Photograph via snooOG

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What helped you start?

This is a question for the writers on this sub reddit even though its probably been asked time and time again I just wanna know. As someone who really wants to start writing short stories and potentially comics anf novels I struggle to find a start position and end up just falling apart when I want to start writing and my ideas drift into the far reaches of my mind. I just wanna know what were people's motivating factor when it came to writing and what pushed them to begin and get towards the finish line?

13:08 UTC


Can you please critique my writing?

This is a piece of a chapter—the opening part—from one of my side stories that I'm working on. How did I do? The things that I did wrong, how can I improve my writing and structure?

"Ems? Priy, wake up," Vivian gently nudged her wife, who was snoring softly, lost in a deep slumber.

"H-Huh? Wha?" Emma mumbled groggily, a strand of saliva trailing down her chin, the embrace of sleep still gripping her.

With a click, Vivian switched on the bedside lamp, revealing her worn-out appearance. Her eyes were tinged with slight redness, and dark circles had begun to form beneath them.

The monitor beside their bed sprang to life, emitting a deafening wail that reverberated throughout the house. Emma wouldn't have been surprised if it had woken the neighbors.

"Shit, he's awake. Again," Emma muttered, exhaustion evident in her voice.

Emma rubbed the sleep from her eyes and let out a massive yawn as she stretched her limbs. Glancing at the clock, she groaned at the time; it was one o'clock in the morning.

Her body protested as she rose from the bed, with Vivian following suit, each movement sluggish and heavy. Like zombies, they shuffled across the hallway and into the nursery where their one-month-old baby lay. The cries did not cease, they seemed to get louder. Some superstitious folks might mistake it for a banshee wailing in the dead of night.

When her wife first proposed the idea of children, Emma was reluctant. For one, she and Vivian were still pretty young, they still had a couple more years before hitting the big ol' three zero. Plus, due to the trauma her dear old mother dumped on her, instilling a fear of doing the same thing to her own kid.

Yet, as time passed, Emma found herself warming up to the idea. Was this what they called "baby fever"? Despite her fears, there was an underlying excitement.

And so, she and Vivian were blessed with an adorable baby boy, Norman Vincent Black II, named after Emma's grandfather. She couldn't forget the massive cry of relief that escaped her when the doctors confirmed that the kid was healthy.

The first few days weren't bad, quite the opposite in fact, they were filled with glee as they brought their precious bundle of joy home. But, as the days gone by, it was clear that maybe they had underestimated things. She didn't expect parenting to be so damn hard. It made her develop a sense of newfound for her inlaws, having to take care of three kids throughout their lives.

As they entered the nursery, they were met with piercing cries assaulting their ears, making them wince. Various stuffed animals were scattered across the matted floor, and the ceiling and walls were adorned with hundreds of glowing stars, planets, and angels. In one corner stood a small bookshelf that housed different storybooks—most of which were from Emma and Vivian's childhoods.

Approaching the crib, Vivian reached down and gently lifted the crying baby into her arms. Latching onto his mother, Norman's deafening shrieks were reduced to soft whimpering.

"Hello, honey! Awww~ are you hungry?" Vivian cooed into their son's ear. It was amazing how just a second ago she looked like a mob from Resident Evil and now had turned instantly into a loving mother.

Despite her drowsiness, Emma perked up and watched while Vivian sat on the floor and lifted the front of her shirt, exposing her bare chest to breastfeed Norman. Emma sat down herself and scooched closer to get a better look.

Vivian raised an eyebrow at her wife. "Priy, really?"

"What? Just enjoying the view, babe." Emma grinned. Vivian's face flushed scarlet, she looked away.

"Wow, you sure are hungry huh?" Vivian commented as Norman eagerly helped himself to his Mom's delectable offering. 

Scooching over till she was in front of them, Emma lay on the floor and looked up at Vivian with the biggest puppy eyes she could muster.

"Babe, can I have some too?" she pleaded.


"Awww, but—"

"My milk is only for the baby," Vivian stated playfully.

Emma stared in jealousy. Their son was clearly enjoying himself being underneath those glorious mounds.

Lucky kid she thought.

1 Comment
12:57 UTC


Substack or Medium?

I want to move away from Wordpress to something more discoverable and mobile-friendly. It’ll be something along the lines of an open journal/blog. Which is better between these, and why?

View Poll

12:29 UTC


Chat GPT and Writing

Can someone use Chat-Gpt to solve some grammar problems and organize some sentences when writing a novel without changing the core and soul of the writer's writing? and without changing many words.

like for example let's create a first draft of a small part of a novel:

"Dan entered his room, the shutters were closed, light peeking from behind them, sun rays flowing through the room in thin lines. he laid down on his bed kicked off his shoes and stared at the empty ceiling, memories of this long day crawling into his mind and him crawling away into sleep."

after asking chat-GPT to fix grammar and organize it :

"Dan entered his room. The shutters were closed, with light peeking from behind them, sun rays flowing through the room in thin lines. He lay on his bed, kicked off his shoes, and stared at the empty ceiling. Memories of the long day crawled into his mind as he drifted off to sleep."

did it get better? did it make it soulless?

as someone who hates the forced companionship between AI and art, that people are forcing it down our throats I find this minimal use..ok. what do you think?

11:09 UTC


Felony school- part 1

Hey guys,

About one month ago, I shared the plot of my story, felony school. Here's what I've written so far.

It was around 7:15 in the bustling city of Seoul. The sun was shining brightly, making the sleeping citizens realize that its time for them to get off their beds and get back to work. Among the many buses navigating through the morning traffic, one was making its way towards the prestigious Sejong High School. Inside, the air was filled with the excited chatter of students eager to begin a new academic year. Laughter and lively conversations echoed through the bus, as friends reunited after the long session break.

However, amidst the noisy crowd, Chaeyoung, Ji-hee and Yeji were three girls who sat quietly, lost in their own thoughts. They were seemingly waiting for someone to come and enlighten their moods.

But, this silence couldn't stand the power of Choi Mi-cha, known to many as 'Miss Sejong' due to her promising appearance, which was characterised by a slim body dark brown eyes, long and banged hair which were often tied into a high ponytail and beautiful spectacles which did a little to enhance her beauty. Apart from this, her remarkable ability to uncover secrets wherever she went, earned her the title of 'info bank'.

"Mi-chaaaaaaaaaaaa..." yelled Chaeyoung as soon as she saw her, "We were waiting for you since so long. Come, join us!" Mi-cha quickly, sat behind them. However, this time, she wasn't alone. She was accompanied by her new friend, who sat beside her. "Hi, Ms. Choi." said Yeji, "Hope you had good hols! Well, may I know, who's she?" Mi-cha giggled and said, "She's Anhjong, my new friend. I met her during final examinations. Say hello, Jongie. They're all my friends." Ahnjong hesitated for a moment and shyly waved at the girls.

"Well, guys, you're ought to be known, I am not a lil girl anymore. Now, I am a high schooler." said Mi-cha, making the girls giggle. Ahnjong and Mi-cha were enjoying in the bus, but there was a terrible surprise waiting for them at school.

1 Comment
10:30 UTC


Help what type of writer am I?

Me personally, I like to write, but I can't tell if I'm doing free-form poetry or plain text with allegory. Here's a small part of something I wrote to help:

In a six by six metre room, there is a window with 8 panes. It can be opened at any time from both the outside and the inside. The walls were a pale yellow with a white ceiling and grey carpet floor. There is no door. The only way out is through that window. A singular being lays down. Doing nothing. No thoughts. No passions nor interests. They are simply a husk deprived of a soul nor any emotion. Their humanity stripped away from the things outside. Although, this is not the only room. In a field bare filled with the greenest grass, and a forest with a river nearby, a room is placed every now and then, almost like an exact copy. One of many people would go up to the window and be kind enough to drop a rotten apple and unfiltered water for whoever is inside. The emotionless husk would then sit up, take the meal and eat it all up without a word. There is no “Thank you”, and not a single “I’ll pay you back eventually.” All it does is eat. Eat, Eat, Eat.

Please help me I genuinely don't know what I'm writing all I know is that I like to use symbolism.

09:52 UTC


Literary fiction writers on ig?

I come across a lot of writers, many of whom are newly published and they give great advice for aspiring writers like me. It’s also very hopeful/inspiring to find about their respective journeys. However, invariably they are ALL fantasy writers. I haven’t come across any new writer accounts who write literary fiction which is the genre I’m interested in. Does anyone have any insight on this?

09:19 UTC


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09:00 UTC


Took me years to find the courage to post. Please be kind.

Tonight, one of the few, when she let her heart indulge in his memories. She allowed the pain to slowly consume her whole body. It started at the core- in her chest, behind those ample breasts.  That's where she hid him. Her deepest, not so darkest, secret. Then it spread to her throat making it impossible to breathe, forcing her to swallow. Swallow her spit or was it her pain?!  Next was her stomach. Even the generous belly couldn't protect against the giant ball making her sick. Then ran a shiver down her spine, warning her of tonight's turbulence. It wasn't just rain. Tonight a hurricane was forming in full swing. 

Oh her aching heart, the longing, the missing and all the pain!

She hurried to get to her safe place coz she knew what was coming next.  Her legs were going to forget how to walk, forget how to balance and she couldn't afford the consequence.  Falling on the kitchen floor meant explaining to her husband. Could she lie again?

She almost made it to her bed but then came the tears. The grasping for air.  She muffled her sobs and stumbled to her second best friend.  The cold bathroom floor had always numbed her but never her pain.

Oh her aching heart, the longing, the missing and all the pain!

Then she remembered..  But there was one place where she could see him again. Where he would pull her into his embrace and kiss her like he was always there.  Where she almost felt his touch, his hands on her face. Where the universe had conspired to align their fates for a change.

Oh her aching heart, the longing, the missing!  Was it really the missing?

Or was it the reality that she'll never see him again???? Maybe just another spoon of the magical elixir to make their worlds collide again..

08:20 UTC


Both positive and negative feedbacks can make or break a writer Do you agree?

07:56 UTC


Let's have some fun! Post a six word story, I'll start.

He loved her, she did too.

07:21 UTC


Thought I should share this

I generated 30 writing ideas per day.

I executed none each day.

06:20 UTC


The jump off point The Joy of Sadness

Unrevised, unabated, and ready for your critique and criticism!

Behind this blissful smile and joyful beam Lies a vengeful scowl that’s rarely seen Nurtured by forsaken dreams Yesterday’s banished schemes

Past and present plague my soul The repercussions from days of old
The road I chose was paved with malice Quenching a thirst with the devils chalice The wine from his goblet like pills and powder
Controlling my life and stealing power The broken pieces scattered within me Form a mask I wear contentedly

Cascading aim with ascending shame The ebbs and flows of my minds disdain The scars and pain are front and center To loving arms I dare not venture

I smile and laugh to fill a chasm Fashioning relationships never fathomed Like a ship with wind filled sails but no ocean These Feigned emotions tax my locomotion Folly after folly my wounds reopen I won’t share this pain or divide my burdens So behind this mask my words are spoken

1 Comment
06:04 UTC


Any books with good writing?

I've recently started reading my first book (murder in Mesopotamia) and I've really enjoyed reading, even when I thought I wouldnt and I'm looking for recommendations on what to read once I'm done with this one. (I would prefer if it had a Spanish translation but I wouldn't mind it being in English. I also would be interested in books talking about politics or economics and that sort of thing but I wouldn't mind a novel either. Whatever you think I'll enjoy reading.)

05:44 UTC















04:47 UTC


Book idea that's a remake of the movie "don't worry darling"

I know the movie isn't really good and nobody really liked it, but the idea kinda stuck with me.

What if we just change the plot, so that victory town is a real place, but is a testing grown for a company

Men sign up for this experiment but they don't have wives. The company is testing androids, and these men that have chosen this experiment get to create their idea wives.

The wives are design to be human, even given fake memories, pros and cons. They can even design their facial features, but there's rules as to how they can design their wives.

They can't be over attractive and they can't have a perfect body. They must be average or have some kind of disadvantage.

The town is made to really test out how the androids do, if they really think they're human, if they malfunction or crash. Yet this is also testing the husband's.

Even though the husband's know the town is fake, when they go to "work" they're really just working with the people behind the scenes, getting tested on their experience, they can go back home, or stay and see what the wives are doing.

One of the wives, do realize something isn't correct and the town isn't normal.

The town is designed for them to want to stay. It has everything you would need, yet she still thinks something is wrong with life and questions how she even got here.

04:12 UTC


Just sent my first draft to beta readers... I'm terrified.

I guess this is a bit of an "emotions are high and I need to share it somewhere" post. I have been writing a script for a community theatre production off and on for about five years. It's a bit unconventional, and I am terrified as I have written for most of my life, but never completed anything to this stage. This script has also never been read by anybody aside from myself.

I decided to test run it by sending it to two friends, who read the message four hours ago, and I have gotten no response. I didn't expect anything right away, though admittedly, the anxiety is very high because I'm nervous that they may have already read the script and don't know how to tell me if it's unsalvageable.

Anyways, this has been a bit of a rant. If you're feeling something similar or have before, please know you're not alone! I'll try to update y'all when I find out what my readers think!

03:56 UTC


What makes writing hard for you?

Hello there!

I've been writing fiction for about 4 years and naturally, I am still figuring out different challenges every day. My most harrowing problem as been consistency, as a student and part time worker, and this has stunted growth in pretty much every other area.

Anywho, I really was wondering what about writing--writing good, high quality material--makes it difficult for you specifically?

For me, it's the mental tracking of different pieces in my plot, moving from one perspective to another and making sure I put myself in the reader's position in terms of knowledge. This tends to overwhelm me and motivates procrastination and de-prioritizing writing sessions.

03:39 UTC


Please help me!

I’m a beginner writer who’s been writing… not-so-great stories and I’m on the edge of quitting it all together. Since I’ve started my first story I’ve always thought I should be what a writer should be. But as I made more stories, I can see that I’ve barely improved. So I saved story and writing advice from Pinterest to help me improve, but just from doing that makes me more worried that I’m not as good as I should be. The reason I started writing is because I always thought writing stories sounded fun, I got feedback from others that I should be a writer, and I’ve enjoyed doing grammar, and now I still want to continue writing. I want to be what a writer is described as, but I seem like I’m still too far away to be even considered good, and I’m already too lazy to atleast write a sentence! Please give me some advice!

03:16 UTC



He descended down wooden creaky steps, he could faintly hear a chugging washing machine and the raspy noise of a cardboard box being dragged across the floor. He ran his fingers along the cold wall for balance with the slight give of an old step and a shaky banister. As he approached the bottom step, the mix of floral scents from the washed clothes wrinkled his nose assailing his sinuses.

03:10 UTC


Two options for my first two sentences. What do each of them make you think?

Option 1: The first man Fidelina killed was the sheriff. He was a coward and a clumsy draw.

Option 2: Fidelina did not remember the land. She knew she had seen it over twenty years ago, but the memories of babies do not last forever.

01:26 UTC


At what point do you think about publishing?

Like at what point in your career/life/progress as a writer do you think, this is the story im going to write or use to query and hopefully get published?

01:05 UTC


HOW do you plan out a novel?

I’m new to writing. I’m on my 5th? new novel attempt. I come up with a vague idea and start writing, and it starts off really well, but usually at around 5000 words I get stuck. Which is where I’m at now.

I’m at 6000 words and just not sure how to proceed.

I have my beginning, and I know more or less how I want it to end (kind of- it’s like a mystery and I have a general idea of the resolution, but that’s it), but I have no middle? It’s like I don’t know where to go next.

I feel like I need to think about my plot a lot more before I keep writing, does anyone have any tips?

00:26 UTC


Rate my first word


23:49 UTC


Success. My first reader read my 285 page book in a day and left a FANTASTIC review.

Their review:

"Hey Josh, I just finished reading your book.  It is a beautiful story that conveys raw human emotion and thoughts that we all feel and think. It proves that this world is cruel and how the psyche can be broken by this cruelty, but hope not only in God but in the mercy he expects from us to show others. Our mercy can truly heal the brokeness in others. Each generation has dealt with this cruelty,  although we can not stop the evil, we certainly can be the difference we so desire.  We do this by asking questions, stop assuming, and setting our opinions aside. This will not only give us understanding but can also prevent pain and regret in others and ourselves. Just beautiful Josh.  I am sorry for your loss.

Indeed it is a beautiful story, great flow..I laughed and cried and my own ignorance was revealed."

I don't even care if I sell any books now. I've already peaked, emotionally.

23:08 UTC


Looking for critique on my Arthurian legend based tv show pilot!


(The castle of Camelot stands over grassy hills and crystal clear rolling rivers and seas. Gray clouds cover the sky and hundreds of soldiers and knights can be seen riding toward the castle. Text appears on the screen reading “CAMELOT” and then “CENTURIES AGO”.)


(MORGANA LE FAY (Centuries-Old), a beautiful middle aged appearing woman with sharp features and long flowing black hair, sits on the throne and holds Excalibur, the Crown of Camelot sits upon her head. Knights and soldiers march in linear motions through the hall. DEWIN (30s), a scruffily charming magician, enters in handcuffs, with guards behind him. Dewin marches up and presents himself to Morgana. Everyone in the room halts.)

MORGANA: State your name.

DEWIN: You know my name, Morgana.

MORGANA: State your name.

DEWIN: Dewinson of Merlin.

MORGANA: You are being tried with treason and conspiracy against the crown. Do you plead guilty to these crimes?

DEWIN: That depends.

MORGANA: On what?

DEWIN: Who you consider the crown to be.

(Dewin slips his handcuffs off and as he does three Blue Jays come flying out of his sleeve and begin to fly around the room.)

MORGANA: Enough foolishness. I find you guilty of the accusations placed upon you.

DEWIN: Then kill me.


DEWIN: Let’s skip past the chatter and get my head on a platter. You see what I did there? Chatter platter.

MORGANA: Silence! Death is far too good for you.

DEWIN: Do your worst, no matter what Camelot will fall.

MORGANA: Is that a threat?

DEWIN: A threat would be something I plan on doing to you myself, the fall of Camelot, well that will be purely your doing.

(Morgana gets off the throne and draws a glowing circle around Dewin with Excalibur, as she does so Dewin lets out a small laugh.)

DEWIN: Binding me? My imprisonment shall not halter the winds of time.

MORGANA: I banish you.

DEWIN: What?

MORGANA: From this plane of time and place I banish you.

DEWIN: Not even you have the power to do that. Banishment spells have been hidden away for ages.

MORGANA: Hidden away in scrolls buried in this very castle. Dilflannu o’r awyren hon.


MORGANA: Dilflannu o’r amser hwn.

DEWIN: No, no, stop.

MORGANA: Dilflannu o’r meddwl. Rwy’n eich gwahardd!

(Morgana’s eyes turn purple and electricity sparks all around Dewin and seems to be sucking the energy out of him.)


(A plain and put together autumnal forest. Text appears over the screen reading “LONDON” and then “EIGHTEEN EIGHTY FIVE”. Electricity sparks and Dewin appears in the forest dazed and confused. He is covered in scars and almost immediately passes out face forward into the ground.)


(As night begins to dawn Dewin is still incapacitated. A carriage led by a horse named, Sally, comes through the forest and halts at Dewin. ALDEN SMITH (Early 40s), a plump and posh man with a defining bushy mustache, cautiously hops out of the carriage. Alden looks around for a moment before spotting Dewin. Alden approaches Dewin and checks his pulse through his arm. Alden’s eyes linger on Dewin for a moment before looking up.)

ALDEN: Hello!? Is anybody there!?

(Alden waits for a moment before looking back down at Dewin. Alden sighs and then lifts Dewin up and into the carriage before hopping in himself. Alden pulls on the horse’s reins and it begins to march forward.)


(Alden drives his carriage down Wicing Drive and parks in front of a townhome, Twenty Six Wicing Drive. Alden gets out of the carriage, carrying Dewin, and walks up the steps. MINERVA SMITH (Early 40s), a stern yet radiant woman, opens the door in shock.)

ALDEN: It’s a long story.


(A stereotypical Victorian living room made primarily of oak and illuminated by two small oil lamps and a burning fireplace. Dewin is still incapacitated and lies on the table covered in bandages, Alden and Minerva hover over him. Bottles of ointment sit next to Dewin.)

MINERVA: What were you doing in the woods?

ALDEN: It’s the fastest cut home.

MINERVA: And you just-

(Minerva is interrupted by Dewin’s sighing as he wakes up.)

DEWIN: Ah! Where am I? Who are you?

MINERVA: My name is Minnie, and this is my husband, Alden.

DEWIN: What’s happening?

ALDEN: I found you all bruised in the middle of the forest. Do you know what happened to you?

DEWIN: Morgana le Fay banished me.

(Alden and Minerva glance at each other.)

MINERVA: Oh lord, I think you're a bit confused.

DEWIN: I am not confused. I am Dewin, son of Merlin. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask if you could take me to a sage or healer?

MINERVA: Of course, Alden can take you tomorrow morning, but for the night you can stay here.

DEWIN: Why, thank you.

ALDEN: Minnie, may I speak to you in the other room?

MINERVA: Of course.

(Alden and Minerva step into the kitchen.)


ALDEN: We can not keep this man in our home. He is mentally insane.

MINERVA: Which means we must watch over him.

ALDEN: I am looking out for our safety.

MINERVA: And where would we take him?

ALDEN: I don’t know. He is as mad as the Doeth man!

MINERVA: Then that’s where we’ll take him.

ALDEN: Stick to nuts together?

MINERVA: The man has some common sense and he’s very compassionate.

ALDEN: Perfect.


(Alden and Minerva Dewin sit in their carriage with Dewin outside of a small house that is slightly separated from the other homes on the street.)

DEWIN: So this is the home of a healer?

ALDEN: According to him. I will go to the door alone, I do not want to scare him.

(Alden gets out of the carriage and starts heading towards the home.)

MINERVA: So you really do believe that you are the son of Merlin.

DEWIN: I know who my father was. Why is this such a puzzle for you and your husband to wrap your heads around?

MINERVA: Why I’ve only heard stories of Camelot, myths of ancient pasts.

DEWIN: So Morgana not only shifted my place but also the time.

(Alden knocks on the home's door and is greeted by ALDRICH DOETH (Hundreds Of Years Old), an older looking man with crystals strapped around his neck.)

ALDRICH: Doctor Smith, have they finally sent someone to take me away to a nuthouse?

ALDEN: On the exact contrary, I’ve found a wounded man who claims to have been sent here by Morgana le Fay.

ALDRICH: That’s what the shift was!

ALDEN: What? You know what it doesn’t matter, as long as you’re willing to take this man.

ALDRICH: Yes, yes, bring him to me.

ALDEN: Minerva, send him up!

(Dewin comes up to the door.)

DEWIN: Hello.

ALDRICH: My goodness, the energy pulsates off of you.

DEWIN (TO ALDEN): This is the healer?

ALDEN: Yes. Now if you two don’t mind I think I will be headed back on my way.

ALDRICH: Are you sure, Doctor? It’s getting rather late, you and your wife are welcome to stay here.

ALDEN: Thank you, but there’s no need.

(Rain starts pouring out of the sky out of nowhere and thunder and lighting begin.)

ALDRICH: What about now, Doctor?

ALDEN: Minnie! We’re staying here tonight!


(A cluttered mess of books, candles, and potions. Aldrich, Alden, Minerva, and Dewin sit on Aldrich’s circular array of couches and chairs.)

ALDRICH: Before we dive in I suggest you go wash off, Dewin. The washroom is that small one to your left.

DEWIN: Thank you, Aldrich.

(Dewin gets up and goes into the washroom.)

ALDRICH: I know what you two think of me, the neighborhood’s resident crazy.

MINERVA: Not at all, Mister Doeth.

ALDRICH: Don’t lie, Minerva, our actions all come back to bite us.

ALDEN: So we think you're mental, what of it?

ALDRICH: There are dark forces amongst us, Mister and Misses Smith. I believe that Dewin is here to save us.

ALDEN: I appreciate you letting us stay here, but I think it’s time we leave.

ALDRICH: I will change this storm into an earthquake to keep you here if I must.

ALDEN: Come on, Minnie.

(Alden and Minerva get up and go to leave when the whole room begins to shake.)

ALDEN: What’s happening!?

ALDRICH: I warned you.

(Aldrich makes silencing symbols with his hands and the storm and the shaking stops.)

ALDRICH: Now will you listen to me?

(Alden and Minerva both sit back down.)

ALDEN: What are you?

AlDRICH: A magician, a clairvoyant, a healer, I am all of those things and more.

ALDEN: Why do you want us here so badly?

ALDRICH: I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you are the one who found Dewin, Doctor Smith. He needs a guide in this vast new world. Prophecy states that when the second coming of the Camelot war comes, the savior will have a protector.

ALDEN: And why me?

ALDRICH: There are questions that only we can answer ourselves.

(Dewin comes out of the washroom and sits back down.)

ALDRICH: Dewin, please tell me exactly how you arrived here.

DEWIN: Morgana le Fay used an ancient banishing spell on me.

ALDRICH: The fall of Camelot.

(Suddenly a wind sweeps through the room that blows out all the candles.)

MINERVA: Mister Doeth, are you doing this?


(A match is lit in the center of the room to reveal GWENWYN LIGHTWOOD (Centuries-Old), a green draconic humanoid woman in black robes and a hood.)

GWENWYN: Aldrich.

ALDRICH: Lady Lightwood.

GWENWYN: I’ve tracked a shift in magic to your home.

ALDRICH: It is this boy, he was banished here from Camelot.

(Gwenwyn goes up to Dewin and takes her hood off to reveal her scaly appearance. Alden gasps in disbelief. Gwenwyn runs her finger down Dewin’s cheek.)

GWENWYN (TO ALDRICH): Hm. I presume you wish to let him roam freely?

ALDRICH: With guidance, yes.

GWENWYN: If one thing goes wrong you will be punished.

ALDRICH: I know.

DEWIN (TO GWENWYN): Who are you?

GWENWYN: The last of the dragons. Just as Aldrich is the last descendent of the Family Merlin.

DEWIN (TO ALDRICH): You're a descendant of my father?

ALDRICH: Of his sister, I have many of her poems and spell tombs still intact here.

GWENWYN: Magic is rare these days, endangered, most people don’t even know it exists. So are we under agreement on the boy, Aldrich?

ALDRICH: Yes, but something is still troubling. If you and I both felt Dewin’s presence then-

GWENWYN: Benjamin did too.

DEWIN: Who is Benjamin?

ALDRICH: A descendant of Morgana who wishes to rule the earth under her ideals.

GWENWYN: A very very dangerous man who will certainly kill me if he finds me here.

(Gwenwyn’s match extinguishes and after a moment the candles all reignite but Gwenwyn is gone.)

ALDEN: By Jove!

ALDRICH: So do you all accept this challenge?

DEWIN: What challenge?

ALDRICH: Defeating Benjamin Fayle.

DEWIN: Of course!

ALDEN: Absolutely not.

ALDRICH: Are you that repulsed by compassion?

ALDEN: I can’t risk Minerva of I’s life on what could all be me hallucinating.

ALDRICH: You're risking the world for a craven excuse.

ALDEN: Goodbye.

(Alden gets up.)

ALDEN: Let’s leave, Minnie.

MINERVA: Thank you for your hospitality, Mister Doeth, and good luck.

(Alden leaves, followed by Minerva.)


(Alden and Minerva ride through the street in their carriage.)

MINERVA: We were definitely drugged.

ALDEN: Absolutely.


(Alden and Minerva hop out of their carriage.)

ALDEN: I’m going to bring Sally back to the stables.

MINERVA: Goodnight, love you.

ALDEN: I love you most.

(Minerva goes up and enters Twenty Six Wicing Drive as Alden detaches Sally from the carriage and begins to guide her down the cobbled sidewalk with one of his hands on her reins.)


(Alden guides Sally through the forest to a set of stables. Sally suddenly rears up and neighs in terror.)

ALDEN: What is it Sally?

(Sally suddenly breaks off her reins and runs towards the stables. A figure in a dark purple hood and robe sweeps past Alden and their eyes glow purple. Alden screams.)


(Alden and Minerva lay next to each other asleep in bed. Alden wakes up screaming which awakens Minerva.)

MINERVA: What’s the matter?

ALDEN: Just a night terror.

MINERVA: We did the right thing with Dewin, he’s with someone like him now.

ALDEN: Is that really a good thing? I think I’m going to go to the pub.

MINERVA: This early in the morning?

ALDEN: I need to clear my head after yesterday.


(A traditional Victorian pub. Dewin sits at the bar and is served by BRYNN CROWING (Early 30s), a charming bartender.)

BRYNN: What can I get you, Mate?

DEWIN: Just a pint of mead, please.

(Brynn goes and pours Dewin a pint of mead that she brings back to him and he begins drinking.)

BRYNN: I like your outfit, it’s very medieval.

DEWIN: It was made by the tailor of Sir Gawain.

(Brynn gives a light chuckle.)

BRYNN: What’s your name?

DEWIN: Dewin, and yours?

BRYNN: Brynn.

(Alden enters and sees Dewin. Alden leaves, but as he does he spots another person in a dark purple robe and hood with glowing purple eyes.)

DEWIN: You're very beautiful.

BRYNN: Why, thank you.

DEWIN: Would you like to go for a stroll?

BRYNN: My shift here doesn’t end till six.

DEWIN: Then I’ll see you then.

BRYNN: I guess you will.

(Dewin finishes his mead and drops two silver coins with dragons etched into them on the bar before swiftly leaving. Brynn picks up the coins and looks at them with confusion and yearning.)


(Alden knocks on the door and Aldrich opens it.)

ALDRICH: I’ve been expecting you, come in.

(Alden follows Aldrich into the home.)


(Alden and Aldrich sit across from each other.)

ALDRICH: Can I offer you some tea?

ALDEN: No thank you, I want to be in the clearest state of mind possible here.

ALDRICH: So what ignited your appearance here?

ALDEN: I’ve been seeing these people.

ALDRICH: Who are “these people”?

ALDEN: They wear these dark robes and their eyes glow purple.

ALDRICH: Faley’s society.

ALDEN: What?

ALDRICH: Benjamin Faley, the evil man I mentioned last night. Is this what caused you to believe?

ALDEN: What are you saying?

ALDRICH: That you believe in magic.

ALDEN: You're mad.

ALDRICH: Exactly, so the fact that you came to me shows that there’s at least one lingering thought in your mind that magic is reality and reality is magic.

(There’s a moment of silence between Alden and Aldrich.)

ALDRICH: Where have you been seeing the people you mentioned?

ALDEN: Everywhere that Dewin has been.

ALDRICH: Oh no, oh no, no, no.

ALDEN: What is it?

ALDRICH: Dewin is going out with a woman tonight.

ALDEN: Already? He’s only been here for a day.

ALDRICH: He's charming but also so foolish. You must watch them, in case Faley strikes or even worse this woman is working for him.

ALDEN: What could I even do to stop that?

ALDRICH: You are destined to protect Dewin, and at this point your logic for denying all of this is purely irrational. You're not hesitating because you think it’s not real, you're hesitating because you know it is. He is meeting her at six outside of the “Griffin’s Tail”.

ALDEN: I’m not going.

ALDRICH: We both know that you will.

ALDEN: Farewell, Mister Doeth.

ALDRICH: May the spirit of Merlin be with you, Doctor Smith.

(Alden gets up and leaves.)


(Dewin stands outside of the pub when Brynn comes out of the side door and walks towards him.)

BRYNN: I wasn’t expecting you to show.

DEWIN: Why wouldn’t I?

BRYNN: Most men flirt and then leave, half of them are married.

DEWIN: They are not true gentlemen then.

BRYNN: I suppose not.

DEWIN: Shall we begin walking?

BRYNN: Sure.


(Dewin and Brynn stroll down the streets of London. Alden follows them from a distance.)

DEWIN: This world is so beautiful.

BRYNN: Compared to all the other worlds you’ve been to?

DEWIN: Well Camelot obviously has a better scenic view.

BRYNN: Camelot?

DEWIN: My home land.

BRYNN: You're full of jokes.

DEWIN: I’m not joking.

BRYNN: What?

(Suddenly someone grabs Brynn into an alleyway and she screams. Dewin quickly turns to see no one beside him and runs after her, followed by Alden.)


(The clear skies suddenly turn gray and ominous as Dewin arrives on the roof of a building to see three people with glowing purple eyes in the dark purple robes and hoods with one standing in the center holding Brynn with a dagger to her neck. Alden arrives on the rooftop.)

ALDEN: Bloody hell!

DEWIN: Let go of her!

(The three people take off their hoods and their eyes go to normal shades. The person holding Brynn is revealed to be DABRIA (30s), a menacing looking woman.)

DABRIA: Dim mynd i mewn dim dianc.

(A purple hazy force field appears around the edges of the rooftop.)

DABRIA: So you are the one sent to stop us.

DEWIN: What do you connote?

DABRIA: We are the Citadel of le Fay.

DEWIN: Oh no.

DABRIA: Who are you?

DEWIN: My name is Dewin, I am the son of Merlin, and I demand that you let Brynn go.

DABRIA: Why? Is she your protector?

BRYNN: Dewin, what are they talking about!?

(Dewin starts to move his hands around and a wispy blue energy begins to come out of them.)

DABRIA: Get him!

(The two other people with Dabria rush towards Dewin to attack him, but he uses the energy he created to push them around and drop them both to the ground. Dabria drops Brynn and her dagger and Alden rushes to pick up the dagger and succeeds.)

DABRIA: You are foolish, Dewin.

(Dabria pulls a gun out of her robes and shoots it at Dewin but he turns the bullet into a flower. Dabria shoots more but each time Dewin does the same thing until Dabria is out of bullets. Alden sneaks up behind Dabria and stabs her in the back. Dabria shrieks in pain and then disappears in a cloud of black smoke. Brynn gets up off of the ground.)

BRYNN: What the hell just happened?

DEWIN: Are you okay?

BRYNN: Not mentally. What in the world is going on here? How did you turn bullets into flowers!?

DEWIN: I told you I’m from Camelot.

(Alden drops the dagger.)

ALDEN: Did I just kill that woman?

DEWIN: Most likely not, you didn’t stab deep enough to hit any organs.

BRYNN: What do we do now?

DEWIN: Go home and call it a night.

BRYNN: I can’t forget about this.

DEWIN: I’m not asking you to.

ALDEN: If any of us speak of this people think we’re insane.

DEWIN: Then don’t speak of it.

BRYNN: Will I see you again, Dewin?

DEWIN: Did you enjoy tonight?

BRYNN: I was almost killed.

DEWIN: That doesn’t answer my question.

BRYNN: Meet at the pub on Friday after my shift.


(Alden and Minerva lay next to each other.)

MINERVA: Do you think the Citadel will return?

ALDEN: Unequivocally.

MINERVA: What have we gotten into?


(A cavern full of crystals and magical runes. BENJAMIN FALEY (30s or 40s), an attractive but uptight looking man, sits on his throne. Dabria enters and walks to face the throne, she bows and then gets back up.)

BENJAMIN: Did you find him?

DABRIA: Yes, Master Faley.

BENJAMIN: And did you find his protector?

DABRIA: Yes, but it’s not the girl.

BENJAMIN: Then who?

DABRIA: A Doctor Alden Smith.

BENJAMIN: Did you kill the doctor?

DABRIA: He deeply wounded me.

BENJAMIN: Then the battle goes on.

DABRIA: For Morgana.

BENJAMIN: For Morgana.


(Aldrich and Dewin sit across from each other drinking tea.)

ALDRICH: There are many things in this world, Dewin…


(Gwenwyn stands in the middle of a circle of candles. She stretches out her hands and forms magic blue charts and graphs with a picture of Dewin.)

ALDRICH (VOICE OVER): Forces we can’t explain…


(Brynn wears only her undergarments and takes a few coins from a man.)

ALDRICH (VOICE OVER): Secrets we hide…


(Benjamin sits on his throne.)

ALDRICH (VOICE OVER): And villains we must defeat.


ALDRICH: You are the key to this all, Dewin, you are the son of Merlin.

22:55 UTC


looking for advice!

hello! first post on here so im feeling a little scared.

ive been writing for a long long time, ever since i was about 7 or so, it’s always what i wanted to do. recently, i submitted an essay to my english teacher and i thought it was really good- i tried super hard on it and i worked on it for about 2 weeks, (in her definition an essay is a short story), and she wrote back a full page feedback that was her basically saying that im trying to hard and that i need to stop elaborating so much on everything. she saw me once just walking in the corridor and she proceeded to expand on how long it was and that i really needed to shorten my essays or she’s not going to correct the entire thing and that no examiner/teacher really cares.

i know that sounds like perfectly fine advice- but the way she said it was extremely backhanded and it felt like she was judging me.

ever since, ive stopped writing. ive scrapped 3 of my book projects because i just feel like everything i write is terrible and now im scared to open a word document and start writing- sorry if this sounds like a trauma dump but ill get to my point, i promise. does anyone have any advice to get over criticism on your writing? and if so, how do you manage being heavily criticised?

thank you all so much for your time, have a lovely day.

20:31 UTC


Writer's Overwhelm

Is there a term for that feeling you get when you happily work on a project and then start getting overwhelmed with the energy of your project? Cause I've been feeling it heavy. It's like...I have such a good time creating it but then I get to a point where just looking at the page/screen makes me want to scream.

Does anybody else get this way? What would u call this? Gimme something cute to label it lol

19:50 UTC


Need help on how to describe something

Hi everyone,

I'm having difficulty how to describe, when a younger child (2 year old) their smile would be described. Since she smiles but clearly some teeth haven't come in yet. I thought there was a term for it, but it's escaping me. I tried to google for it but google is only giving me search results about children teething. Didn't want to have to over explain that they're missing if there is a term for it.

Thanks in advance!

19:45 UTC


How do you chose which idea will you make into a book??

Im sure im not the only one that has like 5 New ideas for a plot and its hard to stick to only one. And all those doubts what if the other idea would be better and that kind of stuff. I am thankfull for all the comments in advenced. :))

18:35 UTC

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