I'm Probably Writing

I glanced over at him with a frown. I didn’t want to be happy right now, couldn’t he understand that? “Wasp…”

“Yes, yes, I know.” he said, snatching my hands from my lap and holding them in his own. “I, too, know how it feels to lose a loved one, but I also know that it’s better to be happy than sad forever!”

I only sighed and nodded. He had a point.

“So!” Wasp grinned and started tugging me off the couch and out the door. “Lets go have fun and make you happy again!”

I couldn’t help but smile softly and shake my head at his enthusiasm. “Wasp,” I said, “I don’t even have shoes on yet.”

“Oh! Right!” he exclaimed, just now noticing his lack of preparation. “You go do that and I’ll wait here.”

Wasp is so excitable that I wonder about his age! It sounds like he’s always like that which is amazing and also scary to have in a mentor. :D :D :D

I smiled a little at his childish reaction. “They’re cute,” I said absentmindedly.

“Let’s go in!” Wasp’s hand wrapped around my wrist and tugged me inside the pet store with an overflowing excitement.

Despite my mentor being almost thirty in age, he very much acted like a young child.

While Wasp darted about, practically sparkling with joy, an employee managed to sneak up behind me.

“Anything I can help you with?”

I jumped at the sudden voice and turned around quickly. “Oh! Uh- no, thank you.” I pulled on a smile.

The woman, who had dark skin and ever darker hair, laughed a little. “Seems like your friend’s having fun.” She gestured towards the child-like man now obsessing over a litter of grey kittens.

“Seems so…” my smile faltered a bit.

“Something wrong, hun?”

“My father passed away a few days ago,” I said, holding back any visible signs of sadness, “my friend brought me here to help get my mind off of it but-”

“It’s alright, hun,” the woman smiled, “your friend seems real nice, but sometimes we all need our own time to come to terms with what’s happened.” She patted my back, the action somehow making me feel less alone in this.

Turning back to my mentor, I saw him laughing and smiling so brightly, he looked over at me and waved enthusiastically. I knew what Wasp had been though, the amount of people he’s lost - family, friends, colleagues.

And yet… he still keeps an unfaltering smile.

“Thank you-” I glanced down at her name-tag- “Jeane. That’s something I didn’t know I needed to hear until I did.”

“Anytime.” She smiled.

I saw Wasp headed my way with a tiny kitten in his hands, and I smiled at the sight. One of the world’s most dangerous criminals holding a little ball of fur and giggling like a 7-year-old was something you didn’t see everyday.

“Aya, look!” he whisper-yelled with a grin. “Isn’t she adorable?”

I smiled down at the small feline when it’s big blue eyes found me. “She sure is.”

“Who were you talking to?” Wasp asked curiously.

First of all, the thought of Wasp cooing at and playing with tiny kittens makes my heart warm! :D

Secondly, I wonder who Jeane is! If she’s really just a background character or if she’s someone more important!

I also really like the message here. Appreciate what your friends do for you but be aware that you are allowed to grieve. 

The man looked down at the child in the hospital bed and I followed his gaze. The child was pale - so very pale, and his- her- it’s eyes were shut lightly. It was asleep.

“What do we do?” I asked quietly.

“I… I do not know.” the doctor muttered from behind his mask. “But take this and, please… kill it if it wakes up before I come back.”

I gripped the rifle in fear and nodded firmly. The doctor took one more look at the… child, before turning away and heading down the blackening hallway at a brisk pace. He barely made any sound.

My blue eyes focused back on It through the sepia-tinted goggles and I let out a shaky breath. I saw the child’s hand twitch and I raised the rifle, trying to steady my aim. It’s eyes did not open. I kept my stance.

I like the hesitation in the narration of the story! It’s very clear who the narrator is and that we are really only seeing his view point! It’s like we’re reading his thoughts which is very good for first person perspective! 

“I’m not the one who insists on fighting, Fraser. You have to stop. Please.” The hero’s voice breaks. “We’re the last ones. Don’t make me do this.”

The hero leaned into the touch, feeling slightly more comforted by it. “I… I’m so sorry,” his voice cracked.

“On three,” the villain says, shifting slightly against the wood flooring. “One,” he starts.

“T-Two,” the hero continues quietly, tightening his grip on the knife.

Fraser takes a shaky breath, suddenly nervous.

“Three-”

“Friends stab friends in the front.”

“Oh really?” the young hero laughed.

The villain grinned. “Yep!” he chirped, standing on his toes to toss an arm around the taller’s shoulders. “And that’s why I will stab you in the front, goody-two-shoes.”

The hero looked at his nemesis curiously. “You think we’re friends?” he asked.

Fraser laughed, a hiccup interrupting it halfway. “No, no, no,” he said quickly, leaning close to the hero’s face (Tanner could smell the achohol on the villain’s breath), “I know we’re friends.”

“And why’s that?”

“Cause you would have killed me already if I wasn’t!” the villain snorted. “Or you’re just bad at being a hero.”

“Oh-” the second part processed a bit slower to Tanner- “Hey! What do you mean by that?!”

“Hup!” the villain exclaimed. “This is my stop!” He tugged Tanner to a halt and wobbled a bit when he let go of the taller.

The hero was about to walk off when he heard Fraser call out to him.

“Hey, goody-two-shoes!”

Sighing, the hero turned around. “What?”

“Get down here, you’re too fucking tall.” Fraser glared at him.

Tanner was surprised, this having been the first time he’s heard the shorter curse, but complied and leaned down a bit. “Now wha-”

His mind froze as soon as Fraser’s lips made contact with his own. The villain pulled away after a moment and swayed to the side slightly. “I’m gonna beat you up one day, hero,” Fraser huffed, “you’re gonna regret ever getting me this drunk.”

And without another word, Fraser stumbled into his apartment, leaving behind a confused and flustered hero.

I do like that turn around on the phrase “friends don’t stab friends in the back!” Although, I would think that you would avoid stabbing friends at all!

I feel really bad for the hero. They are going to be the last of their people.

Schell had just finished scrubbing the deck when one of the pirates, who she remembered as Maros, aproched her and took her to the Captain. Now, standing in front of Ayra, she shifted her weight nervously.

The candle light flickered and the soft orange glow made Ayra’s golden eyes seem to glow in the dimly lit room, and his dark skin appear as if he were made of bronze and his long, pitch black hair shimmered slightly with each flicker of light.

Silence hung in the air for a long moment before either of them made a sound. Schell’s boots scuffed against the floor and the Captain spoke not a moment later, “I want you to be a part of my crew.”

Schell froze, “What?”

“Only if you want to, of course,” his auriferous gaze flickered away from her for a brief moment. “However, we might have to toss you overboard should you decline.”

Her fist clenched at her side. She didn’t really have a choice. “Fine.” she said through gritted teeth, looking down at the floor.

She heard Ayra stand and walk over to her, she didn’t move.

“You should keep your head up, Miss Glas,” he grasped her chin between his thumb and index-finger, making her look up at him. Their faces were only a few inches apart. “Nobility should not bow to anyone, no matter what.”

Schell’s face flushed. “I-… I thought you said that you did not believe me.” she tried her hardest to keep her voice from wavering.

“That is true, but when I heard that the daughter of Michel and Saline Glas was missing,” he paused, smirking ever so slightly. “I figured that you were a runaway, like myself and my crew. I thought I would offer you the one thing you so desperately want: freedom.”

“How is being trapped on a boat ‘freedom’?” Schell glared at the Captain, pulling out of his grip defiantly.

The ebony-haired man’s gaze softened, making him look nothing like he did before when he kept a emotionless face, and said softly, “You have no idea the cost I have paid to be able to go wherever I wish, to do whatever I wish. This is my freedom - our freedom.”

The ship suddenly shook violently, making the ravenette and the blonde stumble. Less than a minute later, Maros tossed open the door, “Captain! It’s The Cebian, they found us.” he informed.

Ayra growled, his expression going back to before, and grabbed Schell’s wrist, tugging her along behind him and out of the Captain’s quarters.

“Nasan!” he shouted when he saw the grey-haired man on the deck below him. “What the hell are doing on my ship!? I told you that your dirty shoe prints take far too long to scrub off!”

“I cleaned them before we arrived!” Nasan shouted back. “And I’ve come for Schell.”

“I’m afraid she is mine now,” he smirked and tugged Schell to stand beside him. “Schell here has agreed to remain here, as part of my crew.”

Nasan looked shocked. “What about Tristan?” he asked nervously.

“Oh, him? He was thrown overboard a few days ago when he rejected my offer.” the Captain of the Qilin lied.

Schell wondered how his personality had changed so quickly from only a minute of two before to such a cruel and vile man.

After a moment the two agreed to leave things as they were, leaving Schell onboard the Qilin and Nasan reluctantly left on his own ship, headed towards the pacific and the Qilin headed the opposite.

Many more weeks past in which Schell became a member of the crew, now marked by the Qilin’s symbol; a teardrop with an arrow through it was now branded onto her shoulder. Her and the Captain of the ship seemed to get closer and some could even go as far as to say that they had become friends.

Schell was headed to the Captain’s quarters like usual, but stopped just short of knocking when she heard him talking to someone.

“Just wait a moment,” Ayra was heard through the cracked open door, the unfamiliar sound of nervousness in his usually calm voice. “We could get caught and-”

Maros was then heard, cutting off the Captain, “What’s wrong? You scared?” he teased.

“No!” Ayra snapped. “Of course I am not scared.”

She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop but she couldn’t help the curiosity that bubbled up at that.

Maros laughed. “Then why are you stopping me?” he said, obviously not believing him.

The sound of footsteps halted. “Why must you be so troublesome?” Ayra asked, sighing. Schell peaked though the crack in the doorway and saw the ebony-haired man with his back against a wall, Maros standing awfully close to him, smirking.

“I know you love it.”

“…Shut up.” Ayra said quietly, looking a bit flustered.

“Make me-”

Maros was cut off as Ayra leaned forwards and pressed his lips against the other’s. Schell’s eyes were wide as he pulled back and smirked at Maros’ stupefied expression. “Done. Now get going, Schell will be arriving soon.”

Schell saw Maros chuckle and walk to the door and she quickly pulled away from the opening and put her hand up as if she were about to knock.

He opened the door and looked at her emotionlessly, pushing by her and walking away without a word. Schell knocked on the now open door, catching the attention of the ebony-haired man inside. “Oh, Schell,” he said, still looking vaguely flustered as he sat down. “Do come in.”

Schell smiled. “Good afternoon, Captain.” she greeted after taking the seat across from him.

“Good afternoon,” he replied. “How has today been for you?”

“It’s been alright,” the female shrugged. “And you?”

“I would say the same. It has been quite uneventful these past few weeks.”

They sat in a calm silence until Ayra spoke after a few minutes, “Schell?” he asked, his voice was soft and quiet.

Said girl looked back at him and saw that he looked troubled. “Yes, Captain?”

“I don’t know if I want to do this anymore…”

“What do you mean?” Schell asked, a bit worried.

He sighed. “Being a pirate - plundering and such. I don’t know if I want to do this anymore.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Maybe it is just the old age speaking, but there is a part of me that wished to settle down. I was thinking of making port and,” he hesitated, “letting the dice fall where they may…”

Schell took a slow, deep breath. “So, you’re leaving?” he nodded. “What will happen to the ship?”

Ayra frowned. “I do not know. I was going to let the crew decide that after I left.”

The two sat in silence until the brunette broke the silence, “What should I do now?”

Ayra smiled softly at the girl and replied, “Find home.”

12 DAYS OF ANGST

Just a little something @kagero-assassin and I put together for the 12 days of Christmas since that’s getting closer. We did look it up, and it does technically start on Christmas day, but this just made more sense to us, the 12 days leading up. XD But, if you want to do them starting that day, then feel free. This is in no way an event or a schedule, just a little something for fun.

“I’m not the one who insists on fighting, Fraser. You have to stop. Please.” The hero’s voice breaks. “We’re the last ones. Don’t make me do this.”

The hero leaned into the touch, feeling slightly more comforted by it. "I... I'm so sorry," his voice cracked.

"On three," the villain says, shifting slightly against the wood flooring. "One," he starts.

"T-Two," the hero continues quietly, tightening his grip on the knife.

Fraser takes a shaky breath, suddenly nervous.

"Three-"

"Friends stab friends in the front."

"Oh really?" the young hero laughed.

The villain grinned. "Yep!" he chirped, standing on his toes to toss an arm around the taller's shoulders. "And that's why I will stab you in the front, goody-two-shoes."

The hero looked at his nemesis curiously. "You think we're friends?" he asked.

Fraser laughed, a hiccup interrupting it halfway. "No, no, no," he said quickly, leaning close to the hero's face (Tanner could smell the achohol on the villain's breath), "I know we're friends."

"And why's that?"

"Cause you would have killed me already if I wasn't!" the villain snorted. "Or you're just bad at being a hero."

"Oh-" the second part processed a bit slower to Tanner- "Hey! What do you mean by that?!"

"Hup!" the villain exclaimed. "This is my stop!" He tugged Tanner to a halt and wobbled a bit when he let go of the taller.

The hero was about to walk off when he heard Fraser call out to him.

"Hey, goody-two-shoes!"

Sighing, the hero turned around. "What?"

"Get down here, you're too fucking tall." Fraser glared at him.

Tanner was surprised, this having been the first time he's heard the shorter curse, but complied and leaned down a bit. "Now wha-"

His mind froze as soon as Fraser's lips made contact with his own. The villain pulled away after a moment and swayed to the side slightly. "I'm gonna beat you up one day, hero," Fraser huffed, "you're gonna regret ever getting me this drunk."

And without another word, Fraser stumbled into his apartment, leaving behind a confused and flustered hero.

You’re going to be able to find a lot more in depth answer here. But the short of it is:

- : This is a hyphen.

– : This is an en-dash.

— : This is an em-dash.

The hyphen is used to connect words, like you say. Ex: Twenty-two, ex-boyfriend.

The en-dash is used in the context of a span of time. Ex: 1996–2018, February–March.

The em-dash is used when inserting a thought. Ex: He wouldn't—couldn't—go home.

1. Change your perspective. Try writing from a different point of view. Sometimes that helps you open new doors and figure out different things for your WIP.

2. Change your surroundings. Sometimes writing at the same place all the time can get super boring. Change it up.

3. Move. This sounds cliche, but a little bit of exercise goes a long way. Plug in your headphones, put on some favorite music or a podcast, and go for a walk. I do my best writing after a session at the gym.

4. Reward yourself. I was never good at telling myself, “Do this thing and you can have a cookie afterwards.”. So instead, I made the thing be a part of the reward. If you aren’t feeling like writing, make yourself a cup of that favorite tea and drink it as you write. Or put on a favorite show in the background. Make the experience fun.

5. Just write. Sometimes, we all just have to force ourselves to do things we don’t want to do. And once you get started, it gets a lot easier. I promise.

Sure, someone might be more technically accomplished than you - you might not be able to colour as nicely or craft a sentence that rings as poetically - but art is only really secondarily about that. It’s firstmost about what you, uniquely, have to express, and how the precise way you express it might be what others need to relate to it - even if it’s less flashy, less “beautiful”, and gets fewer notes.

I promise you this: there are obscure fanfics with only a handful of notes that are the read-and-re-read favourites of someone too anxious to comment. There are drawings done by 14-year-olds in poorly-blended markers that are someone’s favourite because they spoke to something that nothing else did. There are covers of songs where your voice cracks and you cringe every time you hear it but someone thinks the way it cracked just at that moment added beauty to the song. There are angsty three-line poems you wrote at 4am that someone once called “pretentious emo trash” that are loved by someone else going through the same thing as you.

And I guarantee you, there is something unique about your art. Even if you’re “saying something someone else has said”. Even if you’re the thousandth person to take on the subject. Even if you feel like you’re not at all unique. You’re bound to express something, however subtle, that didn’t exist until then.

1.      It’s not about who you know. I mean, it is, but it isn’t. Knowing people helps, but not as much as most people imagine it does. The book is the most important part.

2.      Writing is a business like many other business. But it’s also an art. You have to negotiate both sides to be successful.

3.      Talent is a lot less important than most people assume. We’re not making widgets, but also, we don’t sit around naked, drinking alcohol and waiting for the muse to strike.

4.      Being an asshole hurts more than most people think. See #3. Talent isn’t enough to make up for it. Trust me on this.

5.      Writing a successful series (or having a “brand”) is important for success, but no one’s going to invest in other books until you get the first one perfect.

6.      Editing is a negotiation, not a declaration. That is, you shouldn’t assume that the editor has the last word. But you should also not assume that the editor is an idiot and your creative vision trumps all.

7.      Agents may be able to get you more money, but it doesn’t mean they’re useless if they don’t. Agents who are assholes may get things in the short term, but are not necessarily useful in the long term.

8.      Finding the right publisher/editor really matters. Success isn’t just throwing money at marketing, even if it looks like it is.

9.      Editors fall in love with books and this makes a huge difference in the way that those books are treated in-house.

10.  Earning out matters, but not as much as you might think.

11.  No one knows what books are going to be huge successes. No one. Of course, they make their best guesses and that’s why they’re in those jobs. But it’s also about good books. Editors don’t get paid enough to hate their jobs day I and day out.

12.  You’re not going to get rich writing books. Yeah, there are always stories about authors who made it rich, but even those stories are mostly promotion to sell more of those authors’ books.

13.  Being an author isn’t glamorous. Yes, there is some schmoozing at cocktail parties. There’s also plenty of writing in your pajamas.

14.  It’s great to read books about writing, but like in many things, you can’t learn everything you need to know from books.

15.  If you want to write a movie script, write a movie script. Don’t write a book because you want it to be turned into a movie. It’s extremely unlikely your book will ever be made into a movie. Also, don’t get too excited just because someone buys an option. Only one percent (or less) of options turn into a movie.

16.  You’re not a celebrity as an author. I know that the Castle TV show makes it look like you’re one, but you’re not. You won’t be friends with the mayor. You won’t have an open bar at your book launch. Trust me. You won’t. And if your book does get made into a movie, no one will care you are the author. At all.

17.  Wear a pair of comfortable shoes when you are doing conferences/book tour/BEA. This is the most important thing. Yes, you think you want to look good, but you’re not going to look very good when you fall down in exhaustion and agony.

18.  Don’t go to an agent’s office. Even if you’re in New York and you just want to drop by. Unless you are a client, then call ahead. Agents aren’t going to look more carefully at your manuscript because you personally dropped it off. I don’t know what your business is that makes you think so, but it’s not true in publishing. It just makes you seem crazy and more likely your manuscript gets thrown in the trash.

19.  The idea that you’re going to self-publish your book first and then get a big NY publishing deal is so rare it qualifies as a myth. If you want a publishing deal, get an agent first.

20.  Amazon is not your best friend as an author. Indies are your best friend. Always, always treat bookstore employees well if you have a chance to meet them.

Keep them short and fast paced. This will keep them exciting, especially if you use short sentences to establish the fight’s fast pace. Plus, it’s unrealistic to have characters fighting each other for too long. Fights are exhausting, so they usually only last a few minutes (note that this does not apply to battles, only fights between a fairly small number of characters).

Experiment with unconventional weapons when possible and, even if you don’t want to do that, at least have different characters use different weapons. Not everyone is likely to fight with their bare hands or a sword. Consider letting your characters use weapons that aren’t used as often in fiction such as battle axes or improvised weapons that are only limited by your imagination and the resources your characters have available. Of course, you should make sure the weapons your characters use suit the time period and setting. Your characters shouldn’t have access to things that haven’t been invented yet, so make sure you do your research if you’re writing historical fiction.

Don’t focus on people’s thoughts or have them talk too much. That should help you keep things fast paced.

Show the effects of characters’ injuries. For example, a character who has hurt their leg might avoid putting weight on it. Little details like this emphasize that the injured character’s safety is at stake while also letting the reader know that injuries have lasting, important consequences in your story. Don’t shy away from having other characters take advantage of these injuries. This is a great opportunity to show which characters are willing to fight dirty.

On that note, give your characters different fighting styles. Not everyone fights the same way. Some people fight dirty while others don’t. Also, people’s fighting styles naturally differ because they have different strengths and weaknesses. For example, an agile character might quickly dart in to hit their opponent before swiftly retreating while a slower, more bulky character might want to stay close to their opponent for the duration of the fight and overwhelm them with their strength. Keep in mind that characters’ emotions can alter their fighting style. This is especially true when characters get really mad as that tends to make them more likely to fight aggressively and recklessly.

WRITING PROMPTS FOR DAYS Feel free to request any of these for any character.