I’m doing a writing related acrylic painting rn and I realized that my art process is just as sporadic as my writing process 
Writing goals
- Thread starter
- #352
Well I was going to try and write this morning...
But Matty distracted me
But Matty distracted me
Do one sentenceWell I was going to try and write this morning...
But Matty distracted me
- Thread starter
- #354
I wrote myself a lovely note to fix my story. Every time I find something like this, I cannot be bothered fixing it but know if I don't note it, I'll just forget...
I might write in the car in a bit. I'm on a quest to find a capybara to photograph today though.
E Sylvanus
Songster
Very well said! Varying the sentence structure was going to be my suggestion, but knocked it out of the park with your examples.This is a true saying and worthy of all men to be received.
This isn't a hard fix. You just need to vary your sentence length and core structure. So far, every sentence is sharing the same grammatical structure of, "The subject 'verbed'," so to speak.
What I would do is chop it up in some areas and combine others, this is very lyrical already and can have even more rhythm if you pace it a tad different.
Just for your first few sentences--
"The ship leaped from the pool. Fighting against the drag of waves on the skiff, Kostas cut power, turning sharply."
Make some shorter, make others longer. Try reversing the sentence order.
Ooh, and my favorite-- give certain sentences their own paragraph. It really ups the ante, makes it read even faster too.
Like this.
See?
Dramatic, amiright?
Eroica
Defective
Yeah... after looking at my story and the sheer amount of LACK of time I have, I've decided to abandon my "goal" of finishing C1. In fact, the whole universe I'm writing is going into a quiet corner where it can stay until I'm ready for it. There are other things in life currently demanding my attention, and it's not feasible for me to continue.
I'll still be lurking here, though
I'll still be lurking here, though
Idk if anyone is interested but I thought it worth at least mentioning because I’ve been enjoying it
There’s an app called SnipFic that just came out created by an author I follow on IG and it’s like you write based on a daily prompt (or just anything else) a short 100 word max snippet and then post it and other people can read it and stuff
I’ve been liking it so far because even when I don’t find time to sit and hash out 500+ words in my WIP, I still intentionally wrote something each day and it keeps my writing brain switched on
It’s only on iOS rn but it’s in development for android
There’s an app called SnipFic that just came out created by an author I follow on IG and it’s like you write based on a daily prompt (or just anything else) a short 100 word max snippet and then post it and other people can read it and stuff
I’ve been liking it so far because even when I don’t find time to sit and hash out 500+ words in my WIP, I still intentionally wrote something each day and it keeps my writing brain switched on
It’s only on iOS rn but it’s in development for android
RDchicken99
Archaic
I very badly want to read the top one, Isa.
That's an excellent opening line.
update on paper heart
The sound was the first thing to break the silence of Cal’s sleep. Still not fully awake, he scrambled to find the source, only to realize Lilliam had been blowing up his phone since 7:30. Now it was 8:30.
“Shoot,” Cal muttered as he picked up.
“Hellooo,” he said, voice thick with sleep.
“CAL, HURRY, YOU’RE GOING TO BE LATE FOR YOUR FIRST DAY AT MURPHY’S MARKET! You were supposed to be there fifteen minutes early, and it’s already 8:35!” Lilliam urged from across their small town.
In a panicked sprint, Cal yanked open his dresser. It creaked with age, but he didn’t care because it had belonged to his great-grandmother, which made it special. He pulled out his comfort hoodie, the one with graphics so faded they were nothing more than ghosts of letters. He’d gotten it at fifteen; now, at seventeen, the worn fabric still grounded him.
Whipping around and nearly falling over, Cal grabbed a pair of jeans and shoved them on. He snatched his shoes, bolted out of his bedroom, and with the speed he was moving, it was honestly a miracle the door didn’t tear off its hinges. He practically slid down the spiral staircase, half running and half falling, and skidded into the kitchen.
“MOM! KEYS!” Cal yelled, breathless.
Alex, his mother, jumped at the sudden chaos, not yet aware her son was on the verge of being late. “Why are you in such a hurry?” she asked.
“NO TIME TO EXPLAIN, I’M GONNA BE LATE!” Cal panicked.
Rolling her eyes, Alex slid the keys across the dark mahogany table.
“Bye!” Cal called, already halfway out the door.
He finally made it to the car, his mom’s old first car, which would soon be his once he could afford the gas money for the creaky little grease-stained relic. Shoving the keys into the ignition, he sped out of the driveway. Only when he reached the highway did he finally have a moment to breathe, though it felt like he had nearly suffocated getting out the door.
As the road stretched ahead, his mind drifted. He daydreamed about his life before he had been weighed down by worries and by the constant overanalysis of other people’s perceptions. Back then, he didn’t create fake scenarios in his head as a side effect of spiraling anxiety. Something told him that something had changed him, some moment he couldn’t name. Every time he tried to examine it, the memory slipped away, as if it had been cleanly cut from his mind.
He snapped out of his daze when he realized he was nearly at Murphy’s Market. His stomach tightened. What would his new coworkers think? Would they judge him?
Cal was still just a young adult, and the looming uncertainty of the adult world terrified him.
The sound was the first thing to break the silence of Cal’s sleep. Still not fully awake, he scrambled to find the source, only to realize Lilliam had been blowing up his phone since 7:30. Now it was 8:30.
“Shoot,” Cal muttered as he picked up.
“Hellooo,” he said, voice thick with sleep.
“CAL, HURRY, YOU’RE GOING TO BE LATE FOR YOUR FIRST DAY AT MURPHY’S MARKET! You were supposed to be there fifteen minutes early, and it’s already 8:35!” Lilliam urged from across their small town.
In a panicked sprint, Cal yanked open his dresser. It creaked with age, but he didn’t care because it had belonged to his great-grandmother, which made it special. He pulled out his comfort hoodie, the one with graphics so faded they were nothing more than ghosts of letters. He’d gotten it at fifteen; now, at seventeen, the worn fabric still grounded him.
Whipping around and nearly falling over, Cal grabbed a pair of jeans and shoved them on. He snatched his shoes, bolted out of his bedroom, and with the speed he was moving, it was honestly a miracle the door didn’t tear off its hinges. He practically slid down the spiral staircase, half running and half falling, and skidded into the kitchen.
“MOM! KEYS!” Cal yelled, breathless.
Alex, his mother, jumped at the sudden chaos, not yet aware her son was on the verge of being late. “Why are you in such a hurry?” she asked.
“NO TIME TO EXPLAIN, I’M GONNA BE LATE!” Cal panicked.
Rolling her eyes, Alex slid the keys across the dark mahogany table.
“Bye!” Cal called, already halfway out the door.
He finally made it to the car, his mom’s old first car, which would soon be his once he could afford the gas money for the creaky little grease-stained relic. Shoving the keys into the ignition, he sped out of the driveway. Only when he reached the highway did he finally have a moment to breathe, though it felt like he had nearly suffocated getting out the door.
As the road stretched ahead, his mind drifted. He daydreamed about his life before he had been weighed down by worries and by the constant overanalysis of other people’s perceptions. Back then, he didn’t create fake scenarios in his head as a side effect of spiraling anxiety. Something told him that something had changed him, some moment he couldn’t name. Every time he tried to examine it, the memory slipped away, as if it had been cleanly cut from his mind.
He snapped out of his daze when he realized he was nearly at Murphy’s Market. His stomach tightened. What would his new coworkers think? Would they judge him?
Cal was still just a young adult, and the looming uncertainty of the adult world terrified him.
It was like super shortI very badly want to read the top one, Isa.
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