hi I remember you were talking about your own book, is it still in progress, can I buy and read it somewhere? I would really love to read more of your stuff I adore your writing
i feel like this is ruth but I'm gonna answer anyway — yeaaaaah I'm on draft 3 of my book, which is crazy bc if you ever read it you're gonna be like bitch this did NOT take you 3+ drafts 💀 I'm a slow editor but I'm mostly happy with how it's turning out. if you ever wanna read it chances are it'll be up for free online lmao
I'm thinking it'll be done by the end of the year, so maybe 2026 will be my year? THE year? in the meantime I am working on other interesting things (interesting TO ME obviously)
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I'm currently working on draft 3 of my WIP, and I'm sort of hating the POV. I originally wrote from the youngest sibling's pov but then changed it to 3rd person omniscient.
Do I:
Change it to the Youngest Sibling's POV?
Change it to the Oldest Sibling's POV?
Keep it as 3rd person Omniscient?
Other POV idea? let me know.
Voting ended onMay 21
For context: the story follows a pantheon of gods, focusing on a specific family. In this divine family, there is the father, the eldest daughter, the middle son, and the youngest sibling (NB). All the children have subsets of their father's power and work under him. The main conflict is a war that breaks out amongst the gods after a powerful God tries to force the eldest daughter into marriage and tries to kill off the father. The Eldest Daughter has most of the stuff happening to her as she is the center point of the war and overall conflict; however, there is a prophecy that relates back to the youngest sibling, who takes matters into their own hands to help push the war in their favor. The youngest sibling is most like thier father and is supposedly the most powerful of the siblings and is set to 'inherit' their father's powers at some point in time, so they are a little odd in that 'creepy kid who knows too much' way. I like the idea (and it was originally) of having the youngest sibling see the story as it unfolds and watching everything, but maybe it makes more sense to see it through the eldest's eyes?
Look, an absolutely crappy webcam shot of the very first page of Halfway Home draft 3.5 that I printed to check for fonts!!!
I finally settled on said fonts, and I’m getting ready to send the big baby to beta readers counting sunday. Because I kinda suck I only locked Act 1 so far (probably Act 2 will be locked sometime tomorrow, but Act 3 still needs to be tweaked).
STILL, DAMN. MY GOD.
SO. MANY. YEARS. AND HERE WE ARE.
I feel like there are still Flaws (TM), but rather than trying to sand thel to perfection for another seven years, I’ll use the opportunity to make sure my perspective is aligned with people and they have the same base feels as I do about the pre-publication steps I should take.
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Chapter: I Didn’t Know ‘Liar, Liar, Pants On Fire’ Was Literal
Context: Marcus and Imogen have just rescued Bethany from the Order, and have (at her insistence) returned to her apartment. Blake is MIA - the last time Bethany saw him, he had a gun to his head. And when she lost sight of him, she heard a gunshot.
Whispering a small prayer to the gods I dialled Blake’s number, still for some reason hoping he would answer. Instead the call went straight to voicemail, indicated only by a beep. He didn’t even have a message.
I hung up and sent him a text instead.
Hey jerkface, are you ok? B
“You’ll want to see this,” Imogen called from my bedroom.
“Does no one respect personal space anymore?” I asked, but apparently I was talking to a brick wall, as Marcus wiped off his hands and joined her in my room.
I followed him in, ready to defend my research.
From the look of Marcus though, I wasn’t going to need to. “This is impressive,” he said, exploring all the bits pinned to my wall. “You’ve done a lot.”
“Yeh well, I figured my best chance of breaking my curse was to learn about it,” I replied. “Now can you get out of my room? This is my private space for private things and we’re not doing that so we don’t need to be in here.”
The second we stepped back out into the lounge my phone rang. It’s Blake calling to tell me he was ok. I yanked my phone out of my pocket desperate to answer the call.
Mum’s picture filled the screen instead.
I forced down my disappointment and put my phone on the bench, letting it ring out. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to Mum, not right now, and considering how often I screened her calls I hoped she’d get the message.
“What was on the empty pin?” Marcus asked, returning to my sink and beginning to wash all my glasses. “It was connected to the card labelled ‘evil witch lady’, but I can’t work out what it is.”
“Just a photo of me and Mum,” I told him.
His eyes narrowed. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Lots of things. And I don’t know why you think I would tell you anything.”
Imogen pointed at me with her knife. “We did save you from the Order.”
“Which I’m like, super appreciative of.” I drank more of my tequila, taking note of the little amount that was left. It was not going to be enough to deal with today. “Not that it matters.” I added, mumbling into the bottle.
Marcus dried off one of the glasses then swiped the bottle off me, pouring himself a drink. “We’re here to help you,” he said after taking a sip.
“Then you’re stupid,” I told him. “Helping me will get you dead.” I couldn’t even be bothered getting annoyed about him stealing my tequila - everything else was being taken from me, so why should I care about something as stupid as a drink?
“We’re aware of the risks.”
“Are you sure?” I pulled the photo and translation out of my pocket and passed them to him. “Because not only am I cursed, but that says I have to die. And the last person who tried to help me is-” I couldn’t bring myself to say dead. I didn’t know for sure, so I needed to stay positive. “-missing.”
The two of them exchanged a glance. “We’re sure,” Imogen said. “We’re here to help.”
“Yep, not falling for that again.” I declined another call from Mum. “Believing that one nearly got me tortured.”
