farewell, good hunter
There are. Over 100 responses. 113 as of the last time I checked. That is. An unfathomable amount of people who want to take part, and it is truly humbling. Truly, thank you so fucking much. I want to make sure I don’t burn out/get discouraged by how quickly I get through each and every one of your interviews, so I am taking a preventative measure and closing the form for the time being.
Thank you again very much for your excitement and your contributions! I am working as hard and fast as I can between my full-time job and my own writing to get these posted. I appreciate your patience in this endeavor.
Thank you again so very, very much!!
y’all love the morally gray, snarky, grief stricken characters until it’s a woman. i’ve seen so much discourse regarding female characters who display the exact same character traits as male leads and are criticized for it while the men are praised. let women be cruel and vindictive. let them deal with their grief and trauma in destructive ways. let them be real. give them the same treatment you would give to your favorite male love interest.
He wasn't prone to getting sick, but the chilled wind from the sea carried something else with it. The cough sunk into his lungs and didn't leave for days. A bad cough, too. Bad enough that now Wes leaned over, one hand pressing against a cold brick wall, the other over his mouth.
No money for a doctor. He hadn't gotten paid yet.
He took a breath of the stinking alleyway, and the cough blasted through him again. He dug his fingers into the wall, nails scraping the uneven surface and the cold sunk in between them and his inner skin.
So cold.
The cough burned his throat. His legs shook. Head spun. If he didn't stop coughing, he might pass out.
Everything burned so cold.
Wes drew in a ragged, desperate breath, and the coughing that came next knocked him to his knees. Knocked something loose inside him. Something spattered onto his hand, thicker than mucus, colder than the wind. He drew his hand away from his mouth, and in the growing darkness of dusk, the black and gold gunk dripped between his fingers onto the pavement.
Doctor wouldn't have helped anyway, Wes thought, and let the darkness drag him down.
My previous WIPs are on hiatus - I'll likely pull em out again someday but for now, we're working on a bit of a fantasy/possible romance.
Wolf's Bane - Magic is a curse and if you're unlucky enough to find yourself a victim, well, wishing won't help.
A YA fantasy/romance heavily inspired by The Witcher series and D&D halflings, feel free to @ me or anything to be added to the taglist. Updates are not guaranteed on a schedule but will try to throw out world building & character development posts too.
I'll say it here rather than burying it in various tags again:
Always remember that the people hoarding the money can make the strike stop at any time.
And they, the studios and streaming services, want you to forget that their profit hoarding is the problem. They're the reason this is happening, not the writers and actors.
You can't see that movie you wanted because a studio is clutching a fistful of nickels. They can afford to pay writers and actors--large collectives of not-famous workers--something even a little bit closer to fairly. But they are determined not to, with the cruelest resolve. An unnamed executive said, and I quote exactly this time, "The endgame is to allow things to drag on until [writers'] union members start losing their apartments and losing their houses."
Get mad that you won't get your movies and shows.
Get mad at the right people.
Narratives where it's the love that dooms them, love not as a positive force but a force to be reckoned with, when at the moment the hero could have chosen to save the world but they chose to save the one they love instead and now it's too late, love that is so strong that you can't let it go even if letting if go is the right thing to do
sometimes I think the entire point of writing – of heartfelt, nuanced, fucking true writing – is that it allows the audience to point to a piece of art and say “that. that is how I felt. all those complex, jumbled, overlapping, contradictory emotions. that is how I felt to live it.”
the point of writing is to distill human emotion into something we can identify with, to use thousands of words (or 28 pages for one real-time scene that grabs you and doesn’t let go) to illustrate what a single-syllable word like ‘grief’ can never fully explain. and when it is done well, it is the single most human thing that humans ever can or ever will accomplish.
INTERVIEW WITH A WRITEBLR - A Writeblr Event
(I stole the name for this from @brieflyinfatuated because I saw it and was instantly in love. Anyway)
After quite the overwhelming response from people, I have decided I will start posting interviews with writeblrs. The decision came while I was deliberating how to celebrate my latest follower milestone.
HOW IT WORKS:
As I get responses, I will make posts with the information I've gathered. The "interview" is broken up into sections, going over the writer as a person, what they write, and their thoughts on the writeblr community as a whole. Due to the volume of responses and general interest, I have elected to do it this way for the sake of consistency and also to make this easier on myself.
This will be a long-term activity unlike my last milestone celebration. I aim to post one interview a day until I run out of interviews to post, and will be routinely checking the form for responses. Additionally, I have added a page to my site which will serve as a "hub" for all the interviews conducted--though, tracking the #iwaw tag should serve just as well.
HOW TO BE INVOLVED:
Go to this form and answer as much or as little as you want. You don't have to worry about following me--this is an event for all of writeblr, after all! This is my attempt to give back to the larger community.
Also,,, share this post! I'm going to be doing this for a very long time, so the more the merrier!