#writeblr positivity

bad news: you have to read it.

good news: you only have to read it like a scientist, not a judge. (more on that in a second.)

it's not proof that you can't write. it's proof that your instincts are working. you can SEE that the dialogue is wooden and the pacing collapses in chapter six and there's a character who shows up in act two and then, spiritually, dies. the fact that you can see all of this means your taste has outpaced your execution.

that's not a crisis. that's just where you are right now.

the scientist thing

a judge looks at the evidence and delivers a verdict. guilty. not good enough. why did i think i could do this. the verdict is emotionally satisfying for about four seconds and then completely useless.

a scientist looks at the same evidence and asks: what is this telling me?

the subplot that goes nowhere — what were you trying to add? the scene you wrote in twenty minutes because you just wanted to get through it — what were you avoiding? the ending that felt earned in december and now feels like a shrug — what didn't get set up earlier?

the bad draft isn't a failure. it's a very long, very specific note to yourself about what the story needs. you just have to learn to read it that way.

what to actually look for

the scenes you wrote fast and felt weird about. that's not momentum, that's avoidance. your subconscious knew something was off and you kept going anyway. go back. that's where the structural problem lives.

the character who disappears. you didn't forget about them. you wrote yourself into a corner where they didn't fit, which means something in your structure shifted mid-draft and you never corrected for it.

the dialogue that makes you wince on reread. nine times out of ten, the character is saying the theme out loud instead of living it. fixable. actually very useful to know.

the ending that feels hollow. the ending is almost never the problem. something earlier didn't do its job and the ending is just where you noticed.

the reframe

a first draft isn't a failed final draft. it's you finding the story before you can tell it.

the writers you love have embarrassing drafts. you just never see them because by the time the book is in your hands, the map has already been folded up and put in a drawer. yours is still on the table.

read it. take notes. figure out what it's trying to tell you.

then write the real one.

— rin t. ✨

every novel starts with one question that refuses to leave you alone.

maybe yours is hiding somewhere in here.

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these are not the same thing.

plot is what happens. story question is what it MEANS. and genre fiction... maybe more than any other category, needs both, because readers come in with expectations and if you only satisfy the plot, they'll finish the book and feel weirdly empty and not know why.

let's break it down.

plot question: will katniss survive the hunger games?

story question: can a system that forces children to kill each other produce a person capable of genuine rebellion, or does it just make better weapons?

you need the first one to keep people turning pages at 2am. you need the second one for the book to mean something when they put it down.

here's where writers go wrong. they spend months engineering a watertight plot, the twists, the reversals, the ticking clock, the satisfying ending, and then wonder why their beta readers say things like "i liked it but i didn't love it" or "something felt missing."

what's missing is the story question. the thing the whole plot is actually ABOUT.

and the frustrating thing is you probably have one. you just haven't named it yet.

how to find yours

finish this sentence about your own work: my plot is about X, but my story is really about ________.

a heist novel: the plot is about stealing a priceless artefact. the story is really about whether loyalty is possible between people who've learned to survive by betraying everyone.

a fantasy epic: the plot is about defeating the dark lord. the story is really about whether power corrupts the people who fight it just as much as the people who wield it.

a romance: the plot is about two people getting together. the story is really about whether someone who's built their whole identity around not needing anyone can let themselves be known.

see how the plot is the vehicle and the story question is the destination?

why genre fiction specifically needs this

because genre readers are SMART. they've read a hundred heists, a hundred chosen one narratives, a hundred slow-burn romances. the plot mechanics aren't enough to surprise them anymore. what keeps them coming back... what makes them press a book into someone else's hands and say READ THIS... is that the story said something they hadn't heard said quite that way before.

the plot gets them in the door. the story question is why they stay.

the test

once you've named your story question, check your ending against it. a satisfying ending doesn't just resolve the plot. it answers the question.

katniss survives (plot). and she's broken in ways the Capitol made her, which means the answer to the story question is: yes, the system produces weapons, and the tragedy is that the rebellion needs her to be one (story).

if your ending resolves the plot but doesn't answer the question, or worse, forgets the question entirely, that's the empty feeling your readers can't name.

name your question. then make sure everything in your story is, in some way, asking it.

— rin t. ✨

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okay so there are three types of writers when it comes to dialogue tags.

the first type writes this:

"i can't believe you did that," she exclaimed breathlessly, her voice trembling with barely concealed emotion.

the second type writes this:

"i can't believe you did that," she said. "i just — i can't." "i know," he said. "do you?" she said. "yeah," he said.

and the third type has been told "said is invisible" so many times they've started doing this:

"i can't believe you did that," she whispered-yelled, her eyes flashing.

all three of these are wrong. (sorry.)

this is what's actually happening in each case.

1. the purple tagger

"you BETRAYED me," he snarled furiously.

the problem isn't the snarl. the problem is furiously. if he's snarling, we know he's not delighted. the adverb is doing work the verb already did, which means you don't trust your own writing. and your reader can feel that.

also: people cannot hiss words that don't have an s in them. "i love you," she hissed. no she didn't. she CAN'T have.

fix: one strong verb OR one adverb. never both. and only when said genuinely doesn't cut it.

2. the said-only purist

said IS invisible. that's true. but a page of nothing but "said" in a tense scene creates this weird flat affect where everything feels equally weighted. the invisibility is the problem, not the solution.

"get out," she said.

versus

"get out." she didn't look up from the counter.

the second one has no attribution at all. we know who's talking. and now we know she's not even giving him the dignity of eye contact. that's CHARACTER. that's free.

action beats do more work than tags. use them.

3. the said-is-dead convert

this one genuinely pains me because it usually comes from good advice received badly. someone told you to vary your tags, and now your characters are interjecting, conceding, deflecting, and sighing their dialogue like a victorian novel.

"we need to leave," he urged. "i'm not ready," she hedged.

hedged. HEDGED. what is she, a financial advisor.

the rule isn't "never use said." the rule is: your tag should disappear, and the line itself should carry the weight. if you need urged to tell me he's urgent, the line isn't doing its job.

the actual framework (one sentence)

ask yourself: does this tag add information the line doesn't already have, or am I patching a weak line with a strong verb?

if it's patching, rewrite the line.

- rin t. ✨

Hey tumblr, a close friend of mine and her family are going through a really difficult time right now. I don't usually share things like this, but seeing what she's been facing, especially alongside her mother and siblings, has been heartbreaking. her mother just created it and asked me to share it!

If you're able to donate to her GoFundMe to help prevent their eviction, it would mean so much. If not, sharing is appreciated too. ❤️:

okay. so. this is going to feel a little bit like a call-out, but in a “i have done this and will probably do it again” way, not a “you specifically are the problem” way.

because.....:

most writers don’t under-describe.

they don’t.

they over-describe, just… not the parts that actually matter.

and that’s where everything starts to feel off in a way that’s hard to explain but very easy to feel.

like you read a paragraph and go:

“this is technically fine. why am i bored.”

let me show you the pattern.

you will spend:

5 lines describing the curtains

3 lines describing the exact shade of the wallpaper

2 lines describing the way light hits the floorboards

and then when your character is:

about to lie

about to confess something

about to make a decision that will literally alter the trajectory of the story

you give it:

“she hesitated.”

and then you MOVE ON??

be serious for a second.

this is what i mean when i say you’re over-describing the wrong things.

it’s not that description is bad. i love description. i want to eat description. i want to live inside it.

but description has a job.

and its job is not “make the scene look pretty.”

its job is:

direct the reader’s attention to what matters emotionally.

so if you are describing something in detail, i need you to ask:

“why this. why right now.”

because if the answer is:

“i pictured it really clearly in my head”

i regret to inform you that your reader does not care. gently. respectfully. they do not care.

they care about:

what your character wants

what is getting in the way

what this moment means

everything else is background noise unless you make it matter.

here’s where it gets a little uncomfortable:

you are probably avoiding describing the things that feel harder to articulate.

like:

the exact shape of someone’s hesitation

the difference between anger and hurt in a single line of dialogue

the way attraction feels when it’s inconvenient

the moment a character realizes something they don’t want to know

that’s the stuff you skim past.

because it’s messy. and specific. and requires you to make choices.

so instead, you describe the room.

because the room is safe.

the room will not expose you.

the room will not force you to decide what your character is actually feeling.

and i get it. i really do.

but also: that’s why your scenes feel flat.

not because nothing is happening.

but because the important thing is happening off-screen.

let’s fix it. practically. no vague advice. i don’t do vague advice.

next time you’re writing a scene, do this:

pick one moment where something shifts.

not physically. emotionally.

a realization. a decision. a change in power. a crack in composure.

and then instead of writing:

“she hesitated”

you stay there.

you stretch it.

you get uncomfortably specific.

what kind of hesitation?

is it:

the kind where she already knows the answer and is stalling

the kind where she’s hoping someone interrupts

the kind where saying it out loud will make it real

what does it feel like in her body?

what does she notice in the room because she’s hesitating?

(see how now the description has a job. it’s not random anymore. yay)

this is the shift:

description should orbit emotion.

not replace it.

not distract from it.

not hide it.

orbit it.

another thing. and i’m going to say this very gently because i know how attached we get to our sentences:

if you can cut a description and nothing changes about how the reader understands the scene?

it was never doing anything.

it was just sitting there. looking pretty. contributing nothing to the emotional experience.

and we do not keep freeloaders in this house.

this doesn’t mean your writing has to be minimal.

it means your writing has to be intentional.

you can describe everything if you want.

but then everything you describe needs to be pulling weight.

it needs to be revealing character, or building tension, or reinforcing mood in a way that actually connects to what’s happening internally.

otherwise it’s just… decorative.

and decoration is not story.

so next time you feel like your scene is “missing something”

before you add more description

ask yourself:

am i avoiding the part that actually matters?

and then go write that part.

even if it’s harder.

especially if it’s harder.

anyway. that’s your gentle (not gentle) reminder for today.

go make your characters feel things on the page instead of hiding behind the wallpaper.

i’m watching you.

(in a supportive way. mostly.)

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if you're writing dark academia feel free to check out this packet filled with all the juicy prompts to spark ideas!

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first of all: 💀 why does every enemies-to-lovers dynamic either hit like a literary gut punch… or feel like two cardboard cutouts aggressively flirting?

there is no in between. i don’t make the rules.

and if you’re here, i’m guessing you’ve tasted both. the elite. the devastating. the oh my god i need to lie down after this confession scene kind… and also the ones where you’re like “why do you hate each other again? because he smirked?? be serious.”

yeah. we’re fixing that today.

⚔️ if you’re writing enemies-to-lovers, we need to talk.

because most people aren’t writing enemies.

they’re writing:

mild annoyances

workplace rivals with ✨tension✨

people who had one (1) misunderstanding in chapter two and never emotionally recovered

and listen. that’s fine. that’s a trope. it’s cute.

but it’s not enemies-to-lovers.

🩸 step one: define your enemy

an enemy is not someone who:

is kinda rude

disagrees with your protagonist

has a “bad attitude” (???)

an enemy is someone who cannot coexist with your protagonist without cost.

read that again. PLEASE.

their goals? incompatible. their values? clashing at a moral level. their existence? actively making the other’s life worse.

what i'm talking about:

opposing sides of a war

hunter vs hunted

“if i let you live, everything i believe in collapses” energy

if they can just… avoid each other and be fine?

that’s not enemies. that’s tension with good lighting.

🗡️ step two: make the hatred make sense

this is where people fumble it CONSTANTLY.

they jump straight to:

banter → sexual tension → accidental hand touch → oh no i’m in love

NO. come back. sit down.

before attraction, there needs to be justified hostility.

and not surface-level “you insulted me once.”

i’m talking about (and yes please quote 'rin t' on this!):

betrayal

loss

ideological opposition

deeply ingrained bias they don’t even realize they have

the kind of thing where, if someone asked your character:

“why do you hate them?”

they wouldn’t hesitate. they’d have a list

the twist:

👉 both sides need to be right. (or at least feel right)

if one is clearly wrong, you don’t have enemies-to-lovers. you have “problematic person gets redeemed because they’re hot.”

and we are not doing that today.

🔥 step three: attraction should feel like a problem

this is where it gets fun. :)

when they start catching feelings, it should not be:

“oh this is inconvenient but kind of exciting :)”

it should be:

“this is catastrophic. this compromises everything.”

love = risk.

because now:

their judgment is compromised

their loyalties are tested

their identity starts to crack

they should be actively resisting it.

denying it. sabotaging it. making worse choices because of it.

if falling in love doesn’t cost them something?

you skipped the entire point of the trope.

🕯️ step four: force proximity (but PLEASEEE make it hurt)

you can’t resolve enemies-to-lovers from opposite sides of the map.

they need to be stuck together.

BUT-important distinction-

not in a cute “one bed at the inn” way (yet. we’ll get there. don’t worry.)

in a:

forced alliance

mutual threat

political arrangement

survival situation

where they have to rely on each other…

while still fundamentally not trusting each other.

this creates:

tension

vulnerability leaks

moments where they see each other as human (ugh. disgusting. hate that.)

and every time that happens?

it should complicate things further.

💔 step five: the shift is not soft. it’s violent.

i need you to understand this.

the transition from enemies → lovers should feel like something breaking.

because it is.

their worldview? breaking. their assumptions? breaking. their sense of self? yeah. that too.

there should be a moment where:

they realize they were wrong about the other person

and it doesn’t feel good.

it feels like:

guilt

confusion

grief for the version of reality they believed in

this is what makes the payoff hit.

not the kiss.

the reckoning.

🗝️ step six: they don’t “fix” each other

if i see one more enemies-to-lovers arc where:

“he became a better person because she loved him 🥺”

i will simply pass away.

they don’t fix each other.

they force each other to confront things they were avoiding.

that’s different.

love isn’t the solution.

it’s the pressure that reveals the cracks.

🖤 final thought (and a gentle threat):

if your enemies-to-lovers could be replaced with:

friends-to-lovers + mild inconvenience

and nothing changes?

you didn’t go far enough.

push them harder.

make it uglier. riskier. a little bit devastating.

so, question to you my chaotic writers... what’s the real reason your characters hate each other?

not the surface answer.

the one they’d never admit out loud.

i’m nosy. tell me everything. 👀 I LOVE HEARING your thoughts (i reply because yes, i am a real person!)

I HAVE DIGITAL PRODUCTS!!!

if you're writing dark academia feel free to check out this packet filled with all the juicy prompts to spark ideas!

need help with your opening pages?! i have a free ebook for you all (aesthetic, cohesive and actually informative! it's free! but tips are highly appreciated!)

hey writers! i decided to start focusing more on substack, because i wanna start giving you all more quality content to help with your writing! i believe every writer should get paid for their work, that's why i plan to monetize half of my substack in the near future. right now i'll be keeping it free. please feel free to check out my work and support me by subscribing for FREE.

okay but can we talk about writing advice that actually made my writing worse for a second

like not in a “this is bad advice for everyone” way in a “this absolutely sabotaged me personally” way

because ??? some of this set me BACK

1. “show don’t tell” (taken too literally) this one almost ruined my prose

i got so scared of “telling” anything that every sentence turned into… over-explained action

instead of writing:

she was nervous

i’d write:

her fingers tapped against the table, her leg bouncing, her breath uneven, her gaze flickering toward the door--

and it just KEPT GOING

like yes, showing is important but at some point you’re not “immersive” you’re just exhausting

2. “cut all adverbs” this made my writing feel so stiff it hurt

i started replacing simple phrasing with weird, clunky sentences just to avoid using one single “-ly” word

like… why am i doing gymnastics to avoid “quietly”

no one is giving out medals for adverb avoidance 😭

3. “write every day no matter what” this one burned me OUT

because instead of listening to my brain when it was fried, i forced myself to produce words i knew weren’t going anywhere

and then i’d reread it later and hate everything i wrote

which made me want to avoid writing even more

consistency matters, yes but forcing it when you’re running on fumes just trains you to associate writing with dread

4. “plan everything before you start” this killed my excitement SO fast

i’d spend weeks outlining every detail and by the time i actually started writing…

the story already felt “done” in my head

no curiosity left. no momentum.

now i leave gaps on purpose so i actually want to keep going

5. “make your writing sound pretty” this is the one that made my writing feel the most fake

i was so focused on making sentences sound “good” that i stopped focusing on what was actually happening

everything turned vague. floaty. kind of… nothing

like yeah it sounded nice but nothing hit

now i care way more about clarity and impact than sounding impressive

6. “your first draft should be terrible” okay this one is half true but also messed with my head

because i took it as: “don’t even TRY”

so i’d write things i knew weren’t working and just leave them

instead of… fixing them a little? making them better?

your draft doesn’t have to be perfect but it also doesn’t have to be painful to read 😭

idk i think the biggest thing i’ve learned is:

advice isn’t universal

what helps one writer can absolutely wreck another

so if something is making your writing worse, harder, or more miserable

you are allowed to drop it. immediately.

no guilt. no “but everyone says this works”

like okay… it doesn’t work for ME.