Chapters: 3/? Fandom: The Mallorca Files (TV 2019) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive

Chapter 3 of my John Sheppard/Elizabeth Weir (Sparky) fanfic “A Halloween Negotiation” has been posted. This chapter takes place after they leave the Halloween party early. 

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: The Mallorca Files (TV 2019) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Miranda Blake/Max Winter Characters: Miranda Blake, Max Winter, Inés Villegas Additional Tags: Wintake, post-series 3, Canon Divergent, Feelings Realization, Series 3 Episode 4 "Water Water" Mention, Undercover as a Couple Summary:

It’s Valentine’s Day, and it’s the first one since Max broke up with Carmen six months ago. Miranda tries to cheer Max up. Also, they go undercover as a couple again.

Chapter 2 is now up!

Writing Resources Masterlist

Masterlist of…

Facial Expressions

50 Romance Plot Ideas

Gestures and Body Language

Physical Descriptions

Voice Descriptions

Writing Sex/Body

500 Great Words for Writing Love Scenes

Synonyms for Parts of the Body 

7 Rules for Writing Sex Scenes

How to Write a Sex Scene

Action

How to Write a Fight Scene

How to Write a Fight Scene (in 11 Steps)

8 Things Writers Forget When Writing Fight Scenes

Characters

How to Make Your Reader Care About Your Characters

The 5 Absolute Dimensions of Character Personality

5 Ways to Hide Your Villain In Plain Sight

33 WAYS TO WRITE STRONGER CHARACTERS

39 Villain Motivations

MAKING A DARK CHARACTER LIKEABLE THROUGH VULNERABILITIES

Dialogue

HOW TO WRITE ARGUMENTS WITH MAXIMUM PUNCH

19 Ways to Write Better Dialogue

50 Things Your Characters Can Do WHILE They Talk

“Getting” yourself to write

Yesterday, I was trawling iTunes for a decent podcast about writing. After a while, I gave up, because 90% of them talked incessantly about “self-discipline,” “making writing a habit,” “getting your butt in the chair,” “getting yourself to write.” To me, that’s six flavors of fucked up.

Okay, yes—I see why we might want to “make writing a habit.” If we want to finish anything, we’ll have to write at least semi-regularly. In practical terms, I get it.

But maybe before we force our butts into chairs, we should ask why it’s so hard to “get” ourselves to write. We aren’t deranged; our brains say “I don’t want to do this” for a reason. We should take that reason seriously.

Most of us resist writing because it hurts and it’s hard. Well, you say, writing isn’t supposed to be easy—but there’s hard, and then there’s hard. For many of us, sitting down to write feels like being asked to solve a problem that is both urgent and unsolvable—“I have to, but it’s impossible, but I have to, but it’s impossible.” It feels fucking awful, so naturally we avoid it.

We can’t “make writing a habit,” then, until we make it less painful. Something we don’t just “get” ourselves to do.

The “make writing a habit” people are trying to do that, in their way. If you do something regularly, the theory goes, you stop dreading it with such special intensity because it just becomes a thing you do. But my god, if you’re still in that “dreading it” phase and someone tells you to “make writing a habit,” that sounds horrible.

So many of us already dismiss our own pain constantly. If we turn writing into another occasion for mute suffering, for numb and joyless endurance, we 1) will not write more, and 2) should not write more, because we should not intentionally hurt ourselves.

Seriously. If you want to write more, don’t ask, “how can I make myself write?” Ask, “why is writing so painful for me and how can I ease that pain?” Show some compassion for yourself. Forgive yourself for not being the person you wish you were and treat the person you are with some basic decency. Give yourself a fucking break for avoiding a thing that makes you feel awful.

Daniel José Older, in my favorite article on writing ever, has this to say to the people who admonish writers to write every day:

Here’s what stops more people from writing than anything else: shame. That creeping, nagging sense of ‘should be,’ ‘should have been,’ and ‘if only I had…’ Shame lives in the body, it clenches our muscles when we sit at the keyboard, takes up valuable mental space with useless, repetitive conversations. Shame, and the resulting paralysis, are what happen when the whole world drills into you that you should be writing every day and you’re not.

The antidote, he says, is to treat yourself kindly:

For me, writing always begins with self-forgiveness. I don’t sit down and rush headlong into the blank page. I make coffee. I put on a song I like. I drink the coffee, listen to the song. I don’t write. Beginning with forgiveness revolutionizes the writing process, returns its being to a journey of creativity rather than an exercise in self-flagellation. I forgive myself for not sitting down to write sooner, for taking yesterday off, for living my life. That shame? I release it. My body unclenches; a new lightness takes over once that burden has floated off. There is room, now, for story, idea, life.

Writing has the potential to bring us so much joy. Why else would we want to do it? But first we’ve got to unlearn the pain and dread and anxiety and shame attached to writing—not just so we can write more, but for our own sakes! Forget “making writing a habit”—how about “being less miserable”? That’s a worthy goal too!

Luckily, there are ways to do this. But before I get into them, please absorb this lesson: if you want to write, start by valuing your own well-being. Start by forgiving yourself. And listen to yourself when something hurts.

Next post: freewriting

Ask me a question or send me feedback! Podcast recommendations welcome…

don’t let anyone tell you that it’s a bad thing to feel things deeply. a full heart is a strong heart and being soft doesn’t make you weak. being soft and loving makes you radiant. you deserve all of the love in the world and so many good things.

You Will Be Rejected

Not: You might be rejected.

Not: You’ll have a few rejections.

Not Even: Well, if you’re only mid-list worthy you’ll have at least twenty rejections.

You want to get published? Fine. You need to accept that every single day of your career will have rejection.

Everything you write will be rejected.

Every book you publish will be hated.

Every character you love will be degraded.

Every hour you put in – the blood and sweat and tears – will be dismissed as “…talentless hack who doesn’t know how to string a sentence together.”

Millions of people will never read your book because they can’t read at all.

Millions of people will never read your book because they don’t speak the same language as you.

Millions of people will never read your book because they hate your genre.

Millions of people will never read your book because they don’t like fe/male authors.

Millions of people will never read your book because they didn’t get into it.

Billions of people will reject your work. They will mock you. They will dismiss you. They will talk trash about you.

You. Will. Be. Rejected.

It doesn’t matter. You aren’t writing for the millions. You are writing for the one.

The one person who tells you your book made them cry because it spoke to them.

The one person who tells you your book changed the way they saw the world.

The one person who tells you your book was the only light in a dark time.

The one person who tells you your book inspired them to be something more.

You are writing for them.

They will wish they could take your characters to prom.

They will read your book after their mother’s funeral.

They will curl up in bed with your book on a cold night after their first real break up.

They will turn to those pages time and again to revisit the places they love.

You’re going to get rejected. And you’re going to take that punch square on the chin and not ever back down because you know who you are writing for. Because you know it takes more than a pretty font to make a book work, you have to be willing to take the rejections. You have to go into this knowing you will fail a million times with a million readers, and that it doesn’t matter because you aren’t writing for them.

Keep your chin up. You are someone’s favorite author even if they don’t know it yet.

YES 100%. I love Peggy. I love the people working on this project. A privilege and an honor to bring her back to the fans. I’d shoot on the weekends. Blue serum. Whatever it takes.

Hayley Atwell on Agent Carter being saved by Netflix. (via fuckyeahatwell)

how did you get into writing and getting published?

I’ve always loved writing.  I wrote poetry and stories all the time when I was a kid.  I have piles and piles of notebooks at my house full of decades’ worth of everything from fanfic smut (decades before I had the internet and knew that “fanfic smut” was a thing) to terrible poetry to novels in progress.  I didn’t know that being a writer was a real job people could have, I just liked to write and make up stories. 

I went to college to study theatre because I thought I wanted to be an actor (as it turns out, I VERY MUCH did not).  My school didn’t offer playwriting on the regular, but we had a visiting professor for a year who was a playwright and I took his class, and he was the first person who said to me, “You know, if you wanted to do this, this is something you could do.”  I wrote my first play for his class (reblogginhood was in it!) and kept writing after that. 

Then at some point in my twenties, I don’t really know why, I stopped writing.  I think I hit a point where I had kind of decided, “okay, this isn’t practical, this isn’t a real career, I need to figure out how the fuck I’m going to pay my electric bill, I need to give up this dream and go, like, be a regular human.”  So I did that for awhile.  I got into the world of arts management and worked for a bunch of different theatre companies doing marketing and fundraising and things like that.  And it was fine, I was good at it, I met a lot of people in the theatre world and all my friends were cool artists and it was great, but then it made me really sad because there was a part of me that felt like they were living this great exciting life I wasn’t living because I had stopped trying to even have that. 

Then a friend of mine asked me to help her write grants for this new project she was starting, which was a citywide new play festival that anyone could be in.  You didn’t have to be fancy or famous, you didn’t have to even be any good.  You just had to write a play, and show up.  So I signed up and I paid my fee and for seven years in a row, every year I wrote a new play for the festival.  I just kept writing and writing and writing and writing.  It was a huge amount of hard work.  I lost money on every show because I was paying actors out of my own pocket and printing playbills at Kinkos.  I borrowed coffee shops and warehouses from friends, anywhere I could perform for free.  I directed the shows myself if I couldn’t afford a director.  I ran sound off my iPod.  I tore my own tickets at the door.  I was working two jobs, around 60-hour weeks, and then writing until like 2 in the morning because that was the time that I had.  And then slowly, I got better.  My crappy amateur plays, where I was trying to copy the voices of other, better writers improved because I started to figure out what I really cared about and what I really wanted to say.  I applied for tons and tons and tons of awards and grants and fellowships and residencies.  I won a couple of them (maybe one out of every 50 things I applied for) and that helped get other people to take me seriously, but the most important thing was that I just kept writing and writing.  I had a new play in the festival every year, so slowly people started to know who I was and recognize my name.  Not zillions of people, but handfuls at a time.  The first show had like 30 people in the audience each night; I worked my way up to being able to fill a 200-seat venue.  Then I got asked to join a company of local playwrights who produce one show a year by one of their member writers; they had watched me busting my ass over the past seven or eight years and knew that I was a hard worker and had been watching my work get better and then finally one day they asked me to join and offered me a full production of one of my plays.  (That’s happening next month.) 

In between writing plays, I wanted to challenge myself, so I tried a few times to do National Novel Writing Month.  I never finished, but I had a few chapters of a time travel science fiction story about Watergate that I was noodling around with that I really liked, and from time to time I would pick it up and play with it some more in between theatre projects.  Then one day my brother, who is an L.A. film editor, called me to tell me that a company he worked with was branching out from film into publishing and was looking for science fiction novels.  I didn’t have a novel, I had like four chapters and some shrapnel, and was reluctant to show it to anyone, but my brother sent it off to his friend anyway, and they called me three days later to tell me they wanted to publish it and would pay me an advance to finish it.  (It’s coming out this summer.)

There are an infinite number of different directions a writing career can go, and no one writer’s path to success is necessarily replicable by any other writer.  I’m fully aware that my story of how I got a novel published is a weird one with a strange combination of luck and coincidence and circumstance and privilege and a million other forces I can’t control which resulted in my unfinished novel landing on the desk of someone looking for just such an unfinished novel.  But the important part is everything that happened before that, all the years of staying up until three in the morning or skipping happy hours with friends because I had to write, all the years of staged readings of mediocre plays where I was paying actors in pizza and hugs because I had no money, and even all the years of working demanding and tedious marketing and fundraising jobs for theatre companies, because that was how I became a writer.  There’s how to become a writer, and then there’s getting a book published.  Honestly I still cannot tell anyone how to get a book published.  “Have a brother who knows someone starting a publishing company” isn’t a career plan.  But I can tell you how to be a writer.  You just have to write.