quiven is typing ...

Since the ai accusations are still being thrown around, here's how i personally like to use these GASP ai telltales. 🦄✨

Em Dashes (—)

To emphasize a shift / action / thought.

They're accusing us—actually accusing us—of using AI.

To add drama.

They dismissed our skills as AI—didn't even think twice, the dimwits—and believed they were onto something.

To insert a sudden thought. Surely they wouldn't do that to us—would they?

To interrupt someone's speech. "Hey, please don't say that. I honed my craft through years of blood and tears—" "Shut up, prompter."

To interrupt someone's thoughts / insert a sudden event.

We're going to get those kudos. We're going to get those reblogs—

A chronically online Steve commented, “it sounds like ai, idk.”

Semi Colons ( ; )

To join two closely related independent sentences / connect ideas.

Not only ChatGPT is capable of correct punctuation; who do you think it learned from in the first place?

Ultimate pro tip: use them whenever the fuck you want. You don't owe anyone your creative process. 🌈

We all hit those blah writing days. Your fingers are ready, your doc is open... and your brain goes static. That’s where writing exercises come in — small creative boosts to shake off the dust and get back into your story flow. Here are six to try when your words feel stuck in traffic.

1. The 5-Minute Word Sprint

Pick a random word (use a generator or close your eyes and point at a book), set a 5-minute timer, and write anything involving that word. No stopping, no deleting.

2. Dialogue Without Context

Write a short convo between two people. No descriptions. No setting. Just back-and-forth lines.

3. Rewrite a Scene in Another Genre

Take a scene from your current story and flip the genre. Drama becomes comedy. Fantasy becomes sci-fi. Romance becomes horror.

4. Describe a Place Using the Five Senses — No Sight Allowed

Can’t mention what anything looks like. Only sound, touch, smell, taste, and intuition.

5. Character Swap POVs

Write a paragraph from the POV of a side character reacting to your main character. Bonus if the POV is brutally honest or completely wrong.

6. One Line Story Hooks

Write 3 one-sentence story starters that make you want to keep writing. (Example: “I woke up married to my enemy, and worse — he knew it before I did.”)

✦ People don’t always cry. shocking, I know. sometimes someone just sits there like a polite zombie, nodding and saying “okay” while their soul quietly packs a bag and moves out the back of their skull. They might want to cry, but also they might just go numb and stare at the salt shaker for ten minutes. Both are valid guys.

✦ Most breakups aren’t a single moment, they’re a slow unraveling that ends in a conversation, so even if your character feels blindsided, it should still carry that surreal “I should’ve seen this coming” haze. Because breakups rarely just drop out of the sky.

✦ The dumbest details stick, like seriously, no one remembers the whole speech, but they’ll remember the scratchy napkin, the weird buzz of a light, that their ex had mustard on their cheek and didn’t notice.

✦ You can always feel a breakup coming. no one says “we need to talk” out of nowhere, because people act different right before. overly nice. extra distant. weirdly cold or weirdly warm. characters should notice that, even if they can’t quite name what it is yet.

✦ Sometimes people still love each other. like, actually still love each other. it’s not always about the love being gone, no. It can be timing, fear, baggage, a hundred other things that get in the way. let your characters say “I love you” and still not stay. It hurts and it’s real.

✦ Closure? lol. most people don’t get it. a lot of breakups end with “wait, that’s it?” or a message that never gets sent or that one thing you almost said but didn’t. There’s rarely a satisfying ending.

✦ No one speaks in perfect sentences mid-breakup. people ramble. they say sorry three times and mean something different every time. Someone’s trying to keep it light. someone else is cracking. sentences trail off. someone forgets how to use words entirely.

✦ After it’s over, people don’t always sob into a pint of ice cream. Some people shut down, some go out and party, some clean their entire room, rewatch a comfort show, or post a spicy selfie with “new era” energy. Everyone breaks differently, so let your characters be weird about it.

(until they do, eventually, maybe.)

Some characters don’t fall in love quietly, not really. They fall in love loudly but refuse to say it, and not because they’re playing hard to get, but because they’re scared. Of messing things up, of not being loved back, or of saying too much and not being able to take it back. So instead, they almost say it. Over and over...

✶ They get close, like, painfully close.✶ It’s always on the edge of their tongue, but something stops them.

“I need to tell you something…” “I’ve been thinking about you...about this.” “You’re… important to me.”

They pause too long, they chicken out, the moment passes, and then they pretend it didn’t happen at all.

✶ There’s always something in the way ✶  Timing, fear, a phone call, a joke that kills the mood. One of them looks away and the moment slips through their fingers. And it’s so frustrating, and not just for the characters... for the reader too. Because it keeps almost happening, and then it doesn’t.

✶ They practice it in their head ✶ 

“I love you.” “Has anyone ever told you how much you mean to me?” “You’re it. You’re the one.”

They imagine saying it in the car, or on a walk, or at midnight when everything’s quiet. But when they’re actually in front of the person? It feels impossible.

✶  The other person knows. kind of. ✶  They feel it and hear it in the way they say their name. They see it in the way they look at them like the sun just walked into the room. But they’re scared too, so they wait... And wait, and wait. No one wants to be the first to fall without knowing the other person will catch them.

✶ When it finally happens, it’s never perfect ✶ It’s messy, blurted out, and maybe during an argument. Maybe after something awful happens and everything’s too raw to hide.

These are some lowkey underrated tips I’ve seen floating around writing communities — the kind that don’t get flashy attention but seriously changed how I write.

1. Put “he/she/they” at the start of the sentence less often.

Try switching up your sentence rhythm. Instead of

“She walked to the window,”

try

“The window creaked open under her touch.”

Keeps it fresh and stops the paragraph from sounding like a checklist.

2. Don’t describe everything — describe what matters.

Instead of listing every detail in a room, pick 2–3 objects that say something.

“A half-drunk mug of tea and a knife on the table”

sets a way stronger tone than

“There was a wooden table, two chairs, and a shelf.”

3. Use beats instead of dialogue tags sometimes.

Instead of:

"I'm fine," she said.

Try:

"I'm fine." She wiped her hands on her skirt.

It helps shows emotion, and movement.

4. Write your first draft like no one will ever read it.

No pressure. No perfection. Just vibes. The point of draft one is to exist. Let it be messy and weird — future you will thank you for at least something to edit.

5. When stuck, ask: “What’s the most fun thing that could happen next?”

Not logical. Not realistic. FUN. It doesn’t have to stay — but chasing excitement can blast through writer’s block and give you ideas you actually want to write.

aka: you’re staring into the creative abyss and the abyss is not only staring back, it’s asking for a rough draft

hi writer. welcome to that fun little liminal space in your project where ✨absolutely nothing✨ makes sense. you wrote the last scene. you know you’re not at the end. but suddenly your characters are just standing there like NPCs waiting for a quest marker and your brain is doing the spinning beachball of death.

so. what now?

let’s break down some actually useful strategies for when you hit That Point™️. not vibes. not ✨manifest your way out✨ energy. not the “just keep writing” slog. here’s what to do when your story is refusing to tell you what happens next:

———————————————

zoom out: do a “scene audit” ———————————————

you don’t need a full outline to do this. take five minutes and sketch a bullet list of every scene that’s happened so far. not just what happened, but why it mattered.

like this:

MC lied to their boss (sets up stakes re: trust/power)

antagonist shows up at cafe (establishes tension + location crossover)

best friend gets suspicious (emotional complication, adds pressure)

this gives you a birds-eye view of what you’ve set in motion. often you’re stuck because you’ve lost sight of the threads you were pulling, your own story has momentum, you just need to feel it again.

—————————————————————

try “ghost drafting” (aka fake writing) —————————————————————

open a doc. start typing what would happen, if you were writing. super casual. something like:

“okay i think the next scene is maybe them at the train station?? or wait--maybe we need to see the fallout of the argument. i don’t really know what x character wants rn but i think y might be planning something…”

this trick works bc it removes pressure. no fancy prose, no perfect structure. it’s literally you telling yourself what might happen. and weirdly? your brain will often finish the scene for you without asking. (the number of times I’ve ghost drafted myself into 800 usable words… witchcraft.)

——————————————————————————

pin your characters to a corkboard and interrogate them ——————————————————————————

not literally. (unless you're into that. i don’t judge.)

but seriously: when you’re stuck, it’s often because your character has no immediate goal or emotion. pause and ask:

what does this character want right now? like, in this moment?

what are they trying to avoid?

what’s keeping them from getting either?

character-driven scenes are rarely static. even if it’s just an awkward dinner or walking to the store, someone’s always trying to do or hide something. if everyone in the scene is just reacting or waiting, you’ve got fog. bring in the fire.

—————————————————

don’t skip the “boring” stuff--weaponize it —————————————————

sometimes we’re stuck because we think the next scene is dull. like “ugh i guess they just… travel to the manor” or “they regroup at the safe house.” but these slow beats are GOLD if you embed purpose.

try giving the “boring” scene:

a time limit or interruption (they’re hiding but someone knocks)

a secret (someone is lying about something small but important)

a reversal (what they expected is the opposite of what happens)

even if it’s a quiet scene, layer it. conflict isn’t just yelling or action. it’s discomfort. it’s misalignment. tension between what’s said and unsaid.

—————————————————————

when all else fails: write the next emotional beat —————————————————————

strip it back. forget plot. forget pacing. ask yourself:

then write that. a monologue. a journal entry. an outburst. a line of whispered dialogue.

sometimes it’s not that you don’t know what happens next. it’s that your character hasn’t processed what just happened, and until they do, the story can’t move forward.

✨✨✨

the void is normal. getting stuck doesn’t mean you failed or picked the wrong idea or that the muse packed up and left for a better writer’s house. it just means your brain needs space to regroup.

writing isn’t linear. stories aren’t built in perfect lines. they loop. they stall. they circle back. and that’s okay.

if you’re in the middle of nowhere, here’s your sign to sit on the side of the metaphorical road, open your weird little notebook, and write anyway. write wrong. write messy. write ghost drafts. the path shows up when you start walking.

🕳️ you got this, writer.

tag me if you end up crawling out of your stuck scene with a little victory paragraph. i’ll bring snacks for the next one 🧃✨

P.S. I made a free mini eBook about the 5 biggest mistakes writers make in the first 10 pages 👀 you can grab it here for FREE:

(for that painfully slow-burn energy. they’re in denial, we are screaming.)

✧ Overexplaining why they’re doing something kind. “I only brought you coffee because I was already there. It doesn’t mean anything.”

✧ Making playlists, but never sending them.

✧ Remembering oddly specific things, like how you take your ramen or your opinion on grape-flavored candy.

✧ Looking at your mouth mid-conversation. Catching themselves. Looking away.

✧ Offering to carry something small and stupid, like a charger or chapstick, because it’s one more way to be close.

✧ Giving a compliment but following it up with a weird joke, like their brain short-circuited.

✧ Fixing your sleeve. Avoiding eye contact while doing it.

✧ Defending you in front of others but teasing you when you’re alone.

✧ Staring a little too long when they think you’re not looking.

(Emotionally. Mentally. Internally. Completely.)

There’s a quiet kind of horror that comes with realizing you’re not okay and can’t fix it. When a character starts unraveling, it doesn’t always look like screaming or smashing things. Sometimes it’s the slow, subtle slipping of the reins...

╰ They overcompensate. Suddenly everything needs to be spotless, perfect, hyper-organized. Their planner is full, their schedule is packed, their smile is pinned on too tight. It’s not control, it’s panic dressed up in structure.

╰ They talk faster, louder or stop talking at all. They dominate conversations so they don’t have to think. Or they fall silent because words feel too risky. Either way, their voice is no longer safe territory.

╰ They get weird about small decisions. Choosing a sandwich becomes a full-body crisis. What should be easy isn’t, because nothing feels certain. It’s not about the sandwich. It’s about everything spinning too fast.

╰ They feel detached. Like they’re watching their life from a distance. They float above the room, disconnected from themselves, and laugh at things they don’t really find funny.

╰ They lash out in ways that don’t fit the moment. It’s never really about what triggered them. They explode over the dishes, or cry because someone asked if they’re okay. Their emotions are no longer matching the moment.

╰ They start avoiding mirrors. They don’t want to look at themselves, because they know. They know something’s off. They know their smile doesn’t reach their eyes. And they can’t face that truth yet.

╰ They apologize too much or not at all. They either spiral into guilt, overexplaining everything. Or they shut off and go stone-cold, too afraid that acknowledging the damage will make it real.

╰ They miss things. Conversations. Appointments. Easy tasks. Their brain is overwhelmed, trying to hold it together, and things slip through the cracks. And when they realize it, they panic more.

╰ They crave control but trust no one. They don’t delegate, don’t ask for help, because what if that help makes it worse? Trusting someone means letting go, and that’s the scariest thing of all right now.

beautiful words and phrases with "blood" for your next poem/story

Blood rain - rain colored red by dust from the air

Bloodbath - a great slaughter

Bloodberry - a tropical American herb (Rivina humilis) with racemes of red berries resembling those of pokeweed

Bloodcurdling - arousing fright or horror

Bloodguilt - guilt resulting from bloodshed

Bloodhound - any of a breed of large powerful hounds of European origin remarkable for acuteness of smell; a person keen in pursuit

Bloodlessness - deficiency in or free from blood; lacking in spirit or vitality; or in human feeling

Bloodletting - phlebotomy; bloodshed; elimination of personnel or resources; severe criticism

Bloodline - a sequence of direct ancestors especially in a pedigree

Bloodlust - desire for bloodshed

Bloodroot - a plant (Sanguinaria canadensis) of the poppy family having a red root and sap and bearing a solitary lobed leaf and white flower in early spring; also called: sanguinaria

Bloodshot - inflamed to redness

Bloodstain - a discoloration caused by blood

Bloodstock - horses of Thoroughbred breeding

Bloodstone - a green chalcedony sprinkled with red spots resembling blood; also called: heliotrope

Bloodstream - the flowing blood in a circulatory system; a mainstream of power or vitality

Bloodsucker - an animal that sucks blood; a person who sponges or preys on another

Bloodthirsty - eager for or marked by the shedding of blood, violence, or killing

Bloodwealth - an indemnity for murder paid in some African tribes to the family of the victim

Bloodworm - any of various pink to red worms

Bloodwort - a plant of the family Haemodoraceae the members of which contain a deep red coloring matter in the roots

Bloody bread - bleeding bread (i.e., bread containing reddish patches produced by a bacterium, Serratia marcescens)

Bloodybones - (archaic) hobgoblin, specter—used especially in the phrase, "rawhead and bloodybones"

Lifeblood - blood regarded as the seat of vitality; a vital or life-giving force or component

Oxblood - a moderate reddish brown

If this inspires your writing in any way, please tag me, or send me a link. I would love to read your work!

(Emotional meltdowns that don’t look like meltdowns, but absolutely are)

 The “Smiling Too Much” Grief Your character’s entire world is on fire, and they’re asking if anyone wants more wine. That’s not denial, it’s an effort to hold the damn pieces together. Smile like a glue gun. Watch them crack.

The “Not Crying At the Funeral” Breakdown They don't shed a tear. They organize everything. Perfect speech. Perfect outfit. But a week later, they scream into the laundry basket over a missing sock. That’s the moment. That’s the eulogy.

 The “Silent Dinner Table” Fight No yelling. No slamming doors. Just chewing. Clinking silverware. The kind of silence that tastes like metal. Let the reader feel the air shrink.

 The “Polite but Dead Inside” Apology They say “Sorry” because it’s expected, not because they’re ready. Their voice doesn’t crack. Their eyes don’t meet yours. This isn’t healing. This is a peace treaty with no peace.

The “I Don’t Want to Talk About It” Detour The one where they ask about your day mid-sob. Redirect. Deflect. “Let’s not talk about me.” That’s rage choked by shame. Write it like it’s shoving itself into a smaller box.

 The “Obsessively Productive” Meltdown New projects. New hobbies. Suddenly they’re running marathons, baking sourdough, fixing the garage door. Because if they sit still for one second, they’ll break. Keep the camera on them when they finally sit.

The “Unsent Letters” Grief They write it all down. Every damn emotion. Then burn it. Or delete it. Or hide it in a shoebox under their bed. It’s not for closure. It’s to let the ghosts know they were seen.

The “I’m Fine” That Echoes Delivered too fast. Too sharp. You could bounce a quarter off it. “I’m fine” isn’t fine. It’s the dam cracking. Listen to the echo. Let another character hear the hollowness.

The “Hyper-Logical Rant” Rage They argue with spreadsheets. With perfect bullet points. Cold rage—like ice, not fire. “I’m not mad, I’m just saying…” But that’s a lie. They’re volcanic under that clipboard.

basically, it's the mixing formal and informal language.

1. Breaking Tension with Absurdity

Imagine you’ve just written an emotionally intense scene. Your character is standing on the edge of a cliff, contemplating life, death, and stuff.

Formal/High Register: "The cold wind lashed against her skin, as though nature itself sought to strip away any last remnants of warmth, of hope. She could feel her heart, beating erratically, a frantic drum echoing through her veins."

And then, right when the tension is at its peak, you suddenly drop in...

Informal/Low Register: "She tugged at her boot, cursing under her breath as it got stuck. ‘For god's sake, now’s not the time for this,’ she muttered."

Now, instead of dragging the reader down into despair, you’ve briefly punctuated the seriousness of the moment with absurdity. This not only lightens the mood but also heightens the emotional gravity when the serious moment returns. The levity makes the stakes feel more intense because, even in a life-or-death scenario, life keeps going—and sometimes, that’s just really annoying.

2. Creating Dramatic Irony with High Register in Stressful Moments

Another way to use this technique is by throwing high register language into moments of extreme stress or fear. It’s like when a character uses overly formal, eloquent language at the worst possible time.

Low Register: He was cornered, backed into a dark alley with no way out, the sound of footsteps closing in. His pulse pounded in his ears, fingers trembling.

Then, in a panic, he might say something way too formal for the moment:

High Register: As it appears I have reached an impasse. Might I inquire as to the purpose of this most precarious encounter?

The use of high register here creates a sense of disconnection—the character’s formality feels completely out of place in such a visceral, dangerous moment. The tension is amplified because it’s clear that the character doesn’t understand the gravity of the situation—or maybe they’re so overwhelmed they’re overthinking their response.

TL;DR: Mixing high and low register in your writing isn’t just a fancy stylistic choice—it’s a great way to mess with emotional tension, highlight the absurdity of serious moments, or show how someone is struggling to maintain control in the face of fear.

Imaging thinking actual human writers are Not Real because they use... professional writing in their works.

Imagine thinking millions of people who have been using em dash way before AI becomes a thing are all robots.