My Family Wasn't This Strict, But In Some Sects Of Buddhism You're Not Allowed To Eat The "five Pungent

If you outline your fics, how do you go about it? Or do you just write it out without a specific plan?

God I wish I could just START writing my fics, but no I am nothing if not a well planned bitch

First, I write stuff out on paper. This makes it’s easier to go back and look at my own writing, but also paper has? Less high stakes for me? If I type something it feels like I HAVE to go in that direction, but when I write on paper I can just scribble it out or turn to the next page. This step is where I’ll write whatever comes to mind that I might want to add, usually out of order. I guess you could call this brainstorming? But I don’t usually cause to me brainstorming is JUST in my head, and this is on paper. That’s another thing, GET THE IDEA OUT ON PAPER because youll be super excited about a certain dialogue line or plot line, and if you don’t write it out you will forget. So step one is filling pages and pages of my favorite, designated ‘Brain Dump’ notebook (mine has mushrooms on it :) )

Then, actual outline. This is also on paper for me, where I’ll write out any big plot lines or bits I’ve come up with in the first step, and try to fit them in an order that makes sense. This is simultaneously the easiest part and the hardest, because I’m someone who wants smoothness in my writing in terms of how stuff flows together, so I’m ver particular about what stuff goes where. If I’m doing an outline for a WHOLE fic, each little line is most likely a chapter, or important chapter moments however, and this is important, I make up an outline for every chapter I write. That way I can go into detail with what dialogue goes where, the blocking of how the characters are, etc

Then it’s first draft time!! This parts fun. This is where I write BADLY. I basically just throw everything at my poor google docs until it sticks, and I try not to stop, so there’s no going back and spell checking, or finding a better word. If I write “says” or “he shivered” eight times in the same paragraph it DOES NOT MATTER. I’ll be back later. This draft is the shittiest possible version of what I want to write.

Step two of first draft is when I’m DONE, I have the bare bones of my draft, and this is where I go back and ask myself if I really deserve to know how to type. I’ll sew up any glaring plot holes, spell checking, rewrite verbs and whatnot to not repeat, stuff like that. If I read the whole thing and decide I don’t like this particular part, I’ll delete it and rewrite it.

Then it’s onto my favorite part, draft two. This is REWRITE TIME. not edit, rewrite. Thats the best writing advice I’ve ever gotten and I can ever give. I pull up two screens, slap my draft 1 on the the first screen and open a new doc, and rewrite the entire thing. Why? Because as im retyping this is when I add prose, and fix the flow, and add more angst in or better word choice or whatever. This is where the LENGTH of whatever I’m writing comes in, I’ll usually double whatever I have for the first draft, on sheer added prose and grace notes alone. This part is immensely satisfying, and it takes the longest by far. I do this for every single chapter of things I post on Ao3

Draft three is usually my final draft. I copy and paste draft 2 in another document, and I’ll read through again for any typos and mistakes and fix those. This is PROOFREADING, plain and simple, and it’s so important. I usually don’t fix much in this stage, but I do read it outloud (quietly to myself or maybe my dog) to see if it sounds right.

And thats it! Usually, at least with Abandon My Eulogy each chapter takes about two weeks, and by two week I mean I spend a week thinking about it not actually writing and then outline, first draft and correct that in three days. Draft two takes. So long, but it’s worth it

‘Sorry I went off on a ramble there

If I was desperate for kudos I would not be out here posting villain ships, minor character rarepairs, and other deeply unpopular ships.

I know how to write popular fic. I know how to farm kudos. That's not what I'm here for.

"Readers need to remember that authors don't know a reader liked their fic unless the reader tells them by leaving a kudos or a comment" does not mean "waahhh waahhh I need attention!"

It means "even if writers write purely for themselves, if you don't bother to interact with writers when you do enjoy their work, they might stop posting and just keep their work to themselves."

"If you enjoy a work you should kudos or comment" is not aimed at the people who aren't reading the fanfiction in question.

"If you enjoy a work you should kudos or comment" is not aimed at the people who did not enjoy the fanfiction in question.

"If you enjoy a work you should kudos or comment" is aimed at people who read a fanfiction, enjoyed it, and then didn't bother to even do the bare minimum to share their excitement about it with the work's creator, even though that excitement is literally the only thing they get in return for posting their work.

Fanfiction authors write because they enjoy writing. They post because they want to form a connection with the people who enjoyed their work.

This is not an attempt to scold anyone, I literally don't care if I get kudos or not. It's simply an attempt to remind people that fanfiction is a community, and fan authors can't read your mind.

reblog if you’re okay with people writing fanfics of your fanfics and/or fanfics inspired by your fanfics

I have a fic idea that I'd really like to write, and I hope people would like to read it, but I'm too nervous to do so. I'm afraid people won't like my writing or that I won't get the characters right, etc.

As someone who's become really popular over their fics, at least on Tumblr, I'm curious about how you got over those fears if you had them at all.

I would not say that I'm really popular, I would say I am LOUD at best

And secondly, Anon. I'm squeezing your hands as I say this, literally every person to ever create something to gift to the world has been nervous.

Everyone. Every single goddamn person, you know why? Because we are but finite beings with brains BUILT to stress about things

I can't promise that people will like your writing. I can't say that you'll get the characters right, or any other placating thing.

The most important thing is that YOU like it. And you need to accept the fact that sometimes that's all it's gonna be.

It's fucking OUTSTANDING when people like your stuff. When people leave long comments, and those little numbers tick up, and you feel like you're making things that people ENJOY, and you're having FUN. It's so good.

But its not guaranteed. There's no formula for that, you could read every Good Writing book ever, take a Harvard class on Writing, do all the things

But your stuff will never truly be GOOD until YOU like it.

Because when YOU like your stuff, what does it matter if other people, who you've NEVER MET, who you might never meet, care? It hurts when your stuff isn't as big as you want it to be, there's no denying that, but it'll hurt LESS if you're not reaching for it.

Enjoy your work. Enjoy the process, enjoy writing, because I'll tell you a secret. If you like your work, it shines through. If YOU like what you're making, then chances are, people will see you enjoying that, and join in too.

I make stuff for ME, and I make things I'm proud of or excited by or insane about, and somewhere along the way people who liked it jumped on

My first fics? Not popular. Not at all. I got hate comments back on fanfiction . Net, I was LEARNING, and I'll always be learning, THATS THE JOY OF IT

You'll only get better. You'll only get more confident as you go, as you create, and you'll only create if you START.

I had those fears. I think everyone does. But it takes a special kind of courage to decide "fuck it. I'm doing this for me, and I'm afraid, but I'm doing it anyway."

And I'm so proud of you. For creating. For doing the thing. And I hope you do it. Please, creating is all we have sometimes, and while I can't promise whatever you make will be good, or that other people will like it, I can promise you one thing.

The world is better when you help fill it

An episode of Gravity Falls where Grunkle Stan finds out what Pride Month is and immediately tries to capitalize on it by making cheap snow globes and magnets.

its so windy my poor poor chickens are being blown around like dry leafs they look like this

A rocky intervention

(a sonic boom agent stone AU)

the making of this took something from me.

but anyway! the silly intervention idea i mentioned in the original post pitching the boom!stone au kinda uhhh given a lil something more! :)

Ponyo fish reference because how else could I deal with this ending

I have a headcannon. So I feel that Robotnik dressed up for stone. So like he thought stone wont come to work cuz he was sick so he put on casual clothes and stone came and just he was like U DRESS UP FOR ME?

Comfy Rob

ko-fi

Hey, I was possessed with the need to write this interaction but with no story to tie it to, so now here's this. Takes place post canon.

While sailing with his brother over the last nine months had been everything they'd needed and more, Ford was willing to admit it was good to be back in Gravity Falls. The time with his brother had healed some deep ache inside his chest, but knowing hed soon beseeing his grand niece and nephew, along with all the residents and old friends he'd left behind, was a similar balm.

What wasn't a balm was the monstrosity built behind what had once been his house.

Since Soos had moved into the shack with his girlfriend and grandmother, the Pines were now technically homeless. Soos had been very willing to move back to his old house, but Stan had simply said he'd 'handled' it and not to worry. Ford had been very worried, but he was trying to learn how to trust his brother again, and had simply left him to it.

This proved to be a mistake, as now there was a second, terrible house now built behind the first. It was further in the woods so as to be outside the idle view of visiting tourists, bit still close enough to be considered in its back yard.

Ford stared at it, feeling some kind of emotion as Stan burst through the front door and starting hauling in their luggage. Everything on the ground and second floor was made of a sturdy dark wood, with a green front door and circular windows. If he kept looking at just that, he could almost pretend it was a normal house.

Unfortunately he couldn't, and his gaze moved to the third floor that had been built with what looked like purple wood and colorful stained glass windows depicting several familiar images, had a balcony, a slide, and what could be an observatory, topped with a multicolored rainbow roof. The whole house was built around a giant pine tree, with its large branches casting shade across the entire structure. There was no way to know what the inside looked line without looking, but he was to enraptured with the strange upper floors and the fact that the more he looked, the more he noticed the strangeness carried over to the bottom floors as well.

There were small wards carved around the doorways and windows, one of the second floor windows was suspiciously hinged, as if built to be jumped out of dramatically, and if he leaned to the side he could see what looked like a large porch wrapping around the back with built in seating, a swing, several cannond, and a giant slingshot.

Too many windows were vaguely pig shaped to mistake who helped design the whole thing.

"Stanley," he called, grabbing the suitcase at his feet and dragging it inside, "what is this."

"What's it look like Six!" Stan called out from deeper in the house, "It's our new digs!"

"Let me clarify," Ford followed the sound of his brothers rummaging to find him in what had to be the living room, leaning back in cozy looking couch holding a soda, "why do we have another house, why does it look like this, and where did you get the funds for it, because I know our findings weren't enough to cover a project this large."

"Soos is still taking up space in the shack with his lady friend, so we needed someplace to stay," Stan said, wiggling deeper into the couch, "I asked Mabel to help design it with Dipper. Told her to go wild, because-"

"I GAVE YOUR EVIL CLONE A MILLION DOLLARS!" Fiddleford screamed into Fords ear, cackling as Ford shouted and jumped away, then scuttling over the the couch to climb onto the back and sit hunched over.

"What he said," Stan said with a smirk, sipping his soda as Ford rubbed his ear and scowled.

"Fiddleford, always good to see you. Why are you giving my brother a million dollars."

"Hey, he didn't give it to me, he paid me. I'm doing him an expensive service here."

"Really?" Ford raised an eyebrow, then turned towards Fiddleford with a questioning tilt of his head, "what on earth are you paying Stanley a million dollars for?"

"Hey," Stan said, eyes darting around suspiciously as Fords narrowed, "we don't need to worry about the details, just-"

"He done did tell me he'd stop swerving to hit me with his car if I have him a million greeneronies!" Fiddleford cackled, then leaned in and held up a hand and pointed at Stan behind it, like he was sharing a secret.

"Poor fool don't get that i got one over on 'em!"

"I see." Ford put his hands behind his back as he watched his brother start to sweat and Fiddleford chuckled to himself, "and why is that something you need to pay Stan for?"

"Ain't it obvious?" Fiddleford gave him a pitying look, like he was the strange one here, "Stan here has the car, I need to pay him to get him to stop."

"Sounds like good reasoning to me!" Stan yelled, hunching further into the couch and avoiding eye contact, "I hit man, man pays me not to keep doing that. Let's continue on with out lives."

"No, I think I'm a bit stuck on the fact you've been hitting my friend with your car. On purpose it sounds like."

"Hey!" Stan sat up, outraged, "don't make it sound like I was the only one doing it! Lots of people hit McGucket with their cars! He ran out in the road all the time!"

"Its true Stanford, I wasn't in the best place for a while," Fiddleford sighed, then grabbed his hat and clutched it to his chest, "I'd just wander around all willy-nilly, and good all Stan here was the only one who'd remind me to always be aware of traffic. Never know when a car will smash through a guard rail, destroy some fencing, then try to slam into you as the driver yells 'fifty McGucket points!' Or somethin' out the window."

Ford had never seen his brother rehunch and look away so fast.