Battling Writer's Block

umm do you have any good gateway books into second wave feminism 😓

So if you want to read some of the defining books of the era I'd say

Sexual Politics, Kate Millett

Ob/Gyn, Mary Daly

Dialectics of Sex, Shulamith Firestone

Intercourse; Right-Wing Women; Woman Hating; Pornography; all four by Andrea Dworkin

Against Our Will, Susan Brownmiller

Ain't I a Woman, bell hooks

Sister Outsider, Audre Lorde

I haven't read it but I've also seen The Female Eunuch by Germaine Greer recommended a lot.

These are all good starts for second-wave feminism imo. upon reading them you'll also find some recommendations to other books as second-wave feminists referenced each other pretty often.

I would also advise reading history books written about the second-wave on the side. For example, Jewish Radical Feminism by Joyce Antler shades some light on Firestone's, Brownmiller's and Dworkin's life and political perspectives that helps put their work in context. Another really good one is Battling Pornography by Carolyn Bronstein, you can read this in a series with Pornography by Andrea Dworkin and Against Our Will by Susan Brownmiller. And then you also have The Trouble Between Us by Winifred Breines, about the tensions between white and black, straight and lesbian, upper and lower class second wave feminists. Also a very interesting read that puts some works in context and still has strong relevance nowadays

"Absolutely no one comes to save us but us."

Ismatu Gwendolyn, "you've been traumatized into hating reading (and it makes you easier to oppress)", from Threadings, on Substack [ID'd]

How to Write a Sick Character

╰ First of all — being sick is boring as hell

Nobody tells you that. You think it’s gonna be poetic and tragic and emotionally moving, maybe a few tears on the windowpane and a soft piano soundtrack? Wrong. It’s pacing in a waiting room for two hours to be told to come back next week. It’s reruns of trash TV because your brain fog is so bad you can't even process a podcast. It's Googling "why do my bones hate me" at 3 a.m. and finding nothing helpful, only vibes. So if you're writing a sick character and every scene is Deep and Heavy and Symbolic, I love you but no. Let them be bored. Let them be over it. Let them fall asleep halfway through someone’s big speech.

╰ Second — sickness is basically a toxic relationship with your own body

And wow, the drama is unmatched. One day your character wakes up and thinks, “Maybe today will be normal.” Their body: “Plot twist, bitch.” Now they’re sweating through a hoodie, canceling plans, and pretending they're “just tired” because explaining the truth is somehow more exhausting than the illness itself. Let your character hate their body sometimes. Let them feel betrayed by it. Let them mourn the version of themselves that used to just do things without needing a three-day nap after. But also—let them fight for their body, too. Advocate. Adapt. Try again. Because it’s not all despair. Sometimes it’s really freaking brave just to get out of bed and put on pants.

╰ Third — it’s not cute

Hollywood loves to write illness like it’s an aesthetic. Clean blankets, sad smiles, a gentle cough. Yeah… no. Sometimes it’s vomit in your hair. It’s medical tape pulling off skin. It’s being too tired to shower but still scrolling through memes like your life depends on it. Give us the gross stuff. The embarrassing stuff. The human stuff.

╰ Fourth — let them be funny

Sick people are hilarious. Mostly because we have to be. You’ve got two choices when your body is a disaster zone: laugh, or fully unravel. So we joke about our failing organs. We flirt with the nurse while on IV fluids. We name our medical devices. We send memes from the ER. Let your character joke. Let them be sharp, sarcastic, absurd. Not because they're “taking it well,” but because that’s their armor. Humor is one of the most honest forms of pain. Use it.

╰ Fifth — sick ≠ broken

Please hear this: your character is not less than. They are not just here to suffer and die and inspire others with their angelic perseverance. They’re a person. Maybe a chaos goblin. Maybe a genius. Maybe a mess. Maybe a lover, a fighter, a giant emotional raccoon with a heating pad. Let them live and have goals. Let them chase things. Let them screw up. Let them be loved and desired and complicated. Their illness is part of them, not all of them.

╰ Lastly — don’t wrap it up too clean

Recovery isn’t linear. Some illnesses don’t “end.” And that’s okay. You don’t need a miracle cure in the third act. Sometimes strength is just learning to exist in a different way. Sometimes it’s re-learning how to hope. Sometimes it’s finding a new rhythm instead of forcing the old one to work. Let your character find peace, not perfection. So yeah—if you’re writing a sick character, you’re doing something important. You’re making space for people whose stories rarely get told with truth and teeth and tenderness. Just promise me you won’t turn them into a symbol. Let them be a person. A funny, scared, strong, exhausted, hopeful person. Like the rest of us.

@katrein05 I Hope This Helps a little... :)

Ursula K. Le Guin on How to Become a Writer.

How do you become a writer? Answer: you write.

It’s amazing how much resentment and disgust and evasion this answer can arouse. Even among writers, believe me. It is one of those Horrible Truths one would rather not face.

The most frequent evasive tactic is for the would-be writer to say, But before I have anything to say, I must get experience.

Well, yes; if you want to be a journalist. But I don’t know anything about journalism, I’m talking about fiction. And of course fiction is made out of experience, your whole life from infancy on, everything you’ve thought and done and seen and read and dreamed. But experience isn’t something you go and get—it’s a gift, and the only prerequisite for receiving it is that you be open to it. A closed soul can have the most immense adventures, go through a civil war or a trip to the moon, and have nothing to show for all that “experience”; whereas the open soul can do wonders with nothing. I invite you to meditate on a pair of sisters. Emily and Charlotte. Their life experience was an isolated vicarage in a small, dreary English village, a couple of bad years at a girls’ school, another year or two in Brussels, which is surely the dullest city in all Europe, and a lot of housework. Out of that seething mass of raw, vital, brutal, gutsy Experience they made two of the greatest novels ever written: Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights.

Now, of course they were writing from experience; writing about what they knew, which is what people always tell you to do; but what was their experience? What was it they knew? Very little about “life.” They knew their own souls, they knew their own minds and hearts; and it was not a knowledge lightly or easily gained. From the time they were seven or eight years old, they wrote, and thought, and learned the landscape of their own being, and how to describe it. They wrote with the imagination, which is the tool of the farmer, the plow you plow your own soul with. They wrote from inside, from as deep inside as they could get by using all their strength and courage and intelligence. And that is where books come from. The novelist writes from inside.

I’m rather sensitive on this point, because I write science fiction, or fantasy, or about imaginary countries, mostly—stuff that, by definition, involves times, places, events that I could not possibly experience in my own life. So when I was young and would submit one of these things about space voyages to Orion or dragons or something, I was told, at extremely regular intervals, “You should try to write about things you know about.” And I would say, But I do; I know about Orion, and dragons, and imaginary countries. Who do you think knows about my own imaginary countries, if I don’t?

But they didn’t listen, because they don’t understand, they have it all backward. They think an artist is like a roll of photographic film, you expose it and develop it and there is a reproduction of Reality in two dimensions. But that’s all wrong, and if any artist tells you, “I am a camera,” or “I am a mirror,” distrust them instantly, they’re fooling you, pulling a fast one. Artists are people who are not at all interested in the facts—only in the truth. You get the facts from outside. The truth you get from inside.

OK, how do you go about getting at that truth? You want to tell the truth. You want to be a writer. So what do you do?

You write.

Honestly, why do people ask that question? Does anybody ever come up to a musician and say, Tell me, tell me—how should I become a tuba player? No! It’s too obvious. If you want to be a tuba player you get a tuba, and some tuba music. And you ask the neighbors to move away or put cotton in their ears. And probably you get a tuba teacher, because there are quite a lot of objective rules and techniques both to written music and to tuba performance. And then you sit down and you play the tuba, every day, every week, every month, year after year, until you are good at playing the tuba; until you can—if you desire—play the truth on the tuba.

It is exactly the same with writing. You sit down and you do it, and you do it, and you do it, until you have learned how to do it.

Of course, there are differences. Writing makes no noise, except groans, and it can be done anywhere, and it is done alone.

It is the experience or premonition of that loneliness, perhaps, that drives a lot of young writers into this search for rules. I envy musicians very much, myself. They get to play together, their art is largely communal; and there are rules to it, an accepted body of axioms and techniques, which can be put into words or at least demonstrated, and so taught. Writing cannot be shared, nor can it be taught as a technique, except on the most superficial level. All a writer’s real learning is done alone, thinking, reading other people’s books, or writing—practicing. A really good writing class or workshop can give us some shadow of what musicians have all the time—the excitement of a group working together, so that each member outdoes himself—but what comes out of that is not a collaboration, a joint accomplishment, like a string quartet or a symphony performance, but a lot of totally separate, isolated works, expressions of individual souls. And therefore there are no rules, except those each individual makes up.

I know. There are lots of rules. You find them in the books about The Craft of Fiction and The Art of the Short Story and so on. I know some of them. One of them says: Never begin a story with dialogue! People won’t read it; here is somebody talking and they don’t know who and so they don’t care, so—Never begin a story with dialogue.

Well, there is a story I know, it begins like this:

“Eh bien, mon prince! so Genoa and Lucca are now no more than private estates of the Bonaparte family!”

It’s not only a dialogue opening, the first four words are in French, and it’s not even a French novel. What a horrible way to begin a book! The title of the book is War and Peace.

There’s another Rule I know: introduce all the main characters early in the book. That sounds perfectly sensible, mostly I suppose it is sensible, but it’s not a rule, or if it is somebody forgot to tell it to Charles Dickens. He didn’t get Sam Weller into The Pickwick Papers for ten chapters—that’s five months, since the book was coming out as a serial in installments.

Now, you can say, All right, so Tolstoy can break the rules, so Dickens can break the rules, but they’re geniuses; rules are made for geniuses to break, but for ordinary, talented, not-yet-professional writers to follow, as guidelines.

And I would accept this, but very very grudgingly, and with so many reservations that it amounts in the end to nonacceptance. Put it this way: if you feel you need rules and want rules, and you find a rule that appeals to you, or that works for you, then follow it. Use it. But if it doesn’t appeal to you or doesn’t work for you, then ignore it; in fact, if you want to and are able to, kick it in the teeth, break it, fold staple mutilate and destroy it.

See, the thing is, as a writer you are free. You are about the freest person that ever was. Your freedom is what you have bought with your solitude, your loneliness. You are in the country where you make up the rules, the laws. You are both dictator and obedient populace. It is a country nobody has ever explored before. It is up to you to make the maps, to build the cities. Nobody else in the world can do it, or ever could do it, or ever will be able to do it again.

Excerpted from THE LANGUAGE OF THE NIGHT by Ursula K. Le Guin. Copyright © 1989 by Ursula K. Le Guin.

I recommend Le Guin's book about writing, Steering the Craft:

Questions to Ask Yourself About Your Character

What is their relationship with their parents?

What is their favorite meal?

How do they identify?

What's their style?

Are they proud of themselves?

Are they patient or impatient?

Do they have siblings, and what's their relationship with them?

What are their standards?

Have they ever been in love?

When was the last time they felt loved?

Have they gotten their heart broken?

Do they know who they are?

What are their preferences?

What do they want?

What are their goals?

What would they do if they failed?

What would they save in a fire?

What's one childhood item they still love?

Questions Your Character Is Too Afraid to Ask

(But desperately needs the answer to) Because these are the thoughts they won’t say out loud, but they shape everything they do.

If I stopped trying, would anyone notice?

Do they actually like me, or do I just make their life easier?

Am I hard to love?

What would they say about me if I left the room?

Would they stay if they saw the real me?

What if I’m only good at pretending to be good?

Was it actually love, or just obligation?

What happens if I fail again? What’s left of me then?

How long until they get tired of me?

What if I deserve the things I’m afraid of?

Am I healing or just hiding better?

Why do I feel more myself when I’m alone?

Do I want to be forgiven or just forget?

What if I never become the person they believe I am?

Am I still angry, or just numb?

Why can’t I let go of them, even after everything?

If they hurt me, and I stayed, did I hurt myself more?

Am I building a future, or just distracting myself from the past?

Is this what I want, or just what I’ve been told to want?

What if I was never meant to survive this, but I did anyway? Now what?

How to Write SIBLING Relationships

If you're looking to write a sibling relationship but don't fully understand how a sibling relationship actually works, this is for you! As someone who has a younger brother, here are some points you'll want to consider when writing siblings!

Oldest, Middle, and Youngest

First, let's talk about the three types of siblings and explore their general roles, expectations, and characterization within a family!

*Oldest*

Starting with the oldest child, oftentimes, the eldest child is expected to act as the most responsible and as the role model. This doesn't mean they will go out of their way to set an example, but typically, no matter their personality and relationship with their younger siblings, they will have an innate sense of duty and protectiveness over their siblings. They want their siblings to enter the right path.

As the role model, the oldest child normally feels the most stress and anxiety, yet they also try not to show it to avoid worry from others. They highly value independence.

*Middle*

I'm sure you've heard of the jokes that the middle child is invisible child, and while those jokes are often exaggerated, the truth isn't terribly far off.

Between the eldest and youngest child, the middle child has a more difficult time standing out, which may lead to more reckless behavior for attention. They are characterized as more free-spirited and might act as a mediator between the youngest and oldest.

They will likely be more responsible and experienced than the youngest but can act similarly to the youngest.

*Youngest*

The youngest child can look like many things. Sometimes, you'll see the youngest is the most spoiled because they're the parents' favorite, and sometimes they're ignored because they have the least experience. Despite that, they have their fair share of pressures and burdens because they are often expected to meet, if not surpass, the achievements of their older siblings.

The General Dynamic

A sibling relationship differs from a typical friendship. They WILL find each other more annoying, but that doesn't mean they can't get along.

Siblings are also more honest and nit-pickier with each other. For example, if a friend changes the radio without asking, the character might not think too much of it. However, if their brother changes the radio without asking, then the character will likely feel irritated and call them out for it.

And when I say honest, I don't mean that they're super honest with each other emotionally, because that's not always the case. When I mean honest, I mean they're rather honest with each other at a surface, verbal level. They hardly hesitate to say their thoughts and can be pushy about them.

They will have an opinion on everything.

Personalities

If you've ever had some friends that have siblings, I'm sure that you're aware sometimes siblings can be similar and sometimes they're total opposites.

However, this doesn't mean that a pair of "opposite" siblings are ying and yang. While they may seem visibly different, such as fashion sense, and whether they're an introvert or extrovert, there are still shared traits that they hold. This is especially true if they're biological siblings and/or raised in the same environment together.

They influence each other, so there's bound to be some similarities in personality or values no matter how distinct each one is.

Love, Even If Unseen

No matter what, siblings love each other. They might not say it, they might not express it, or they might show it in a toxic and unhealthy way, but there's always an underlying sense of familial love. These are the people that your character has (or was supposed to) grown up with, after all.

There's going to be attachment, they will defend each other, even if they claim to hate the other.

Parents

Okay guys, now let's move on to parents and how they might play a part in sibling relationships!

*Comparisons*

Regardless of whether you have a sibling or not, you've likely experienced what it feels like to be compared to someone else. I'm not saying people with siblings have it worse, but they do have a wider range of people to be compared with.

It's not uncommon for parents to compare their children to each other, and it's not uncommon either for a child to compare themselves to their siblings. Sometimes, outsiders and/or distant family members will also compare the siblings, causing feelings of inferiority and envy.

When siblings have a poor relationship, it can sometimes be because of the parents.

*Fighting and Arguments*

Siblings fight and argue a LOT. However, you'd be mistaken if you thought a parent resolves all of these fights.

The truth is, after a certain age is reached, parents won't step in or resolve a fight unless it's right in front of them. They expect their children to be mature enough to solve their issues out, and honestly? They were tired of breaking up conflicts years ago.

Bonus point: yes, siblings can fight often, but the quarrels are usually forgotten pretty quick too. I've had several fights with my brother in which we were back to normal literally a few hours later the spat. Will I remember it for the next year? Absolutely. But do I care anymore? Not really.

Conclusion

This post may not apply to all siblings--everyone has different types of relationships--but here are some good points to start at!

TL;DR: The eldest sibling has the most responsibility, the middle sibling is a blend between the oldest and youngest and often strives for attention, and while the youngest sibling may look like they have it the easiest, they have their pressures too. Sibling relationship does not mimic a friendship, and they will have similar traits despite distinct personalities. They love and care for each other, even if it doesn't look that way. Having siblings sets up for many comparisons between them, and parents won't always resolve sibling spats.

I'll likely release some posts detailing how to write specific sibling relationships, so let me know if you want to see one in particular! Thank you for making it here!

Happy writing~

3hks <3

😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑😑

Write Characters Who Feel Dangerous (Even If They’re "Good")

╰ Make their unpredictability a feature, not a bug

A dangerous character isn’t just the guy with the gun. It’s the one you can’t quite predict. Maybe they’re chaotic-good. Maybe they’re lawful-evil. Maybe they’re smiling while they’re plotting the next five ways to ruin your day. If the reader can’t tell exactly what they’ll do next — congrats, you’ve made them dangerous.

╰ Give them a weapon that's personal

Anyone can have a sword. Yawn. Give your character a weapon that says something about them. A violin bow turned garrote. A candy tin full of arsenic. Their own charisma as a leash. The weapon isn’t just what they fight with, it’s how they are.

╰ Let them choose not to strike and make that scarier

Sometimes not acting is the biggest flex. A truly dangerous character doesn’t need to explode to be terrifying. They can sit back, cross their legs, sip their coffee, and say, “Not yet.” Instant chills.

╰ Layer their menace with something else, humor, kindness, sadness

One-note villains (or heroes!) are boring. A dangerous character should make you like them right up until you realize you shouldn’t have. Let them charm. Let them save the kitten. Let them do something that makes the eventual threat feel like betrayal.

╰ Show how other characters react to them

If every character treats them like a nuclear bomb in the room, your reader will, too. Even if your dangerous character is polite and quiet, the dog that won’t go near them or the boss who flinches when they smile will sell the danger harder than a blood-soaked axe.

╰ Make their danger internal as well as external

It’s not just what they can do to others. It’s what they’re fighting inside themselves. The anger. The boredom. The itch for chaos. Make them a little bit scary even to themselves, and suddenly they’re alive in ways pure external "baddies" never are.

╰ Don't make them immune to consequences

Even the most dangerous characters should get hit—physically, emotionally, socially. Otherwise, they turn into invincible cartoons. Let them lose sometimes. Let them bleed. It’ll make every moment they win feel twice as earned (and twice as scary).

╰ Tie their danger to what they love

Real threats aren't powered by anger; they're powered by love. Protectiveness can be feral. Loyalty can turn into violence. A character who's dangerous because they care about something? That's a nuclear reactor in a leather jacket.

╰ Remember: danger is a vibe, not a body count

Your character doesn’t have to kill anyone to be dangerous. Sometimes just a glance. A whispered rumor. A quiet, calculated decision to leave you alive — for now. Dangerous characters control the room without ever raising their voice.