This Started As A Fucking Joke And Then I Wrote Seven Thousand Words
Tag: writing
To those fanfic writers that are not english native speakers: sometimes, when I read your work, I notice that english isn’t your first language, because there are strange phrases. I know immediately that to you, they are perfectly normal, since it’s the way your language describes things. And I love that, because here you go, creating your art, in a language you spent so much time learning, just so that other people can enjoy your stories! It is so amazing and I will never criticise you for that, but instead I will be thankful that you put in all the effort.
I love you all, you are amazing. Keep creating, please!
Writing is hard. Writing in a language that is not your native tongue is even harder. I love and respect the hell out of you all!
I read a book a while back, which I have completely forgotten the name of, but the author mentioned teaching poetry workshops to children of different age groups and said that the a lot of the younger kids came out with some really sublime stuff because they hadn’t internalised as many cliches and boring stock phrases in the English language yet, while the older kids tended to write very formulaic stuff in comparison. I think that writers working in a language that’s not their native tongue bring a similar quality to their work. You’ll see phrases that a native speaker could never come up with that are so fresh and beautiful.
We native English speakers tend to do a lot of washing in each others’ water, so to speak, when it comes to writing. We’re all drawing from the same stock pool of set phrases, idioms, metaphors, and classic literary references.
You second-language folks, you bring the fresh and the new into that pool, and I absolutely am grateful for that.
I put a bit at the end of the penultimate chapter of my last WIP about how I’d gone through a short period of feeling like the story I was writing was ‘rubbish’ and worthless, and that I’d had to kind of solider on through it in order to finish. I was sharing this information partly as an explanation as to why I hadn’t updated for almost 3 weeks (after initially saying I would update weekly), but also because I feel like it’s important to share stuff about insecurity and process in order to connect with people authentically.
Having a fair bit of insight into my character, I think I can safely say that I didn’t do it in order to fish for compliments or to be reassured that my writing is good. It’s my job to reassure myself about that, which is why I think it’s important to share that block and insecurity are really natural parts of the writing process, and will usually pass of their own accord.
I was a little surprised by some of the reactions I had to my sharing this, and I can only assume it’s because I give the impression that I’m accomplished and super-confident about my writing. I’m not. In fact it’s maybe one of the only areas of my life in which I still suffer pretty crippling self-doubt. I often compare writing fiction – for me – as akin to stripping for an audience (which ironically I’ve actually done with very few problems), because honestly it feels like baring something incredibly intimate of my secret self, and asking everyone who’s looking at me naked for their approval.
So I just wanted to throw that out there.
I know a lot of people who write suffer the same neuroses – I’m not special in any way – but it helped me a lot when another writer told me they often felt this way, and questioned their talent even after being published and lauded.
Believing your work is good is great and everything (because…y’know yay self-confidence in all areas of life), but it’s not a pre-requisite for success.
The AO3 Tag of the Day is: Authorial dignity
do u guys ever look back at a piece of half-done writing and think ‘this could be brilliant. this could be my mona lisa. my starry night. my idris elba’ but you have absolutely no drive to finish it despite an unfaltering desire to see it finished
my idris elba
author’s note on fanfic ch4: i’ll probably have it updated by the end of this week!
author’s note on fanfic ch5: so i know it’s been two years but i can explain
you promised to put out a new fic chapter today but your brain seems to be working against you ? totally cool, i understand !
you said you were gonna answer some asks but you’re feeling a little overwhelmed ? no worries, we can wait !
you decided you were going to post some art today but you’re just too busy to finish it ? all good, there’s always tomorrow !
give yourself a break sometimes. work at your own pace. congratulate yourself for any amount of progress.
creating content is hard, okay.
you’re already doing wonderfully. no pressure. you got this.
Does anyone else feel like, if they’re not putting out new fics at least once or twice a month, they’ll be forgotten? People have told me I’m ‘popular’ in the ship fandom I write for but it’s always other fics and authors I see getting talked about or linked when people ask for recs. So I keep feeling like people just forget my fics if I’m not constantly coming up with new ones.
i’ll just refer you to this post that phrases an answer better than I could. But in short: no, you won’t be forgotten.
Personally I know that there’s a lot of authors I don’t actively think about, until I get an e-mail in my inbox saying they’ve updated or published something, which is when I hop in glee. Sometimes a year pass in which I don’T think of them once, sometimes I even forgot the author’s name, but then I go check their stories and remember “Aaaah yes it’s this one, that story was a ride, I’m curious what they wrote now”.
So yes, don’t worry too much.
Question to put to the world:
Do you prefer finished fics being published instead of WIPs? And if the author thought they might not ever finish the story would you even want to read it?
It’s been said that there is an alpha for every omega.
Charmont knows this, but he has not yet met his.
After his parents’ deaths and his uncle’s that follows years later, he worries when he’ll meet his alpha. How long would they have really? A few years? Possibly a decade?
Is that worth the heartache?
As an omega king Charmont is mostly a figurehead while the kingdom run by the collective of governors his father appointed years ago.
They don’t always see eye to eye, but Char is safe and happy.
That all comes crashing down when he’s invited to the neighboring kingdom and meets the horseman.
Char is walking with Queen Cata, charming her as he’s always found easy to do with alphas. The queen sighs that they are not well matched, touching his cheek just as a strange scent overwhelms him.
The alpha standing in the stables is broad shouldered and older than him, though Char has no cares for that. His alpha is very handsome.
“Charmont?”
The alpha comes forward without being called and they shake hands, the shiver going through him he sees echo in the silver haired alpha.
“Charmont this is Michael Kohlhaas.”
Kohlhaas takes his hand and Char cares not for proper behavior, turning to leave immediately.
He doesn’t need this, not at all.
As horrible as it makes him seem, he misses dinner and is ready to leave in the morning when an unexpected thing occurs.
There is a man found wandering the outskirts of the castle.
The guards insist he stay the afternoon, he smells Kohlhaas in the air as they scamper but does not see his alpha.
Cata seems far too interested in his reaction to her horseman but he does not tell her a thing playing coy.
“I was feeling faint, I apologize. He reminded me of my father, it was akin to seeing a ghost.”
She is sympathetic as they eat breakfast, and when the guards come in right after he smells a new scent on them that has him weak kneed.
They are carrying a bloodied shirt, the alpha smell so strong Char rips it from him.
“Where is he?”
The guard frowns, “He is in the dungeon.”
“Charmont?”
Char bites his lip, trying to calm himself.
He doesn’t want this.
But he won’t let his alpha hurt.
Char doesn’t even know why the scent is so much stronger now, choking him with the thickness of it, but as he rushes down the stairs it’s made clear.
The prisoner is not Kohlhaas.
But he is there beside him, red eyed and gripping the bars.
Two of them.
He has two alphas.
“Have you come to force me to leave? He’s injured and you monsters would let him die suffering in this cell like an animal.”
Char does not know how to respond and whimpers pathetically as he draws near.
Kohlaas makes a sound with his tongue.
“If they think sending an omega will sway me in any way by some pathetic biological need they’re surely mistaken. I would think you were above such things, young king.”
The other alpha looks at Char, his face bloody and bruised. Char wants to fall to his knees and help him. “I am not here to persuade you into leaving. I…can you not scent it too?”
Kohlaas sniffs the air. “I smell an omega. Cleaner than most but an omega all the same.”
“Why are you down here so late and so worried if you do not sense a connection between you and he?”
Kohlaas laughs. “No connection? I smelled him for miles, have attempted to lure him out into the open for nearly a fortnight. It’s you who lured him with your siren scent and your—“
Char looks at the guard. “Release him.”
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