there.”

Danny looked at his dad crouching on the other side of the glass, looking more concerned and serious than Danny’d ever seen him. He tried to smile reassuringly.

Danny could see his mom over his dad’s shoulders, already muttering under her breath and mixing chemicals. Tuck and Sam stood by, like they wanted to help but didn’t know how. If they weren’t panicking about his being in his parent’s custody, then he trusted them.

“Jack? Your Ecto-Dejecto made ghosts stronger, right? How’d you make that?” Dad got up to assist his mom, leaving Danny to focus only on himself. His legs were completely gone, now, and he’d lost his arms up to his elbows. Judging by his slowing thoughts and vision getting darker, he’d assumed his head had started going, too.

He closed his eyes and laid back, ignoring Tuck’s screams for him to stay awake. He didn’t hear them long before losing consciousness.

Danny woke up in a glass tub in the lab. A suspiciously green and glowy IV was attached to his arm. Danny shifted around, drawing the attention of his mom, who’d been working on something. She smiled warmly at him.

“Good morning, sweetie.”

#Hartman's horror #ectober #body horror #danny phantom #hartmanshorror #story time!

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rpedia · 7 years

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[Ask RPedia] Writing Too Much, and When It’s a Problem?

Anonymous asked RPedia: Hi! I was browsing online for random stuff about roleplaying and I found a post about what people find annoying, and one of the points was 'replies that are too long' and as a person who writes a lot it kinda made me paranoid? Their point was that it is useless and you should just get to the important parts, especially if you repeat yourself or are too wordy. Is it true that people find it annoying? I never thought of it, I always write long replies to explain what is going on on my OC's head :/

Yep, this is actually a problem, but it’s not a problem for the reasons you’ve listed! Look, I’m gonna give you two sample posts, you tell me which one is more fun and we’ll dissect why. This is actually a very common problem, because a lot of kids really, really, want to impress their partners, but just don’t have the skills (or possibly the ability to frame new details/information) to do so yet. Your content and presentation, essentially, has to mean something, and relate to what you’re talking about in your post. Your wording should add to the story in some way; be that to elicit a response, or explain an idea you want to get across in some way so the other author knows about it. Squish unimportant things together to make them more important bullet points, or don’t say them if at all they don’t add something to the pot. That’s the major concept here.

So, sample posts!:

Jeffery walked along the street, picking at the edge of his sleeve. The sleeve was rayon, the colors of which corresponded to blue, and green, and yellow. Really it was an ugly sweater. He continued picking it, as he walked along the street, glancing this way and that. A thread unraveled, but he was already preoccupied by the way the street lamps, on the street which was a London street, were lit. The soft footfalls of his shoes on the cement brought him ever closer to his destination.

And:

Jeffery walked the London street, picking at the hideous blue, green, and yellow masterpiece that was his rayon sweater. He was so preoccupied he didn’t notice when a string came loose. His attention was on the dimming street lights as he hurried to his destination, soft footfalls on rain-wet cement.

Same information, same concept, same kind of unwieldy and awkward feel. I wanted it to be a little awkward to make the character seem like an anxious dork with no fashion sense. But importantly, the second one read better to most people even though it was shorter. Why?

Well for one thing, let’s just... add commentary to that first post bitching about it. To get an in-situ view.

Jeffery walked along the street, picking at the edge of his sleeve. (Okay solid. We learned: walking, location, person, picking, sleeve.) The sleeve was rayon, the colors of which corresponded to blue, and green, and yellow. (Look, okay, you don’t need ‘and’ that much. “Blue, green, and yellow,” will suffice. Is rayon important anyways, maybe? Can you combine this somewhere to make it less... useless added bullshit?) Really it was an ugly sweater. (Okay, Lemony Narrator. Interesting and implies a lack of fashion, keep that. ) He continued picking it, as he walked along the street, glancing this way and that. (... you coulda said all this earlier, why you repeat this walking and picking and street shit, buddy?) A thread unraveled, but he was already preoccupied by the way the street lamps, on the street which was a London street, were lit. (Okay, thread unraveled, ignored it, London, street lamps being lit. We coulda used that location stuff earlier to frame the whole setting, you dumbshit. But that’s forgivable. Not a bad sentence if taken alone, the bits that repeat him moving and on a street? Combine it elsewhere.) The soft footfalls of his shoes on the cement, wet with an earlier rain he hadn’t been present for, brought him ever closer to his destination. (OKAY WE GET THAT HE’S DOING A WHOLE BIG WALKIES, YOU DON’T HAVE TO SAY IT AGAIN UNLESS YOU WANT A READER TO THINK HE TOOK AN AGE TO DO IT. The ‘soft footfalls’ give an unremarked on ‘hearing’ sense though, and increases the setting, you can keep that. Same with rain and cement. It modernizes the city and gives that immediate imagination reaction of: chill, damp, dripping sounds, the smell after a rain, and reflections everywhere. The way it’s said is awkward as shit though, who the fuck cares if he was there for it or not? Is that important? No. Go away. Keep the rain-wet cement, the soft noises, and move the fuck on. The only time you should repeat something is if you want the reader to notice, or you want it to seem like it’s gone on for an insurmountably long fucking time so they can relate to the character. Right now, I’m like, Jesus fuck, are his legs going to fucking wear down to nubs before we get somewhere? )

So... yeah that.

Why did the second one work? Let’s do it again.

Jeffery walked the London street, picking at the hideous blue, green, and yellow masterpiece that was his rayon sweater. (All the details are in bullet points and overall connected, setting, visuals, character. We don’t have any meandering sentences here, just facts that explain the sweater all in one go in a humor-related way to hook people.) He was so preoccupied he didn’t notice when a string came loose. (We finally described his disposition, something happening to make it obvious to another character in this world, and then kept going instead of hanging about. A sense of urgency and distraction, gave a question ‘why?’.) His attention was on the dimming street lights as he hurried to his destination, soft footfalls on rain-wet cement. (There’s the wet and footfalls, added almost as an afterthought to leave the taste and sensation of a whispered sole on cement in your mind in time for your post. The streetlights dimming add more urgency, and explain the last sentence a little more (he’s in a hurry!) so we know what he’s preoccupied with. In short this was ‘description of setting, bulletpoints of his visual style/personality. Phrase with action, declaring mental state. Reasoning for previous sentence, and setting exploration.’ It repeats, but in a way that brings it around home, rather than sends it off into the cow fields looking for a lost sheep. )

Another part of it was not wandering off on flights of fancy in the middle of your paragraph, the first one mentioned the street constantly, which is good for some kinda writing (repetition can be used as a writing device to make your reader come back to the same idea a million times to represent a mind that can’t get away from a fact, i.e. someone trying desperately not to think that someone has just died.) but it’s not always a great idea in roleplay. You want your reader, and partner, to understand what’s important. I’m setting a scene here, so honestly it could be several paragraphs of information, if it was relevant to the scene.

Edit yourself, essentially. Rambling on about things, and trying to pack as many words into a paragraph as possible is going to give you some fucked up material to read. The first example really just made a mess of things. Hoo hoo, fuck you buddy, what do I care? He’s got an ugly sweater and he’s ruining it, good job. But the second describes the action, the locomotion of the character, indicates he’s preoccupied, and that dawn is coming if you really look at it. The first one failed to mention the lights were dimming because, god fuck, it was trying to repeat itself 80 ways to Sunday.

Sitting there and talking about your character’s mental state, how they feel, is not the same thing. That gives context to the story, to how a character is evolving through these actions. A man dies, is the character happy, angry, sad, or a mixture of the above? Do they regret it, or do they feel satisfied? Does it remind them of something important to them, something you can hint at to draw the other writer into exploring that concept? That’s important! That’s information that very well changes how the character acts, the tone of their voice, the way their body language reads even if you don’t go into detail. Someone who is absolutely furious, or who is panicking and trying not to show it, or one who is hiding barely suppressed sadness are all going to act amazingly differently. It has meaning.

I fucking talk forever, but you people watch this blog or choose to read my posts with some regularity, to be honest. Part of it is I keep you guys engaged, I may repeat ideas, but I’m rewording them in new ways with new examples so that even the most obnoxiously hard to understand point can be seen from like 8 different angles. It keeps you from ‘not getting it’ even if some people have caught on during my “too long; didn’t read” sentence in the intro. I also cuss a lot and in creative ways, and you guys think that’s hilarious if the tags are anything to go by.

What does that mean to you? It means it’s not the length, despite what this other article may say. That sounds like kind of a bait-y concept to draw in roleplayers and try to solve an issue, but it ended up causing anxiety in people. I always go by the rule of thumb, if one person complained visibly, then 100 people sneered and moved on but the idea kinda... wedged itself in there and makes you nervous and double check yourself at the oddest times. It sucks. It happens to everyone, by the way. Those throw away comments people make fucking leave a mark, ouch. I’m still panicky over shit people said years ago.

The point is, read your own work. Are you having fun, or do you find your points obscured? Do you enjoy your own writing and understand what’s going on in your prose, or do you have a habit of adding meaningless fluff that is so unconnected it hides the uh, let’s call it a dagger of truth. See look, now you got sheep’s wool hiding a dagger. Good for trying to obfuscate (look at that word, I love that word) but terrible for trying to make sure that your partner understands everything that is going on.

I’m actually all nervous now I’m coming at this problem too many times and over-talking myself, but you know what, screw them. Screw that. I’ll talk exactly how much I think is needed for ya’ll to understand, you aren’t broken if the only issue is you do write a lot, or that you focus on things you want to express and make sure that gets across. The only time it becomes obnoxious as shit is when you turn simple acts into several sentences with nothing new to add to the conversation. When you add way more words than anyone needs to say something.

This seemingly goes right against some advice I gave earlier about expanding your posts. Nope, stand by that. You can turn “They walk” into “They walked at a clipped pace, eyes darting, and worn out shoes scuffing at the gravel occasionally” because god damn it, that means something. You’ve shown body language, you’ve told them speed, and you indicated their style and even implicated the kind of space they’re walking on. Those are important bits of information!

It’s... when you talk like that stereotypical old man telling a story from his childhood that things become an issue. Get to the point. Don’t go off on what price everything was in the 1950′s unless that’s important to the story. Grandpa, thank you, but I asked what time it was, not how you got to school by walking both ways, uphill, in snow up to your neck, with only a toothpick to dig your way out. Seriously, thank you, I’ll just check my phone.

Don’t feel bad if the idea bugs you after this, if you see yourself meandering, clip it. That’s the best advice I can give you. If it feels important, it is important. If you like it and feel it’s an interesting turn of phrase or good writing, it’s good enough. If it feels rambly, or like you force yourself to write way more than you wanted to match/impress a partner, it probably is, go ahead and cut it. You got this, trust in yourself and your writing instinct.

#writing #rph #roleplay help #roleplaying #advice #RPedia #Ask RPedia

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