Dec. 29th, 2017

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y’all i bought myself a lil giftie in a liquor store here incredibly apropos for my recent whining

lololol actually it’s pretty good

it was like $52 but i bet in a cheaper market it’d be uh, cheaper. 
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ffs i’m struggling through this Lost Kings chapter update because it’s Shara-POV and I thought she’d be all excited to start pilot training for the Rebellion but of course she’s just had to leave behind her tiny tiny baby so she’s alternating being incredibly good at everything through sheer power of irritation, obliterating people out of the power of her Done With Everythingness, and crying in the bathroom while nobody’s looking. This is really not how I saw this chapter going but she’s just literally ended like three dudes’ lives without particularly noticing and she keeps crying herself to sleep.

“Orato tried to break your record and didn’t make it,” Tanara said gleefully from her perch on her bunk.

“Oh, didn’t he,” Shara said, a little surprised. She shed her shoes and jacket, grabbed her shower shoes and towel, and went down the hallway to the refresher. Fortunately, no one was there. She was tired, she was so tired. 

She came back in and Tanara was in bed now, but still reading something off a datapad. “Apparently he’s super mad about it,” Tanara said.

“Who,” Shara said.

“Orato,” Tanara said patiently.

“Why would he be mad?” Shara asked. “Either he can beat me or he can’t, I don’t see how that’s on anybody but himself. It’s not even my business, really.”

“I mean, you have a rivalry now,” Tanara said.

“It’s not a rivalry,” Shara said. “I’m just good.”
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lookninjas:

multsicorn:

writer-ace:

I think one of the biggest issues I have with how anxiety tends to be portrayed/written is that it’s often presented as an all-or-nothing thing, where a person is fine until they’re mid-panic attack. I can’t speak for everyone with an anxiety disorder, but at least for me, my anxiety is this low-level thing that’s always there going what if you fall down the stairs what if you drop your keys down the gap between the elevator and the floor what if you fail what if you embarrass yourself what if you fall what if you get hurt what if you what if what if what if, and then sometimes it gets worse. Sometimes I’m anxious for literally no reason, sometimes nothing happens and I still feel like I’m going to shake my way out of my skin. And sometimes I’m anticipating something and it’s just this overlying pressure across my back, pressing on me. Sometimes my anxiety keeps me from doing things without giving me the hyperventilating-crying-shaking anxiety attack that people tend to write in stories. And I shape my behavior around my anxiety. I hold my keys a certain way to make absolutely certain they can’t fall, and I always try to hold on to the railing when taking the stairs, and I avoid certain things that I know make me anxious.

My point is that, if you’re writing a character with anxiety, don’t just write a neurotypical character who gets anxiety attacks. Write a character with anxiety.

The strangest funniest thing is how I know - or I’d think I ought to know! - exactly what it’s like. Cause I live it. But that still doesn’t translate to writing, which copies from other writing far more easily than it does from life.

Whyyy.

This is something I’ve noticed too – the first impulse is always to write something that feels like a story, and I have to hold my feet to the fire for a lot of drafts before I can manage something that feels more like honesty.  It’s an interesting object lesson in how the sheer omnipresence of specific tropes and specific fictional patterns and the idea of this is how a story works can insinuate itself even when you damn well should know better.  That feeling of – well, if everyone else’s stories work like this, then mine should too – is so hard to break.

Which is why we need to write stories that break the mold, even if it’s hard.  But goddamn it’s hard.  Holy fucking shit is it hard.
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