#I would like to continue indulging in escapism with my favorite hell spawn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tamakiamajikistentacles · 4 years

Text

Apples & Cherries {Katsuki Bakugo}

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! This is pretty self-indulgent and the fact that my island is named Isla Nova makes even more obvious lol but I hope you’ll enjoy regardless. Also I chose to ignore that the Japanese version of the game apparently adds Island to whatever name you put because I really didn’t want to change what I had in mind!

Never a stranger to late nights in the dorms, she wasn’t surprised to see the lights on in the common room or hear the faint digital noise floating into the kitchen where she stood searching the freezer for a popsicle at almost 1am. Once she had the treat in hand she turned to see who was playing what, but even slouched low on the couch, the shouting gave them away.

“How the FUCK am I supposed to catch this shitty fish if it doesn’t fucking SPAWN?” he complained, grey smoke rising in a thin line from beyond her view.

On the screen she could see a bouncing blonde villager with a fishing rod standing halfway down the pier jutting out into the dark water. In the distant corner of the screen she could see an object floating lazily to the left, and her original idea of walking away was overcome with the need to see the prize within.

“There’s a balloon coming in from the right,” she said, apparently startling him as he sat up quickly and whipped around with a crackling palm. Upon seeing her he lowered his hand with a click of his tongue and turned back to the television, his villager running up the large expanse of beach to shoot down the balloon. In his pocket, a single gold nugget was unwrapped.

“Don’t sneak up on people,” he grumbled, slouching down again.

She nibbled on her popsicle, the cherry flavor pleasant on her tongue. “What were you trying to catch just before I came in?”

“Why do you fuckin’ care?” he snapped, his villager gathering shells on the shoreline.

“I play too and I’ve caught all the fish leaving at the end of the month,” she said as she scuffed her slippered foot against the carpet. “Maybe I could help?”

“Don’t need help,” he said bluntly.

Crunching another piece of her popsicle, she stayed quiet for a moment as she watched his villager stalk the beach for fish to catch. At one point her eyes wandered from the screen to the TV stand itself and she nearly choked on her last bite.

“You got the limited-edition console?!” she nearly screamed, coming closer to where he sat on the couch. “I wanted one so bad but I didn’t have the money to preorder!”

Bakugo sighed and set his joycon butterfly to his left, turning to face her once more with a tired expression. “Are you just going to stand here and bother me until I tell you what I’m trying to catch? Because if that’s the case it’s the blue fuckin’ marlin. Now go away.”

“You were yelling about how it wasn’t spawning, right? If you make a shit ton of bait and keep using it off the pier you can force it to spawn.”

Picking up his joycons he silently resumed his search for more fish. Figuring he truly didn’t want her help she sighed and moved to go to the elevators; she had her popsicle and that could be her victory for the night.

“How much is a shit ton?”

She stopped, teeth sunk halfway into the frozen treat. Turning back to him, he was still facing the TV but his head was cocked as if listening for her answer.

“It depends,” she finally said. “It took me about forty to catch a tuna.”

“Forty?!” he said loudly, moving to meet her gaze. “How the hell am I supposed to farm forty fucking clams and craft bait and it could still not be enough? I’ll be up the rest of the damn night!”

“I…” she cleared her throat and tried again, “I could help you. If we both take a side of your island we can get a bunch and then while you use it I can keep digging. But only if you want.”

He was quiet for a moment and she finished her popsicle as he considered her offer. Finally, his eyes determined, he nodded.

“Alright. Bring shit to make extra shovels because you aren’t chopping any of my trees if yours break.”

She nodded eagerly. “Yeah, sure, just tell me your Dodo code!”

Bakugo watched her sprint into the kitchen to get rid of the popsicle stick before returning to stand by the couch, her hesitance to sit next to him obvious. But even more obvious was a greater threat to his mission for the blue marlin.

“Where’s your phone?” he asked casually. When she furrowed her brows and pulled it from within her shirt as he’d expected, he followed with, “If you’ve got your Switch in there too I’ll actually be impressed.”

Her face went red immediately and she pointed behind her weakly. “I-I’ll just uh…”

He ignored her stuttering and started digging up clams, allowing her to trail off and run to the elevator where she let out a frustrated sigh as the doors closed. Why couldn’t she keep it together?

Going into her room she grabbed her Switch, slightly self-conscious of her choice of cherry blossom custom skin but she pushed it down as she started the game. Once it was loaded and her villager had stepped out of the house she ran back to her orchard and gathered six of her native fruit, an additional offering to her explosive classmate.

She boarded the elevator and was able to gather enough materials for three shovels just in time for the soft ding to sound and the doors to open at the first floor. Rushing back to the common room, she found Bakugo still on the couch but shifted to lean against the right armrest. Before she could think too much about their close proximity she took a seat to the far left and entered her airport.

“Got enough materials to make three more shovels,” she said. “And I grabbed some of my native fruit in case you didn’t have any. They’re cherries.”

“I could use ‘em. You got a thing for cherries or something?” he asked, remembering the scent of the popsicle and eyeing the red stain on her lips.

“Oh, uh, yeah. They’re my favorite fruit,” she replied. “You can judge me if you want but I reset my game until I got cherries. Got ‘em third try!”

Bakugo shrugged lightly as his villager went into his airport. “I can’t judge. Did the same thing to get apples.”

“Are they your favorite?”

“No.”

“Oh, then why did you want them?”

“Are you going to ask this many questions all night?” he asked as his game connected to the dorm’s wifi for a code.

She sighed. “I’m just trying to be nice and make pleasant conversation. I’ll shut up now. Sorry.”

He was quiet, glancing at her as the screen displayed the code and she typed it in, and then exited the small lobby to stand at the end of the ramp to wait for her. They both watched her descent and arrival to his island, her villager titled as an Untamed Lass smiling cutely in a green dress and black beret as she also exited the airport and met him on the grass, dropping cherries and standing back so he could pick them up.

“I wanted apples because when I got my quirk, the first thing I ever blew up was an apple. My parents couldn’t decide if they were excited for my quirk manifesting or upset that they had to give me another bath.”

“That’s kinda the coolest,” she giggled. Catching sight of the black flag with an explosion symbol in the corner of the screen she added, “Your flag’s really cool too. Anyway, do you want me to take the left side of your island’s beaches so you can stay near the pier?”

“That’s fine.”

She set off to her assigned beach, a printed shovel in her villager’s hands. Just as she was stepping onto the sand, she gasped at the sight of a certain squirrel sitting on the beach with a sandwich in hand.

“You have Marshal?! I’m so jealous!”

“First one at my campsite.”

“I love that little blonde bastard.”

His eyebrows lifted at the fondness the would-be insult held but didn’t comment on it as she fell silent, the soft music coming from her console almost synched with the tune coming from the dorm TV. Every so often he could make out the sound of her shoveling up a clam and excited notes trilling at the discovery.

The quiet peace continued between them as they crafted bait at two benches set aside from the pier, her dropping the finished product for him to begin using and then dashing away to find more clams to continue her little farming operation. He gathered the offered bait and stood at the end of the pier to drop the little flakes, backing up when the fish’s shadow seemed large enough for the blue marlin.

It was slow going a first, the bait seemingly wasted as a majority of the shadows were too small to even be worth casting out his line. When he did actually see the right size, he wound up with a ridiculous amount of seabass and the odd olive flounder. He was beginning to understand why she said it could take a while as the sixtieth bait gave a tiny silhouette sure to be a seahorse or clownfish.

A frustrated sigh escaped him as she dropped twenty more bait on the beach before setting out for more. He put them into his inventory and resigned himself to the fact that he was going to be on the couch the entire night tossing bait into the water. Taking his place on the pier he dropped the flakes only to see a large shadow appear, his hope returning just a bit as he cast out but deflating when the harsh vibrations of a good catch didn’t begin as it bit. Then, as if catching a seabass wasn’t bad enough, his fishing rod disintegrated in his villager’s hand.

“For fuck’s sake I hate this,” he growled, eyes closed and fingers pressed to his temples when his joycons were cast aside.

“Here.”

He looked to his left and when she nodded toward the TV he saw the small red toolbox in the sand behind him.

“Thanks,” he grunted as his villager picked it up. “For this and the bait, I guess.”

She shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

Bakugo knew it was just a bunch of addicting pixels they’d paid entirely too much money for but he felt like it was something. He was an unpleasant bastard to be around and he’d snapped at her half a dozen times already in just the last thirty minutes but she’d offered to help and actually done it; it definitely wasn’t nothing so he resolved to be more cooperative if only slightly.

Shaking away his thoughts, bait number sixty-two was thrown and he cast his line, perking up at the heavy vibration in his hands. He didn’t want to get his hopes up when it was likely just an oarfish.

‘Yes! I caught a blue marlin! Listen to this fish. It’s got a point.’

“FUCK YEAH!”

She jumped at his shout but her face broke into a wide smile when she caught site of the large fish in his villager’s hands. She was happy he was able to check it off of his list and even happier that she was able to help even if it was only by digging up and crafting bait.

“You got it with plenty of time to spare!”

“It’s in the critterpedia and once I take the bastard to the museum I don’t give a fuck if I ever catch another one again!” he said.

She chuckled. “Well now that you’ve got your marlin I can head back to my island. Do you wanna kick me out or should I go back to the airport?

“Go back to the airport. Grab some apples on your way out.”

It was progress.

“Thanks, Bakugo.”

After that night their relationship changed from classmates to some semblance of friends who sent each other items in Animal Crossing. Bakugo had asked for her Switch code a few days later and added her through there and through the game to be best friends a week after that. Their text thread was created and almost explicitly used for the purpose of exchanging furniture and alerting the other as to when something was happening on their respective islands to interest them.

He had let her know when Redd showed up with all real art and a white rattan armchair which she had searched for since the game was released. She in turn sent him the black imperial bed he’d been praying would fall from a balloon each time he’d shot one down.

It was a good system, and one that allowed them to get closer to one another in real life too through conversations had about the game. Since the first night when she helped him get the blue marlin she had learned of his quirk manifesting to blow up an apple, that he spent extra for expedited shipping for an Apollo amiibo coin from the UK because he loved the eagle villagers the most due to a book on birds he had obsessively read when he was younger (he also wanted Queenie off of his island—“I kicked that bitch out the second I could!”), and his favorite activity was mountain climbing which is what inspired the jagged cliffs and custom made signs to indicate the sport was welcome on GroundZero.

“What’s the story behind your island’s name, if you have one?” she asked over their voice chat one night as they played. He’d gone home for the first half of the weekend while she stayed in the dorms but he was coming to her island to sell fish and get a model from the ridiculous beaver they both hated.

“You first,” he replied after a long minute.

She shrugged even though he couldn’t see her. “I picked Isla Nova because I think space is cool and novae are beautiful. A bright burst and then a slow fade is tragically poetic.”

“Bring the mood down why don’t you.”

“Your turn,” she reminded. When he was quiet for another drawn out moment, she furrowed her brows, ready to ask if he was still there. He finally broke the silence as she opened her mouth to call his name.

“The world watched All Might’s career end in the heart of Kamino that night,” he said softly. “You know the statue they put up? They called it the statue at ground zero and that it would stand as a reminder of the last act the Symbol of Peace had done to protect everyone. To… to protect some punk ass kid trying to be a hero who got himself kidnapped.”

Her heart broke at the subtle crack in his voice. “Bakugo…”

“That statue is gonna be there for the rest of my life as a reminder that I should’ve been stronger. All Might can tell me it wasn’t my fault until the end of time but I can’t stop feeling like it was. So if that statue is there to remind me that I wasn’t strong then, my hero name is gonna be there to remind me why I have to be strong now and exactly what type of hero I need to be.”

She wasn’t sure what she should say, her mind working to process everything she had just heard. It was no secret to those who paid attention that Bakugo had blamed himself for All Might’s retirement and was self-conscious of the fact the League had sought him out for his potential as a villain; he carried a lot of guilt for things outside of his control. And now he had taken one thing he had control over, his hero name, and built it around that guilt to resolve to be better. The name Ground Zero was his beginning as a real hero and he was willing for it to be his end.

“Does anyone else know about your hero name?”

“Not the backstory, no. Aizawa knows it’s what I put down for my provisional license. I told Best Jeanist first and Kirishima knows too, but other than that you’re the only one who knows the reason behind it.”

Her heartbeat sped up. “Thanks for telling me, Bakugo.”

“Whatever. Are you gonna talk to this buck-toothed asshole or what? He’s by the climbing walls.”

Just like that the mood shifted once again and the calmness of the game enveloped them both. Rainy weather was perfect for fishing and getting the most bells possible for their catches at the late hour, their villagers running about in their raincoats with hers a dotted light blue and his solid green. It was a nice escape, and she enjoyed the peace until she was back on her island and their call had ended.

As she was turning her light off to sleep, she returned to their earlier conversation around his island name and ultimately his hero name. It was strange to have a serious conversation with Bakugo and for it to hold as much meaning as it did made her shudder. On the other hand, it made her cheeks flush to think that he trusted her enough to speak about something so important to him. In two months they had gone from classmates who rarely spoke one on one to friends.

She had to sleep before the grin on her face stuck permanently.

It did return the next day when she found out that her island would play host to shooting stars that night and she eagerly texted Bakugo to let him know, well aware he hadn’t had a meteor shower since they started playing together.

All day her excitement had her wound tightly and hyper, her love of both astrology and space being indulged by Celeste and the beautiful event not able to happen soon enough. Once the blonde came home in time for the class to gather for dinner, he was teasing her for her jitters but happily making plans to meet in the common room around ten to play.

When the time came the common room was empty as expected, their classmates taking a night to themselves in their room after spending so much time with one another. Despite the television being free neither of them docked their consoles to play on the bigger screen, instead opting to play handheld and find a classic rock channel to provide background music to the stars.

Bakugo could admit to himself that he enjoyed this. Quiet music drifting through the air and bright stars across the dark blue sky on his screen was peaceful, something he didn’t get to experience often. He knew the girl sitting beside him was also a big reason as to why it was so nice. Strong, pretty, and sweeter than the nerikiri Sato had served after dinner, he was happy to have her next to him.

They sat together in comfortable silence wishing on the stars, each making their own wordless wishes and wondering if the other was truly making a wish and if so, what was it?

In truth, there were multiple wishes they each made. She wished that she continued to improve with her quirk training, for an opportunity at her preferred agency after the impending summer break, for a safe training camp this year. Bakugo wished for the skills to be number one, for the training to pay off and make him stronger, for the opportunity to redeem himself from Kamino. But they also shared one wish too—I wish there could be more between us.

Nearly an hour after they had sat down Bakugo turned to ask if she wanted to split the last few pieces of desert left over only to find her eyes closed and breathing steady, grip on her joycons slack around a darkened screen. Chuckling to himself, he gently took it from her hand and unlocked it. Tilting the screen up to the sky he held it in his lap next to his own and continued wishing on the stars falling across both screens.

By midnight she hadn’t woken up and his eyes were starting to droop. He kicked himself off of her island and saved her game as his villager returned to his own island, saving once he was able to. The noise of him turning off the TV woke her, her face scrunching cutely as she gained her bearings.

“How long was I asleep?” she asked with a yawn.

“’Bout an hour. I kept wishing on your game so you don’t miss out on any fragments tomorrow,” he said.

She smiled tiredly. “You’re my hero. Thank you, Bakugo.”

He didn’t think her calling him a hero should feel as amazing as it did, igniting a fire in his chest and warming him from the inside out. He wanted to be her hero just as much as he wanted to be a hero in general. He wanted to be her hero, but not as Bakugo. He wanted to be her hero as Katsuki, and maybe the way to get to that point was presenting itself.

“You don’t have to thank me, but if you really want to, how about we go to breakfast in the morning?” he suggested quietly, placing his Switch into it’s carrying case.

A grin bloomed across her face and she nodded eagerly, planning to meet him back in the common room at nine the next morning. He agreed easily. If their friendship could start in the common room, maybe a relationship could too if that’s where they met for a first date.

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! If you’re curious about all of Bakugo’s villagers, I did make a list but couldn’t find where I wanted to mention it so he has: Coach, Shari, Apollo, Bluebear, Lolly, Hugh, Marshal, Blanche, Rod, & Chrissy. “She” (to continue the self-indulgent nature of this lmao) has Lyman, Katt, Nibbles, Flurry, Olaf, Lobo, Filbert, Francine, Julia, and Papi!

68 notes · View notes

barbecuedphoenix · 7 years

Text

Writing Original Characters: A Test for Quality

“Did you deliberately base your character’s looks on your own?”

“Is your character described, illustrated, and/or depicted as looking especially beautiful, handsome, or cute with little to no effort?”

“Does your character share your favorite types of movies, music, clothes, hobbies, etc?”

“Does your character express unusually free, enlightened, or “liberated” views on topics such as sex and equality for XX time and place? And does no one frown upon your character’s behaviors or views?”

“Does your character habitually share profound wisdom or knowledge?”

“Is your character liked by nearly everyone they meet?”

“If your character has a short temper, sharp wit, snarky attitude, or is otherwise prone to verbal assaults, are the tongue-lashings and/or snarkings they give other characters always deserved and/or justified?”

“Do authority figures punish your character more harshly than they would have punished XX peers under the same circumstances?”

“Are THE RULES OF THE UNIVERSE bent or broken for your character? (Like joining a group despite being too old or too young?)”

“Is your character some kind of genius or prodigy, and/or is unusually accomplished for their age, time period, place, occupation and/or social status? Is your character unusually accomplished or gifted in more than one area?”

“Does your character pick up new skills and/or gain ranks unusually fast during the course of the story? To the point where they learn skills that usually take years to master in a matter of months, or less?”

“Does/is your character clumsy, yet holds a job where coordination would be important? ...Have��no ‘brain-to-mouth filter’, yet holds a job where keeping secrets and/or emotions under wraps would be important? Have consistently horrible people skills, yet holds a job that requires interaction with people? And does your character’s flaws never actually cause any problems?”

“Do the first plans, strategies, ideas, etc. your character comes up with always (or nearly always) work?”

“Does your character have any sort of power or ability that is unprecedented or unheard of among the people your character usually associates with?“

“If people don’t like your character, do you believe it’s just because they don’t “get” them, or that they’re just jealous of your character?”

“Have you ever wished you could date/marry/adopt or even be your character?”

If you answered ‘yes’ to one or more of these questions, then your original character is likely what fellow-writers call a ‘Mary Sue’ (or ‘Gary Stu’ if male).

What is a Mary Sue/Gary Stu?

According to this handy site for roleplayers and fan-fiction writers, a Mary Sue/Gary Stu is a character who has been given heavy preferential treatment and automatic respect by other characters in the story, to the point that they outright bend the rules of logic (along with the general laws of the universe they’re occupying), and compromise the believability of the overall story.

Typically, they possess abilities and/or achievements that came by quickly and with no real challenge, and breeze through obstacles that would stump most other characters in the story. They’re born with a destiny; they’re ‘different’ from the moment they emerge into the world. They’re leagues prettier, more intelligent, and more cultured than average, and everyone around them can’t help but notice. They tend to sail through their saga(s) while facing down fire-breathing authority figures, unreasonable rivals, hopelessly-devoted lovers, congenitally-inferior friends, suggestible bystanders, tragic personal flashbacks, and villains who can never seem to aim at them properly.

Often-- though not always-- they’re larger-than-life self-inserts by the authors.

Why am I bringing this up?

As an amateur writer who spends way too much time on fan-fiction, I spent my first years in this very same trap: writing about a character who was a skinnier, snarkier, more tragic, more beloved, and more rampantly-successful version of myself. Complete with inexplicable powers of problem-solving and cosmic pyrotechnics. All acquired, of course, before the ripe age of 18.

It was easy to grow invested in the making of Cosmic-Heroine-Me. Naturally.

It was much less easy to write an effective story that starred her. Just as naturally.

Because as exciting as it was to write about the death-defying escapes, torrid romances, gut-wrenching betrayals, and sizzling battles of wits that Not-Me frequently found herself in, there came a point-- usually one or two months into a saga *not* based off a game series I loved-- when the critic in the back of my head gave a polite cough and raised this question:

Are you having fun writing a story that is always going her way? Or are you having fun writing a story? Because if it’s the first case, that might explain why your leading man is wearing thirty different personalities, and your plot keeps corkscrewing like a rattlesnake with indigestion: you don’t want to let your leading lady suffer. And if it’s the second case... didn’t you pick up anything from all those books you’ve read?

To silence that recurring internal critic-- and prove that I can have fun writing a story both ways--, I finally set up an experiment for a Folklore fanfiction I was writing a few years back: swapping out my beloved Not-Me and replacing her with a canon villain whom I despised in the game (but was within the right age range). Granting her the exact same powers, pitting her through the exact same battles, falling in love with the exact same leading man, and discovering the exact same happy ending, after flipping the climactic middle finger at the exact same Universe bent on destroying her.

My initial reaction: My god. Now I hated the story I spent over a month slaving over. It’s completely ridiculous.

My reaction after a day of re-reading: Correction-- it’s not the story that’s ridiculous. But the new leading lady.

My reaction after 2 days: There are so many points in the story when she should have been cut up, slammed by the villagers, doubted and then dumped by the leading man, manipulated by her inhuman sidekick who gave her those unnatural powers, and made to crawl through hell before... maybe flipping the middle finger at the Universe. After which she ought to be arrested for all the criminal acts she performed through story at her sidekick’s bidding and her own sociopathy, then failed to adequately cover up. Because though intelligent, she’s an unpleasant girl to the core with serious psychological issues.

My reaction after 4 days: Let’s write that instead.

I won’t go into the details of the second version of that Folklore fanfiction. But I will say three things: the outline is actually complete and sitting in my hard drive, Suzette (the villain) is still the protagonist from beginning to end, and I genuinely enjoy reading and refining the story.

Working with a leading character who is thoroughly flawed and separate from you frees your imagination on multiple levels. You’re no longer protective of them. You’re don’t care to polish their every action and quip to make them sound ‘perfect’; instead, you’re happy to let them stumble at their own discretion. You’re curious about researching new lifestyles and cultures beyond the one your protagonist belongs to, and on testing even unjust endings. You’re compelled to let supporting characters behave as they are, pursue goals of their own, triumph over your hero, and react in even painful ways to their actions. You genuinely want to let universal karma bite at your hero until they grow into a different person. You receive the opportunity to watch your story write itself-- pulled along by the machinations of multiple characters working in concert--, and unfold in a sequence that makes perfect sense. Until it even starts to reflect (not correct!) broader issues in the real world that you hold important. (Rather than to let Not-You and your internal frustrations steer the story into a fantasy that a Future You-- one month or one year from now-- would cringe at. And stash at the bottom of your hard-drive as ‘Junk from 20--’.)

Better still, you would no longer be terrified to share your work with the people who know you best, and whose opinions matter most in your life. In fact, you’ll be inclined take their critiques as something other than personal attacks. Imagine that. (Example: ‘Yes, my leading lady is a terror and my story the spawn of nightmares; I’m glad you think so.’)

Best of all, you become a better writer. And a more curious person on the whole who can separate their ego from their work. And those are investments into your lifetime bank of merits that you’ll never regret.

You’ll regret that much less, at least, than continuing to pamper yourself and infantilize your main character. Who certainly isn’t a prettier version of you.

My challenge to you, dear reader, who has read this far?

If you do have a darling original character standing front and center in your imagination, take this free test, which is the source of the questions that first drew your eyes at the start of the post. It’s a long questionnaire, true, but that makes it merciless in separating genuine ideas for a story from more self-indulgent character material (i.e. self-inserts).

Besides, you shouldn’t be a stranger to reading hundreds of words in one-sitting by this point. ;)

Check your score. Are you satisfied with it? Do you think it’s unfair?

If ‘no’ to the first and ‘yes’ to the second, return to the original story, fan-fiction or role-playing script that you’re working on... and swap out your beloved hero for someone that you genuinely don’t care for. It can be a fictional figure you despise, or the polar opposite of your protagonist; whoever you chose, make sure they have no ties whatsoever to your real life. The point of this experiment is to minimize personal attachment to your main character. For safety reasons, your experimental protagonist shouldn’t be You, because the heart of any story is a grueling place to be (just ask actors). And for quality purposes, they cannot be You; otherwise you’ll be inclined to protect your story from the nefarious force known as Common Sense. And Common Sense, unfortunately, is what convinces other readers and writing partners to digest your story; they aren’t you after all.

Next, while keeping your experimental protagonist in position at the heart of your story, lean back in your chair and ask yourself: am I enjoying this story as a writer, and am I enjoying it as a reader? What can I change about the story to ensure it interests both parties, with this main character as they are? Because pleasing both yourself-- the writer-- and your readers is the Holy Grail of all writing endeavors. Then write down your new ideas. Edit ruthlessly; experiment ferociously; listen to your gut feelings on how this new hero will scramble through the scenario, and don’t feel guilty at pitying or not pitying them (or both). It’s a good story you’re seeking now, and you’re no longer protecting anyone.

Afterwards, once you have at least the outline of a new story in place (if not more), retire your experimental protagonist, and rehire your old one with all their flash and glory. Set them in place at the heart of this refurbished tale. And re-read it again.

Feel free to laugh, if you want. In fact, I highly-recommend it. No one should be above ridicule, least of all you or your old hero.

Lastly, decide which protagonist you want to keep, and which story you want to continue working on. And then forgive yourself.

Because no matter what your school/college/informal teacher may have told you, writing isn’t skill. It’s a practice. :)

And perhaps unlike your OC (for the moment), no one ever gets it right in the first grand epic that flows off your pen. ;) Which is exactly why we strike out names, roll up our scrolls, and try again.

#writing tips

27 notes · View notes