Latest Posts by floweryprosegarden - Page 3

mood!! same!!! good luck <333

just submitted to a litmag for the first time….

These are all so cool, I'd love to be added to your taglists!! 🥺🥺

˒✦ : WRITEBLR ⋅ INTRO ⌁ ◌༉‧. 🌱໑ 

hi! my name is celeste and i’m new to the writeblr community!

i write under the name celeste ephine (she/her) although, you can just call me celeste. i’m african and native american, seventeen years old, and queer. i have an intj mbti type and my big three are: cap sun, sag moon, and virgo rising. my interests include neuropsychology, witchcraft, podcasts, and romantic academia. oh, and i’m wayy better at descriptions than i am with dialogue.

my writing style is a bit interesting as i tend to write mostly for romantic/dark academia, dark fantasy, psychological thrillers, and historical fiction. i love exploring themes of moral ambiguity, divination, mythology, and the occult. i also write poetry and dabble a bit in prose and screenplay.

here’s a sneak peek at some of my wips:

* - names are subject to change (i’m a tad bit indecisive)

descs are going to be vague since i’ll do a proper intro post for each wip

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 | psych thriller + dark fantasy

a pagan cult makes blood sacrifices to the gods in an attempt to delay an ancient and horrific force from destroying the world

𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 | dark fantasy

in which a soothsayer and freedom seeker set out on a quest to destroy the remnants of the old gods. for what is existence, without something to exist for?

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐒𝐄𝐒 | dark fantasy + occult fiction

the bonepicker’s daughter gets more than she bargained for when she seeks refuge in a mad ruler’s city that’s on the verge of war

here’s a few blogs that inspired me to join the community!

@starshots @acrimoneous @laketrials @astolacs @herondalelucies @zalighart @zuiderhaaks

All your wips are so interesting! Please add me to your taglist :)))

Hi, my name’s Deau! Welcome to subtlefires, my writeblr!

Introduction

I’m nineteen years old [twenty on 27 Dec!]. I’m nonbinary [they/them], Black, and bisexual. I’ve been lurking in the writeblr community for six-ish months now, and I’ve decided to start my own! I haven’t written much in the way of prose since I was fourteen, so this blog will also [hopefully] get me back into that.

I am mostly into reading and writing fantasy of any kind - especially that which deals with godhood, traumatized characters, found family, and some criminal activity [especially when screwing with the government]. I very much enjoy complex relationships between any set of characters. Parent and child? Lovers? Best friends? Enemies??? *chef’s kiss*

Almost all of my wips are in some form of disrepair, either lacking in worldbuilding, plot, or characters, so I don’t have intro posts for them yet! But I’m finding myself pretty motivated these days so keep a look out!*

Trust and believe, I love to talk, so feel free to send an ask in or message me or whatever! I’m in desperate need of more mutuals to gush over so… *eyes emoji*

My Wips

A Cacophony of Mirrors

A surreal fantasy story set in the fictional town of Farley, Massachusetts.

Erica Bennett, who has been missing for the past ten years, suddenly reappears bloody and unconscious in the woods, mirror shards spread in a perfect circle around her body. Ayla Hughes, your local gas station attendant, just wants to get her degree and move far, far away. She wants forget all about missing girls and mysterious notes left behind and terrible dreams, but something is holding her back. Is it the town? Erica’s unsolved disappearance? Or something a bit more… fantastical?

trigger warnings: emotionally abusive parents, dysphoria, blurring reality and fantasy

WIP Tag | WIP Page

The Legend of the Crow

A high fantasy novel set in the world of Rusaris, after the first war between the Gods. 

This story centers around one of four sacrifices made to the Betrayer God during the First War. We witness them crawl from their early grave alongside the others after one hundred years asleep. The All Mother, the Goddess of Creation, descends to grant the sacrifices immortality and the status of Saints, if they agree to live in her service to prevent another war amongst the Gods. We follow Asphodel the Crow as they search for the lover they lost and save the fallen kingdom of Vysteria.

trigger warnings: violence, light gore

WIP Tag | WIP Page

Psychic Nights

An adult-oriented mid-fantasy novel set in the world of Vesuvia.

Caralise Tryvern is in her final year of schooling to become a High Priestess, the highest rank a witch can achieve, when she discovers a magical conspiracy amongst the very witches she seeks to join. Now on the run from the government, Caralise and her partner, Tobiah, traverse the world searching for anyone they can trust to help them out of the mess they’ve found themselves in.

trigger warnings: none as far as I’m aware, feel free to ask me to tag anything in the future!

WIP Tag | WIP Page

The SS Pavona

A science-fiction story set in the Quisari Solar System.

This story follows the crew of the SS Pavona as they are finally able to take a deep breath after escaping from Blackstorm, a maximum security prison on the outskirts of the solar system. These five strangers have just risked their lives for one another, for their freedom - but they don’t know each other, really. In fact, they don’t know much at all; not about each other, not about themselves, not even the reasons they were sent to Blackstorm in the first place… We follow the crew of the SS Pavona as their collective and individual pasts come back to haunt them. Are they truly willing to risk their lives for one another again?

trigger warnings: none as far as I’m aware, feel free to ask me to tag anything in the future!

WIP Tag | WIP Page

Other Stuff

Here’s my Wattpad, where I may or may not be drafting and posting chapters of the above wips, poetry, or concept pieces. Here is my writing tag as well, on the off chance I decide to post excerpts and things of that sort on tumblr, too. Also, my project page which lists all of my current wips with links to their individual pages.

Thanks for reading this far! I know this intro is long, haha. Here’s some of the blogs that inspired me to do this in the first place: @vitrichor | @sprigofbasil | @alicewestwater | @elaichichais | @heartwarning

* this post will be changed and updated in the future as I, undoubtedly, change my mind about things, add/remove trigger warnings, or generally add other bits of information! 

Yess! Been looking forward to your nano vloggg!

A writing major attempts NaNoWriMo and fails duh | Writing Vlog #25

watch me fail nanowrimo because why not

This is so interesting, please add me to your taglist! :o)

To find but morsels of what the world used to be spurs an odd feeling of nostalgia deep within your core; it surpasses your hard shell, delving until it tickles something gleaming, innocent, and something some would dare say is childish – hope. Hope for a future crafted with compassion but founded on destruction.

Funny, to experience nostalgia for a past that isn’t your own.

You live in Angelwood; a city like many others, yanked by the leash that is MERCY. You know about MERCY. Magnificent Emergency Relief and Care for Yourself, it stands for. It rose from the ashes of a worldwide epidemic of organ failures, constructing artificial organs which would ultimately save pockets of humanity from extinction – at a price. With the devastated economy and government, MERCY’s growing finances and following, MERCY soared to power. Then came the monopolisation of medical services – even if it was under a different name, you knew it was collared and walked by MERCY – and the subtle lacing of bodily modifications, or “augmentations”, into contemporary fashion and style. For those who still suffer from breakouts of organ failures, or for those who feel the stroke of MERCY’s marketing and manipulation warm on their cheek, they can pursue avenues paved by MERCY. Oh, but for those who cannot afford such grandiose costs? Well, need not worry, they offer simple contractual signups where you can pay back in smaller instalments. While this all seems lovely and altruistic when spoken with the honey-lathered words of MERCY agents, you know all too well that should someone miss one too many instalments, they’ll pay for it in more than just their money.

Will you conform and live a life that is shadowed by MERCY? Or will you fight? Both sides have their positives and negatives, yet death lurks at either door. Do you want to go out swinging, or go out plodding?  ―  THE ORGAN OPERA

OVERVIEW.

GENRE  ―  sci-fi (cyberpunk);  queer romance.

DEMOGRAPHIC  ―  (new) adult.

NARRATION  ―  third person;  past tense.

THEMES  ―  capitalism;  fascism;  anticapitalism + antifascism;  body augmentation;  human experimentation;  dystopian earth but struggling to make a better future.

STAGE  ―  revamping and plotting;  worldbuilding.

SUMMARY  ―  Years ago, a manmade virus raked its teeth against humanity  -  an epidemic of organ failures swept nations, devastating economies and governments alike. From the ashes of millions, select few megacorporations loomed over those who remained with malicious intent. Many of these megacorporations now control particular districts. Angelwood is controlled by the medical monster that is MERCY and is currently facing its latest threat  -  yet another uprising. And this time, they’re not going to stop until they burn MERCY to the ground.

MAIN CHARACTERS.

LEONARDO SONG  ―  Often referred to by his nickname of ‘Leo’, Leo is of mixed Korean and Filipino descent. He is the originator of the latest wave of rebellion against MERCY and his fire is something that can’t be quelled. He’s suffered severe facial disfiguration at the hands of a MERCY agent but wears it with mixed pride and anger.

CYRUS MERCER  ―  A black man who was one of many orphaned and taken underneath MERCY’s wing  -  under the condition that he partook in their PERSON program. On the surface, it seemed benevolent and altruistic… But MERCY never does anything nice without later ripping it to shreds. He’s now immune to the virus and wields more power than anyone in MERCY could’ve anticipated.

COCO DOOLEY  ―  A trans woman and close friend of Leo, she partakes in the uprising against MERCY and their control over Angelwood. She’s an expert hacker and has been steadily building her pool of information of and against MERCY.

MURDOCH MURRAY  ―  A trans man and close friend of Leo, like Coco, he too is part of the uprising against MERCY’s control over Angelwood. While Leo is fiery, Murdoch wields the cool charisma and allure akin to that of a skilled conman. He’s often the first to go into a situation, to procure or to defuse.

TAGLIST. if you’d liked to be added to the list, let me know via message, ask, or reblog! @mxxnwrites

I wrote this short story a while ago, intending to submit it to some magazines, leaving it to decay chill until I had time off from uni to edit it. Currently busy af w *shiny* new novel, but  I wanted to share some of it on here to motivate me to work on it. Alors,,,,,,

genre: spooky lit-fic logline: Trudging through the barren Arizona desert after a night out partying, a group of friends come across a cupcake shop owned by a creepy old lady and her cannibal husband.  TW: drug use, dead rats, disturbing cupcake ingredients, murdery elderly people.

   The slope was 90 degrees and we were rock climbing, harnessed to a frayed string that tugged our shoulders. Desert on all sides, not a single car. One cactus, ten yards away, frilled with spines. When a café tiled with orange bricks sprouted above us, we first mistook it as a mirage. The sign read Cupcake Shoppe and assured us they were sustainably sourced and organic—probably made using soy milk or that green powder Julie mixed into milk with a golden spoon. I tried it once; it tasted like marbles.

Ok, but who else is drooling over this prose???

HOUSE PLANTS, CHAPTER 20: GLASS, DIVERTED

DISCLAIMER: this is my original writing, do not use / repurpose / plagiarise the excerpt in any form or way.

hello i was feeling very proud of this chapter— wrote this at one am, too! what a vibe!! who needs a stable sleep schedule anyway!!!— and wanted to share it + also you guys have never actually gotten a full chapter excerpt before so enjoy!! also this is one of the vignette chapters™ so that’s why it’s so short + is told in present tense and in the fictive present. i hope you like it as much as i do! [transcript + taglists under the cut]

Keep reading

they hadn’t prepared us for this. they left us with nothing left worth fighting for.

that is, until we found each other.

we were living through what scientists had called the worst case scenario, and we were doing it alone.

| worst-case scenario: a wip intro |

the floods, the fires, the wailing, the radio static.

there was nothing left to salvage. except for maybe the kid, and that one dog. a van that stuttered more than it moved, a pink blanket tucked inside a fathers jacket. the notebook filled with silly drawings and the notes passed between them in the dark.

GENRE: science fiction, dystopian, adventure, thriller, surrealism

POV: third/omnipient

PROGRESS: first drafting

MOOD: dark, wistful, painfully nostalgic, uneasy, cautiously hopeful

SETTING: the year is 2336, Earth. but it’s nothing like anyone had imagined.

WARNINGS: multiple deaths, biological ware fare, drowning, weapons, display of mental illness(es), end of the world scenario, not so natural disasters, alcoholism, manipulation, nothing is right, there is no normal.

VAGUE PLOT: [they] were fed up with how their lives were treated on this planet, and decided to leave. they left behind their final words, etched into the grounds they tore apart and whispered into the waves that came crashing down. the people meant to protect them all had given up, had betrayed them. but they couldn’t be blamed, they had tried to warn the world to no avail. now [we] were on our own, with a scattering of the earths population, to make this place a home again.

[they] are the scientists who had tried their hardest to keep this world alive.

[we] were five people undeserving of this hell.

[[ wip tag: wip; wcs ]]

"Hold Me Under Till I See the Light" by Shaelin Bishop - The New Quarterly Digital Edition

On the first day of summer, my sister asked me if I believed in god. “I’m leaving, Rainey,” she said, while we scrubbed the bay windows—dim on our side, bright on the other, where blonde tendrils of grass rustled against the glass. Vinegar stung my eyes and the raw hangnails on my pinkies. The other […]

What’s this?! “Hold Me Under Till I See the Light,” my most recently published short story, is available to read online in TNQ for free! I had no idea the story would be made available to everyone, but I was so excited to see it there today. If you want to give it a read, I don’t know how long the story will be available for non-subscribers (might only be around a week), but it is probably my favourite story I’ve ever written so if you want to read it, now is your chance! 

–Shaelin

Wow! plz add me to taglist :o))

PLUTO BY MARTINA SANTI — A WIP Introduction + Opening Lines

WIP TAG | CHARACTERS

A collection of horror stories set in the mysterious town of Fell Island, told by various characters in a small diner on the edge of town. To scare, or to entertain—at its core, these stories serve as a distraction from the fact that once they get past the entrance, they can’t seem to get back out …

Recurring characters include the grumpy (but secretly soft) owner of Pluto’s Diner; a clever, teen runaway; a cheery waitress with a secret; and many more. Send an ask/reply/dm to be added to the taglist!

Keep reading

SPACEMAN SPACEMAN WHAT DO YOU PLAN ON DOING NOW?

transcript

Keep reading

Last Line Tag #1🍨

Thank you @alicewestwater for the tag! :))) Lil excerpt from my new novel where Amber gets annoyed at Raisa’s ghost while waiting for the bus. you know, just some relatable content ;p

     Raisa laid in a rectangle of grey sunlight under the window, tranquilized by rum and spiraling dust bunnies. Hands folded over her belly, bulging with chocolate covered almonds, eyes shifting like marbles under the orange juice pulp of her lids. Dreaming of cities without people or cars, the houses, puffs of cotton candy with gumdrop path lights and woolly archways.

     I wanted to plug her mouth with the heel of my hand, but to passersby I’d only be cupping air, squinting at concrete. I didn’t want to start off another Tuesday, an unhinged street performer.

tagging: @noteaboy @oceancold @emdrabbles @aelenko @fluoresensitive @writeremma @purgatorydotexe and ofc, anyone else who’d like to do this challenge! 

IT’S GENE MAGIC AND/OR TURPENTINE: A SHORT STORY

the narrator doesn’t know what’s going on and neither do we: surrealist version.

GENRE: surrealism.

POV & TENSE: third-person limited, present tense.

SETTING: an apartment in an unnamed suburb, present-day.

TONE: satirical, resentful, delirious, wistful.

STAGE: completed first draft, 1807 words.

LOGLINE: after being called back from college upon her family’s death, july contemplates her situation by villanizing and blaming her dead family.

LITERAL LOGLINE: life got you down? your entire family dead under mysterious circumstances? don’t worry, your friendly shoulder demon’s got your back, just smoke it out!

CHARACTERS:

july is a college student who was called back in the middle of her course— something that she worked super hard to get into— to go vacate her now-deceased family’s home. she’s angry about this, because she feels robbed of her dream. as time goes on and the story progresses, july continues to detach from her pain over her family’s death and reality itself, subsequently leading to her unravelling.

hale is the shoulder demon. they’re a fun and sarcastic person, and secretly worries for july and her increasing detachedness. nobody knows why they’re here, what they’re doing, or even if they’re real in the first place.

WHAT GOES DOWN:

july is called back from college to attend to her now empty home following the sudden death of her family— mother, sister, grandmother— under mysterious circumstances. this is a source of dual emotions for july. on one hand, she’s grieving for them immensely, and this is signified through the various memories she has of them + her relationships with each member. on the other hand, she’s extremely annoyed by this, because she knew they would die together eventually— it’s implied to be something that runs in the family, and had happened to her father before— and the timing inconvenienced her.

july is,,,, pretty unhinged. a lot of surreal things happen in the story and it’s difficult to distinguish reality from her mind. she also has a friend in hale, the demon on her shoulder. the story chronicles the short period of time she spends in her home, trying to collect her thoughts and prepare for her own inevitable death.

EXCERPTS:

this is a very short story so i don’t want to share much, but here’s one little peek into the tone + style of the prose.

July scoffs again, but now it’s silent and nobody hears. The will features meaningless drabble, small talk and verbiage typical for her mother, and she’s tempted to rip it and swallow the pieces whole. [Why, she can’t say. There’s an odd craving in every object and she’s the only one who makes herself tick.] She concludes that the house is now her’s. How wonderful. Of course July would have traded her college room for a nowhere house any fucking day.

SPARE THOUGHTS:

this is the weirdest thing i’ve written. it’s high-key surrealism and plays with form and character a lot. july is an extremely unreliable narrator. there’s a lot of funky concepts—every speaker’s dialogue is formatted differently, she’s spying on her neighbours, there’s a demon on her shoulder— and while it’s been hard threading them in coherently and fluidly, i’ve never had more fun drafting before. it’s also one of my best short story titles, hands down. feel free to ask anything about this story because there’s so much meta i can get into. [general taglist under the cut]

Keep reading

ok but the murderyness makes this update so interesting?? I also loved the poetic excerpts, they're stunning !!

Land Mammal | Feeding Habits Update #7

Hello! We are back for another Feeding Habits update, but this time we’re chatting chapter 8, aka Land Mammal.

Just a reminder: This is my original work and plagiarism of any form will not be tolerated.

Scene outline & excerpts under the cut because this one is a long one! If you missed previous updates or are new to the project, check out the novel intro page (which links all the updates) HERE!

Taglist (please ask to be added or removed): @if-one-of-us-falls @qatarcookie, @chloeswords, @alicewestwater, @laughtracksonata, @ev–writes , @jaydewritesfiction, @jennawritesstories , @august-iswriting, @berinswriting​​

Keep reading

about me 🌱 Age: 20 (she/her) 🌱 Turkish-Canadian living in Ontario, Canada 🌱 English major 🌱 Visual artist 

genres: used to be fantasy, now mostly lit-fic. writerly habits: soft spot for unlikeable characters /// flower power description/metaphors galore /// recently started dabbling w poetry but idk if I’m any good?? /// garamond forever, single spaced. I like big blocks of text. c:

some of my wips 🌱 Yellow Houses /// adult lit-fic novel. Unhinged university students vandalize houses, painting them school-bus yellow, then write about wondering who did it in the local paper. Hmm... 🌱 Liquor and Locusts /// adult modern fantasy novel. TW because this is a pandemic story! A squatter crashes at a countryside manor during a pandemic, befriending an elderly gardener and his very emo apprentice. There is somehow also a talking locust who loves brandy. 🌱 Red Pleather /// lit short fiction. A teenage girl’s relationship with her older brother who constricts her from the world outside their crowded apartment complex. Warning: a lot of stair climbing and internal monologues in this one.

you’ve made it to the end! writerblrs, please interact so I can catch up on all your beautiful wips. Also feel free to tag me or hop in my dms for a chat, I’m probably online ;). ♥♥♥

Wip Intro: Yellow Houses

I should start by saying that this project is shelved. I’m currently too busy to devote it the time it deserves while juggling uni and another novel. Hopefully, I’ll pick it up one day in the future, but for now, let’s just let it age like a fine wine on a USB stick, shall we?

Genre: Lit-fic/mystery? Logline:  Ellen, an aspiring university journalist, finds an envelope in her mailbox filled with photographs of upper-class houses. When she visits these addresses she finds they’ve all been vandalized -- painted a neon, school-bus yellow. When the two vandals engage with her via a virtual chatroom to propose that she cover their ‘art project’ for the local newspaper, she must do her best to write a non-biased recollection of the conflicts that ensue. Literal Logline: A bunch of young hipsters create pretentious art and go on tangents about eating the rich. Also, there is a creepy/psychopathic mayor candidate always wearing a signature yellow jacket and tie having an affair with Ellen’s mom! Fun!

Setting: Takes place in a small, fictional town in British Columbia. But a lot of scenes also take place in a chatroom, with virtual urban cities like Tokyo, New York and more. 

Excerpt from the chatroom scene! TW/NSFW warning: mild sexuality. Also I haven’t line edited much yet, oops!

My baby pink VR headset landed me 2050, Chinatown; a street puddled with neon lights swimming in oily water, reflecting a Tetris stack of knockoff Balenciaga retailers. A couple Hello Kitty shaped arcade machines silhouetted a bar window, casting a pink and blue grid over my friends, who caught sight of me and waved. In only 330 hours, 20 minutes, 12 seconds, I’d come to know them better than their own families. If I hovered over their bodies, too creamy and poreless to be truly photorealistic, a timer would reveal when we’d clicked accept, invited eachother into our second lives.

Cassie’s heart shaped face grinned, her bejeweled teeth blue in the ink of store lights. She tossed her metal bat up high, and caught it on her index finger, balancing it there. Jada’s newly installed robo arms were translucent plastic. There were wires tangled inside.

           Across the plaza, next to some motorcycles collapsed like dominos, a tall woman with a black veil over her face dragged a leash with a crawling half naked man in a bunny mask on the end of it, shuffling clumsily to keep up with her long strides. When she greeted us with nod, Jada let out a squeak before muting her microphone to safely burst into giggles.

           “So many weirdos tonight,” Cassie said lowly, staring at the slave’s bony butt disappear around the boba shack. “Alors.” Her hands came together in a prayer. “Matching tattoos. Glowing ones, from the new update. And don’t even think about saying no, I have enough coins for all of us. You’ve got no excuse whatsoever.” She linked her arm through mine and Jada slung her robo arm over my shoulder and they steered me across the street. A group of white-haired teenagers, teardrop wings trailing along their bare feet drifted past us at the traffic lights, which only existed to flash ads for fast food chains or reduced phone plans at the pedestrians. One of them poked out her tongue at me. Pastel blue and pierced with a tiny metal seahorse.

Novel Moodboard: Neon Chatroom.

A little preview of a moodboard for my shelved novel, Yellow Houses. Although this project is now shelved I'll be making an intro for it soon so stay tuned!

Pinterest mood board I created for my wip short story, "Bud and Bunny".

The story takes place in New York during the 90s, exploring the toxic bond between a young girl and her older brother, who restricts her freedom from the world outside their cramped apartment complex.

Last Line Tag

Thank you @bitterwitchwrites for tagging me!

Here is an excerpt from the first draft of my novel that I’ve been blandly referring to as LL. I doubt this will be in the final version of the book but whatever!

An electrical hum stuffed his ears with cotton balls, silenced the jagged wind clawing at the trapdoor. When he called back to it, he was muffled out too.

Tagging: @memories-written-in-words @writingwithhotchocolate @writingisbae @raevenlywrites @yanittawrites @writingwithaddie @loki-writes

5 frustrating workshop rules that made me a better writer

Throughout the 15 workshops I joined in college and grad school, I encountered two types of writing rules.

First, there were the best-practice guidelines we’ve all heard, like “show don’t tell.” And then there were workshop rules, which the professor put in place not because they’re universal, but because they help you grow within the context of the workshop.

My college’s intro writing course had 5 such rules:

No fantasy, supernatural, or sci-fi elements.

No guns.

No characters crying.

No conflict resolution through deus ex machina.

No deaths.

When I first saw the rules, I was baffled. They felt weirdly specific, and a bit unfair. But when our professor, Vinny, explained their purpose (and assured us he only wanted us to follow the rules during this intro workshop, not the others to come), I realized what I could learn from them.

1. No fantasy, supernatural, or sci-fi elements.

Writers need to be able to craft round characters, with clear arcs. While you can hone those skills writing any type of story, it can be more difficult when juggling fantastical elements, because it’s easy to get caught up in the world, or the magic, or the technology, and to make that the focus instead of the characters. So Vinny encouraged us to exclude such elements for the time being, to keep us fully focused on developing strong, dynamic characters.

2. No guns.

Weapons have a place in many stories, but when writers include a gun, they often use it to escalate the plot outside of the realm of personal experience and into what Vinny called “Hollywood experience.” He wanted us to learn how to draw from our own observations and perceptions of life, rather than the unrealistic action, violence, and drama we’d seen in movies, so he made this rule to keep us better grounded in our own experiences.

3. No characters crying.

When trying to depict sadness, writers often default to making characters cry. While there’s nothing inherently wrong with that, tears are just one way to show grief, and they aren’t always the most subtle or emotionally compelling. That’s why Vinny challenged us to find other ways to convey sadness — through little gestures, strained words, fragile interactions, and more. It was difficult, but opened us up to depicting whole new gradients of grief and pain.

4. No conflict resolution through deus ex machina.

This is the only one of the rules I’d say is generally universal. Meaning “God from the machine,” deus ex machina is a plot device where a character’s seemingly insurmountable problem is abruptly resolved by an outside force, rather than their own efforts. These endings are bad for various reasons, but Vinny discouraged them because he wanted us to understand how important it was for our characters to confront their struggle and its consequences.

5. No deaths.

Death is inherently dramatic and can be used to good effect, but many writers use death as a crutch to create drama and impact. Writers should be able to craft engaging, meaningful stories, even without killing off their characters, so this rule challenged us to find other methods of giving weight to our stories (such as through internal conflict).

How these rules helped me grow as a writer

First things first, I’ll say it again: apart from #4 (deus ex machina), these rules were never meant to be universally applied. Instead, their purpose was to create temporary barriers and challenges to help us develop key skills and write in new, unfamiliar ways.

For me, the experience was invaluable. I liked the way the rules challenged and stretched my abilities, driving me to write stories I’d have never otherwise attempted. They made me more flexible as a writer, and while I don’t follow the rules anymore (I LOVE me some fantasy), I’ll always be thankful for how they shaped my writing.

My recommendation to you?

Give some of these rules a shot! Follow them temporarily while writing 2-4 short stories — but remember to always keep their purpose in mind, because the rules themselves will only help if you understand what they’re trying to achieve.

Write with purpose, and you’ll always be growing.

— — —

For more tips on how to craft meaning, build character-driven plots, and grow as a writer, follow my blog.

Excerpt #1: The Waiting Room

    Seated in the doctor’s office I peeked over my magazine, causing the collage of perfume bottles to distort until they resembled vague, pastel coloured light-bulbs clustered at the brim of my vision. Across me slouched a woman with a house shaped cage on her lap, a string of drool snailing down her chin as she snored. I made a face at her green-cheeked conure as it inched down its tightrope towards me, bobbing its head. The middle-aged man a few seats down, his cowboy hat flipped over his eyes, fanned himself with a lung disease brochure even though the air conditioning had been set to blast. My eyes followed their thought bubbles as they bounced off the oily walls and popped. The severed letters puffed up to the ceiling in a cloud of confetti, mundane details they’d already forgotten. The parakeet’s thoughts were less entertaining, a string of staccatos that fizzled out before they could even form. 

     When the secretary, a bullnecked woman with streaked green hair grated down to a pixie cut, waved her faux quill pen at me, I placed my magazine back on the rack and followed her down a hallway tiled with domino doors. She kept glancing back to confirm I was still on her heels and hadn’t wandered off like a sneaky child. Once we reached my cubicle she finally left me alone, her black heels clacking against the shiny floor as she trotted off. I crunched down on the paper spread out over the bed, dizzy from the reek of iodoform. Fortunately the doctor arrived quickly, tapping a clipboard against his palm as he asked why I’d come. I lied that my back had been killing me and we both shrugged and nodded at the hardships of old age. 

House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski.

Reading this book requires rotating it around, holding it upside down and paging through countless footnotes of fictional references. I'm really enjoying it so far and I strongly reccomend it if you love horror!

the painter’s mistress

The oak cottage has grown mushy in the rain, susceptible to mold.

The boggy air - a warm, wet rag, plugs my mouth 

as I sit and snap split peas into a Blue Black bowl, nostrils blaring 

at the stink of rotting leaves.

My hunched figure is molded from swirls of oil, greasy smears 

of Yellow Ocher, Permanent Mauve;

colors you’d so thoughtfully selected, seen in me.

Now, under coats of glaze, spotty like a bride’s moth-eaten veil,

I’m just a mute, colorless oval to you.

It’s needless to hide my bloated, decaying face;

you turned away before I could.

collection of stolen books

    When I stole my first book, I was still a stubborn, puffy-haired little girl with knobbly knees and a deadened stare. It wasn't difficult or particularly dangerous, as I simply borrowed it from the library one day, with the intent to never return it.

     I relished the buzz of peeling the transparent tape down the spine, flicking off the bar code on the right-hand corner. I recall pulling out the slip of paper pocketed inside to skim through the stack of names, as I pictured who had once borrowed it. How they'd sat spraying ketchup on its pages, maybe wiping a stray booger on there as well. Something waxy was stuck between page forty-four and forty-five, that red stuff wrapped around cheese wheel snacks packed in children's school lunches. I remember it all so well. 

    I hate consumerism, in fact it’s my reasoning for stealing as often as I do, so one might question why I once stole from a library. There is no excusable answer, it’s simply what my roots are. The book in question still remains on my shelf, crouched between hardcovers wearing crisp, matte jackets, like an abused child. It smells of sweat, love and apples; a distinct, addictive scent that will draw you to it and make you feel like some sort of pervert. The rest of my collection, still ‘hot off the press’, reflective headers blaring, New York Times Bestseller,  have no such detail of warm, of endearment. 

Note: something fictional I wrote tonight while bored. :p