vivimarius

[vivimarius]

me: *writes fic*

me: great! time to post to ao3-

ao3 summary box: *exists*

me: 

ao3 summary box:

me:

ao3 summary box: 

me:

[vivimarius]

things I wish I’d known when I started writing fic on ao3

use & for friendships, colleagues, familial relationships and use / for romantic or sexual relationships (or encounters)

not everyone reads fic. Lots of people use screen readers, and screen readers can’t see what’s on images. use descriptive text to help them out.

lots of people download fic to read on other devices, not all downloads capture images too.

there’s a big difference between No Archive Warnings Apply (NAWA) and Author Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (CNTW). NAWA means that there’s nothing in the fic that needs to be warned for using the official Archive Warning system. CNTW means there might be something that requires a warning and the author is either avoiding giving out spoilers or they are unsure how to interpret their plot point with respect to the official Warnings. (in both cases, additional tags are where it’s at - you can explain yourself there) 

the reason why the number of bookmarks in the fic is different from the number of bookmarks on your stats page is because your stats page number includes bookmarks that are hidden

there’s a preference setting where you can receive emails with your own comments/replies.

there’s a site skin that hides stats so you don’t have to see them

writing in rich text format makes my life easier

knowing html allows me to do fun things in the comments section like comment/reply with reaction gifs

knowing html also allows me to do interesting formatting in my fics that I can’t do with rich text alone

those little blue bubbles with the question marks in them will answer my questions a lot of the time - and also teach me something new

the FAQ is linked under the word About in the header

if you write your fic in the draft window, you might end up losing it so make sure you copy the text before you hit Post, just in case

they aren’t kidding when they say drafts are deleted after 30 days

#reference

[vivimarius]

When you desperately want to write, but your brain thinks everything you type is absolute trash :(

[vivimarius]

You know those things you think you can't write because they're an emotion not a plot?

Try oneshots!

Oneshots are great because they can be just a single scene or moment. They allow you to write that one conversation you want to write without needing to create a whole story around it.

You wish you could just write about that character getting a damn hug for once? Do it! Who needs a huge context? Just put it out there!

Oneshots, people! Write them read them. Love them. They're awesome.

[vivimarius]

Don't ask me to explain this, but writing fiction is kind of like playing four-dimensional chess against yourself

[vivimarius]

Srs writing thoughts

I was thinking about writing and how one of the things that prevented me from doing it for a really long time was thinking, “But I’ll never have the talent/technique/self-discipline to write a novel, so what’s the point of writing anything else?” 

Which, first, who even cares about writing a novel? Maybe I will, maybe I won’t,  but why should it be the be-all and end-all of writing? (Short answer: the western canon, (old) white dudes, blah blah blah.)

But more importantly – I had this idea of what writing a novel (and, by extension, any writing worth doing) would mean: 

That a novelist is a master of self expression. That he (gendered language not incidental) has total control over his writing on every level – plot, character, scene, paragraph, sentence, word, sound; that he can produce a perfect chapter with a perfect beginning and a perfect ending, each scene within it serving a purpose, and then string those chapters together like perfectly round  pearls and lo and behold: a perfect novel, that conveys in full the story and underlying meaning intended by the author; his themes woven expertly throughout.

Ugh – seeing this written out is making me a bit sick. Anyway, the point is, of course I could never reach that level, so why write at all, right?

What I’ve come to realize since I gave myself permission to write what I want, as useless and imperfect as it is, is that you can create something really good (whatever that means for you) even if your process is just random. Something that achieves what you set out to do in meaning and/or style, something that speaks to people, that makes them say, “Oh, right. That feeling.”

It doesn’t have to be astoundingly brilliant; it doesn’t have to be something that no one has done before; it doesn’t have to be perfect. Just sit down and fucking write something.

(And then maybe do some editing. I’m not saying I don’t do a fuckton of editing.)

Now, just in case anyone stumbles upon this post and thinks I’m being pretentious, I will mention in closing that I exclusively write gay fanfiction about dudes in bands. But maybe that’s the point. What I write is so utterly  unpublishable – so far removed from any society-sanctioned concept of literature – that I don’t feel like I need to write for anyone except myself and a bunch of perverts that share my very limited sphere of interest.

(It’s still writing, and I can take it as seriously as I want to.)

[vivimarius]

here have 10 pieces of writing advice that have stuck with me over the years

every character’s first line should be an introduction to who they are as a person

even if you only wrote one sentence on a really bad day, that’s still one sentence more than you had yesterday

exercise restraint when using swear words and extra punctuation in order for them to pack a punch when you do use them

if your characters have to kiss to show they’re in love, then they’re not in love

make every scene interesting (or make every scene your favorite scene), otherwise your readers will be just as bored as you

if you’re stuck on a scene, delete the last line you wrote and go in a different direction, or leave in brackets as placeholders

don’t compare your first draft to published books that could be anywhere from 3rd to 103rd drafts

i promise you the story you want to tell can fit into 100k words or less

sometimes the book isn’t working because it’s not ready to be written or you’re not ready to write it yet; let it marinate for a bit so the idea can develop as you become a better writer

a story written in chronological order takes a lot more discipline and is usually easier to understand than a story written with flashbacks

[vivimarius]

just found out you have to write if you want something to be written....... feeling shocked, devastated, and blindsided. please respect my privacy and space during this time xx

[vivimarius]

#that's what people QUEUE!

[vivimarius]

I have decided to call my frequent misspellings and grammar bendings “vernaculiarzations”.

I love language.

People who ransacked the larders of other languages to create English are all dead and have not responded to my necromantic challenges to fight and/or update this verbal/written forest fire.

As a young thing I clearly remember “vernacular” on a school vocabulary sheet and standing up and shouting “yes, YES” in the middle of the lesson to the startlement of exactly no one (I was respectful but a tad loud) (I’m still respectful but a tad loud)

[vivimarius]

[vivimarius]

I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who has trouble remembering developmental milestones. I put these together, but can’t take credit for any of the photography. Hope someone finds them helpful!

#reference

[vivimarius]

the human in me is sorry i hurt you

the writer in me is delighted

Frostbite

Eirwen does not have a baby. Until she does.

Pairings: none

Word count: 899

Warnings: Child abuse (mostly in the form of neglect), pregnancy, referring to a child as “it” and “thing,” kidnapping (changeling switch), harm to minors, brief thoughts of child murder

Notes: The fic absolutely no one asked for and no one wanted. LOAFT verse by @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors. This is exploring Eirwen’s thought process behind having a child and switching him out for a different baby. There’s no father because Magic and Fae Are Different, and tbh I don’t see Eirwen particularly tolerating anyone else’s input in regards to a kid. We don’t know what Logan looked like as a newborn since he was glamoured to look like Thomas and then grew into those looks, so I took a slight liberty. I think the warnings make it sound worse than it is, personally, but I wanted to tag for anything that might adversely affect a reader. Please be safe!

Keep reading

#reply

[vivimarius]

Frostbite

Eirwen does not have a baby. Until she does.

Pairings: none

Word count: 899

Warnings: Child abuse (mostly in the form of neglect), pregnancy, referring to a child as “it” and “thing,” kidnapping (changeling switch), harm to minors, brief thoughts of child murder

Notes: The fic absolutely no one asked for and no one wanted. LOAFT verse by @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors. This is exploring Eirwen’s thought process behind having a child and switching him out for a different baby. There’s no father because Magic and Fae Are Different, and tbh I don’t see Eirwen particularly tolerating anyone else’s input in regards to a kid. We don’t know what Logan looked like as a newborn since he was glamoured to look like Thomas and then grew into those looks, so I took a slight liberty. I think the warnings make it sound worse than it is, personally, but I wanted to tag for anything that might adversely affect a reader. Please be safe!

Keep reading

#reply

[vivimarius]

listen....i hate her but thank you

2 things. one is that i went back over the four fics where Eirwen is featured, and i had completely forgotten that she calls Logan “Raindrop” so when i read that i made it ANGSTY (”It was this small, pathetic little thing–a raindrop where she deserved to raise a glacier.”) as well as a reference to the fact that Logan is a Spring as opposed to a Winter

two, i lifted Dot’s exact words from the fic, because like i said, i went back and reread. and you already put Dot and Eirwen in direct opposites and i wanted that to be evident immediately--so Logan is Her Son the moment she sees him whereas Eirwen has barely touched Logan. and Logan responds in kind--this baby who was born silent, didn’t move, didn’t open his eyes, is suddenly fussing and waving his hands and opening his eyes to look at his Mother

Frostbite

Eirwen does not have a baby. Until she does.

Pairings: none

Word count: 899

Warnings: Child abuse (mostly in the form of neglect), pregnancy, referring to a child as “it” and “thing,” kidnapping (changeling switch), harm to minors, brief thoughts of child murder

Notes: The fic absolutely no one asked for and no one wanted. LOAFT verse by @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors. This is exploring Eirwen’s thought process behind having a child and switching him out for a different baby. There’s no father because Magic and Fae Are Different, and tbh I don’t see Eirwen particularly tolerating anyone else’s input in regards to a kid. We don’t know what Logan looked like as a newborn since he was glamoured to look like Thomas and then grew into those looks, so I took a slight liberty. I think the warnings make it sound worse than it is, personally, but I wanted to tag for anything that might adversely affect a reader. Please be safe!

Keep reading

#reply #also i just had a lot of feelings about this which is why i'm talking about it lol

[vivimarius]

Frostbite

Eirwen does not have a baby. Until she does.

Pairings: none

Word count: 899

Warnings: Child abuse (mostly in the form of neglect), pregnancy, referring to a child as “it” and “thing,” kidnapping (changeling switch), harm to minors, brief thoughts of child murder

Notes: The fic absolutely no one asked for and no one wanted. LOAFT verse by @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors. This is exploring Eirwen’s thought process behind having a child and switching him out for a different baby. There’s no father because Magic and Fae Are Different, and tbh I don’t see Eirwen particularly tolerating anyone else’s input in regards to a kid. We don’t know what Logan looked like as a newborn since he was glamoured to look like Thomas and then grew into those looks, so I took a slight liberty. I think the warnings make it sound worse than it is, personally, but I wanted to tag for anything that might adversely affect a reader. Please be safe!

Anyone will say that there is effort in bearing a child.

For Eirwen, it involved a ritual that took two years to complete. And then it happened overnight.

She woke with an impressive baby bump that she had seen on human women. It was hard, cold, and smooth as she ran a hand over it, a thrill of pride and possession running through her.

The trouble with fae birth is that it’s as different and as individual as fae are. Eirwen could carry this child for two days. She could carry the child for ten years.

Of course, what she wanted was for it to be born on the solstice. She was wild and powerful; her child should be as well. Having it born on a magic day would be even better. But as winter faded and the Court prepared to turn--honestly, the worst time of the year, by far--Eirwen was not terribly expectant of the birth. She quietly whispered to it, “You better hold on until Autumn,” and felt like it heard her.

She should have known better.

It was the equinox, the very day that signaled spring was here, when Eirwen had the child. She was alone when it happened, thankfully. And when she saw it, she hissed.

A Spring.

Two years. Two years of work, just to bring another Seelie to the court?

The child was pale, though not as white as her. Its green hair stood every which way like unmowed grass. It was small and unmoving, though still breathing. Eirwen ought to kill it right here.

It was not impossible for a fae child to die so close to their birth. It could easily disappear. She could get away with it.

But she still wanted a child.

Eirwen looked around her home for a place to put it while she decided what to do. Eventually she settled for putting it on the ground at the foot of her bed. Then she went out.

It took her a few days, mostly because the Serpent King didn’t want fae around the humans anymore, but finally Eirwen found what she was looking for: the human with the newborn. Wickhills was small enough that only a few people were pregnant at the same time, and she had just come upon her one stroke of luck. Eirwen interrogated some of the fae familiar with this human, who said that the baby was just seven days old.

Perfect.

Eirwen returned home, where the child lay exactly where she had left it. It had not moved, had not opened its eyes at all. She picked it up, wrinkling her nose as she touched the child. She supposed it would need a name, something she could call it once it had been raised by the humans to reclaim it. Eirwen looked down and saw everything she wanted and nothing she had.

“Leith,” she said, and the name settled on it like a mantle. It was this small, pathetic little thing--a raindrop where she deserved to raise a glacier.

Well, the new baby would actually be a credit to her. He would be a proper Winter.

It was only two nights later where Eirwen slipped into the yard. An early morning feeding had just been completed, and the human mother had gone to sleep after the baby. The window to the nursery was open, and it was barely a thought to get inside. In the cradle, the baby was sleeping. He looked soft, almost ethereal, his heavy breaths the only sound in the room. Eirwen took a long, deep look at the baby was about to be hers. A quick gesture of her hand and a glamour is cast on the thing in her arms to look like this baby in the cradle.

She switches the children, heaving a deep sigh of relief to have her son in her arms. Without a second glance, Eirwen turns her back on it and slips back into the forest.

~

Dot slept later than she had in--goodness, months. It was so strange that she was disoriented for a minute when she woke and saw dazzling sunlight. She looked at the baby monitor, but it was silent. Almost too silent.

She knew she was being ridiculous, but she still shot up and hurried to Thomas’s room. Dot sighed with relief to see the baby in the crib. She quickly walked up and picked up her son, then paused. “Well, that’s no good,” she muttered.

The baby in her arms fussed and waved his angry little fists. He looked so much like her Thomas, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t, but he was.

Dot rocked him gently, and he calmed quickly. His eyes, closed for so long, opened, revealing beautiful silver. Very much not Thomas.

“Larry,” she called down the hall, “We have a bit of a situation, dear.”

~

Eirwen stalked away from the house, absolutely furious. How dare that woman! Keep both the children! What was she supposed to do, show up to the court childless? Everyone would laugh at her! She was bested by a human!

No, no. This would never, ever go. No. Never.

She would tell everyone that the child was stolen from her. It was deep treachery, and they bound her power, somehow--refused to give her what she deserved. Yes, Eirwen could twist this. And in the end, she would still reclaim what was hers.

#love and other fairytales #laoft #vivi writes #my fics #frostbite #ts sanders sides

[vivimarius]

I call upon the fan fic writing gods to bless you with the perseverance to finish one of your unfinished drafts. 

May your fingers dance along the letters upon your device with ease, may the devil of distraction stay far from you, and may your work not need much editing.

I pass this blessing upon every fan fic writer out there.