Antigone Was Right

antigone was right

EVERYONE(!) I’m blazing this post because at this pace we might barely hit 1,000,000 signatures—or just fall short. PLEASE reblog this post, no matter where you are from, so we can reach as many EU citizens as possible and end this horrible practice!

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ajkiranwrites

11 months ago

Questions to ask beta readers

General:

Were you confused at any point of the story?

What genre would you say this book is?

When did you put the story down?

Is the ending satisfying?

If you had to cut 3 scenes what would they be?

When did you feel like the story really began?

What was the last book you read before this story?

Characters:

Do you get any of the characters names confused?

Which character is your favorite?

If you had to remove a character who would you and why? (you don't have to remove the character, just make sure their role is meaningful)

Which character do you relate to the most?

Which character do you relate to the least?

Do the characters feel real?

Are character relationships believable?

Are the goals clear and influence the plot?

Are the characters distinct (voice, motivations, etc)

Setting:

Which setting was clearest to you?

Which setting was the most memorable?

Am including enough/too much detail?

Plot and conflict:

Are the internal and external conflicts well defined for the main characters?

Are the internal conflicts and the external conflicts organic and believable?

Are there enough stakes?

Are the plot twists believable but still unexpected?

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ajkiranwrites

1 year ago

Hello Writeblr!

My name is Hayden (she/her)! In ye olden days, I had a semi-popular writing blog that I deleted on a whim, but I’m back now!

Genres:

I write YA low-fantasy. Clearly (via fairy/walrus post), people want to believe there are bits of magic here and there, right alongside our ordinary world. Or people are genuinely shocked at the very notion of a walrus.

My current WIP:

The book I am currently working on features four friends who are dealing with the hardships of life, growing up, deciding who they want to be. That’s boring, add 💫fairies💫

Ella is on a quest to find magic. She fancies herself to be one of the old poets of Ireland. After returning from an island out west, she’s been terribly ill… and all the myths end in death. It’s not looking good. Alongside her, she has Shira who is looking for magic for her own reasons, but she won’t talk about why. There’s Kate, a new student who fits in like she’s always been there, and Jack. He’s very polite. Ella isn’t polite, but she likes that he is.

This idea has been a long time in the making. It began when I was nine and I read a horrible story from the Junior Classics about a girl disappearing through time. It began with a reoccurring dream of a girl wearing an equestrian helmet. It began because of BBC Merlin. Arthurian legends and the like. I started writing this story after I did a deep dive on Irish history and folklore in the 5th in 6th centuries in my first year of uni. I gave a forty-five minute presentation on the subject, and I decided I needed to write or else I might die.

Goals:

🌱 Start editing by May

🌸 Finish editing by December

🌱 Querying in 2025 (I’m sweating at the prospect)

🌸 Finding a writing community, critiquing partners, friends!

Reblog and tell me about your WIPs, and please reach out if you want to help each other out! I’m looking forward to getting to know all of you!

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ajkiranwrites

9 months ago

read and reblog please

I want to make sure this information gets through to everyone: the racist genocidal German state could deport Bilal @bilal-salah0 within the next week, after he lost his job and home, heaping cruelty after cruelty onto this young man who has been working nonstop to provide for his family facing genocide in Gaza.

he's supporting 18 people there, including 8 kids under age 16. now Bilal needs to finish fundraising for his family before August 15th when he could be deported. that's one week from today.

Bilal needs to raise €25000 in the next 7 days to make sure his family has enough to survive if he can no longer fundraise. Bilal shared this dire news with us on Tuesday, but in spite of thousands of notes on @malcriada, @appsa, and others' posts about the situation, the campaign received only €3650 in the last two days.

it seems like people are somehow not seeing the urgency and severity of the situation. donations also slowed over the past week because Bilal couldn't be online to promote the campaign, and because of the recent racist attacks against fundraising efforts here. there's a lot of ground to make up and very little time, but we can do it. please donate any amount you can, those €5s add up if enough people help. reblog this as well as the posts linked above, and tell your friends and social media outside tumblr. and most importantly, seriously, please donate whatever you can. we need to come through for Bilal's family now, not later. please take this seriously, please help them.

August 8th: €75,467 / €100,000

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Evacuate My Family from Gaza to Safety, organized by Bilal salah

Hi everyone, I am Bilal, 22 years old, from Gaza, Palestine. I am reaching… Bilal salah needs your support for Help Evacuate My Family f

plain text and tags under the cut

PT: read and reblog please

I want to make sure this information gets through to everyone: the racist genocidal German state could deport Bilal @/bilal-salah0 within the next week, after he lost his job and home, heaping cruelty after cruelty onto this young man who has been working nonstop to provide for his family facing genocide in Gaza. now Bilal needs to finish fundraising for his family before August 15th when he could be deported. that's one week from today.

Bilal needs to raise €25000 in the next 7 days to make sure his family has enough to survive if he can no longer fundraise. Bilal shared this dire news with us on Tuesday, but in spite of thousands of notes on @/malcriada, @/appsa, and others' posts about the situation, the campaign received only €3650 in the last two days.

August 8th: €75,467 / €100,000

/end PT

lmk if you don't want to be tagged next time. ty!

@feluka @tortiefrancis @timetravellingkitty @flouryhedgehog @jinnazah

@mazzikah @irhabiya @terroristiraqis @watchnpray @stuckinapril

@soracities @bloglikeanegyptian @handweavers @trans-axolotl @plomegranate

@briarhips @dirhwangdaseul @mahoushojoe @rhubarbspring @schoolhater

@pcktknife @transmutationisms @sawasawako @anneemay @bedufairy

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@libraryposting @geeseareassholes @wellwaterhysteria @deepspaceboytoy @edwordsmyth

@chilewithcarnage @psychotic-gerard @post-brahminism @bringmemyrocks @arslanjae

@determinate-negation @khanger @kibumkim @qattdraws @brutaliakhoa

@sharingresourcesforpalestine @neechees @mothblossoms @gothhabiba @mangocheesecakes

@reduxskullduggerry @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness @kyra45-helping-others @log6 @7bitter

@toiletpotato @fromjannah @palms-upturned @omegaversereloaded @vague-humanoid

@capricornpropaganda @communist-ojou-sama @xinakwans @heritageposts @velvetys

@ot3 @amygdalae @ankle-beez @communistchilchuck @dykesbat @watermotif @mavigator

@lacecap @littlestpersimmon @socalgal @ghelgheli @northgazaupdates2 @vakarians-babe

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ajkiranwrites

9 months ago

Character Spotlight

Agent Vivien. Twenty-eight. For her, home is a place you cannot escape like the smoke in your lungs from a housefire your father started. You still cough up dollhouse plastic and holy basil from time to time and it smells like your mother's grave. She picks up after her baby brother's messes who is twenty-five. Her mother dies, but it's the aftermath that sets the implosion. A shark at her job, she keeps moving, she's got to, or she'll drown. She craves the distance and the compartmentalization her job gives, the quick escape from knowing the aftermath of her jobs. Never stick around for the aftermath.

First Draft Excerpt

I have finally moved from the plotting to writing stage for my novel!! I would love to know if there any improvements or if it sounds interesting enough.

Esther

Fire warmed the last of the halcyon days, its lilting rhythm crashing into the cold whipping winds of Praelia. Freezing. Esther grumbled. The chill of early dawn seeped bone deep into her bare fingers as she plucked her identification card out of her wallet. She flashed it to the security guards and stepped into the dormitory.

The freezing white puff of air melted as she breathed in the scent of ground coffee and ruby hawthorns scattered along the hallways. Warm. While Esther’s university expected perfect command over the tangible natural elements – wood, metal, water, and earth– it seemed they had a pixie in the basement controlling the fire to leave it toasty but never stifling inside.

The ground floor hosted multiple mahogany doors dotted along the corridors like an inn. In the corner, A student who looked to be in the same year as her squinted against his heavy lids at a little reception area-and-kitchenette. The square clock above an empty coffee pot struck ten past five. At quarter past five, the boy had slumped face first onto his desk.

Stifling a yawn, she walked past him. She could practically feel her blanket and the warmth of her bed, and she scurried down the hallway.

The hallway split into two, and two automatic elevators opposing each other sat between the intersecting corridor and the reception in front of her. If she took the stairs smelling like burnt curry next to the entrance, she’d have to climb 8 floors to reach hers. No thank you very much.

If she didn’t get enough sleep to wake up in time for Professor [___]’s class, she’d be kicked out for snoring half-way through the test.

When she turned around to push the elevator button to avoid the climb, alternating her weight on each foot, a bright turbaned man entered through the door inconspicuously. As inconspicuous as anything the campus had seen. In a school selecting the students with egos that rivaled their intelligence, a dozen peacocks preening their feathers in the monsoons would be far more subtle. So, Esther didn’t really have much to stand on.

The man nodded once to the guard, flashing a rich black envelope. The brief glint of gold gleamed under the buzzing electric bulbs.

A light rune peeked from under his collar, contrasting with his skin, a little darker than hers which made Esther wonder if he was from Ignis as well. Stiffly, he took long strides straight over to the heavy door in the middle, knocked once, and entered, closing the door behind him.

Esther turned around, hopping on her foot, frowning when the dial stayed at the 6th floor. It would take ages and it would not do anyone good to leave her alone with a mystery. Deciding she had nothing better to do, she leaned back against the cool wall nearby, down on the vinyl seat, and looked at the door.

While she wasn’t a warlock, she still squinted her eyes at it, hoping it would reveal the conversation with the interesting man and the dean herself. The golden seal embossed in the letter– the serpent on a bed of hyacinths – was the same one stamped on documents overflowing her mother’s desk.

Someone yanked the doorknob harshly. The door opened, and out stepped the man, pocketing a letter in his coat pocket, somber. The dean stepped into her view, her sepia colored hair pulled into a bun twisted as tight as her face when she noticed Esther. She looked paler than usual.

‘Mishra,’ the dean’s lips pressed into a thin line, ‘Inside. Come to my office, Ms. Mishra.’ Esther hadn’t even done anything yet.

She jumped out of her seat, fumbling to put her ID card back in her wallet, and scuttled into the room promptly. Did her mother call or complain? Esther doubted she would. Advising her closest friend, Praelia’s own Queen, the upcoming coronation had swamped her mother. Esther swore she saw an entire strand of hair on her mother’s head out of place one time.

‘I have reviewed your proposal requesting for Opaca’s research,’ she stated, crossing her legs and looking Esther directly in the eye. Esther fixed hers on a little bundle of lint on her jeans.

That wasn’t a question but a verdict, and Esther was feeling oddly guilty. But for what?

The Dean – Esther never remembered her name – always regarded her coolly since her start in April. And while Esther never caught onto the minute twitching of muscles to decipher emotions, the woman before her bore a face frozen by the winds of Galacian mountains.

Esther slunked back in her seat, levitating just enough to keep her toes from reaching the carpet. A question on the tip of her tongue, “It was approved already.’ She said hastily, ‘The advisor did– approve the research– I mean.’

The Dean’s desk shook, the sinewy branches that formed the top of an oak, clustered to resemble a desk. It twisted behind her, its rich yellow leaves stretching through the space behind.

“I am aware.’ She motioned with a flick of her wrist over to the mischievous desk. A tiny tendril of a branch, as thin as a twig, reached up to deposit a stack of papers in front of the Dean. At the top lay Esther’s messy signature and a smudge of copper spilled in the lab.

‘However,' she continued, ‘in light of recent developments, I am sorry to inform you, but this project can no longer be pursued-’

‘The deadline was this week if first year students wanted to graduate with the research distinction. I cannot get the approval from an advisor so quickly for a new project.’

The Dean’s eyes sharpened, and the tip of the fountain pen clenched tightly in her fist began to bend. ‘Elixermerra Institute of Biotechnology prioritizes student safety. I am appalled you would like to begin a career in research with the Lower Isles.’

INTANGIBLES DYING OF INVISIBLE PLAGUE and OPACAN PORTS CLOSED FOR TRADE read newspaper headlines in the bookshop Esther had visited to pick up her textbooks. The owner had overcharged her after reading the title of the books, but she had left with a research idea and a lighter wallet.

‘They’re dying. There are dozens of ships passing through to make it perfectly safe.’

‘Nonetheless,’ the Dean spit out, making Esther look up. Silver eyes, sharp as her father’s blade, shut all of Esther’s arguments, ‘Due to the lateness of the rejection, I will be expecting your proposal at the end of winter break, ready to be signed on my desk on the first day of the new semester. Is that clear?’

‘Yes, Ma’am.’ Esther ducked her head meekly.

The branches of the desk began rearranging themselves, her research flung into the farthest corner of a drawer, the fountain pen back to its normal shape, and Esther’s chair landed softly on the ground.

‘The Institute will be closed for all students and faculty tomorrow. Please pack your bags with the addresses labeled for the cargo trucks and someone will arrange your departure in the evening. The announcement will be held shortly,’ she spoke after a while. The dean adjusted her blazer’s button and turned her gaze to the pile of paperwork helpfully provided by the tree. ‘You can shut the door on your way out.’