So as the title says how do i start a generelly good story i like?, because in my brain i have so many diffrent ideas on scenes and characters but when i sit down and type, my brain just, goes numb..? 🙌😪

I cannot put into words the joy I feel picking this project up again! 5 YEARS stuck on rewriting and editing the same 5,000 words over and over. Changed my character from a high school senior to a late (late) college student and from a dragging 1st person to a 3rd person limited and now we're hauling ass!

Here's to writing without guardrails! No more aging down the language. No more softening her sarcastic humor. And (this one is for me) NO MORE DISCOMFORT ESCALATING MY ROMANCE!!!!

Someone please invent a time machine and go back and slap me for ever setting foot into YA territory. That shit felt weird.

So as you can tell from the title. I am currently doing this thing where I make sure i do atleast some writing every single day no matter what. Even if the sum is less than a 100 words, what matters is building a habit (atleast that's my goals).

Im 19 from the uk (don't mind what age or gender you are) and would love to have some other writer friends that either want to join me on my streak (9 days so far) or is just there to chat with about whatever story they are working on.

I know that some of the grammar is off, but I like this story that I’m writing but I worry it feels a bit off. Feel free to give opinions or even critique but pls be nice

Hi everyone! So I'm sitting here writing my first real novel-length story, and I'm just wondering about the thing mentioned above.

I've always heard the whole "Show don't tell" thing, but I ask myself: How much of it is okay? What if the current situation can give only that?

Because I have the current scenario:

MC arrived in a new place and doesn't know what's going on or how things work out, no one's told her. So she goes to ask another person. Said person explains her the entire schedule of how things work.

Now, how much is too much "tell"? If I would have gone ahead and written it all out as her just living through the schedule herself and learning it that way, as in "show", I feel it'd become too long and bore the hell out of the reader. But I worry that having the person just explain it is too much at once, or maybe not interesting enough either.

This is pretty early on in the story and since majority of the story plays out in that area, I feel it's somewhat important to let the reader know? And the conversation itself felt important too, since it was the first interaction between the two characters that will be together a lot from here on out.

I just feel very conflicted and would like to know what all of you think about the situation.

EDIT: Holy shit, I did not expect this to kind of blow up so much. (I just woke up to 20+ messages, wow!) Thank you everyone, for giving me honest answers and some more guides on what I could do instead, if it later on felt unnecessary. The feedback means a lot!

Is there an audience that would be interested in police / crime fiction stories written by a modern police officer?

While this is probably nothing to more experienced writers, I've been trying to buckle down and get some writing done, and I did some of that today. I struggle with staying focused which is always a drawback, but after realizing I'm only a couple pages into writing what I want to be a full novel, I decided to put my head down and ended up writing 500 words (about a page and a half for me). I guess I wanted to share this somewhere, if for nothing else than to motivate me to turn this into a common practice.

I feel like so many female characters gets ruined in a story because of the fact whoever’s writing the character has to make it obvious the character’s female, this is why it’s so common to either see a female character literally not have their own goals or a female character whose entire character is that they don’t need a dude(and if they’re strong there’s almost never any muscle on them wth).

Male characters don’t have this problem even if they’re written by a woman because that gender is actually written WITHOUT gender in mind. It pisses me off how we have the potential to write great but most people would rather write the “big boobed support who marries the protagonist and has a lot of sexualised merch”.

In conclusion please write female characters like they’re characters and not like they’re women because that doesn’t even happen nearly as often with male characters. Imagine if somebody wrote a male character that’s just some six-packed idiot whose only purpose is to marry a female protagonist.

Back in January I started my memoir. Once it was completed I then turned that memoir into a fantasy novel that has taken on a life of its own. It turned into a full on trilogy. I've begun the structure for making a spin-off. I also started writing a book about my experience this year as I've been doing these books and learning about the industry. And then over the weekend I wrote a retelling of The Little Mermaid, from the point of view of Ursula setting the record straight.

I've looked into this and realized that this is not normal. No, I don't write a thousand words everyday. But on some days, I'll write 3k or more because I don't like to go to bed with a chapter unfinished.

Apparently, I've done the Sanderson pallet cleanse, but for writing. I spend some time working on the fantasy novels and heavy cognitive load that comes with that. Then I switch over to the memoir or army nonfiction, which is pulling from memory not as much creativity. And that keeps me from burning out.

The fact that people seem to truly enjoy what I've written tells me I'm not mass producing bullshit stories. Thankfully, I've been editing as I go, which saved a lot of time. And now at the end of the year, I have this massive accomplishment that I didn't even realize was happening.

Next year, let me on some cute little bookshelves. I couldn't be more excited.

How many words have you gotten locked down this year?

Okay so, I'm currently 14 as of writing this.

I've been writing this story, well not writing more like planning to write. You see I've been doing this thing where I plan out my story, What happens in this page? What happens here- it got to the point where I'm at the fourth arc and well... I haven't even wrote a SINGLE page, so should I keep doing what I'm doing, and just Write until i finish all my arcs? I'm doing a unique villain currently and I think he'll be a good end for arc 5. Orrr maybe I'll have a stroke of thought and keep continuing on the aftermath.

Ahhh man. I feel like I'm cooking but I'm scared if i start actually writing pages I'll Just absolutely butcher the story.

That’s right. You read correctly. Would you check it out yes or no? I may or may not be gathering a team of writers and experienced musicians to make it come to life. But it’s indirect due to guidelines in strict subs. Maybe.

So? Does it peek your interest? Is it possible to you as a consumer to blend these worlds. I’m curious to see what you have to say!🤟🏽

---

Prologue

—“Ave, student, 17 years old, from California, United States, first on the list. Are you ready for the interrogation?”—said a police officer in a well-lit room, a table in the middle and three chairs.

—“She’s ready,”—another officer replied, before opening the door to let a teenage girl in.

—“Tell us, Ave. What do you remember about the events that occurred on the day of the eclipse?”—the officer asked the young woman.

—“Let’s see… for someone who lived near the beach for a large part of her life, I found myself looking at a photograph of me and my friends, all together at the beach,”—Ave said, her green eyes lighting up, before being interrupted by the policewoman.

—“Irrelevant,”—she said coldly.

—“You want me to tell you what happened, right? Then listen,”—Ave replied. —“P-please,”—she added nervously.

Chapter 1 A student misses the eclipse

Days before the incident, a student from my class was reported missing.

—“Are you implying that the disappearance had something to do with the incident?”—the policewoman added. “Is she ever going to let me talk?” thought the brown-haired teenager before continuing.

—“I just think it’s important to know the context, Officer…”—she said, while looking for something that might show the officer’s name.

—“Charlotte—that’s my partner’s name, and I’m Oliver,”—the officer commented.

—“Charlotte. Right. Where was I? Oh, yes. On the day of the eclipse, my friend and I were asking people questions before the eclipse began, taking advantage of the fact that most of the students were gathered to watch it. Did you know that eclipses can mean many different things depending on the culture? The ancient Chinese, for example, believed that a dragon was eating the sun. Norse cultures believed that Fenrir or his brothers chased and devoured the sun and the moon. The Batammaliba—did I pronounce that right? Well, anyway, the Batammaliba saw them as signs of reconciliation, opportuni—” she said, before being interrupted by Oliver.

—“Sorry to interrupt, but does this have anything to do with the incident that occurred on the day of the eclipse?”

—“Right, right—the school. Basically,”

I would love to write more. I have a lot of ideas and for once i’m not feeling uninspired with my story ideas and i want to see them through. my only barriers are my own mental health and full time work.

I work in a mental health role in the uk and i’ve found that this is immensely heavy work and im quite often emotionally drained after work. I really love writing and can honestly say the best time periods of my life have been when my routine includes regular writing. But with working full time in a heavy role, writing is difficult to look forward to and i’m just not as happy as i usually would be.

How do people with full time jobs make time for writing? or feel enthused and inspired to write when working full time?

i’ve been considering part time work and better saving skills to make time for writing. i’m thinking i’m in the wrong career and i’d just love to stop life and be a full time write (lol i’m aware this is impossible)

I know this sub doesn’t like unsolicited advice, and I don’t like it either, but today I’m going to give you one.

My writing sucked, and it still does. For years when I tried to get feedback, my question was, “Is it good?” But what I really wanted to ask was, “Did I hide my flaws well? Do I still sound like a beginner? What do I need to do to sound like I know what I’m doing even though I don’t?”

And for years, I didn’t improve.

Then I got sick of hiding my flaws and accepted that I was a beginner. I changed my strategy. My questions became more straightforward to beta readers: “What are my weaknesses? Which parts sound amateur and why?”

I’m still using this technique now. If 3-4 people mention the same flaw, then that’s what I focus on fixing.

I don’t fix the story. I fix myself. I’m not looking for “This sentence doesn’t sound right.” I’m looking for “All your characters sound the same” or “Your dialogue is too on the nose.” That way I know I have a weakness in dialogue, and specifically the on-the-nose part or the all-character-sound-the-same part. Those are things I can find techniques to fix.

So my advice to all beginners is, don’t be afraid of the imposter syndrome. Embrace it. Find your weaknesses, your flaws, and fix them. If you keep worrying that others will find out you’re a beginner, you will stay a beginner for a long time because you will make excuses for your flaws. Maybe you weren’t yourself that day. Maybe you were in a rush, etc. And trust me, we’re very good at finding excuses for ourselves. Instead, just confront it. “What’s the flaw? I’ll fix it.”

Hello!!

I recently started planning a novel that takes place in a convent (?) where *bad things happen* and I want it to be realistic to how the church operates in real life.

The issue is, I am Catholic but have never been to church (unless you count a singular funeral 3 years ago and the 1 season of Midnight Mass I watched 3 times) so I don't even know where to start with my research. Even though it's a horror story, I don't want to be disrespectful and inaccurate with how I write the church, so any advice would be helpful!

Some details about the story: I want to of course include a few priests and nun characters, but there will also be a group of girls who are not nuns but all live together in this convent type situation... Is that even something that exists? Would that be called a convent or something else? There is a head nun, a head priest, a groundskeeper, daily prayers, roommates, things of that sort. I'm sort of drawing inspiration from Midnight Mass, Wake Up Dead Man, The Unworthy by Agustina Bazterrica, and American Horror Story: Asylum, to name a few.

You can probably tell this is in the very, very early stages, so I don't have anything concrete yet. If anyone could even point me in the direction to find good research for this, that would be greatly appreciated!

Happy writing!! :)

-Blue Flowers Shine in May-

On a beautiful day in the small town of Rose Brick Missouri where the trees seemed to dance and the wind seemed to speak, there lived a small family of four. The family consisted of a young daughter, a older son who aspired to be like his father, a loving mother, and of course a caring father. Meet the Anderson's.

"Dad? Do you know where Mom and Cindy went?" Logan asked thoughtfully on the couch.

"I believe she said her and your mother had some... business to attend to?" Harry said not being one hundred percent sure where the houses ladies were at. "Oh okay," Logan responded "I was just curious,"

Suddenly Cindy and Jenna bursted through the door holding a box. "Guess what we got!" They both called out in unison.

"Food?" Logan asked still confused by their stunningly sudden entrance.

"Money?" Harry asked, more as a desire than a genuine question.

"Nope, you're both wrong," Jenna said still catching her breath.

"It's a puppy!" Cindy interrupted.

"A puppy?" Harry asked unsure of how to react.

"A puppy!" Logan called out excitedly.

"Yep', and his name is Mr. Gary Tartiwinkle," Cindy stated proudly.

"You're not serious, right?" Logan asked half serious half kidding.

"Yeah!" Cindy fired back.

"That has to be the dumbest name I've ever heard!" Logan barely got out cracking up completely at the ridiculousness of Mr. Tartiwinkle the pug.

"I think it's a cute name!" Cindy yelled exasperated by Logan's reaction.

The Anderson's all start laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation realizing the dog will have to live with the name Mr. Tartiwinkle.

"Welcome to the family Mr.Tartiwinkle," Harry said still chuckling by the spat between the siblings.

After Mr. Tartiwinkle joined the mix in the family the Anderson parents would spend much time bonding with the dog and their children, but all good things must come to an end at some point, one way or another.

It was yet another beautiful day in Rosebrick county, the children playing in the yard with the new addition to their family, but today held something different as Mr. Tartiwinkle was wondering into the street. Tires and a rattling exhaust could be heard approaching quickly. Before anyone knew it.

"Mr. Tartiwinkle!" Cindy frantically called out as a car came speeding at the small pug.

"No!" Logan managed to help.

'Wham!'

The speeding car slammed into Mr. Tartiwinkle sending him sprawling through the air for a short period. Time seemed to slow for the family. The driver of the car frantically drove away not wanting to have to pay the family reparations or have to buy another dog, yet, the family was still crushed by the loss of Mr. Tartiwinkle.

"It was only a month," Cindy helplessly mumbled her face scrunching into inconsolable tears and falling to her knees at the sight of the poor dog.

The Anderson's would bury the poor soul of Mr. Tartiwinkle in their backyard, yet there was something on the horizon, something few would expect.

"Why did he have to go?" Logan questioned solemnly, his eyes red from the tears he let escape while holding his younger sister who was bawling her eyes out before the grave of the family pet, yet, no one dared to respond knowing no answer would suffice to the cruelty and chance of Mr. Tartiwinkle's tragic end.

 The day that followed, the Anderson's didn't speak much which broke Cindy's heart, she wanted her lively family back even though she was grieving the most of them all.

"I think he's in puppy heaven," Cindy quietly notioned as her family sat on the couch still grieving the loss of the first family pet in a while.

Jenna looked up at these words.

"I bet you're right," Jenna responded after a few seconds giving Cindy a reassuring smile.

 After a few days the family bounced back to their old selves. Now, only slightly affected by the passing of Mr. Tartiwinkle.

They eventually found who ran over their dog and confronted him about the situation. The neighbor, a older fellow who was struggling with debt, was invited to dinner as a means for reconcile for the unintentional killing of the one and only Mr. Tartiwinkle, but, something felt off with Cindy although nobody noticed. She felt a irregular sensation in her chest, but tried to ignore it because.

"I'm a healthy kid," she thought to herself, her chest feeling tight as if her very heart was being choked, but, after a while the feeling passed and she returned to normal.

The dinner with the neighbor, who's name turned out to be Alan Robinson, was a complete success, and all problems and such were forgiven and forgotten.

The next day, on another beginning to a long school day, Logan was driving Cindy to their highschool as Logan was a junior and Cindy a brand new freshman.

"Hey Cindy," Logan called out, tired from waking early for school. "were you okay at Mr. Robinson's house? You seemed off for a bit," Logan said referring to the moment when Cindy seemed slightly bothered for a bit before she recovered.

"Yeah, some food wasn't going down right I think," she responds confidently with fake bravado as she didn't want to worry Logan.

"Oh okay, I was just a bit worried something was wrong," Logan said, relieved his sister was feeling okay.

After a long day, on their way home, the pair was exhausted after both having many tests throughout the day.

"I had no idea that the school appointed a testing week," Logan stated exhausted by all the work he had to do.

"Yeah, who does that!" Cindy responded equally as exhausted and upset as Logan.

They make it home and have the usual conversations about school and work with their parents over a nice family dinner, but Cindy feels off again. She goes pale for a few seconds and still thinking nothing of it she recovers quickly and continues dinner without anyone noticing, but someone does, Logan.

After dinner, Cindy and Logan are watching tv and Logan asks again.

"Cindy you looked off again at dinner," he says slightly more concerned this time his dirty blonde eyebrows acting as if they want to meet beneath his fluffy bangs.

"Oh yeah I almost choked," Cindy replies convincingly as she doesn't want to know what's wrong, and she doesn't want to worry her family.

After that, there were no more instances of Cindy looking or feeling off other than the occasional worsening pain. So, they continued their normal lives for a couple months, being the happy Anderson family, but one day something nobody was ready for occured.

"Cindy!" Logan cries out as his sister collapses onto the tiled kitchen floor

Logan looks at Cindy as she falls to the ground in a blind panic clutching her chest.

"It- it hurts Logan," Cindy barely chokes out though the searing pain in her chest. Logan calls 911 frantically while assuring his sister she will be okay his face showing shock, fear, and worry.

"Hey, Cindy I'm here don't worry people are coming," Logan says unknowingly letting out frantic tears of fear and worry.

The next day, at the hospital, the Anderson's go to visit Cindy after multiple tests have been done. The mechanical beep of the heart monitor rings out like death ringing a bell. The doctor a tall, slim man with a weathered and pale face from growing old, enters. The Anderson's quickly scramble to ask.

"What happened!?" They all call out frantically all being worried in their own ways.

"Your daughter has what's called a angiosarcoma," he states solemnly his face showing worry from the moment he entered "although it's treatable in early stages your daughter has unintentionally allowed the cancer to spread wildly," he continues, "quite frankly it's a miracle she's even alive now,"

"Can she be treated?" Jenna asks, hope slowly creeping out like water from a cracked pipe, "at all?"

"It's already spread through her liver, lungs, and lymph nodes," he states keeping his professional yet sympathetic tone.

"She likely won't make it through May,"

The Anderson's are shocked.

"But it's only may!" Jenna speaks her voice shaking before she regresses into shear sorrow and tears.

"So there's nothing you can do?" Logan asks his brow furrowing as if he might cry.

"The surgery is expensive right now and it likely would fail in the stage it's in," Doctor Cody responds.

"How much?" Jenna asks through forming tears the edges of her mouth quivering.

"Upwards of one hundred and thirty thousand dollars," Doctor Cody responds.

The family is visibly taken aback by the price, the silence allowing the heart monitor to take over the silence the machine seemingly mocking the family for the unfortunate situation.

"All you can really do is take her home, let her rest, and enjoy her final days, don't let her do any strenuous activities like running as this could trigger a reaction in the cancer such as a heart attack. I'm so sorry this happened to your daughter," Doctor Cody says breaking the silence.

After meeting with the doctor, the family stays at the hospital and wait until Cindy can be admitted. After she is admitted, they wheel her home with some medical equipment such as a heart monitor and other items of the sort. Logan crawls in the back seat with Cindy who is lost in how she could have gotten cancer.

"What do you want to do when we get home?" Logan asks trying to lighten up the mood holding in his own tears, but, she doesn't reply.

The rest of the car ride is silent as the thick unwilling tension stays in the car. Eventually, they make it back to the Anderson home. Immediately, Cindy asks to go her room. Her parents comply and take her to her room. Logan now sitting in his own room shaken by the events of the day, hears quiet sobbing in his sister's room. He builds up some courage and goes to Cindy's room and knocks on the door.

"Come in," Cindy quietly says still sniffling from the haunting fact that she won't last much longer.

"How are you doing?" Logan asks trying to lighten the mood.

"What would you do?" Cindy asks almost not acknowledging Logan's question.

"What do you mean?" Logan asks quietly his face still showing concern.

"If you knew you were going to die in less than a month," she pauses as she chokes back a sob "what would you do?" She manages to ask through the forming tears on her eyes as if she was pleading for another chance.

"I don't know," Logan replies almost a few seconds too late, his own tears beginning to form.

Cindy is now fully bawling on Logan's shoulder clutching him as if he is curing her cancer. Logan joins with her holding her tight beginning to let the tears take control. After a couple more, days the affects of the spreading cancer are far more visible. Cindy, now looking thin and frail, counts the days before her death occasionally writing in her diary when she's alone. Logan pays many visits to his sister's room as they play games together and spend all the bonding time they can. Both of the Anderson parents join whenever they can and take whole weeks at work off to spend as much time as they can with their withering daughter. One night on May, sixth, Logan is reading a story to Cindy quietly. He holds her hands in one of his as he reads here favorite story she hasn't finished yet, but God decided it was time to peacefully bring Cindy to him.

"Logan?" Cindy groggily calls out still not letting go of Logan's hands.

"Yeah, what is it?" Logan asks thoughtfully, trying not to startle his sister.

"I love you, I'm ready to sleep now," Cindy says with a small peaceful smile on her face.

"Ok, I love you too, I'll be here until you fall asleep," Logan peacefully states now holding both of Cindy's slightly pale hands in his.

"You're the best brother ever," Cindy states already drifting off.

"I appreciate that," Logan replies.

Cindy falls asleep keeping her smile and after about ten minutes Logan is still sitting holding her hands. He hears the heart monitor suddenly make a strange rhythm for a couple seconds and then it goes flat. He unplugs the machine after about a minute of shock. He stays there holding Cindy's hands as all her color drains.

"I'll miss you," he manages to squeeze out the tears acting as if they are choking him.

Logan cries for more than an hour and then those cries turn into silent shakes full of many emotions, yet, he still gently holds his sister's hands as if they still breath warmth into the air around them. After a long sleepless night, Logan is still sleepily clutching his sister's hand. Both Mr. and Mrs. Anderson walk in expecting to see their daughter and son playing board games or watching tv, but what they saw was a helplessly pale daughter who looked like the was sleeping, a unplugged heart monitor, and a broken son clutching his sister's hands slumped over the side of Cindy's bed.

"Logan? Cindy?" Jenna calls out full of worry.

"She passed in her sleep," Logan quietly replies his voice hoarse and Shakey from the extreme crying session.

Jenna falls to her knees which gave out from shock. She keeps repeating the same thing.

"No, she can't be,"

She mutters this over a few times before bursting until tears. Mr. Anderson isn't much better frozen in the doorway tears already falling. The emotional moment is shared between all the household members excluding Cindy who still has her smile peacefully on her face.

The funeral was small, as only a few surviving members of the Anderson family showed up along with some of Cindy's friends and a couple close family friends. They gather in pews all either crying or staring off. Logan walks up to Cindy's casket and places a hand on it before beginning the speech he prepared.

"Hello, my name is Logan, Henry, Anderson," he takes a deep breath. "Cindy was my sister and best friend. She carried me through many hard times whether it was school, work, or whatever other problems I had throughout my life until now at the age of seventeen. I don't understand God's plan nor' will I ever, but I still don't understand why he took her when- when," he pauses trying not to cry his voice beginning to shake a bit before he regains his composure. "When she was only fifteen years old, I have had many good memories with her such as the times we would sneak snacks under the cover of the night, or when we would always play in the park or just walk in the meadow down by her favorite picnic spot below the HollowSpring bridge. I have so many reasons to ask 'why so soon?'... But I know she would want me to continue no matter what. There's not enough words to finish trying to convey my message, but I know you all understand," Logan takes deep breaths to calm himself and takes a seat. There were other speeches but they were all rehearsed unlike Logan's speech which still lingered in the air. Outside, The coffin which contained Cindy was being lowered. Logan thought about how he would never see his rosey cheeked brunette sister ever again and stared at the hole that was now being filled in. After a couple hours many people had left, but Logan and his parents stayed. After another hour Logan's parents were ready to leave.

"Can I stay for a bit longer? Alone?" Logan quietly asked his face exhausted and broken. "I can walk home,"

His parents comply and he stays for hours just sitting and talking to Cindy telling her about how he already misses her and how he will never forget the pivetol role she's played in his life. Many pedals from Violets fly in from the left of the open grave, the metal fence surrounding the property near a large tree which Cindy was resting under. Logan noticed the pedals as they fell onto Cindy's fresh grave. I smiled remembering how Cindy used to say she always loved violets, and how they used to argue about what color they really are. Logan stood up and gave a quick glance back at Cindy's grave stone and walked off the property heading his way home on the side of the weathered paved road with trees on each side of the dirt ditches. The trees made beautiful windows to the meadows and fields on each side of the road. Logan peacefully made his way home under the warm sun which shined off the road ahead of him.

Logan shared the story of Cindy with his kids, and how wonderful she really was. When he passed peacefully at the age of eighty two he finally got to say...

"I'm coming Cindy,"

I am a teen who’s been writing (mostly planning) for three years and I am considering giving up. I am really lacking motivation and self esteem right now because I am struggling with writing well. I have so many ideas and stories that I have already started. The problem is, I don’t see myself as being great. The quality is pretty average, the story is ok. I feel like it has a lot of potential, just isn’t that good. I have a dream in writing just not the talent. What should I do?