Sofiko Chalvari

✨🌊🗡 Greetings, traveler! Allow me to introduce myself. 🗡🌊✨

My creative pseudonym is Sofiko Chalvari (you can just call me Sofiko).

I’m writing my first book in the fantasy genre and would be truly happy if you became my reader. That’s why I invite you to follow the updates on my blog.

My book includes the following elements:

✦ Deep emotional intimacy

✦ Psychological thriller

✦ Dreams and visions

✦ Religious cult

✦ The struggle for sanity and survival

For several years, I have also been writing fanfiction across various pairings.

My favorite characters from the Harry Potter universe are Tom Riddle and Luna Lovegood. In some ways, they reflect my own character.

I love morally ambiguous, complex heroes and deep, charismatic villains — those who cannot simply be called “bad,” and those who are their own worst enemy.

I’m not drawn to idealistic romantic endings. I sincerely believe that the most powerful stories are those closest to real life — with all its fragility, uncertainty, soul-deep pain, and fleeting moments of happiness.

I’m fascinated by people: their individuality, talents, quirks, how they break down, and how they put themselves back together. That’s why I study psychology.

I have an esoteric way of thinking — I constantly see various images and beautiful color combinations in my head, which is why I try to bring them to life through graphic design.

By nature, I’m an empathetic introverted perfectionist.

You can write to me about anything — I’m open to friendship, collaboration, new ideas, and inspiration!

In 1893, Arthur Conan Doyle was tired of Sherlock Holmes. He considered detective stories a "low genre" and dreamed of writing historical novels. So he did the only thing he thought could save him — he killed the hero.

In the story "The Final Problem," the detective and his enemy Moriarty fall from Reichenbach Falls. Conan Doyle was sure he had finished with this.

He was wrong.

People were furious. In London, people wore black ribbons in mourning. Readers wrote thousands of letters asking him to bring Holmes back. Even the writer's mother wrote: "You can't do this to us."

Conan Doyle resisted for 8 years. But in 1902, he returned — Holmes survived, hid in Tibet, and was back with us again.

1. Other people's conversations on public transport

It's not about what they say – it's the rhythm and tone of their speech. Try imagining: what's the relationship between these two? What are they not telling each other? What goals might they share?

2. Dreams

Keep a dream journal. It helps you understand yourself – and find inspiration at the same time.

3. MAC cards (or any oracle/association cards)

Get yourself a deck. Pull a few cards now and then. Look at them as if they're potential scenes from your book.

4. Old diaries

The secret of a living character lies in their internal conflict. In what goes on inside their head when no one is watching. In the struggle between "want" and "must," between fear and duty, between who they think they are and who they really are.

Without internal conflict, a character is flat. With it — they become complex, contradictory, alive.

What Is Internal Conflict?

Internal conflict is a psychological struggle happening inside a character. Two opposing beliefs, desires, or emotions clash, and the hero cannot choose how to act.

External conflict is hero versus dragon, villain, or hurricane. Internal conflict is hero versus themselves. Their own fear, pride, or lies.

And you know what? Internal conflict is always more interesting. Because the reader may never have faced a dragon, but they have faced doubt, guilt, and fear of failure.

5 Main Types of Internal Conflict

1. False Belief

The character believes something that simply isn't true. This lie prevents them from living, making decisions, being happy.

Classic example: Harry Potter believing his parents died in a car crash. This lie shapes his identity, his longing for family, his loneliness.

How to use it: Give your character a belief that blocks their goal. "I don't deserve love." "I'm weak." "The world is against me."

2. Self-Doubt

The character isn't sure they can handle what's coming. That they're good enough, strong enough, smart enough.

Peter Parker after Tony Stark's death is a perfect example. He constantly asks himself: "Am I even capable of filling this void?"

How to use it: Give your character a challenge that seems beyond their strength. Show how doubt affects their actions — holds them back, makes them hesitate, leads to mistakes.

3. Moral Dilemma

There is no right answer. Any choice will lead to suffering — for others or for themselves.

The strongest example is Sophie's Choice. A mother in a concentration camp must decide which of her children will die and which will live.

How to use it: Corner your hero where every decision will cost someone pain. Show them tormented, weighing options, delaying — and finally making a choice that changes them forever.

4. Fear

The character is afraid of something specific. Not abstractly, but so that fear paralyzes them, makes them avoid, lie, run away.

Katniss Everdeen fears she won't be able to protect her family. This fear isn't weakness — it's her driving force.

How to use it: Give your character a concrete, understandable fear. Not "fear of the dark," but "fear that their mother will die while they're away."

5. Mind vs. Body Conflict

The character wants one thing, but their body, habits, instincts pull them in another direction.

A warrior who must save the world, but whose body demands sleep, food, rest — and fails them at the critical moment.

How to use it: Set your hero's physical limits against their mission. They want to run — but their legs won't obey. They want to fight — but their hands shake.

How to Show Internal Conflict on the Page

Internal conflict happens in the head. But the reader can't climb inside. You need to show the struggle through external, visible things.

1. Show body language

Not "he was scared," but dry throat, clenched fists, trembling fingers. Not "he didn't know what to choose," but fidgeting with clothing, averting his gaze, freezing a few seconds too long.

2. Use internal monologue, but in moderation

Show the character circling the same thought, avoiding it, returning to it. Arguing with themselves — one part wants one thing, another part wants something else.

3. Show indecision through actions

A character who can't decide will:

— Avoid — distract themselves with work, pretend the problem doesn't exist

— Waver — today they're for it, tomorrow against, the next day unsure again

— Make mistakes — impulsive decisions they later regret

4. Show emotional instability

Internal conflict drains energy. A character might explode over small things, cry for no reason, withdraw into themselves.

5. Use false memories

The subtlest technique. When the hero wants so badly to justify their decision that they start rewriting the past. A character convinces themselves someone laughed at them — only to later realize it never happened.

A Common Trap

Many think that to make a character complex, you need to pile on contradictions. Kind but cruel. Cowardly but heroic. Loving but hateful.

This only works if the contradictions are grounded.

A chaotic set of "interesting traits" without logic isn't depth — it's incoherence. The reader must understand why the character is so contradictory. What trauma, what belief, what fear makes them this way.

An idea bank is a place where you store all your creative thoughts so you don't lose them.

Why do you need it?

First, ideas disappear. You think of something brilliant, don't write it down because "I'll never forget this," and half an hour later, nothing remains but a vague feeling that something important was there.

Second, it saves you during creative crises. You open it, look at old notes, and suddenly one of them sparks and turns into a full piece of writing.

Third, it teaches you to trust yourself. When you see how many ideas you've already collected, you realize that your brain is a meaning-generating machine — you just didn't notice it before.

Choosing Your Tool

An idea bank doesn't have to be complicated. You just need a place to write things down when they come.

Paper: a notebook that's always with you. If your thoughts don't form neat lines, paper lets you write crookedly, draw diagrams, scribble in margins.

Digital: phone notes (Google Keep, Evernote, Apple Notes). Your phone is always nearby. You can dictate ideas or photograph something that inspired you.

Specialized apps: Notion has templates for idea banks. You can create databases with statuses (new, in progress, done), categories, priorities.

Spreadsheet: Google Sheets or Excel. One author says: "I was drowning in sticky notes. I made a giant spreadsheet with topic sections and now I can sort ideas by any column."

The main thing is not the tool — it's the habit of writing things down.

What to Write Down

Everything. Absolutely everything.

— Plot twists — scenes, dialogue, endings

— Images and atmosphere — "the smell of ozone before a storm"

— Names and titles — beautiful words you hear

— Quotes from dreams — dreams give us surreal images

— Observations of people — a phrase, a gesture, an intonation

— Emotional states — physical sensations that will later help your characters

— Other people's ideas you want to reinterpret

How to Structure Chaos

Simple system: one document, ideas as a list separated by lines. When you have many, add tags: #plot, #dialogue, #character.

System with statuses: in Notion or spreadsheets, add a status column: Inbox → Ripening → In progress → Implemented → Archive.

System by categories: folders like "Characters," "Locations," "Conflicts," "Dialogues."

Spreadsheet by project: separate files for each book with plot ideas, research notes, contact lists.

How to Generate Ideas When the Bank Is Empty

Forced connections: take a random word and forcibly connect it to your topic. Your brain steps out of its usual path and starts looking for new routes.

SCAMPER: Substitute, Combine, Adapt, Modify, Put to another use, Eliminate, Reverse. Seven angles to attack any problem.

Mind maps: write the topic in the center, draw branches with associations. Visualizing chaos helps you see hidden connections.

Brainstorming with yourself: set a 15-minute timer and write everything that comes to mind, without criticism, even nonsense. Quantity turns into quality.

How to Use Your Bank in Practice

When you don't know what to write — open your bank, find three weak ideas, and write one paragraph for each. Usually one will grab you.

When a scene isn't working — check your "dialogues" or "conflicts" section. Sometimes an old phrase fits perfectly and brings the scene to life.

When writing a character — look for your old notes about emotions, especially if the character is going through something you've experienced.

Suddenly, the unbearable heaviness disappeared, and a wheeze tore from his throat. It hurt terribly. Colored spots swam before his eyes. Someone was breathing rapidly. Malfoy struggled to his feet and shook his head.

"I doubted you all this time. Until you decided to defend those bastards."

Draco felt his hands going numb. Everything he had wanted to say to her was forgotten in the shock. Standing in the middle of the room was Hermione Granger. She wore a dark blue-black uniform with gold buttons on the chest.

That part of his mind which never stopped analyzing what was happening suggested to him that he could not identify which magical division this uniform belonged to.

"You didn't take your chance, Malfoy," Hermione said imperiously, pointing her wand at him.

"Stupefy!"

"Crucio!"

1. A Weak Opening: The First Page Decides Everything

Editors at magazines and publishing houses agree: most manuscripts are rejected after the first page, sometimes even after the first paragraph. An opening that doesn't grab the reader is a death sentence for a book, no matter how brilliant the middle might be.

What it looks like: long descriptions of nature, the hero waking up and drinking coffee, lengthy reflections on life, no conflict or movement.

What to do: place your hero at the center of a conflict from the very first page. It doesn't have to be a battle scene — a small amount of tension, a hint of a problem, a question the reader will want answered is enough.

Remember: the reader has 5–10 seconds to decide whether to keep reading or not.

2. Verbal Clutter: Too Many Words

Beginner writers often write as if every word needs to be precious. But the paradox is that the more words you use, the less they mean.

What it looks like: endless adjectives, adverbs, introductory phrases, clarifications, explanations of things that are already obvious.

What to do: editors recommend cutting text by 10–50%. Remove everything without which the meaning of the sentence would not collapse. Use strong verbs instead of "verb + adverb." Instead of "loudly shouted" — "yelled." Instead of "very quickly ran" — "sprinted." The shorter and more precise, the better.

3. Lack of Purpose: Text for the Sake of Text

This is the deepest mistake. A text can have a great plot, lively characters, stylish language — but if it lacks a "why," the reader feels it.

What it looks like: the reader reaches the end of a chapter and doesn't understand why they read it. Events happen but lead nowhere. Characters talk, but their dialogues change nothing.

What to do: ask yourself before every scene — why is it here? What will change in the plot or in the character if it's cut out? If nothing — cut it.

A book should exist not because you wanted to write a book, but because you have something to say.

4. Information Overload

Info dump: the author dumps all the backstory of the world and characters on the reader within the first few pages. The reader drowns in names, dates, geographical locations, and magical systems.

Vagueness and uncertainty: the opposite extreme. The author is afraid to say anything specific, so as not to "spoil" or make a mistake. As a result, the reader doesn't understand where the action is taking place, who these people are, or what they want.

What to do: give information gradually, exactly when the reader needs it to understand what's happening. If you need to know that the hero is an orphan to understand an action — reveal that right before the action, not three chapters earlier.

If the reader doesn't need to know it right now to understand the scene — leave it for later or cut it.

5. Unnatural Dialogue and Exposition Through Dialogue

Characters say things to each other that they both already know: "As you remember, we studied together at Hogwarts and then you saved me from a troll" — no one talks like that in real life.

What it looks like: characters recount past events, explain the rules of the world, describe their feelings in plain text — all in dialogue.

What to do: dialogue in a good book is not about conveying information. It's about conflict, play, subtext. People rarely say what they think. They circle around, defend themselves, attack, hide. Learn to write dialogue where the meaning is hidden between the lines.

6. Weak Character Development

Characters are the reason the reader opens a book in the first place. The plot can be simple, the world standard — but if the characters feel alive, people will read.

What it looks like: characters don't change throughout the story. They have no internal conflict. They are either perfectly good or completely evil. The reader doesn't care what happens to them.

What to do: give characters flaws, fears, contradictions. Let them make mistakes and sometimes act illogically — like real people. And most importantly — show their development. Even a small change in the finale compared to the beginning makes the story worthwhile.

Dorothea Brande notes in her book Becoming a Writer that paradoxically, the most talented beginning writers suffer from mistakes more than anyone — because they feel the imperfection of their text more acutely.

But here's what matters: most of these mistakes are technical. They can be fixed with practice, editing, and feedback. They say nothing about your talent or your value as a writer.

Step 1. Give your character a goal

What do they want? What matters to them? The goal can be external (save the world, find an artifact, win a competition) or internal (find peace, prove their worth, feel loved).

Step 2. Give your character an obstacle

What or who stands in the way of their goal? This is external conflict. It's necessary, but on its own it's not enough.

Step 3. Give your character an internal obstacle

This is the most important part. What inside them prevents them from reaching their goal? Fear? A false belief? Doubt? Guilt?

The internal obstacle is the source of internal conflict. The hero wants to save the world but is afraid they won't succeed. They want to confess their love but believe they're unworthy. They want to leave their abuser but feel guilty.

Step 4. Create a situation where the internal and external collide

Put your character in a position where they cannot make a choice without sacrificing something important. Want to save a friend? You'll pay with your reputation. Want to tell the truth? You'll lose your job.

The harder the choice, the stronger the internal conflict.

Step 5. Show the struggle

Don't just state "she was uncertain." Show her wavering, putting off the decision, trying one thing then another, making mistakes, suffering.

An Example: How It Looks on the Page

Let's say our heroine is a young lawyer who wants justice (goal). She takes on a case defending a victim of domestic violence (external obstacle — a powerful opponent).

But her internal obstacle: she grew up in a home where her father beat her mother. And she was never able to stand up for her. Now she's afraid she'll be helpless again. Every court hearing is a reminder of her childhood fear.

The conflict: she wants justice — but every action brings her closer to a trauma she's spent forty years burying.

How to show it:

— Body language: Before every hearing, her hands tremble. She fidgets with the edge of her blazer while waiting for the judge.

— Internal monologue: "I can do this. I have to do this. If I fall apart now, then I'm still that little girl who couldn't do anything."

— Action: She approaches the courthouse and stands there for three minutes, unable to go in. Then she pushes the door abruptly — and only then realizes she's been holding her breath.

— Mistake: At some point, she snaps at her client because the client reminds her of her mother, who "couldn't leave."

This is how a living, breathing scene is born from the dry statement "she has internal conflict."

The Main Takeaway

Internal conflict is the engine of your story. It makes the reader empathize, argue, and come back to the text.

To make it work:

1. Give your character a goal (what they want).

2. Give them an external obstacle (who or what gets in the way).

3. Give them an internal obstacle (fear, false belief, doubt).

4. Put them in a situation of choice without a right answer.

The spring wind drove tattered scraps of grey clouds across a milk-white sky. The outlines of the world had become so sharp that Draco couldn't help but be surprised — his eyesight had worsened back in his fifth year, even though he never wore glasses.

It took him a moment to get up from the ground, look around, and realize that he wasn't breathing. Inside him, there was no heart, no lungs. He didn't need them anymore. He could feel the cold raindrops and the wind, which meant he still existed.

Looking closer, he saw Hermione in the distance. A small figure, head bowed, wiping away tears with the back of a translucent hand. A soft glow emanated from her. Closing his eyes, Malfoy found himself beside her and put his arm around Granger's shoulders.

They both looked at their own bodies, lying in the field. Draco held Hermione close. His arm was slashed by a curse. He had tried to protect her in the last seconds of his life.

And then Malfoy remembered. The events of the previous night flared up in his memory like a searing pain. He had tried to lead her away from Malfoy Manor. They had managed to Apparate quite far, but they couldn't escape the pursuit.

It had all happened here, near a small English village. Maybe the villagers thought a thunderstorm had broken out in the night. In reality, flashes of curses had streaked through the darkness like lightning.

Draco had killed several Death Eaters before he noticed a jet of green light flying toward Hermione. They had split death between them. She tried to shield him. He tried to shield her.

Then everything went quiet.

Hermione turned to Draco.

"Are we free now?"

He nodded silently. Dying hadn't hurt.

What hurt was knowing that you had died.

A few days ago, I had to delete my Google account

I removed the avatar I had gotten used to over several years, went through some emails, saved my photos, and transferred my documents to another account. Nothing special — these things happen.

But this small event made me realize that the internet has become a space where part of our personality lives — the things that matter to us. Before, there were letters, old Polaroid photographs, real paper diaries. But now, in the modern world, we all live among written digital code. And in a way, this is the future that science fiction writers imagined. It's a new level of collective memory.

After Apparating, he swayed to the side. Fatigue persistently reminded him of itself with a rapid pulse and dizziness.

Maybe today was the time to take a strong sleeping potion and allow himself to disappear from this world for at least twenty-four hours. The wizard sitting at the guard post raised an indifferent gaze to him and reluctantly put down his newspaper.

"This morning an owl brought me a letter summoning me to the Ministry of Magic. Can you tell me which department I need to go to?"

"One moment, sir," the wizard bent over the book where all summons and messages were recorded.

The pause dragged on.

"Hmm, the last summons you received was over a month ago..."

"...when I started the investigation, correct," Malfoy interrupted him irritably. "Check again!"

The change of power had in no way affected the lax performance of direct duties by everyone who worked here. It had always angered him.

"The Ministry has sent no summons or messages to the address of Draco Lucius Malfoy," the wizard repeated more insistently.

Malfoy's gaze drifted aimlessly across the walls, where poisonous green reflections from the Floo Network flickered. Inside, beneath his ribs, a coldness began to spread as he realized what had happened. He had taken the bait. He had been lured out of his home. Draco turned and, pulling out his wand as he moved, Apparated back to the apartment.

Dreams are a very dangerous thing: they smolder like fire, and sometimes they consume us completely.

• Memories of a geisha, Arthur Golden

Your creativity is a part of you, and when someone criticizes your writing, your brain automatically perceives it as an attack on you personally. That's just how the psyche works. Fighting it is useless — but you can learn to live with it and even extract value from it.

Step One: Understand Who You're Dealing With (and Whether You Should Even Care)

Not all criticism is equally useful. What's more — not all criticism deserves your attention at all.

Constructive criticism is what helps you grow. It has several characteristics:

— It's specific — it doesn't just say "I don't like it," but rather "this scene drags because the character does nothing for three pages."

— It's respectful in tone — even when pointing out flaws, the person doesn't attack you personally or use demeaning language.

— It offers direction — not just "this is bad," but "maybe add some conflict here" or "the dialogue feels unnatural, try making the lines shorter."

— It acknowledges strengths — even in a critical review, there's room for praise.

Destructive criticism is garbage you can safely throw away.

It:

Is directed at the author's personality, not the text ("you're talentless," "you shouldn't be writing at all").

— Is vague and unspecific ("boring," "didn't grab me," "not quite right").

— Offers no solutions — just states the negative.

— Often looks like public humiliation — especially if the criticism is expressed in front of everyone rather than in private correspondence.

The rule: if someone doesn't explain why they don't like something and doesn't suggest how it could be improved — you can safely ignore their opinion.

Step Two: Learn to Separate Yourself from Your Work

Criticism of your work is not criticism of you as a person. Someone might think a scene turned out weak, but that doesn't mean they think you're untalented. Your text is a product — it can be improved, rewritten, expanded.

Step Three: Don't Defend — Ask Questions

The most natural reaction to criticism is to defend yourself. To explain why you wrote it that way. To mentally tell the critic where to go (and sometimes in reality).

Instead, try this:

First, just listen. Pause. Don't respond right away.

Ask clarifying questions. "What exactly felt drawn out to you?" "Where did you lose interest?" "What do you think could have been done differently here?"

Thank them for their time. Even if you disagree — the person read your text and tried to help.

Step Four: You Can and Should Filter Criticism

Many beginner writers make the mistake of trying to take all comments into account at once. One reader says the chapter is too long. Another says it's too short. A third wants more action. A fourth wants less.

1. First, determine what stage your work is at. If it's a first draft, ignore criticism of style and focus on plot holes. If it's final polishing, do the opposite.

2. Ask reviewers specific questions. Instead of "So, what did you think?" ask: "Is the hero's motivation clear in the third chapter?" "Does the tension between the characters come through?"

3. Don't listen to everyone — listen to those you trust. One good beta reader with literary taste is worth more than a hundred random internet commenters.

4. Remember that the final decision is always yours. You're the author. You have the right to accept a comment or reject it. Advice is not commands.

Step Five: Create a Protective Cushion

Criticism hurts. Even the most constructive kind. That's why you need a support system to keep you from falling apart.

What you can do:

— Keep a folder of positive feedback. Every time someone writes something warm about your work — save it there. Re-read it on days when criticism burns especially hard.

— Have someone who supports you. Someone you can complain to, blow off steam, and then calmly return to analyzing the feedback.

I would be born in Hogwarts, Lord of the Rings, or any fantasy setting.

Telling is when the author dryly lists facts: "John was scared." The reader gets information but doesn’t feel it.

Showing creates an illusion of reality. Instead of "John was scared," describe his dry mouth, his grip on the armrest, his heart dropping. The reader concludes he’s afraid — and feels it too.

But you can’t show everything, or the text becomes exhausting. Sometimes you just need: "He made it home in twenty minutes." It’s about choosing the right tool.

How to do it:

• Dialogue and subtext: Avoid characters stating what they both know ("Remember how you crashed the car yesterday?"). Real dialogue circles around feelings — people hide, attack, deflect.

• Body language: A character says "I’m fine," but clenches fists or avoids eye contact. The reader understands without a single extra word. Adjectives like "sad" or "anxious" are red flags — replace them with physical action.

• Sensory details: Don’t limit to sight. Use sounds, smells, textures, temperature. The same thunderstorm feels different to someone in love, someone grieving, or someone hiding.

When to tell?

Skip boring transitions. No one needs ten minutes of walking to the bathroom. "Two hours later, he arrived" is fine.

A trick: show a villain’s kind deeds (caring for family) but tell their crimes (don’t make readers witness murders).

What really matters: