В этом посте я расскажу пару фактов о себе, чтобы вы... ну, понимали, что я за человек, перед тем как увидите моё искусство, ну короче, вот пару фактов про меня! :
Реальное имя: Влад (очевидно).
Возраст: 15 лет.
Национальность: русский (но предпочитаю называть себя Великороссом, как во времена Российской Империи, да-да).
Ориентация: ...вы серьёзно думали, что я сюда что-то напишу? Ха-ха, смешно.
Любимые книги: «Гарри Поттер», «Властелин Колец», «1984».
Ну вот и всё, пока что я рассказал всё, что хотел про себя ну а следующий пост будет про ЛОР моего рассказа Летучая Крыса :3
In this post, I’ll tell you a few facts about myself so that you... well, understand what kind of person I am before you see my art. Anyway, here are a few facts about me! :
Real name: Vlad (obviously).
Age: 15 years old.
Nationality: Russian (but I prefer to call myself a Velikoross, like in the days of the Russian Empire, yeah yeah).
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Hey everyone! I'm new to tumblr so I'm really getting used to things, but I want to post about my writing on here!
My name is Ryan, I'm a young(er), queer teenager. I write about queer romances and am currently in the works of editing and self-publising my book titled 'Angelica Snyman' about a boy who discovers she's a trans girl and then falls in love with a bi boy named Ethan and it's about her coming out and her love story told in first person!
my friend helped me write it and is making the cover, so I'm super excited and want to post more about all of my works!
Hello, Tumblr!I'm Thando M, a young writer with a passion for storytelling. I'm thrilled to finally be joining the Tumblr community, where I can share my love of writing with all of you.A bit about me: I'm a 19-year-old writer who loves to craft stories that transport readers to new worlds and evoke strong emotions. My writing is a reflection of my imagination, and I'm excited to share it with you.On this blog, you can expect to find:- Excerpts from my current writing projects- Writing tips and advice- Book reviews and recommendations- Personal updates and behind-the-scenes peeks into my writing life.I'm looking forward to connecting with fellow writers, readers, and book lovers. Let's get this writing journey started!
Aminah took off her boots and kicked them aside a little harder than necessary. “What even are we anymore?”
Milo finally looked at her. “You tell me.”
Aminah glared at him. “Don’t give me that crap. Do you love me or not?”
“I do!” snapped Milo. “I do love you.”
“Then why are you hurting me?”
Milo seemed taken aback. “What?”
“Why are you hurting me?” repeated Aminah. “Why are you making me kill innocent people? Why are you intimidating my friends? Why are you—”
“First of all, those people aren’t innocent,” interrupted Milo. “They’re people that support the D.E.P. and—”
“Not all of them do!” Aminah snapped. “And even if they do, they’re innocent civilians that have been brainwashed. They don’t deserve to die.” Aminah let out a long breath. “Even if they think that I do.”
“And that’s my point!” said Milo desperately. “They want you dead, Aminah. You’ve said it yourself; that’s what they’ve wanted since you were born!”
“Because they think that I’m going to destroy the world,” said Aminah. “And that I’m going to kill them all. Hate to break it to you, but hurting them won’t make them trust me any more than they already do. I need to change their minds somehow, make them trust—”
Milo laughed in disbelief. “And there it is. You want them to trust you. There is no way that any of them are going to change, love. These people believe what they’re being spoon-fed from the D.E.P. They cheered when you were tortured and nearly killed, and they will cheer again when the D.E.P. tries to destroy us. They will always hate you.”
Aminah flinched.
Milo hesitated at what must’ve been hurt written all over her face, but he didn’t take it back.
“Well, then what’s the point?” whispered Aminah.
He sighed heavily. “What are you talking about?”
“The point of this rebellion,” snapped Aminah. “What the hell is the point? If they’ll always hate me, then how will we ever make a better world once the D.E.P. is gone? They’ll never respect me or let me be a leader or even a regular member of society. They won’t be grateful that I destroyed the D.E.P. They’ll only care that I proved them all right. As long as I’m alive, they’ll never be happy.”
Milo said nothing.
Aminah laughed bitterly. “Maybe I should just die. That would make everything better, wouldn’t it?”
“Please don’t say that,” said Milo quietly.
“You know it’s true,” said Aminah angrily. She knew she was being unfair and irrational, but she didn’t care. She hated everything and everyone right now, but most of all she hated herself. “I’ve been ruining things since the day I came into this world. All I’ve done is make things worse for people. If I was dead, most of this would be over. Not all of it, but it would do something.”
“Stop talking like that,” snapped Milo. His face was flushed. “You’re wrong, and you know it. We need you, Ami. I need you. I love you, for God’s sake. Everyone else may want you dead, but none of us do—”
“What about what I want?” demanded Aminah.
Silence.
Tears filled Aminah’s eyes. “I’m tired, Milo. I’m so tired. And I’m angry. I’m angry and I’m tired of all of this. My family and my best friend are dead, half the world hates me, and we have no plan in the foreseeable future for how to fix all of this. I don’t want to kill anyone else and I still have to. I don’t want to argue with you and I still have to. I don’t want to live like this and I still have to.” Her voice broke. “I’m so tired.”
Milo opened his mouth and closed it again. The amount of emotions on his face were impossible to read, and Aminah didn’t care to try and decipher them. “Ami—” he began to say.
Aminah held up a hand, and he stopped. “I just…I need a break, Milo. Okay?”
Milo gave her a long look. Then, without a word, he turned and left.
Aminah watched him go, another piece of her heart splintering and falling away.
It Is Impossible to Speed Up Philosophical Realisations
My novel is supposed to be sent to a novella contest in August. I have about a month left to increase 3000 words to 20,000 words. The reason for this is because while I have most of the story planned out, I don’t have the ‘middle part’ of the story that is necessary for it to be whole.
The ‘middle part’ of a story is usually characterised by its series of events as well as everything that you learn from the story. I have found this in Orlando, in Middlemarch, in The Lighthouse, and several other books which I cannot remember right now. For me to write a novel, I need to have learnt a great number of life lessons already, which I honestly don’t think I have. How is it possible for things that take years to sink in to be perfectly grasped and trapped in a phrase or a sentence?
I hope that my novel will turn out well even though I have only a bit more than a decade of philosophical realisations to sustain me.
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How To Title A Story Of Yours - Some Tips and Tricks That I Have Come Up With
Do not title your story until it is completely finished. In my experience, anyone who comes up with great, revolutionary, poetic titles of potential stories that they are going to write hardly ever gets down to writing more than that.
Make sure your title is so intimidating that your story looks like it has been written by a genius.
I have been doing a course these days where I'm learning about playwrighting. The course is so beautifully presented and done and I'm honestly learning a lot from it. It's called 'Finding Your Voice As A Playwright' and it's by Cambridge University (it's available on EdX). I was watching one of their lectures the other day about how Shakespeare's use of the word 'and' is so innovative that it basically created a new language from which he was able to connect the two different types of audiences that came to watch his plays - the noblemen and the commoners. When Shakespeare placed two adjectives on either side of the 'and', he created two viewpoints which communicated between the poor and the rich. The 'and' is the electrified space between.
How are young writers supposed to have a chance when the way that Shakespeare uses the word 'and' is so revolutionary? I always think that a phrase is a moment that writers have grabbed from the air and imprisoned onto paper. But behind one phrase is pages and pages of analysis that is explaining aspects of it that may not even have been intentionally put there as a writer. The standard of great writers is so high that my own insecurity increases and I feel really doubtful as to whether I can write something that can even be remotely considered good.
The Expectations of Me as A Writer that I Made for Myself and have Unreasonably Forced myself to Fulfill
Whenever I go somewhere and I see something that sparks my curiosity – I think oh! I can write a story out of this! At least this is what I used to think, before I realised that there are many steps to go from witnessing an incident to actually being inspired. I am not a writer like Roald Dahl who can just see a peach and think ‘oh, what if someone were to live inside a peach…’ and just go ahead and write a whole book about it. I am also not one of those writers who has lived their entire life, and one day when they maybe see an emotionally provoking incident on the street, they sit down in front of a desk and regurgitate all their life’s learnings down onto paper – not in the form of a manifesto, no, but a novel that from then on is conveniently considered a ‘classic’.
I am also not one of those people who go around being quiet geniuses and observe the world through their lens of silent superiority; all the while churning out classics under a pseudonym. Oh, and those writers who always win first prize in the short story or poetry writing competition where when I read their winning story, it just has a mix of modern settings and a hazy perspective and just a general feeling of being drunk. I am always abashed and look at my inky papers in shame, because I immediately feel like a successful modern writer has to go around being drunk very often in order to capture modernity into their stories. It’s pretty fair to say that I will never be one of those writers either.
And then there is the problem of the names of the characters and the setting of the story. I have an inexplicable contempt for writers who write in English and don’t base their characters in England or America. This probably stems from some deep-rooted racism that I have against writers from my own country, because I similarly hate reading about characters who are bestowed with an Indian name. I don’t know why, but I simply cannot stand reading a book where a character says something in their native language and then its translation is also like written next to it. It just freaks me out. This is the reason why all my characters are based in an unnamed city, with strange, cobbled-together names, and most importantly, do not show any signs of owning any electronic devices because that is just the height of vulgarity.
This is probably because I grew up reading Enid Blyton and gradually moved onto historical fiction for children – namely Jaqueline Wilson. I read Terry Pratchett and L.M. Montgomery. Then I eased myself into Charles Dickens, George Eliot, the Brontës, and so on. Never in my life did I read books where people texted each other.
If I had been born during the Victorian times, or some beautiful romantic period like the Renaissance, I would have enjoyed being a writer to no end. So in conclusion, my literary dilemmas are still unsolved, but at least I have managed to conclude that I have been born several centuries too late!
