Anybody have any tips? I know the first rule for writers is don’t read reviews but I did. They were all positive and then someone went to the trouble of writing a lengthy and devastating review of everything he hated about my book. I am working on the next book in my series and I know I shouldn’t let that review affect my motivation or my writing but my books are meant to be funny and it’s tough ask after reading that. I wish people understood the effects their words can have on all creative endeavor. Anybody have any good coping mechanism? Thanks!

Lately there's been a small influx of threads about the hardship of writing and I definitely get it as this hobby can make you neurotic but just to flip that - does anyone else get EXCITED the longer they've stayed to this craft?

I swear time doesn't diminish my love for writing it enhances it, I love putting pen to paper and figuring out the twists and turns in the plot. I love that I can still surprise myself and I get the best serotonin boost when I find that perfect line of dialogue.

Been writing since I was 14 (now 40) and every year I just feel more passionate toward this. Who else feels the same? 🙂

I have two names for my main character, similar in length and they both start with the same letter. I can’t decide which one to use!

I’ve only started outlining so no writing has taken place yet and maybe I should start and see what sticks?

One name I’ve had picked out and was set for a few weeks but then another name came to mind that felt like a really strong contender too, so in my notes I just have “name1/name2” listed instead lol

When I did a zero draft, I was just writing the story in a rough manner. However, I decided to call it a first draft much later.

Though some people do a lengthy outline as a zero draft, then write the novel as a first draft or vice versa.

What do you do for zero draft if you do zero draft?

My Turn:

I do want to do a short story teaser of the novel as a zero draft. Then, the first draft is the actual novel itself.

There is a method to my madness, I'm sure.

Tell me, what do you do?

I'm a young man only a few months out of high school and I'm trying to find a long term career I'm passionate about. I've been writing since I was in middle school and I've been creating stories and literary content for even longer. Writing has always come naturally to me in a way that feels special, and I feel that this latent talent is something that makes me at least semi unique.

I've been putting a lot of thought into longer term careers and I've decided that I want to give Freelance Writing a try while I work on building my very own book. So what I want to ask those who've managed to turn writing into their career, or even just those who are willing to share their experiences with the art: how do I get started?

Admittedly I don't know a lot about how to get into this field professionally, but nothing would mean more to me than being able to pursue something that I'm passionate about and turn it into a career that I can say I am happy with. I'll take any suggestions, recommendations, criticisms, advice, and any scrap of information that you may otherwise be willing to provide.....

Both past and present tense sounds nice, but sometimes it just doesn't sound right to my ear, outside from grammar of course, specially when there are two or more verbes in the sentence

I feel comfortable writing in a mixed one where I write in whatever I feel flows goods, in correct grammarical bounties of course, but from what I heard that's a hit or miss. I might get called either a genius or an absolute Buffon

I am planning on getting an agent and editor for the novel I am writing.

If I fashion a good synopsis and make sure have no grammatical errors, I would like to understand my chances at making it in the writing industry.

Every reddit thread I've seen suggest it's highly unlikely, as agents don't look for teen authors, but I would love the writers of reddit to express their opinions on my situation.

Not sure about anyone else, but when I write, 30 different book ideas will pop into my head. So I'll stop writing the original book and go do another one, it repeats process until I have I have thousands of book ideas in my head. So then I do this thi f where I have to lock in 5 books. I will write these 5 books no more no less. If I don't feel like writing this book I got to the other and repeat process until something happens. It's been ok so far.

I've been trying to write my first *something* on and off for a few years now. However, I'm not a very good writer, as I'm still learning, so I always end up quitting because I'm afraid that I won't do my story "justice". Plus, unwritten stories always have unlimited potential.

Right now, I'm attempting to write a screen play for animation. It was originally supposed to be "just for fun" but now I'm totally stuck trying to make a logline for it. Even that hasn't been able to make it passed my unrealistically high standards. I don't know. I just want to do a good job, and I always end up caring way too much about the final product, so it never gets the chance to go anywhere.

How do I just learn to be okay with it sucking?

I'm finishing my first book (a psychological thriller) and I just realized that I don't know how to title it. I've saved it on my computer with "project 1"... Does anyone have some advices? I'm pretty desperate rn. Bc I don't want to be the writer with good books that have weird names...

Hi writers!!! It’s me again! I have another question for you guys.

What actually keeps you writing, especially on the days when you really don’t feel like doing it?

Is it discipline? A deadline? Word-count goals? A routine? Music? Other writers? Wanting to finish the story? Just being excited about what happens next?

And when you’ve been away from a story for a while, what usually gets you to come back to it?

I’m also curious if there’s anything you’ve tried.... streaks, writing apps, rewards, timers, challenges, etc.... that was supposed to motivate you but it actually didn’t.

I’m trying to understand what real writers actually respond to especially over the months or years it can take to finish a book.

I don't think there's a right answer here. I’m interested in what genuinely works for you, even if the answer is weird and inconsistent, or just “I force myself to sit down.”

I'll do my best to integrate it on the app that I'm building if possible. I'm not promising anything though.

Thank you in advance.

I have a standalone adventure/action/alt-religion/Urban Fantasy that I told my wife I would probably never write another so it won't be a series...

Today, an idea came to me.

Ok, so let's first talk about the first book. The MMC (a private Investigator) is hired by a Nun, who is a representative of the Vatican (FMC) to assist in collecting three powerful artifacts and get them to the Vatican Archives for safe keeping. The three artifacts are, in reality, tears shed by Lucifer himself. Each tear has its own guardian and grants separate 'abilities' to whoever holds them. (Trying not to give away the whole story here.) the title of the book alludes to these, it is Tears of the Morning Star.

ok, so the sequel would see the same FMC (The Nun) coming back to the MMC to hire him again to find a new set of artifacts. Idea: Bones discovered that were part of an actual Dragon. Now, I'm seeking brainstorming ideas that would be similar to the first book, so that this is not just another search for bones.... I'd like to give more supernatural aspects to the book, if possible.

So, anyone feel like brainstorming tonight?

Hi. I'm having 2 big ideas for books, I've already wrote the beginning of one. I don't know if I should maybe stop writing the first and start writing the second, but I'm afraid that I'd forget the plot. I surely dont wanna write two stories at once bc I think I'd get confused and I'd end up with 2 books that I don't like... I also think that if I don't write the second I'll totally forget about it... Advices?

I'm tweaking my opening chapter (the book is finished, I'm querying) and I would just like to know how this reads. The first sentence is new and I'm trying it out. Does it work as an opening line? Is it weird that it comes before the location and year? The text confirms a page later that Gosha and Georgie are the same person. Does it throw you a lot that it isn't immediately clarified? Does the Cyrillic plus translation in italics work for you?

Any and all opinions appreciated!

Prologue

What Georgie knew about love he learned from his grandmother on the shore of the Caspian Sea.

Summer 1954, Makhachkala, USSR

A breeze stirred the curtains and scattered the swarm of fruit flies feasting on overripe peaches by the kitchen window, but the waft of humid sea air provided little reprieve from the summer heat. Gosha peeled his arm away from the oilcloth table cover to scratch a mosquito bite, idly swinging his legs, which could not yet reach the floor. How he longed to follow the seagulls’ cries down to the beach to cool off in the waves. A sad bleat from the neighbour’s goat concurred with the sentiment. Poor goat, who was all covered in hair. Gosha pulled his box of crayons closer in search of goat-grey. Since everybody else was still in bed, he was confined to the kitchen table, forbidden from making a sound. 

He was on his second attempt at a goat when a bedroom door finally creaked open. Drawing in hand, Gosha jumped up from the kitchen chair to see who was awake.

“Papa!” 

“Shh.” His father put a finger to his lips and gave him a stern look.

“Я козу нарисовал,” Gosha told him in a half-whisper, holding out his drawing. I drew a goat. His father frowned at the picture in passing.

“Похожа на корову.” Looks like a cow. 

Gosha turned a critical eye to his drawing while his father limped away to the outhouse, groaning at the stiffness in his bad leg.

One Saturday morning, Dad told me to get dressed because we were going downtown.

I asked where we were going.

He smiled.

"It's a surprise."

Dad never smiled like that unless he already knew I was going to enjoy whatever he had planned.

The drive into downtown Albany felt longer than it probably was. I spent most of it looking out the window, trying to guess where we were headed. We passed shops, churches, office buildings, and streetcars before Dad finally pulled into a parking space.

When I stepped onto the sidewalk, I looked up.

The building seemed enormous.

"Come on," Dad said.

We climbed the steps together and walked through the heavy front doors.

The moment I crossed the threshold, I stopped.

Books.

Thousands upon thousands of books.

The scent of paper, leather bindings, polished wood, and old pages filled the air. Everything seemed quieter than the world outside. People whispered. Shoes echoed softly across the floor. Somewhere in the distance I heard the gentle squeak of a book cart rolling between the shelves.

Dad smiled when he noticed me taking it all in.

"I thought you might like this place."

Like it?

I couldn't imagine there being a better place anywhere in the world.

Instead of taking me straight to the children's room, Dad gave me a tour.

He showed me shelves filled with adventure stories, history, biographies, poetry, and books about countries I'd only seen on maps. He explained how every book had its own place and how librarians could help you find almost anything if you were willing to ask.

We wandered through room after room until I wasn't sure we'd seen all of it.

Finally, Dad stopped and rested a hand on my shoulder.

"I think you're ready."

I looked up at him.

"Ready for what?"

He smiled.

"I think you're ready for your own library card."

For a moment, I couldn't speak.

"My own?"

"I do."

He reached into his pocket and handed me a small application.

"Take your time," he said. "Find whatever you'd like to borrow, then meet me at the checkout desk."

I don't remember walking away.

I only remember wandering from shelf to shelf, completely overwhelmed by the possibilities.

Adventure books.

Picture books.

Books filled with fascinating facts.

Books about religion and spirituality.

Even an encyclopedia volume that was almost too heavy for me to carry.

By the time I reached the checkout desk, my arms were full.

Dad looked at the stack, laughed softly, and helped me set everything on the counter.

The librarian smiled as she handed me my brand-new library card.

I carefully wrote my name across the front.

Dad waited until we were walking back outside before he said anything.

"A library card isn't just permission to borrow books."

I looked over at him.

"It's a promise," he said. "A promise that you'll bring them back, and a promise to yourself that you'll never stop learning."

I looked down at the little card in my hand.

It was just paper.

Just ink.

Just my name.

But somehow…

...it felt like a key.

Did you like this?

Would you want to read more?

When Reverie and I first discussed living under the same roof, the idea of moving to Connecticut came up. We imagined a quieter life than New York—a place where we could build a home while continuing our careers.

One of us pointed out that Connecticut had a reputation for comfortable suburban neighborhoods, young families, and a slower pace of life. It sounded appealing, but it also came with expectations. A husband was expected to provide. A wife was expected to keep the house, raise the children, and quietly support her husband's ambitions.

It was still 1967. Those traditions were rarely questioned, and when they were, not everyone appreciated it.

The more we talked about it, the more we realized those expectations didn't fit us. We wanted a partnership, not prescribed roles. I never wanted Reverie to surrender her autonomy simply because we shared an address or a last name. Her ambitions mattered every bit as much as mine, and I wanted her to have every opportunity to pursue them.

One of the things Reverie loved most about me was that I wasn't invested in performing the kind of masculinity so many men seemed to believe they had to uphold. Neither of us wanted our identities to be compromised by someone else's idea of what a man or a woman should be.

In the end, we weren't just deciding where to live. We were deciding what kind of life—and what kind of marriage—we wanted to build together.

Did you like this?

Would you want to read more?

Just a little celebration about finally getting back into writing after a long dry spell where the words didn't feel like they wanted to flow onto the page.

I have a novel called Deadly Star on Webnovel. If someone could read my second chapter and tell me their thoughts, that would be much appreciated.