don't mind me! just out here crying about a character's death as if i didn't write it myself!
it's not writers block, it's my characters' vacation days. they deserve a few breaks between The Horrors.
i like to add little comments on my draft whenever i'm bored and it leads to goldmines like these:
very therapeutic i highly recommend
if it's good enough for you, then it deserves to be made. don't let anyone else decide if your story is worth it or not.
whenever i enjoy something i can never do it halfway and i think that's my blessing and my curse. like i'll have an idea for a few of my oc's and then WHOOPS now i'm 60k words into my second draft of a novel and it's all i talk about how did that happen
"you're the writer, you control how the story goes" no not really. i wrote the first sentence and then my characters said "WE WILL TAKE IT FROM HERE" and promptly swerved into an electrical fence.
i absolutely love how this has become a post where people just yap about their oc's and their dumb decisions.
reading my writing is like playing 'spot the reference!' because i keep subconsciously sprinkling in little nods to my favourite things. its not obvious or anything but if someone knew anything about the media they would be like:
"why the fuck are you referencing crimson rivers people are dying...yep, and there's the shrek quote. "
my main character just dropped a banger of a line:
"You and I were put on this world to clear it of monsters. But if you’re too weak to fulfil your duty, then I will force you to watch as I exterminate them all.
like pop off queen hit them with that unreliable narrator/false hero mentality
how many aura points did i lose for basing my main character off jiggleballs from mouthwashing
does anyone else die inside a little when they do novel outlining? like i love the brainstorming/daydreaming stage as much as the next person, but actually getting it down into words? in chronological order? in a non-confusing way? i would rather jump out a window into burning fire and then inhale a jar full of bees.
cannibalism as a metaphor for obsessive love/limerence in literature is officially one of my favourite things ever.
you love me so much that you will never be satisfied with my closeness until we are the same being? until our hearts are so intertwined you can feel the twin pulses under your skin? that you cannot properly exhibit your love unless you give me yourself entirely, preferably on a silver platter?
perfect.
greetings do U do fanfic requests
:D
YES I DO. you're the first person to ask me ahaha. what's your request
let us fight to preserve p(eace)(ieces) - by charbroiledchicken
Broken bodies, limbs askew like a marionette, with white handkerchiefs tied around their wrists - the polymer fibres were warped from the heat of a small bonfire of children’s toys. In the wind’s cool caress, like kisses from a widow or the clutch of a grieving mother, the fabric thrashed like a flag. They were surrendering. Promise. They had come into the city with empty hands and left with them crossed over their chest.
A flower grew amongst the rubble, weaving itself through the mélange of stone and shattered picture frames. It was crushed under the heel of a soldier’s boot.
(just a little 100 word flash fiction i did because i was bored)
The ‘Harrowed’ Artist - by charbroiledchicken (see the end of the poem for context)
Now tell me as I bleed jewels,
From an anthology of little cuts -
Is my pain beguiling?
Does the crimson match the upholstery?
Are the shadows just right as to seem like my hands are
Severed from my body right at the pulse point?
I paint a picture, the perfectly positioned tear on my cheek
Used to wet the brush.
The artfully despaired hold a crowd of followers,
Who hold their wounds to the dirt
So that snakes can accept their sacrifice
And whisper wisdom in their ears.
Never mind if they pass -
For the earth will grow daisies near their corpses.
And they shall be beautiful for a short while.
They say that a poet must struggle,
To wax immortal verses.
So dolorous I shall become,
For beauty and fame are the result of the tribulations of an artist.
(yes this is written entirely to poke fun at people on social media who romanticise poor mental health or like the 'tortured poet/sad girl' aesthetics going around. it is not beautiful, it is not romantic, it is an issue and shouldn't be treated as something aesthetic or something desirable.)
unfortunately, recent studies have shown that users (me) actually have to post things on their blog (actual content not just ominous shitposts with no tags) to get more followers. the public (me) are not happy with the results.
i will spend ages working on writing dialogue, making sure everything is perfect. is it natural? does it fit the character? is that what an actual human sounds like? and the dialogue is literally "hi."
