Write a fake 5-star Goodreads review of your WIP—as if you didn’t write it. Go ahead. Pretend you're a giddy reader who just discovered this masterpiece. Bonus: add emojis, chaotic metaphors, and all-caps screaming. It’s self-indulgent. It’s delusional. It’s delicious.
Give your main character a Pinterest board titled “Mentally Unstable but Aesthetic.” Include outfits, quotes, memes, cursed objects, and that one painting that haunts their dreams. This is not about logic. This is about ✨vibes.✨
Make a “deleted scenes” folder and write something that would never make it into the book. A crackfic. A “what if they were roommates” AU. The group chat from hell. This is your WIP’s blooper reel. Let it be silly, chaotic, or wildly off-brand.
Interview your villain like you’re Oprah. Ask the hard-hitting questions. “When did you know you were the drama?” “Do you regret the murder, or just the way you did it?” Bonus points if they lie to your face.
Host a fake awards show for your characters. Categories like “Most Likely to Die for Vibes,” “Worst Emotional Regulation,” “Himbo Energy Supreme,” or “Best Use of a Dramatic Exit.” Write their acceptance speeches. Yes, this counts as writing.
Write a breakup letter… to your inner critic. Be petty. Be dramatic. “Dear Self-Doubt, this isn’t working for me anymore. You bring nothing to the table but anxiety and bad vibes.” Rip it up. Burn it. Tape it to your mirror. Your call.
Create a “writing comfort kit” like you’re a cozy witch. A candle that smells like your WIP. A tea that your characters would drink. A playlist labeled “for writing when I’m one rejection email away from giving up.” This is a ritual now.
Design a fake movie poster or book cover like your story is already famous. Add star ratings, critic quotes, and some pretentious tagline like “One soul. One destiny. No chill.”
Write a scene you’re not ready to write—but just a rough, messy outline version. Not the polished thing. Just the raw emotion. The shape of it. Like sketching the bones of a future punch to the gut. You don’t have to make it perfect. Just open the door.
Let your story be bad on purpose for a day. Like, aggressively bad. Give everyone ridiculous names. Add an evil talking cat. Write a fight scene with laser swords and emotional damage. Just remind yourself that stories are meant to be played with, not feared.
city boy Nightwing art by Jamal Campbell
╰ Let their intelligence show in how they notice things
Smart people aren’t always the ones talking, they’re the ones observing the tiny detail that everyone else misses. They connect dots faster. They clock micro-expressions. They’re already ten moves ahead while everyone’s still arguing about step one.
╰ Don’t make them know everything
The smartest characters have gaps. A genius hacker who can’t do small talk. A professor who’s never seen Shrek. An expert in ancient languages who has zero street smarts. Give them blind spots, and suddenly they feel real—not robotic.
╰ Let their intelligence shape how they argue
A clever character doesn’t always win by yelling louder. Sometimes they cut deep with one sentence. Sometimes they bait someone into proving their point for them. Or smile while delivering verbal chess moves that leave everyone stunned two scenes later.
╰ Smart doesn’t mean wordy
Sometimes the smartest thing your character can say is nothing. Sometimes it’s “Huh.” Or one line that lands like a hammer. Intelligence isn’t just about complexity, it’s about clarity. Bonus points if they say the thing everyone else was dancing around.
╰ Show them solving problems, not just explaining them
Whether it’s picking a lock or defusing a political standoff, let them act. Watching them think on their feet, adapt, and surprise people is way more compelling than giving them long-winded monologues about the history of poison.
╰ Let them struggle with being misunderstood
A smart character might say something that’s totally logical but lands like a slap. Or they assume people see the obvious when they don’t. Intelligence can be isolating. That tension makes them human.
╰ Don’t make them the author’s mouthpiece
If your “smart” character exists to deliver the moral of the story, they’ll feel like a soapbox in a trench coat. Let them be flawed, biased, wrong sometimes. Let them learn. Otherwise, they stop being a character and start being an essay in disguise.
╰ Make their intelligence emotional, too
Book smart is one thing. Emotional intelligence hits differently. Maybe they’re intuitive. Maybe they know how to read a room. Maybe they see through someone’s bravado in five seconds flat. Brains plus empathy? Lethal combo.
╰ Smart doesn’t mean nice
Intelligence can be cruel. Calculated. Detached. Don’t be afraid to let your clever character weaponize their smarts if that’s who they are. Sometimes the coldest characters are the ones who know exactly how to hurt you—and choose not to. Or do.
reblog if you’re okay with people writing fanfics of your fanfics and/or fanfics inspired by your fanfics
*me looking at all the degenerate that liked my fic*
*sigh* Is there anything more satisfying and motivating than looking at this to write another chapter?
Nah I don't think so.
Reblog if you’re grateful for your commenters <3
soup
Yeah I really liked soup as a child
Hey guys be cool and normal but reblog this with the homemade meal that would get you the most hyped as a child. I need it for reasons.
I love writing characters who think they’re fine but are actually walking emotional house fires with bad coping mechanisms.
They stop doing the things they used to love and don’t even notice. Their guitar gathers dust. Their favorite podcast becomes background noise. Their hobbies feel like homework now.
They pick the path of least resistance every time, even when it hurts them. No, they don’t want to go to that thing. No, they don’t want to talk to that person. But whatever’s easier. That’s the motto now.
They’re tired but can’t sleep. Or they sleep but wake up more tired. Classic burnout move: lying in bed with their brain racing like a toddler on espresso.
They give other people emotional advice they refuse to take themselves. “You have to set boundaries!” they say—while ignoring 8 texts from someone they should’ve cut off three emotional breakdowns ago.
They cry at something stupidly small. Like spilling soup. Or a dog in a commercial. Or losing their pen. The soup is never just soup.
They say “I’m just tired” like it’s a personality trait now. And not like… emotionally drained to the bone but afraid to admit it out loud.
They ghost people they love, not out of malice, but because even replying feels like too much. Social battery? Absolutely obliterated. Texting back feels like filing taxes.
They stop reacting to big things. Catastrophes get a blank stare. Disasters feel like “just another Tuesday.” The well of feeling is running dry.
They avoid being alone with their own thoughts. Constant noise. TV always on. Music blasting. Because silence = reckoning, and reckoning is terrifying.
They start hoping something will force them to stop. An accident. A missed deadline. Someone else finally telling them, “You need a break.” Because asking for help? Unthinkable.
I'm in fact very new to tumblr and just found out about this whole BOOp thingy. It actually got me curious because everyone was talking about it and when I understood, it made me smile so much for a thirsday morning :3
They/them | I'm just a wanna be author and binge every korean/chinese novel I can :D
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