I'm Procrastinating So Here Are Notes Instead

Hi!! Your tips really helps me out very much and im thankful for that and your hard work :)) Do you have any ideas on how I can begin my story without making it boring for the readers? Like make it more intressting when you read the first pagragh, etc.

Writing an Interesting Beginning

Thank you so much for your kind words! ♥

There are three things that are especially helpful for creating an interesting beginning:

finding the right place to start your story

beginning when something interesting is happening

beginning when things are in motion

Let's Start with Basic Story Structure

Before we get started, it's worthwhile to revisit basic story structure. Although there are a variety of different story structures, most stories more or less fit this basic structure:

The rising action of your story is set off by the "inciting incident," or in other words, the thing that happens that turns your character's life upside down or sets them off on a new path. Everything before that is setup, introducing the protagonist, the world and setting, anyone who is important to the protagonist at the start of the story, and moving the pieces into place for the inciting incident to occur.

Finding the Right Place to Start Your Story

The first thing you might want to do here is make a list of the things you need to accomplish before the inciting incident. Which characters need to be introduced? What parts of the world and setting need to be setup? What does the reader need to know about the character's situation? What else do they need to know before the inciting incident happens?

The next thing you want to do is think about your character's normal life, before the inciting incident. What does an average day look like for them? Do they do anything unusual, like play a sport, sing in a band, or work at an amusement park?

Beginning When Something Interesting is Happening

Your goal is to look at their everyday life and find something interesting that could be happening. Ultimately, you're looking for something that:

provides an overview of the protagonist and their normal life

introduces the setting and story world

introduces any other characters important at the beginning

introduces the protagonist's internal conflict

illustrates something about protagonist's life that needs to change

highlights any existing traits or skills that will be important later

introduces important back story details

starts laying the foundation for the inciting incident

is so interesting it hooks the reader's attention instantly

Beginning When Things Are in Motion

The Scorpio Races by Maggie Stiefvater begins with horses racing along a beach. The first chapter of Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman starts with a girl running through tunnels, finally finding a hiding place. L.M. Montgomery opened Anne of Green Gables by describing the course of the brook that runs past the home of Mrs. Rachel Lynde. The Road by Cormac McCarthy begins with a father reaching out in the night to check on his sleeping son, to make sure he's still safe. Movement draws your reader into the story. It's like opening a play with a dance number rather than a narrator standing on stage, rattling off a bunch of information.

Even if your story has to open in a moment where there's not anything really exciting going on, finding a way to add movement is still helpful. In The Road, the man and his son are asleep and nothing of particular interest is happening in that moment, but the man reaching into the darkness to make sure his son is still there--that's still movement, and the desperation of that moment is interesting in and of itself.

Other Helpful Posts:

Tips for Writing a Strong First Chapter Starting the Story with Exposition Writing Great Beginnings and Endings Figuring Out Where to Start a Story Deciding How to Open Your Book

Good luck with your story!

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Ask Game: A–Z of Character Relationships/Social Behaviors

A. Affection: How does your OC express affection to the people they love?

B. Best: Does your OC have a “best friend?” If so, who, and what makes this relationship special?

C. Cute: What is something your OC finds cute/endearing about another character?

D. Death: Has anyone your OC loved ever died? If so, how did this impact them? Is there anyone your OC would be willing to die to save? Explain.

E. Easygoing: When with other people, does your OC tend to go with the flow, or be the leader? Why? Are there any people they behave differently around?

F. Forgiveness: Has your OC ever been betrayed by someone they trusted? If so, who? Did they forgive this person?

G. Gift: If your OC received a gift they didn’t like from a loved one, how would they react? What would they do with the gift?

H. Help: When someone your OC loves has a problem, how does your OC try to help them? Do they prefer to comfort, offer advice, or fix the problem? Would your OC go out of their way to help a stranger?

I. Irritating: What is something your OC finds annoying about another character?

J. Joke: Does your OC tend to tease and banter with their friends, or are they more serious/straightforward?

K. Kickback: Your OC is given the chance to have (their version of) the perfect day, but they have to bring someone else with them. Who do they choose, and what do they spend the day doing?

L. Loyalty: Is your OC more loyal to their family, their friends, or a mix of both? Why?

M. Mine: Is your OC comfortable taking things from their loved ones? (Do they snatch fries off their friend’s plate? Rummage through their sibling’s clothes?)

N. Nemesis: Does your character have a “worst enemy?” If so, who, and why? Could their relationship with this person be improved?

O. Outcast: Does your OC tend to get along with other people? How many close relationships do they have, compared to the average person?

P. Protect: Does your OC tend to protect other people, or are they the one who is protected?

Q. Qualified: Does your OC follow through on their promises? Do other characters consider them responsible/trustworthy?

R. Regret: Has your OC ever betrayed someone who trusted them? If so, who? Do they regret it?

S. Secret: What is something your OC wishes they could tell another character?

T. Three: Would your OC rather be given a hug, a compliment, or a bouquet of flowers?

U. Union: Is your OC interested in romantic relationships? If so, do they have a romantic partner? A crush? How is that working out for them?

V. Viewpoint: How often does your OC notice things they like/dislike about strangers? Do they perceive other people in a more positive, critical, or neutral way?

W. Wish: If your OC could make a wish on behalf of another person, who would they choose, and what would they wish for?

X. X-out: How much would your OC sacrifice to make a loved one happy? Would they do something embarrassing? Would they give up a vacation they really wanted to go on?

Y. Yearbook: What is your OC’s happiest memory with another character?

Z. Zoo: Does your OC have any animal companions? If so, explain.

H A N A N || Philippines || Goddess of the Dawn

Hanan was a daughter of the supreme god of the Tagalogs (Bathala) with a mortal woman. She has two sisters, Tala and Mayari, and they were all brought to live up in the Skyworld (Kaluwalhatian) by their father

Each of the three sisters were assigned a role to fulfil and a domain such as Tala being the goddess of the stars, Mayari as the goddess of the moon, and Hanan as the goddess of morning or dawn. It is said that she is the deity most important when people enter a new age or a new phase in their life.

celestial sisters: tala; mayari

Manila. She’ll welcome you with smiles as warm as the sun. When the sun sets, take a turn down a dark alley and you might find yourself as prey. Kidnappers and thieves are the least of your worries. Beware the ones that crave your blood and covet your soul, they can’t be bound by handcuffs.

A Visual #Fashion Guide For Women - Necklines, Skirt Types & More!

By KikiCloset.com

Just for fun. This is 30% baseless. Also as a naming reference when you're at your wit's end.

Also, it is normal to have two or more names depending on your mood. I know a diety who changes name according to seasons. This naming system is more related to birth, mind, and soul, so feel free to have more than one.

Reblog if you call the wind by whistling.

I had the habit of whistling the call of birds when the wind is saturated. It’s not like I believe in it, but oftentimes, I suddenly feel the wind coming after one set of call. I learned it from the elders, and I’m still seeing some youth do it.

One time, I was with a non-local friend (he’s Filipino, just very westernized) and we were walking under the harsh sun with no wind. I whistled, and a gush of wind came. He asked why did I do that, to which I answered while the wind brushed my hair, “I’m calling the wind.” with such a serious voice I might be a diety. Later on I realized he doesn’t know about our force of habit, and since I didn’t want to be seen as crazy, I said, “FORGET ABOUT THAT! IT WAS A FORCE OF HABIT AROUND HERE.”

So yeah, we whistle for the wind. The only being in the universe you can whistle for.

For historical fic writers

This chair is called a GALLINERA

It was a furniture often seen on the porch, gate, or balconaje of the rich. Farmers and servants sit on this chair to wait for the their Masters when they're giving payments for using the farmland. The payments are usually chickens. The space with the sliding door underneath is where they keep the chickens. The chair is made from heavy wood and is adorned in inticate design. It is a status symbol, and the prettier your Gallinera is, the richer and kinder you are (Imagine buying expensive chair for the peasants).

Ideas to use the Gallinera:

1. Rich neigbors with rivalry - compete by beautifying the Gallinera.

2. A Señorito who said he's living on his own - lives under the Gallinera instead and he's never found out.

3. A Señorita lying down under the Gallinera to practice being dead inside a casket.

4. Poetic cinema - showing the status of the family by the cobwebs accumulating around the Gallinera.

this morning NASA abandoned their mars rover Opportunity (aka Oppy) because it (she) got hit by a storm on Mars and it knocked her camera and wheels out and her last words to the team were “my battery is low and it is getting cold”. I know she’s a machine but I’m devastated. Oppy is the one who discovered water on Mars. RIP oppy ily space baby

“To Love an Aswang”

The bells were ringing too the day I met her. The first time I met her, it was a cloudy day and I had just come from mass, passing by some carts that sold food outside the old church. She was sitting behind the cart that sold fried potatoes on a skewer, and she eyed each person that passed by with interest, her silky voice calling out, “Ale, ale, bili kayo oh.” I stopped in front of her cart and bought two of the food she was selling. While we waited for the potatoes to fry, I casually made small talk with her.

“Ate, do you always sell here?” I asked.

She smile a tiny smile before answering, “Not always. Every other day and only before the sun goes down. At night, I head home.”

“Do you live near here?”

“Yes, I do.”

Once the potatoes were done, she put them in a brown paper bag and I gave her twenty pesos. Before I went on my way, I ventured on another question, not thinking much of it as I asked it. “Do you do this for a living or is this just a side job?”

She answered, “It’s more of a side job. After all, I have other means of getting my food. This just covers some of my other expenses.”

I gave a non-committal answer and proceeded to walk away when she said it.

“I’m an aswang.”

I didn’t think much of it, and I just thought it was the silly rambling of a creative woman with a quirky sense of humour.

I had started going to church in the mornings before I work at the nearest bank, and just as she said, the woman was there every other day, but never outside the church at night once I began my walk home after a long day at work. Every time I saw her, I bought some of her potatoes and talked with her, slowly beginning an odd friendship.

We chatted about anything and everything, except for each other’s personal lives. I regaled her with tales of my co-workers, occasionally complaining about them on a particularly harrowing day, and I shared with her my musings about life in general. She never asks about church, and I don’t say anything about it either. On the other hand, she tells me of silly adventures she has while selling the potatoes and of customers that particularly caught her eye. She once told me about this pregnant lady who reeked of perfume, that it hurt her nose and probably did the opposite of beckoning others to her. She told the story with a laugh, saying that perfume was meant to enhance and not to soak. We talked about anything and everything, Anna and I.

She said it again one day. “You know, I’m an aswang.”

I laughed at that and said, “Sure. You’re an aswang and you fly around at night looking for babies to devour.” I kept laughing.

She answered quite seriously, “Exactly.”

That was when I felt an odd chill run down my spine. I tried to cover up the following awkward silence with a cough and a shaky question. “If you really are one, why would you tell me?”

She shrugged at that and said, “You deserve to know, You’re not like other humans. Here you go.” She then handed me my usual brown bag of fried potatoes and I hesitantly began my walk to work, all the while turning over in my head what she said.

The next time I saw her, we spent a good deal of time discussing about trivial things, as if the past conversation never happened. It felt normal. Just two friends chatting about anything and everything. But then I worked up the courage to bring it up. “So you really are an aswang?”

I told myself I didn’t believe her, that I was just playing along to hear more of what she has to say. She was eccentric, that’s for sure.

“Mhm,” she chirped, turning over the skewers to let the other side of the potatoes fry. “I do eat babies, but only the unborn ones. I don’t like them outside their mother’s bellies. Too big to eat and less tasty. Not to mention that it makes more of a mess than when they’re inside waiting to be sucked out.”

I shuddered at her nonchalance and the graphic details of her supposed eating habits. “So you’re evil then?”

She gave an irritated click of her tongue at that. “Evil, you say? What exactly is evil? I am an aswang and you are a human. We are different. So I eat unborn babies. Is that evil? You eat unborn duck embryo, is that evil? It simply is the way it is. I may not know much but even I know about the food chain.”

“But you take the babies from their mothers. Who could do such a thing?”

She smiled meanly at that. “Careful, my dear. You’re about to venture into a question I don’t think you’re prepared to hear the answer to.”

I stopped at that, and for a few moments the only sounds were the chattering of other people outside the church and the sizzling of the frying oil. “I guess you’re right,” I said.

“But tell me,” I continued, “do you hate humans?”

She gave another annoyed grunt, rolling her eyes at the same time. “Hating humans would imply I have any sort of feeling toward them. Humans to me are nothing but a source of my food and my income.” She nodded toward a couple who stopped by in front of the cart next to me to buy Anna’s goods. They left, and Anna continued, “It’s like if I asked you, do you hate ducks because you eat balut? I have a certain apathy toward humanity, if that’s what you mean.”

Her answers were as eccentric as she was; as absurd as the notion that she was an aswang as she said. Still, I let the concept settle into my mind, no matter how uneasy it made me. “Well, what about me?”

“What about you?” she asked.

I didn’t know what came over me, but as I looked into Anna’s eyes, I felt a sort of calm and peace, even though she kept claiming she was this dangerous powerful creature that I didn’t believe in. I asked her quietly, “Do you feel nothing toward me?”

That’s when she stopped turning over the potato skewers to really look at me. Her eyes shone under the shade of the umbrella on her cart, and her shoulders sagged in a strange resignation before answering, “I guess not. You are my friend, after all.”

Friend. Her answer surprised me very much. Did this woman, who claimed she was an aswang, really consider me as a friend? A human and an aswang as friends was almost as laughable as me believing in the idea itself. But still, something in me was touched. If this beautiful woman was really an aswang, a more powerful creature than me, her choosing to befriend me was a feat in itself that touched me in no other way that my normal friendships did. I remembered all the conversations we’ve ever had here, about anything and everything, about life and its adventures… She made me rethink everything I knew before. Before I met her.

“You still don’t believe me, do you?” she asked once again.

I gave a shuddering breath, placing a hand on her cart to steady myself. “If I do believe you, that creatures like aswang exist and you are one of them, how can we be friends, Anna?”

“Is being an aswang really that bad?” Anna answered quietly. She resumed cooking her potatoes and serving one or two customers that stopped by.

“I am terrified, Anna. Frankly, I am. You eat unborn babies. You are a creature of the night.”

She did not like what I said. She stood up abruptly, her arms falling to her sides in annoyance. “This again? You have nothing to fear from me! Humanity is a much more terrifying evil than I can ever be! I’m still me, dear. Why would being an aswang change that?”

We didn’t say anything for a while. She scared me that day. I looked at the old looming church while feeling her glare. Her glare held no malice, only annoyance and a flash of pain. Still, she scared me.

“What if I had a baby and you ate it before it even got to live outside the womb? What then, Anna? I don’t think I’d ever be able to bear that. If you were really an aswang, why would you befriend me? Why?”

She sat back down, her beautiful face scrunched up in…pain? She wiped her tears, and she said quietly, “Do you really think I would do that to you? To you? You are different from all other humans. You are different from me, and yet…I have grown to love you despite our short time. I have grown to love you. Tell me, am I really as terrible as you think I am? Am I evil for being different than you?”

“Anna,” I said. “How can you love me? How can I love you?”

She didn’t answer. She never did. I left to go to work, and when I was on my way home that day with the moon already peeking out in the sky, she was gone. She never appeared again. Some days, when I pass by where her cart used to be and hear the ringing of the bells, I remember her silky voice and all the stories we used to tell each other. I would think of our last conversation and ask myself, “What is love? And what is evil?”

I still don’t have an answer.