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@everyone @anyone and @everybody
So, I’ve got a problem…
I’ve been writing for little over a year on my first book I didn’t quite halfway. The first draft is done, though it really shouldn’t be called a first draft, more like ‘a girl playing around with a story with no idea what plot is.’
I’m currently on my like tenth attempt at the revision draft, and have gotten to chapter ten or so, but I think I want to revise it…again.
The reasons: 1-my MC’s struggle needs to be changed and made more real, 2-it’s not going well.
I won’t focus on the struggle of my MC, Nahim, since I think I can portray that different anyways with my current revision draft.
It’s just not going well. The story of Nahim has strong points that at night I run through, ready to write when the time comes, but the other parts…
Chapter one came out strong, with the attention of readers grabbed (besides the long paragraphs, now fixed) and questions asked but not answered.
First part of chapter two came out beautiful, doing justice for the beauty of a Banorian festival, the second part I’m going to change since that’s Nahim’s story.
Chapter three got a little wobbly, with Nahim hearing the news there is a bounty out for his capture, and then getting captured.
Chapter four went okay, with Nahim meeting his second most hated humanoid in the universe, King Vorgan. And discovering the name of the man he hates the most, Master Canin Grostoff. Then it ends with Nahim almost getting killed by a monster.
Chapter five goes fine, with Mandin (the only best friend Nahim has) getting a Master of War, named Paul Bruce Ward, to go after Nahim.
Chapter six is wonderful, with Nahim, rescued from a possible death by Master Paul, safe. Then, Master Paul convinces him to stay with him, and that’s when things get out of control.
Master Paul is going after an alien named Dan Wan Binkle (if you ask how that name came about, it was two silly siblings on a swing set) who murdered a Realn by, I think, second degree murder. Oh, Realn are the culture Mandin, Master Paul, and Nahim belong to. They hunt him down through a chapter or two, get sidetracked and transport a princess to safety (becomes important later in the book). After that, they are almost about to get Dan Wan, but I am getting bored writing it and don’t know what to write, do you think this sounds boring?
I can post pieces of my book later, but this post is already long enough…
What are your thoughts?
"You need French Toast."
#AnduthForever (hopefully 💕)It doesn’t sound boring to me, although I’ve barely read any of the chapters you posted (I’ve been meaning to get around to it, but there’s a lot there.)
It might be helpful to strip the plot down to its basics. Are you familiar with freytag’s pyramid? It’s basically a chart that shows the elements of plot: exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, resolution. If you can figure out what parts of your story correspond to each part, you might be able to get a better idea of the story as a whole. You can refine it so that you like the story, and then write a draft based on the outline.
Hopefully that helps. I can explain more clearly if you need me to.
🏰 Fantasy Writer
✨ Magic System Creator
🎭 Character RPer
📚 Appreciator of BooksThat’s specifically for tradgedies, but same basic idea. The last two would be “falling action” and “resolution.”
🏰 Fantasy Writer
✨ Magic System Creator
🎭 Character RPer
📚 Appreciator of BooksSince you guys liked the other Lilitu+Sef (AKA “LEFSE!”) scene I posted, I thought you might like this one as well!
As Sef walked with Lilitu, her side tingled.
He was so close to her.
Her heart beat wildly and her stomach turned inside out. She was happy, more than happy, because she was with Lilitu, and Lilitu made everything better. As far as she was concerned, Lilitu could make even the Farnbron Brook smell like the finest perfume so long as he was with her.
Her head was spinning, her mind racing, her thoughts flitting about like butterflies. She knew she was staring, she was conscious of it in the back of her mind, but no matter how hard she tried, she simply could not tear her eyes from his bright blue ones. She was smiling widely, laughing all at the wrong times, but she didn’t care.
Snap out of it! She almost smacked her own arm. It’s only Lilitu! She had never felt this way about a boy before. Part of her resisted the feeling, part of her wanted to run from it. It was new, different, and that scared her. But another part of her couldn’t. She didn’t want to, she didn’t want this to ever end.
They made their way down to the Farnbron Brook. Sef barely even smelled it. All she smelled was the sweat on Lilitu’s skin, the smell of him, the shampoo in his hair.
As they descended into the foul water, Sef didn’t even feel the waters around her ankles, nor did she feel the sharp stones stabbing her soles like knives.
And then Lilitu reached for her hand, steadying her, guiding her. Fireworks erupted in Sef’s mind. Her palms were sweating, and she didn’t want him to let go. She almost begged him never to let go, to hold her hand forever. For a moment it seemed like he was going to as well. Even after they crossed the Brook, he clasped her hand for a moment after, smiling his breathtaking smile. Sef thought she might faint.
Then he held out his arm.
For a moment Sef blanked, staring dumbly at him, and then the spell lifted and she smiled at him, taking his arm. The two approached Lir. Could he-Sef thought. No. She quickly cast that thought miles away. But the question remained in the back of her mind. Could he possibly feel the same way about her? Every time she smiled at him, did he feel lightheaded like she did when he smiled at her? Was he unable to break eye contact as well?
They talked, laughed like old friends. But Sef couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was something else. Something…more.
Lukas&Livia
#Lalbert
Sef&Chase
#HOTTOLINE
LEFSE FOREVER!!!!!! <333Your Lefse is forever going to remind me of my crush! Though, sadly, I can’t look into his elven eyes without thinking he knows I have a crush on him. Which I would rather he find that out when I’m older. Though his smile is soooooo beautiful, and when he says my name, my heart just stops…
Oh dear, I seem to be thinking about him again!
Overall, I like your Sef and Lilitu scenes, they just seem like real.
"You need French Toast."
#AnduthForever (hopefully 💕)Thanks!!!!
Wait, elven eyes???? lol
Lukas&Livia
#Lalbert
Sef&Chase
#HOTTOLINE
LEFSE FOREVER!!!!!! <333Love your new signature!
Wait, elven eyes???? lol
If you’re thinking he’s a fictional elf, this is one time where I live in the real world. What I mean by elven eyes, are they are so beautiful, they could belong to an elf (Tolkien elves.). He has greyish-bluish eyes with some traces of orange and green.
"You need French Toast."
#AnduthForever (hopefully 💕)@freedomwriter76 @whalekeeper @anyone else
I have a snippet from book 1!
Layson sighs, turning sideways to fit through the narrow hallway without bumping the girls. Two of them lean over a small toddler, baby talking and giggling as he shows them a toy. Three others gossip over cleaning, wiping down changing tables and countertops. Layson wanders through completely unnoticed, slipping through the child gate and sitting on the floor. He watches a small girl play with a toy pan by herself. She flips the empty contents of the pan, staring intensely at her play work. Layson edges over to the end of the table on his knees, sitting down cross legged on the floor.
“Whatcha makin’ me Sky?”
The girl looks over abruptly, her short bob of red hair flipping as she turns.
“I’m focused.”
Layson nods, leaning back against the wall. His eyes wander back to the cluster of girls at the other end of the room, but he quickly averts his eyes as one of them looks towards him.
“It’s bacon and eggs. I’m making it in the exact way Daddy does.”
Layson pauses, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “It smells delicious.”
“It is.” Skyler uses a wooden spatula to spill the imaginary contents onto a old wooden plate.
“Thank you.”
“Yes.” Skyler reaches for two teacups, pouring an invisible drink into them. “One for you!”
Layson takes the teacup gingerly, placing it on the counter next to him.
Skyler sits on a little stool, bringing her nearly to Layson’s sitting down height. “Why don’t you play with them?” She points at the helpers on the other end of the room.
Layson smiles, shaking his head. “Hm. Well, that’s a good question, I’m not sure how to answer it though. I’ll just say… I’ve tried to be ‘friends’ with each of them on some account, and it didn’t work out. So, we’re all a little awkward between eachother now. I’m not sure why.”
Skyler sips her imaginary drink. “Really? Why are you here if you don’t get to play with anyone?”
“Well, life isn’t all about play…”
Skyler looks at Layson eagerly. “It think it is.”
“Good.” He smiles, sipping his imaginary drink. “This is exactly how I like my coffee by the way.”
“It’s tea.”
“Oh, is it?” Layson laughs. “To answer your question though, my mom works very hard with two jobs… ever sense my dad died…” He pauses, letting his hand fall to his lap. “And if I don’t work one with her, I only see her for 2 hours each weekday.”
Skyler stares straight ahead in shock.
“Oh, I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have mentioned that to you.” Layson reaches out with concern as Skyler starts to cry.
“I’m really sorry Sky. It’s ok.”
Skyler whimpers, forgetting her cup and letting it fall to her lap. She cries for a moment, then looks back up at Layson. He facepalms, looking up to see if anyone noticed.
“It’s alright Sky, my mom is super awesome, and she fills the gap as best as she can.”
Layson stands to reach for the toy kettle. “I think you just spilled your tea; can I get you some more?”
Sky nods, holding out her cup as Layson pours into it.
“I’m sorry, I told you too much.”
“It’s ok.”
“You don’t have to understand any of it.” Layson wipes a brief sweat from his forehead.
Skyler pauses, stirring her tea with a little spoon. “It’s ok, I think I get it. Everyone here doesn’t like you, but you come because you love your mommy?”
Layson smiles, taking one last sip of tea. “Precisely.”
“Well, you’re my best guest yet.” Sky takes the plate and cup from Layson.
“Should I help you with the dishes?”
“Nope! Guests don’t do dishes.”
"And so I left this world just as I had entered it. Confused."
Aww, cute!! Layson is so sweet with little kids xD
WE ARE REVIVING THE PROTECTION SQUAD! *steals Joseph, Julian, and Sabina from Ellette*
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@esther-c @savannah_grace2009 @rae @lightoverdarkness6 @mineralizedwritings @koshka @elishavet-pidyon @euodia-vision @smiley @grcr @anyone-else-idk
I wrote a scene for Riker from his 2nd novel…AND THE POOR BABY BOI!!! 😭😭💕😭😭
I love him so much, and yet he goes through so much…it’s so true that your favorite goes through the most pain😭
anywho, here’s the scene!!
TW: VERBAL/PHYSICAL ABUSE (NOT GRAPHIC, I PROMISE), BLOOD (NOT MUCH), DEPRESSION, FALSE/LYING/DEPRESSIVE THOUGHTS, FLASHBACKS, PTSD
Isaiah and Louisa’s concerns…they were too much. He didn’t deserve it. He hadn’t earned it. He wasn’t worthy of it.
Riker didn’t deserve anything less than-“What’s taking so long, boy!?” Franz roared, storming into the kitchen, smoke wafting around his cruel face.
Riker fumbled with the bottle; glass slipped between his calloused fingertips. Shattered pieces littered the floor.
A swift and harsh hand met Riker’s scarred cheek, shoving him back against the hard counter. Riker groaned.
Franz loomed over him, a single vein pulsing in his pale neck. “You stupid, worthless-can you do anything right!? You’re a complete failure…you always have been. I wanted a good son, and I got stuck with you.”
Each word pierced a hole, like a bullet sent hurdling towards an already shattered heart. He knew the words…he believed the words…it was too much to ever think he could be more. But none of that took away the pain.
“I’ll never understand what your mother saw in you. All she had was you. If she got the chance to have more…if she had better, she would have known that you are nothing, and she never would have made the mistake of loving a mistake like you.”
Jennie’s love was pure, but it didn’t belong to a mistake like him. If she had better-if she knew better-she never would have loved Riker. “I-I-“
“Keep your mouth shut,” Franz lit a fresh cigar, “I don’t have time for complaints.”
“She wouldn’t have…if she knew better-?“
“Disrespecting me now? I told you to keep your mouth shut!”
Franz’s hand rose, and Riker cowered back against the cabinet, memories flashing before his eyes.
A small smile crept up Franz’s cheeks, twisting the edges of his thin lips. “That’s what I thought. Riker, look at me.”
His body rocked back and forth; his heart thudded so hard he could hear it in his head. His fingers trembled, and his strength fled from him.
Another hard blow, and Riker bit down on his lip, muffling a whimper. No pain. No sign of weakness. No tears.
Blood trickled from his bottom lip.
His father’s hand rose.
He ducked and rolled, seeing an escape, seeing a chance…a chance to finally, even if it was only for moments, be free.
His arm twisted and wrenched backwards. Riker let out a deep cry of pain.
Alcohol stained the air around him, and he struggled in his father’s grip.
“Did you think you could escape me, boy?”
Riker’s head throbbed; he rose shaking hands to his head, aching to rub it, aching to make the pain stop.
Glass shattered. Porcelain littered the floor. A door splintered.
A cry of pain reached Riker’s young ears, broken and muffled…helpless.
Five-year-old Angelina slept soundly, clueless of the sounds downstairs, clueless of the darkness that clouded the house.
Riker closed the door with a dull thud; he rushed down several steps. He stumbled and slid but kept moving. He ran into the kitchen and crouched beside his mother’s frame, which was struggling to get off the floor, tears streaming down his cheeks…tears blurring his vision. “Mama! Mama!”
Jennie’s gentle hand rose, shaking and covered in blood, to touch his tear-stained cheek. “Riker, my darling, you should be asleep…”
Riker stood on shaking legs. His blue eyes met his father’s coal. He stood with resolve…devotion…love. He stood in between his injured, beaten mother and his cruel father who smelled of alcohol. He stood in protection of his mother, even though he was only a twelve-year-old child. “Please, stop!”
Riker jolted out of the memory; his head finally stopped reeling.
Silence met him.
His father was missing. His father’s hard hand no longer delivered blows.
Riker sank back against the cabinets, lacking the strength to stand. He wiped blood from his cheeks and tears from his eyes.
If his mother had better…if his wife had better…if his kids had better…none of them would love him.
Riker didn’t deserve love.
Riker did nothing to earn love.
Riker leaned his head back; salty tears stung the fresh wounds on his face.
But he didn’t care…he didn’t flinch. He deserved so much worse, so what did it matter?
Riker’s fists clenched and unclenched; his nails dug into his palms.
His father’s words stung, yet they stuck.
His father was right.
He was worthless.
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