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Title - The Gun And The Badge Genre - Western

Story: In the Summer of 1875, especially in the midwest, it was virtually impossible to never have heard the name: Angel Ramos aka ‘El Toro’. The Mexican immigrant robbed as many as 10 banks in a year. He was wanted 'Dead Or Alive’, but the government had never been able to catch him, no matter where he went. For now, however, he was lying low on a ranch over in the Northern part of Texas. That man was spectacular, it was rumored that he once shot an apple off some son of a bitch’s head from 30 yards away… with his revolver. It seemed like Angel had been blessed with luck. However, that luck finally came to an end when U.S. marshall Buck Carson finally bested him.

Carson was a different animal in his own right, his use of a gun was second to none, even Angel. He had brought down many notorious outlaws over the years, his name was revered throughout the frontier. It had almost been an honor from Uncle Sam himself to have that man on your tail.

Carson had been pursuing Angel for some time before finally tracking him to a ranch, near the abandoned town of Cedar Hollow.

At last Angel's day had come, he was working in the fields when Carson surprised him, Angel reacted just in time to avoid a lethal hit, but the bullet got him right in his abdomen. He managed to get away from Carson, before speeding off on one of the horses from a nearby stable. Angel dashed into town, mortar craters, gunshot holes, debris, and cracked buildings made up the street. Carson was right on his trail but was a bit behind him. When he turned the corner to go down Cedar Hollow's main road, Carson saw Angel's horse outside of a saloon, unhitched, and dirt shoe prints on the porch, going in.

Carson got down from his horse, drew his revolver, and cautiously walked up the porch. He pinned his back to the wall, just outside the doors and peeked into the saloon. He was very surprised to see Angel, sitting at a table, clutching his side while calmly looking out a window to his right, up into the sky. Angel's belt, holsters attached to it, with his notorious gold-plated guns: ‘Wrath & Fury’ were on the floor to his left near the main entrance. Carson, aiming down the sight of his revolver, walked through the doors, into the saloon.

Carson bent down to pick up the belt, whilst his eyes and gun were still trained on Angel. He moved on to the table that Angel was sitting at, and sat down with him. His revolver never left the sight of Angel.

“I can at least respect the fact you've made this easier for both of us,” Carson said.

“I had a pretty good run.” Angel replied

“Yes, yes you did” Carson responded. “I'll tell you this, Mr Ramos, I'll fill the chamber with all but one bullet. Leave it up to fate whether or not you step out of here alive.”

“No.” Angel snaps back.

“Why not.” Carson replies.

“I leave nothing up to fate or luck. If I die I die” Angel says.

Chuckling, Carson says. “Maybe there is some honor left in outlaws these days”

A beat.

With vigor, Angel says, “They called me El Toro”. Angel smirks and looks at Carson. “Do you want to know why they call me that?”

Not really that intrigued, Carson replies, “I guess I've got some time now”.

Continuing, Angel says, “El Toro means The Bull, and bulls are strong and ruthless by nature”

“And look at where we are now,” Carson says back.

Looking back into the window, “Yes, look at where we are now” Angel said.

Out of curiosity, Carson asks, “Now that we're here, was it… worth it? I mean why, for all of this, just to be here. I knew you must've known that this day was coming”

“You make it sound as if it is a choice.” Looking back at Carson. “Guys like me, this is how we survive, out on the run, taking down anything that gets in our way. It's all we know… no one is coming to save us” Angel said.

“It's a funny world we live in I guess” Carson replies.

“Yes,” Angel said, before going on, “Humans… were animals at heart, you cannot blame us for our nature. If you saw a Hyena eating a wildebeest, you would not imprison the Hyena, would you?”.

“We're not just animals anymore… were smart animals, we have… society, customs, order and we can't lose it, unfortunately, some have to bite the bullet to show that to others”

Smirking, “you said it,” Angel says, before continuing. “Do you believe in a heaven and hell, Mr Carson?”

“Not particularly” Carson replied.

“They say guys like me are going to hell… but it all becomes clearer to me at this moment. This was my punishment… And you, what about you? Where would you be going if the idea of a heaven or hell were true?” Angel asked.

“Well, I haven't given it much thought if I'm being honest. But if I had to guess, It'd be heaven”.

“And why is that, Mr Carson?” Angel replied.

“I fight for the greater good. That has to mean something to the man above, if he's there of course ” Carson said.

Angel snaps back, “I tell myself the same thing, Mr Carson. We're two sides of the same coin, the only difference being we justify the bad things that we do differently, but in the end, the fact of the matter is… we're both killers, on a quest for survival.”

“Maybe you're right Mr Ramos,” Carson says, Getting up from the table, “but I'm afraid our time is up now”

Carson, standing over Angel, who looking up at him, aims the revolver at his head.

Smirking. “In the next life Mr. Carson,” Angel said.

And with one pull of the trigger and a loud bang, Angel Ramos aka “El Toro” was dead.

The End.

...when I'm long since not a child, and have never really been into team sports.

Specifically, I think it's more teenagers, and the scene is that during a break, first one boy invites others to play, they split into teams, then discover that they have an uneven number of players and try to figure out how to even the teams out, then accept when a stranger asks to join.

As I attempt writing it I feel like the "Hello, fellow kids" meme. Usually in cases like this I turn to Youtube for inspiration, because it has videos of everything, but this time it's proving quite unhelpful.

Any advice?

If you have romance, of any type, in your writing, how do you choose which type? Is it based off of why you like or what you think the readers will like? I’m asking, both for advice and out of curiosity.

I admit I stick with what I’m good with, when I challenge myself, my confidence isn’t as good, but I am trying to improve that. I usually write best friends to lovers and tragic love. I dabble in forbidden love, love at first sight, and fake love. I avoid enemies to loves. Anything else, I have either tried or haven’t heard of. I’m still practicing these types of dynamics so I’m trying to be patient with myself.

Hi fellow writers and aspiring writers. I (40m) have always wanted to write short sci fi style, mainly dark, short stories.

I have been wanting to do this since I was 7 but my parents had other plans for me and after 18, bills, student loans, rent, car payments were the only reason for my existence up until last year since I found great work/life balance.

To have the right tools to assist me in this very important chapter of my life I have invested in a new M3 max 16” inch 1 tb MacBook Pro as well as a paid subscription to ChatOn Ai.

I’m not doing this to make any money, fame or clout.

Even if no one ever reads any of my work and it ends up costing me money as a hobby just like cars, motorcycles or golf clubs it’s very important to me that I write it the best I possibly can as if my life depended on it.

The people whose work inspire me the most are Isaac Asimov, Christopher Nolan, Charlie Brooker, M Night Shylaman, Edward Neumeier, James Cameron and many others I am not remembering who helped me become the person I am today.

Thank you for any feedback and have an amazing Sunday. 🙏

So in my story that I’m writing, the main character is in a remote village in the early 1900s. It’s a small town but very important town to a rich person in New York.

The main character is sending messages back and forth to this person. During this time, telegraphs are obviously a thing so making the communication is not an issue.

However, My problem is that I don’t want the messages to be received by the bigwig in NY. So I either need a reason why the village’s telegraph system would be down OR (preferably) the telegraph operator in the village would be sending the wrong message or keeping the message from being sent without the main character knowing.

I’m sorry if what I’m trying to say doesn’t make sense, but any help with this would be appreciated, I’m pretty ignorant about the subject and can’t find a surefire answer through google anywhere as of yet.

Just curious about where other people stand on this. For me personally, I know I have multiple books that have characters with the same first names as in my other books. :)

It's short - I promise.

I’m wiping up blood when they walk in, pushing the door open harder than they need to so it swings wide and the bells up top clang wildly. I shake my head, and huff a little, but finish what I’m doing before I look up. Quick spritz of wound wash, spread on a glob of petroleum jelly, and tape it all under the nice, clear protective wrap. “Alright, you’re good.” I say, smacking his shoulder, “sit up slow, though.” He is new to my kind of work. Big dude, long hair that has plenty of gray, lots of old ink, a real rough type. He’s one of Odin’s friends, which tells me most of what I would need to know. He’s not coming back, I know, because there’s no need to, and because no one is willing to pay the cost twice. I get it. I wouldn’t either.

I doff my gloves, wash my hands, and dry them extra thoroughly, because they are shifting around impatiently and I’m not about peer pressure. I head over to the cash register, prop my elbows on the counter, and rest my chin in my hands, smiling.  “What can I do for ya?”

The two of them stand there watching me the way you watch the dogs in a junkyard while you’re looking for the parts you need. One of them is dressed in jeans, work boots, and a blazer. The other one is older, and dressed normal, but has the big badge with the ringed pentagram on it that marks them both as Supernatural Enforcement Agents. Great. Just what I need. Still, I keep the smile up, More flies with honey and that.

“I am SEA agent Joseph Keaton, this is my associate, David Parker.” The older one taps his badge with two fingers. “We have a few questions for you about Emily Cohl.”

So I’ve had the most nuts life. Twists, turns and lots of struggles. Anyone whom I’ve told about my life so far always says “dude you need to write a book”. The more I think about it, it’s true. That said, I can’t write and I know nothing about it.

Wondering how one goes about hiring a writer? How much does a writer cost? How would I view their portfolio as such to know if they’re the right fit?

Thanks for any help.

The question I have is pretty simple, how do you come up with nicknames for your characters?

I feel like when I'm using nickname generaters or am simply googling, the nicknames they come up with is far too basic, in some cases that can work, but I don't feel like they fit as nicknames that the love intrest would use for the main character.

How do you fcome up with the perfect nicknames?

All answers are appriciated

For my exams, I have to write an narrative writing between 350-450 words and I would always write over the limit. If I wrote over the limit, the teacher will read and mark until where he estimate 450 words and the rest of the story will be ignored which won't make sense since he's not reading the full story. If I don't write over the limit, the story would feel incomplete and feel weird. Any advice on how I can fix this would be appreciated 💕

(We have 2 hours to finish the paper and we have 2 section. Section 1 is directed writing where they already give us the points. We just need to write it in a essay form, paraphrase it and give our opinion. Section 2 is an essay writing where you can choose between 4 topics to write about (2 narrative and 2 descriptive). I've never written descriptive before and I don't remember how to)

Here's the story I have written : https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1zXF0YhAkYQ78pK2rANuQYgk52gz9XADm

Savannah David was the most beautiful girl from a small town called Hawaiian Gardens in Los Angeles. She was loved by everyone because of her courtesy and benevolent heart. She was the most outgoing person ever and took part in everything except reality, because who would ever like to live in a place that would eat you up alive.

Heyyyyy dad!!!! says savannah and hugs her father's waist and David, her father holds her and gently caresses the girl's head looking down at her with a soft smile. It’s the most safest and the happiest place she'll crave to be in. She's just four years old and loves to dance, sing, laugh as loud as possible , giggle at every little thing and make baby faces when her parents said "NO" to the chocolates she pointed her lil fingers to. Time kept passing by and summers are the ones which made her heart bounce on cloud nine. It’s her 17th birthday and she was standing In front of a cake that wasn't sweet enough to change the bitterness taste of her life. "That's nothing honey it will all be right, it’s just your age that's making you feel this way said her mother, Sophia. Maybe you need to focus more on your studies then the outside world said her father, David. Her parents walk out of the door and shuts the door behind her while savannah calls her mother sobbing uncontrollably until her throat is scratched and dry, her voice is reduced to a pathetic rasp, and all she tastes is the blood she regrets Sophia giving her. She walks out of the bedroom the next morning with sunken eyes but her parents are too busy laughing at the TV and said "Heyyy love , hope you slept well , have some good food and make sure not to skip any of your classes" Her mind screamed "Were my eyes not sunken enough for them to not notice or was it just them being not noticing any change" and her mouth said "oh well, thanks" Her soul forced and dragged her body out of that place so that the pain in her heart could reveal itself through her eyes. Savannah decides to attend classes after locking herself up for weeks. She gets ready to step out and takes a walk to the university. Every step she takes makes her feel like she's sinking into the ground, the branches of the trees held sharp knifes and the air her lungs welcomed made her feel sick to death, her heart felt so heavy that she wished if death would ever find her it would better find her alive. Savannah slowly opened her eyes and heard a man blare "hey she's up" to a group of people. She tried to look up at him with her blurry view and finally could see him. Its jasper, the one whom she always shared her lame jokes, scribbled notes, ugly laughter and he was the one who returned it all with cute giggles. He ignores the people and picked her up in his arms and slowly started walking towards her house street, while she was wondering why is he carrying her when she could walk next to him until she realized that she had collapsed on the street due to panic attack. Her smile turned into a cottoncandy that touches the water, her feelings and emotions washed off like watercolors and that's what they always did. Jasper pressed the door bell and when savannah's mom opens the door and stands astounded looks at an unknown man holding her daughter in his arms like it's the most precious thing he has ever held. He carries her in and slowly places her on the couch and looks at savannah and says I never thought I would home deliver a human, also its a doorstep delivery. Even though it was a serious situation, he made sure savannah's parents would not be even more tensed. Jasper said "it might just be dehydration, and held out the water bottle and told me to drink up more for few days" and looked at Sophia and said nothing to worry about her, she's fine and walks out of the door. Sophia looks at savannah and says "what was even that serious that you let a man carry you home?" savannah kept staring at her not knowing what to answer because she herself doesn't remember what just happened. "Leave me alone for sometime and I’ll talk to you about it mom" and gets up and walks into her room. Her room never had light even though it had a bulb, it looked so empty that even a lonely soul wouldn’t like to enter it". Savannah lied on her bed and fell asleep and the time when she woke up was next morning. She could see jasper right In front of her and laughed thinking if she was hallucinating, but then he looked in her eyes and said "You forgot to pay back" and smirked. Savannah got up and sat back and was too stunned to speak in this situation. "How did you get in here?" she whispered. Her voice was so low that he asked her to repeat more than twice where she forgot only she can here herself. Jasper sat next to her and said "None of the world's funniest jokes makes me laugh like your lame ones does and I don't even understand cursive Handwrittings execpt your scribbles, when can we both get yelled by the lecturers and bunk the class?" and giggled. Savannah looked at his eyes like it was the sea and "This is how people drown" she thought. She smiles at him and says nothing because she thought he did not suffer enough to suit her. After a while jasper looks at her and said "There is something wrong with you, there is something wrong with you that is also wrong with me too" Savannah was all ears all of a sudden she started crying, she was not crying because she was sad, she was crying because she had nowhere else to go, no choice but to go on living in this world and had no other world to choose and crying at everything before her and around her. Words from her lips slowly started slipping out like pearls "There is a lump in my throat, the size of a cherry pit and I haven't been able to swallow it since I was thirteen. I remember my childhood like a play where my role was always stand in the back. Nobody put me there, I just ended up existing behind all the lights and loudness. There was a heaviness to be good. To hold my breath because I would knock the house down if I wasn't careful. A bird flew into our window when I was 10 and I split open its stomach. I asked my grandma if we could nurse it back to health and she told me love was going to be the thing that would kill me. She was right, I would hold onto love until my arms were torn from my chest and then I wouldn't reach for it again until years later. I have a family and I love them but, they are terrible, they all are terrible. Oh! how I would pray to get sick so my mother would take care of me. And how I sobbed so that my father would walk into the room with some chocolates and new toys. My parents never hated me, they didn't even know they hated me and yet I was hated. And I carried that hate with me through life with more pride than it perhaps deserved. "A bruise of honour". I was a lovable child, and I’m growing up into a deeply unlovable adult. How did I grow old so young? How did I forget to live before I lived at all? Sometimes I forget how I got here. Sometimes times I forget how much I didn't want to survive. She looks up at jasper with tears filled eyes and says "Draw a picture of my soul, and it would be a scribble with fangs". Jasper hugs her and takes a deep breath and says "In another universe, your window is open and you’re lying on the floor, your 12 years old and nothing has happened to you. And I’m there too, with you, right next to you and we both are the happiest people existing there". He hugs savannah tighter and says "Mothers are humans, who sometimes give birth to their pain instead of children”. Savannah's tears keeps rushing down her cheeks like as if they were held back since birth. She suddenly remembers being very little and being embraced by her father where she tried to put her arms around his waist to hug him back, she could never reach the whole way around the equator of his body. Jasper caresses her head and says "My pulse ebbs with yours. Death frees us from the torment of parting. I cannot part with you. I am you". Savannah takes a deep breath and says "I always wished I was buried six feet underground but oh god to be buried in your arms like this" and giggles a little. It’s a painful giggle but it sounds more at ease and relieved, just like a petal falling on the surface of the water. They both didn't speak for a while but her soul was confessing her heart "I wanted his bones , his blood , his tissues , the sinews that bound him together. I would have held him to me even though time had stripped away the tones and textures of his skin. I could have held him for a thousand years until the skeleton itself rubbed away to dust. What are you that make me feel this? Who are you for whom time has no meaning? In the heat of his hands I thought, this is the campfire that mocks the sun. This place will warm me, feed me and care for me. I will hold onto this pulse against other rythnms. The world will come and go in the tide of a day but here is his hand with my future in its palm". Savannah slowly disentangles herself from his arms and looks in his eyes says "You wrap my name tight around your ribs and keep me warm. I was born for you. My whole life smells like you and undoing you from my blood will tear my soul apart. This place was always a house and not a home. I do not use the word "home” lightly. So, when I sigh it into the crook of your neck, believe that your spine is a timber frame, your warm smile a welcome mat, And your enveloping arms my front door" and smiles. Jasper holds her hands and says "You hold so much sadness in your eyes, I can almost touch the scars of your soul and cry. I will look for you in the edge of the garden, I will look for you everytime I come home, I will look for you at the end of my story". Savannah's cheeks blushed like any other roses. Jasper sees this smile and he feels like he too had a blessing but it was just hidden under a curse. He says "And that's how you go on. You lay laughter over the dark parts. The more dark parts, the more you have to laugh. With defiance, with abandon, with hysteria, any way you can. So come here. Let me love those bruises out for you. We'll love like children with a box of bandages, let's not ask where it hurts, let's just use all of it"

Parents often confuse their children's emotions with age, mood swings, study pressure but in reality this is when your children will be needing you the most after the newborn phase. When you push away your children thinking they're old enough to deal with their own life, they will end up turning their emotions off and show cold feelings towards parents. They will search for their parents in every person they meet because parents always make their kids feel that making comfortable conversations are uncomfortable. Children grow up with a mindset of not being sorry for wanting what they deserve but also not afraid to walk away to find it Respond to your children in their most Unlovable, frustrated, angry, sad moments. Your children don't belong to you, you're on borrowed time with them. To be in your children's memories tomorrow, you have to be present in their lives today.

Hi, I've always been interested in writing, but whenever I write something and read it back, it always comes off as amateurish and a little off. I don't want to show my family, because it would be awkward, so I decided to come here to see what you guys though.

Here's a little snip from a story I have been building, any improvement at all would be very appreciated (i.e. word changes, grammar, different sentencing, etc.).

"It was another successful day of fishing, and Joe smiled at his son knowing that they, and his wife would be feasting well on these large fish bodies. The last one he caught had been hard to catch, and had it been a few more seconds, he would have cut the line from how exhausting it was to catch. This exhausting catch, however, was the greatest catch that he had ever made in his life. A salmon that was 54 inches. Its width was more than anything he had ever seen in his whole career as a fisherman and he knew that it would feed his family for days. As he took off his fishing gear, Joe passed the string of fish bodies to his son, who excitedly took them back to the house. There, Joe’s wife, Martha, began to prepare one of the fish. She scaled the fish, and with a few quick chops of the knife, the body was split into fish filets. She dropped them into a pan, and layered the filets with spices and seasonings. As they sizzled, she took the other fishes, and dropped them into a wooden pot, and covered them with salt to preserve. Joe, Martha, and their son happily ate the fish ... "

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So Microsoft word has the option to listen to your own documents. It’s amazing. My book is now an audiobook😂😂

How would I go about writing an outline for a series idea I have? Any advice is much appreciated!

Quite recently decided to step out of my comfort zone (which are long, ‘classic’ fantasy often focused on politics) and write a more personal and comedic story.

For some info, here’s the blurb;

The story follows Quinn, a man plagued by past mistakes, terrible familial relationships, and a mind dead set in making him miserable. He’s always had a close connection to drugs, especially psychedelics, of which he takes to much of. And one day, after a terrible bender, he “falls” off the top floor of his apartment building. But he never hits the ground, finding himself suspended in the air, saved by two “Valkyries”. They take him to a place of magic and wonder, but instead of experiencing a power fantasy, he’s still himself, and terribly unadjusted to the world he’s now a part of. And his only personal goal is getting drunk. But, sadly, having an angel whose purpose is to make you a better person, tends to mean you’ll be getting pulled around to help people, and, you know; Be forced to become a better person.

It’s a fantasy, litrpg comedy type beat, lightly inspired by Disco Elysium and a multitude of Litrpg novels, such as “Good guys” by Eric Ugland.

I’m looking for feedback on the comedy, pacing, writing style and general “feel” of the first chapter. Would you continue reading? Why? Why not? Is the character too cynical or one sided? There are some more details in the document itself.

Here’s the link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1kLm14LTCD30r-22y-VPBAM2iueTdwi8zWuVkGBLKAvk/edit

Thanks for reading!

Within my story, basically one of the main characters transforms into a werewolf cub, but it's not the first time it's happened, several of his ancestors also went through that due to a curse that plagues their family lineage.

However, I would like to know if you think it is a good idea to make people turned into werewolves able to speak in their new form. Personally, I have always liked stories about talking animals, therefore, I am in favor of them speaking.

But apart from that, within my story the change suffered by the people affected by the curse is only physical, but not mental, therefore, the mind of those affected is totally intact, they are still capable of reasoning, in addition to being fully conscious. of what they do and what they don't do.

Therefore, I think it would make some sense for them to retain their ability to speak their native language (in this case Spanish), although of course in a much lower/monstrous tone, as a show of humanity behind their monstrous appearance.

Still, I would like to know what your opinions are regarding this topic, therefore, any thoughts or suggestions on this matter are welcome.

Hello everyone!

I just made the leap to switch from writing in my native language (moved to the US over a decade ago and my Spanish is not what it used to be) to English. I have 2 published books in Spanish (YA fantasy) and after almost 2 years of fear and indecision, I finally decided to take the leap.

I guess I am just looking for some general feedback and to see if anyone can pinpoint areas of improvement? It's been a really difficult journey to go from having honed a skill over the decades back to the beginning of that journey with a different language, but honestly, I am quite happy with my progress so far.

I started working on a simple and fun idea (YA "Zombie" apocalypse set in 2012 for that end of the world nostalgia), just so that I could focus on getting better without feeling like I am wasting one of my ideas that I want to eventually publish.

I'm linking everything I have so far, but feel free to read as much or as little as you want. I feel like I just need some honest feedback from people who aren't friends and family.

For context, some of my all-time favorite authors are Laini Taylor, Maggie Stiefvater and Ava Reid, so that's the style I hope to one day achieve.

Thank you so much for all of your time <3

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1o_S6-sVgG8V2cnrCjQ9wZHNrHEddrpS5QEOupCDbui0/edit?usp=sharing

I just started the adventure of writing but I also am trying to overcome imposer syndrome and my inner critic telling me things while researching, brainstorming and plot building. I’ve written 2 and a half chapters. I’ve had the idea to build some social media accounts and share my love of books and writing aesthetic to share my love it so both my imposer syndrome and inner critic relax and leave me to write my first draft by mid summer.

Do I say I’m a writer? Or do I make a blasé account without making a face or person behind the vibes and words I’m sharing? I also don’t know which SM account to pick from, instagram is all photos and writing is more about words without painting a picture for the reader and letting them piece it together for themselves.

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I used the journals of my characters' grandfather to guide them through the story and impart wisdom.

Anyone have any recommendations for the best free to use self publish website for original works? I’m thinking of wattpad. I know webtoon and tapas have novel sections aswell. Are their any other with a larger general audience reach?

After writing my 1st book I realized I needed someone to review my book and give me some feedback, I came up with some ways to review books by using the latest AI models, and the results are pretty good I think, I'll list examples here, what do you guys think?

Book Title: "100 mistakes in software engineeering"

Review of Chapter "Obsessing Over Patterns from Books"

""" This chapter provides a valuable lesson on the potential pitfalls of blindly adhering to coding patterns and principles without considering their suitability for the specific project at hand. The author effectively conveys the allure of these patterns as seemingly universal solutions, only to caution against their dogmatic implementation.

The chapter's strength lies in its acknowledgment of the trade-offs involved when applying patterns, particularly in terms of performance and potential constraints on creativity and practical problem-solving. The author's personal anecdote about becoming fixated on implementing every pattern from a book, leading to inefficient and overly complex code, resonates as a relatable cautionary tale.

However, the chapter could benefit from more concrete examples or case studies illustrating how certain patterns might not be the best fit for particular scenarios, further reinforcing the need for critical evaluation. Additionally, while the author rightly advocates for a balanced approach, providing a framework or guidelines on how to assess the appropriateness of patterns could make the lesson more actionable.

Overall, the chapter succeeds in instilling a mindset of discernment when it comes to coding patterns, reminding readers that the ultimate goal should be effective and efficient problem-solving, not blind adherence to patterns. """

And like these but for all chapters of the book. I also tried it with adventure books and it's incredible, it analyzes characters and stories.

Would this be useful for more writers?

Having never written a short story before, I decided to bite off more than I could chew and enter a competition.

I need to lose 1,000 words to bring my count under the limit (3,000), but I feel that removing more means losing a character or a whole scene.

There’s extra complexity as there’s criteria the story needs to have as part of the competition. The genre, the pet, the betrayal of a teacher.

Where would you chop?

https://docs.google.com/document/d/14aCxkILzQvVfJ4hYygeErsO5TjFjBuIppgPtFkmd5AY/edit

A sample snippet:

Berrie winced as the twig snapped beneath her boot.

Do better. You’re a gnome not an ogre.

Berrie Sprockett wallowed in being right like a hippo in a mudhole, and there is only one thing more satisfying than being right.

Winning.

Her violet eyes scanned for her rivals, nothing moved, just an endless labyrinth of trees of Fernwind Forest—towering ashen bulwarks of bark crowned in fire—golden yellow, deep orange and dusky red leaves, vibrant against the backdrop of evergreens and dirt.

The admonishment of a speckled thrush, warbling above her, shattered the silence. She scowled at the bird, pressing a finger to her pursed lips. It ignored the young gnome: hands on her hips, freckled face turned upwards, eyes narrowed into bright slashes—and cheerfully continued its chirping.

I will find the Giant’s Teardrop first. Remember Madam’s clue:

“Where hills meet streams, you’ll find your dreams.”

Sooo question ; how do i get people to read my horror and thriller stories? .....cause I don't think, the genre I am writing is popular compared to romance....to be honest I am new to this .....so I don't generally know, how to promote, and obviously I am like a amateur. so I am guessing it will be hard since I ain't pro skilled in writing

I have completed my short story, a simple 4,400 words story, and would like to share it with readers for feedback. I have no idea where to start tbh .. I have it published already in the kindle store, and have both PDF and EPUB versions to share with readers who would like to give feedback.

The below chapter is taken from a book I’m working on. The chapter is NOT about the main character. I mainly need advice on the dialogue, structure and pacing of the chapter but any other advice will be greatly appreciated. I’m pretty excited for people to read this because I’ve been working on it the last few months. Enjoy!!!!

Caity, Frozen Home.

Caity felt the crunch of the snow crack beneath her feet. Her nose was slightly red, and her cheeks stung against the blowing winds. She stood still, scanning the area. Her eyes piercing the sheet of white laid over the ground she had marched on. She always loved how tranquil and barren her home was. Void of trees and the disrupting greenery they perfumed. 

“Caity!” She heard a voice call her and slowly saw a figure come through the washing winds before her. It was her mother, Lady Sarah All-White. 

She had white hair that was tied behind her head, revealing her smiling face. She wore the furs of defeated prey pelted and mended into attire. She had the same blue skin as Caity with sparkling yellow eyes. “What’s the matter? You look lost, young one.” Lady Sarah said, smiling gallantly. 

Caity stared at her mother not wanting to move. She did a final scan over the landscape ensuring no one was there before she entrapped her mother in a hug. Caity felt Lady Sarah’s hand rubbing against her back, a gesture of love in her village Ritnik. 

“It’s nice to know that I was missed.” Her mother chuckled. “Come! The village is eager to see you.” The two of them began walking towards Ritnik, stomping through the blowing snow. They continued walking until they came to a deep hole in the ground. Its bottom virtually impossible to see from this height. 

 Caity looked down at the hole, seeing nothing but a grey abyss. She stood at the edge of the hole, her mother watching Caity closely while taking out ice hooks from her hands.

“You seem cold child.” Her mother asked as Caity’s nose sniffled. She had tried her best to hide it, but she was feeling a small chill. One that caused involuntary spasms to ravage her body.

“See how time away has affected you? I knew you shouldn’t have gone to that place.”

“Mother I’m fine.” Caity promised. “School has been good for me. I’ve learnt more about my abilities and have even gotten stronger. I’ve met new friends and learned much about the world. Much more then Grand’Lady ever taught me.” Her mother gave her a quick glance which silenced Caity. She had forgotten about the bad blood between them and regretted her words. 

Sensing the discomfort she caused, Caity cleared her throat and stretched her arms, pacing slowly around the hole. A few moments passed later she heard her mother say, “I hope that school you wished to go to didn’t fill your head with too many comforts.” Her mother was sharpening her hooks as she spoke. “In order to be Queen of the Artic Ogres you need to be-” 

“As cold as the wind, only shouldering warmth to your citizens.” Caity interrupted, her two ice axes in hand. “I remember everything you have told me mother.” 

Lady All-White scoffed at her response and jumped into the hole yelling, “Let’s put that to the test then!” Caity was taken aback for a few seconds and then jumped after her mother. She leapt high into the air and came smashing into the side of the large hole. Her ice hooks caught her as she slid down its side. Flakes of ice smashing against her face. The winds of descending washed over her body, tightening her muscles. She watched as her mother bounced from one side of the hole to the other and mirrored her actions. The two of them dancing in the air as they fell closer and closer to the village ground.

Caity landed on the ground with a thud. Panting heavily with her hands on her knees. Her mother, on the other hand, seemed unbothered by the strenuous descend. She stood tall, her yellow eyes focused and ears pierced. 

Caity couldn’t believe that she was finally home. She stood on the outskirts of the village and could hear the villagers gathered inside Ritnik. 

The sounds of the blacksmiths clanging steel against steel. Pulling out their artworks from furnaces and dumping them into the snow around them.

 The beating of sticks and screams of the warriors as they sparred against one another. Master Gu’lac shouting at their mistakes and laughing at their injuries. Her haunting voice sent shivers down Caity’s back. 

The children of less than eight Suns’ attempt to climb the borders of the village and fall onto their asses in embarrassment. This was her home. A village found in an Artic Province, positioned at the bottom of a large hole made of ice. This was the village Ritnik, home of the Artic Ogres. 

“Everyone!” A female warrior called from above the village. She stood on the balcony of the Steel Castle at the end of the village. Caity heard the voice and noticed its familiar cadence. It was her friend Shira. She was surprised by how powerful her voice sounded. Full of authority and confidence. 

“Lady Sarah and Caity have returned! Our All-Whites are home once more!” The village of Ritnik led out a cheer and rushed to the entrance of the village where Caity and her mother now stood. All manner of people, whether warriors or blacksmiths, adults or children of eight Suns rushed to greet them. Their large smiles and strong bodies wrapping around their royals. 

Caity hugged the bodies of the men, whose fingers were black with soot and faces red from the flames. She locked eyes with the warriors of the village, all of whom were female. 

They embraced one another and rubbed each other’s back, adding temporary warmth to disturb the blowing winds. She was even surrounded by the small children who had missed her stories while she had been away. 

“Yes yes, I missed you as well. Of course, I’ll tell you all a story tonight.” She assured them as they whined about their boredom. Caity was relieved to be back, but she was exhausted from the days of travel. Her legs feeling sluggish and the strength in her arms dwindling as she walked through the village, greeting all that went up to her. 

“Alright! That’s enough!” Caity heard Shira shout as she moved through the crowd. She watched Shira’s small body push through the horde of people coming to meet her.

 She had black hair, a gift from her late mother. It was cut short now, slightly above the golden pendant that hung on her neck. She wore the garments of a warrior. Her trousers were plated in silver along with her torso plate. All of which was forged through her father’s hands. The black shoes on her feet protruded no sound against the snow below her.

 Although everyone saw this emotionless warrior before them, Caity thought back on the brave child who learned to climb the wall under eight Suns. Her face full of smiles while her hands and knees turned the floor red with blood.

“You’ll all get a chance to see Caity during the next few months. Now let her rest, it’s been a long week for her.” The crowd groaned as they walked away from her with Shira shooing them away. She turned to Caity, took her bags and escorted her to the Steel Castle where Caity lived. 

“I’ll leave you two to get reacquainted.” Lady Sarah said as she ran ahead of Caity into the Steel Castle. 

“You look stronger than before.” Caity mentioned as she marvelled at the definition around Shira’s arms. 

“I’ve been training with Master Gu’lac in secret.”

“Your father still not keen on you being a warrior?”

“It’s understandable given what happened to my mother.” Shira said candidly while kicking at snow. “Speaking of mother’s, how’s yours with the, ‘I want to see the world thing’?” 

Caity put her hands to her face and pulled it down. Gripping the skin and sighed out dramatically while saying, “She’s still not on board but it doesn’t matter. Now that I’ve gone and met such interesting people, there’s no way I’ll stay here for the rest of my life.”

“It isn’t all bad.” Shira replied while chuckling. “After all, the Sun Festival is in three days' time.” Caity stopped in her tracks and looked at Shira, a smile sketched onto her face. She had forgotten all about the Sun Festival, her favourite and only holiday she had experienced. 

The Sun Festival was a celebration for the annual showing of the sun in the village Ritnik. The sun shone over the village for exactly 72hours and its people spent those three days partying. They played games, napped in the grassy plains or enjoyed the Sun Festival’s main event. There were archery competitions, races, markets with an endless amount of food. People sang and danced deep into the night, love blossomed, and most of the time new children were created from three consecutive passionate nights. It was a time for rest and pleasure and laughter and sorrow and triumph and all spectrums of emotion. It was the Sun Festival, and it was happening in only three days' time.

Caity had been thinking about the Sun Festival for so long that she didn’t realise that they had already arrived at her home. They now stood in front of the Steel Castle.

The castle was of a tremendous size, its front doors towering over them. The castle's exterior was comprised of elements of steel, glass and marble. These elements formed a new kind of material known as Grey Steel, a metal that has kept this small village in favour with the Elf Kingdom for thousands of years. This castle was the central factory for all weaponry produced and sold in this village. Up until recently, this had been the most important village in the entire world. 

The castle held several factories, each on with four chimneys designated to it. The factories stood on the sides of the large centre building that stood in the castles middle. The house built for royalty and esteemed guests but these days it was more of a communal area where any were welcome.

Caity was admiring the walls when she saw a group of children standing by the castle’s entrance. Their heads cocked in a desperate attempt to see the top of the castle. Caity followed their gaze and saw the large doors creaking open. The colossal noise they made scared the children back into the thick of the village. 

“You come back home and didn’t even care to say hello.” Caity heard a familiar voice scold her. It was Gran’Lady Anne. She stood slightly taller than the children of less than eight Suns. Her body decorated with the pelts and furs donated by the young warriors she helped in raising. She had her silver hair tied into braids that slung over each shoulder. Her face was a darker blue than that of her descendants. Making her face seem cold and stern under the grey light coming from above. 

“Gran’Lady, how I’ve missed you.” Caity replied and embraced her grandmother. Grand’Lady’s face being pressed against Caity’s ribs. 

“Let me go, let me go!” Anne called pounding against Caity. “I didn’t come into the cold just to be strangled by you. Now come! It’s warm inside the Castle.” Anne pushed away from Caity and walked back into the Castle. Muttering to herself about her now frizzy hair. 

“This is where we must part.” Shira said from behind Caity. 

“Won’t you stay for dinner?” Caity called with a saddened voice. 

“We’re not kids anymore, there is no time for such pleasantries. I’ll see you tomorrow. Master Gu’lac is taking the warriors on a hunt; I’d thought you’d like to join us.”

Caity nodded towards her as Shira walked towards the warrior's barracks. She grabbed her luggage, took in a deep breath and walked into the Castle.

For context, the story I am writing is a 3 part story, each part long enough(probably) to be its own small book. I've finished part one, and while I'm working part 2 i thought i originally thought i would post part one chapter by chapter somewhere, but after looking at my options, I'm not sure. My original thought was to just post everywhere online physically possible, but no i'm wondering if i should maybe post to one place and enter a contest there, or contact a publisher, or start self publishing. I don't know if it's even possible or plausible to do multiple of those at once. I'm kind of anxious, writing is my favourite hobby, and in an ideal perfect world I'd be the author of a super popular series, of course there's no gaurantee, but at the least i wanna do as many things right at first as possible, I don't want to look back and realize i made a huge mistake. Maybe i'm overthinking, but i want thoughts of others before i drown myself in an echo chamber lol.