@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

sfwrtr

@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe

RS, pronounced /är' əs/. Professional #SF #fiction writer coming back from burn-out. Writes character-driven #SFF (science fiction #fantasy) and some #fanfiction (#MLP). #ClarionWest 98 graduate. #SFWA life member. Studied non-western culture, #folklore, and #mythology. #Feminist #Writer and #Author in the #WritingCommunity amongst the #WritersOfMastodon.

Goals: Return to paid publication. Provide interesting content for followers. Make friends; attract colleagues. See intro post for more...

This profile is from a federated server and may be incomplete. Browse more on the original instance.

taur10, to random
@taur10@social.xcetera.biz avatar
sfwrtr,
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

@taur10

"[Actual symptoms of PTSD]"

Thank you for posting this. Whilst I was aware of this, and the MC in my current work suffers many of those symptoms, it's something other writers should be aware of. I've boosted to my followers to make them aware, also.

ignova, to writing

is it possible for a piece of advice to be both the best and the worst?

i feel this way about 'show, don't tell.' when i first learned about this rule (back in high school) it was a big 'aha' moment for me. but the more high quality books i read (literary classics, Nobel or Pulitzer winners etc.) the more i realized that great writers both show and tell all the time. they're just really good at both skills, and they know when to use them judiciously.

sfwrtr,
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

@ignova This is a great observation. I agree both are appropriate, but I find that each method affects the pacing, and it's not that one picks up the pace and another slows it. When a scene is iffy or loquacious and I find I'm telling, I try showing and vice-versa in revision (I don't mess with such trivia while composing story). I pick what makes the scene work best. Being aware of "the advice" is what will make you a better author because you'll see things.

sfwrtr, to music
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

31005: /Rivers/ by Thomas Jack

Today I initiate my thread with the above song. Recently, I recovered my Apple Music "On the Go" playlist when it didn't transfer to the new phone. It devastated me that I thought I'd lost all those songs. Why? /They map my recent writing career./ Some inspired scenes, as does today's selection, while others have inspired entire stories—and I remember each when I hear the song. Many define the vibe of the story; others simply get me in the writing mood. Whilst I am heavily into Trance, Progressive, and House, lots of my music is pop or eclectic. I have a few oldies mixed in, including anime with a sprinkling of musical rap.

I plan to share where each song fits into my writing and I'll begin below. Consider following the hashtag.

/Rivers/, the blue-cover single, is romantically evocative. For me, it speaks to the transience of love and human relationships. It appears in my DJ stories in the final scene of a novella where it play in the background. Having won praise and secret recognition for not-so-secretly helping save the life of thousands of her fans, the DJ MC is feeling strong. Strong enough to corner her high school crush (who's prominent in the story). He's in her audience and she parts the dancing fans like the red sea, sashaying up while singing, to dance with him. The scene is sweet and ends with them kissing as they dance, with the certainty that they'll hook up after the curtain falls.

I'm providing a YouTube link, but I'm not sure that's necessary. It seems that practically everyone has some streaming service they use and will probably use that. If you think the YouTube link should be included, please reply to say so.

https://youtu.be/JwtsEpUEgCY


repeattofade, to random
@repeattofade@tootr.co avatar

spooky

sfwrtr,
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

@repeattofade That is truly nightmarish.

XanIndigo, to random

So. Trick or treat, huh?

sfwrtr,
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

@XanIndigo I like both, but I eat more of the trick without getting sick.

sfwrtr, to 13thFloor
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

10.5 — How often do you discuss your writing with your real-life friends and family?

Family: Other than reporting I'm doing it regularly, and happy, and planning to retire to pursue it more deeply, never.

Friends: I've a friend who's an avid fantasy reader and I'm having him read my work for flow and plot issues, which he found, darn it. Total time (other than him reading it): minutes.

Co-workers: They know I'm an author. Many have read my work. They all know I also write fan-fiction. Time spent discussing this. Zero.

Mastodon: Gosh, y'all! Hours and hours. Thanks for following me.


sfwrtr, (edited ) to 13thFloor
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

Question for people who write responses for hashtag prompts like , , , and AND also thread responses for the month, i.e., reply to the initial or last toot.

Do you reply to your last toot, or do you reply to the initial toot of the thread? Why? (Please reply to the thread.) Please boost for a bigger sample size..

sfwrtr,
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

@NaraMoore To organize responses to hashtags like WordWeavers, people will reply to their own previous post to the thread with the next response to the prompt. For example, look at my Writever thread here and scroll through the stories:(https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/111173835020993722) Makes it easy to see all my collected posts for the month.

The question is, should I reply to the first post of the thread, or my last post. The way Mastodon threads, other peoples replies will show up differently in the thread, and one might be preferred over the other.

sfwrtr,
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

@gahlearner Nice idea! I've started using (hashtag)RSstory and (hashtag) RSdiscussion to ensure uniqueness. Your (hashtag) GL (date) solution is so clean I never noticed it before. Thanks for confirming how useful that is for you.

sfwrtr,
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

@orionkidder

" I reply to my last post so that it's one long string and I can copy/paste them into my project at the end of every month." [Emphasis mine.]

It seems like it ought be obvious, but how do you do your copy/paste? My web UI condenses the posts so I have to open them. Copying also copies non-post info. Pasting in Pages looks weird. What masto-client do you use? Do you filter somehow? Into what program do you paste? Any special options? Tips? This interests me a lot!

BTW, I write all my hashtag posts in Pages and copy them into the text entry box. I'd still love to copy threads. So useful for finding posts so I can make links.

I also export and download ActivePub archive backups twice monthly, which is why I've been searching for a tool that would allow me to format and output posts in an organized fashion, but other than Mastodon, I've failed. Maybe when I retire (I do some web programming amongst other things) I can write my own.

sfwrtr,
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

The hardest thing about threading this way is my remembering to reply to the last post in the thread! I goofed and had to delete a post. Whilst it's my hope people read my toots, I really apologize to any who'd started immediately this time. I've read posts that went 404 on me, but hope I didn't do it to someone else. This is a down side of threading, I guess.

sfwrtr,
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

@wendypalmer We learn things every day. It has a slightly different behavior; as best I can characterize it is that by-passes other user's replies and puts it at the end of your last reply when you view the initial post. But don't quote me; I may be wrong.

sfwrtr, to 13thFloor
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

Darned characters! Woke me in the middle of the night, wouldn't let me doze off again. 750 words and two hours later, I have a new R-rated minific for the writever hashtag "masque" prompt that I'll be publishing CW'd this afternoon. Now, can I get some sleep, please!?

sfwrtr, to random
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

I've just realized I have to go outside to get a lemon off the tree. It's night. I bet the tiny buzzing /vampires/ are rubbing their little legs together in glee. Do I have enough blood to pay to make my cocktail sauce? Okay. Stiff upper lip and all that...

sfwrtr, to 13thFloor
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

Ch 2 Nbr 5 — What are your writing project goals?

Hm. Good opportunity to think about it and enumerate.

Short term:

  • Write a completely unique 300-500 word story for each of the days of October's hashtag. I'm doing this because I think that my writing mostly in a well-defined universe with developed characters is making me rusty. I want to prove to myself that story ideas are a dime a dozen and that I can always find something to write. So far 4 of 5 of my stories are out-of-universe. The thread—which is not ever going to be in day order—is here: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/111173835020993722.
  • Keep up with the , , and prompts. I've learned so much from everyone, and I've discovered so much about my own stories. Thank you, everyone!

Longer term:

  • Get through the final proofing of the serial currently in serialization. Get the whole thing done and published. Get the darn epilogue written already! Decide if I want to do a sequel.
  • Work out the hiccups my beta reader pointed out in my Reluctance series. Finish that story, or finish the amnesiac romance I started as a prompt on Mastodon (https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/110993252771253246). Either could serve as the start of my return to commercial publication.
  • Work on my earliest work, for which I've gotten back my copyright. Create an author's preferred edition, modernizing the text. Hire a cover artist. Consider writing side stories or a sequel if the characters demand it.
  • Work on my unpublished novellas, revise them, and make them ready for publication.
  • Work on my unpublished novels, converting them to 1st person, readying them for publication.
  • While doing all of the above, launch an author website where I can post short material and blog. Revise my photography site and start blogging images. Record audio versions of sample chapters and post those.
  • When I have inventory that's sellable, contact my author friends and network. Podcasts and such would be nice. Volunteer at conventions.

ASAP:

  • Retire in the next few months so I can accomplish all this.


literalgrill, to random
@literalgrill@sakurajima.moe avatar

This question will sound weird and like maybe I'm joking but I promise I'm serious.

How do y'all have so much to talk about on social media? I see folks I follow making multiple posts a day and like, do people just do more stuff than me? Think more things? Am I just living a kinda boring life or something?

sfwrtr,
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

@NaraMoore @literalgrill 私はアニメを見て夜更かしします。ごめん！😇​

sfwrtr,
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

@literalgrill

"How do y'all have so much to talk about on social media?"

I don't sleep as much as I should? I'm also an author. My life /is/ boring, but like Walter Mitty, I have a never-boring internal life. I live it, then write it all down! I post about that and how I perform d'magicks!

"...I am more productive as the world to the East of me goes to sleep."

That, too. ありがと @NaraMoore

sfwrtr,
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

@NaraMoore @literalgrill 😂​😇​

The_Whore_of_Blahbylon, to random
@The_Whore_of_Blahbylon@mastodon.social avatar

Why didn't democrats try to stop me?!

sfwrtr,
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

@The_Whore_of_Blahbylon This seems to be the paradigm of the worse subsection of me generation gravitating to the political pole that would allow such mis-behavior, then wanting mommy to fix it when the burn down the house. [Pun intended.]

player_03, to random
@player_03@peoplemaking.games avatar

I'm far from done at the moment, but the early sections seem to mean well.

Random thoughts and/or critique:

  • "patterns of use that indicate or encourage addiction-like behaviors": it's certainly a real problem, worth "preventing and mitigating." The question is how, and the the bill seems to expect you to figure that part out for yourself.
  • "physical violence, online bullying, and harassment of a minor": in other words, sites must be moderated. Makes sense.
  • "predatory, unfair, or deceptive marketing practices": kinda vague. Are they talking about ads, loot boxes, shady product sellers, what?
  • "safeguards to...limit the ability of other individuals to contact or find a minor": cool, now Elon can't just unilaterally scrap the block feature.
  • "opt out of such recommendation systems": reducing the power of The Algorithm™, I see.
  • "delete their personal data": even though most sites already do this thanks to the GDPR, it'd be nice for the US to have a law about it too.

1/🧵​

sfwrtr,
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

@player_03 Being civic minded is never a waste of time. It make you informed and helps others. From the other posts going through my feed, I'm sure you're helping many more than me with this effort.

sfwrtr,
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

@player_03
Yep. Found out the hard way, too, that hashtags don't work in CWs. Self-correcting; I now put the hashtags in the CW line and at the bottom. Lesson learned. Sadly.

niiqo, to random French
@niiqo@piaille.fr avatar

Les stickers générés par l'IA de Meta échappent à tout contrôle

https://korii.slate.fr/tech/stickers-messagerie-generes-ia-intelligence-artificielle-meta-echappent-controle-derives-applications-facebook-whatsapp-zuckerberg

> Vous êtes plutôt Karl Marx avec des seins, Justin Trudeau montrant son derrière ou Mario avec un flingue? Il n'aura fallu qu'une petite semaine pour rappeler à Meta, maison mère de Facebook, Instagram et WhatsApp, la propension des gens à utiliser l'intelligence artificielle (IA)...

sfwrtr,
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

@niiqo This amuses me greatly. This is why we don't let toddlers drive their parent's car.

sfwrtr, (edited ) to 13thFloor
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

10.3 — Vengeance

I drummed my fingers on the table beside her open grimoires. Not facing the bully, I turned my eyes toward the blonde, taking in her arrogant smile. She'd gotten me to do what she wanted. She held her wand steady, and the tip glowed like hot iron. "And that's all I need to do? I can't believe you're helping me like this after all we've been through..."

The bucket-full of water and me being hit by said bucket falling off the shelf above the door. The vanishing ink pen I used on a test. The worms in my box lunch. Other things. But I was also a T.A. Some responsibilities where inescapable.

I did volunteer to help Jill.

I wanted to laugh at the "we" in that last sentence, but sighed instead. She was predictable. Very predictable. "The mnemonic, the equations, the visualization. Spot on. It balances and your wand indicates that."

"So all I have to do is say what I want to conjure?"

Predictable. I didn't grin. Instead I switched to French, hopeful. "/Tu m'emmerdes avec tes questions!/"†

She blinked. "Merde? Isn't that French for—"

With magic you really need to be specific about where to target a spell affect and what you're asking for. She'd been specific about neither.

Where your wand is pointing is the default. Her's pointed above her head.

The spell understood what she wanted enough that the closest source proved to be the horse stables. I could see it out the dorm room window. The spell mucked every stall.

A load of small round spheres crashed down around her, bouncing off her head and bounding around the room. I squealed reflexively and jumped away.

I doubled over leaning against the door, laughing despite the smell. For her part, the bully sat stunned. Her expression wanted to be a smile. She had succeeded, after all. She also knew she'd been made the fool.

Exiting out the door was the better part of valor. I grabbed the nob.

"/Amélie/," came a growl.

=-=-=-=-=
† "You're so annoying with your questions!" Literally: "You're shitting on me with your questions."



sfwrtr, (edited )
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

10.5 — Némésis

My backyard was a mess, with pots of tomato plants here and potato plants there, with a blackberry bush taking over the unwary near the house, not to mention a few hanging orchids, coleus, and perennial geranium. The lawn had long ago turned to hard dirt. The borders around the edges were overrun with nasturtium,. Toward the back, below tall fragrant cedar, was a wildflower garden that had been recently cleared because everything was spent, except for tall wild marigolds that waved in the breeze, and tiny phlox blooming a cloud of white.

In my mess, I'd planted a few fun things. My sunflowers. Giants as tall as Hagrid, with just as sunny an expression when they bloomed. Sunflower smell special and sweet, and I'd recommend planting just for that. This year, I'd planted enough that the seeds actually had kernels inside the husks.

Today, I wanted to harvest.

The first drooping head looked strange. Downtrodden, like someone had pressed it to carry a sack of bean and it had bent over under the load.

It was bent over.

And half of the head: Missing. Darkness faced me, as if I viewed a skull chopped, no halved, by a raiders sword.

I rushed forward, but it was too late for the sunflower clan. My entire village had been ravaged. On closer inspection, I saw they'd been eaten, still bearing their progeny, eaten alive. Three, no five, no all of them! Chomped by an indiscriminate monster.

And. Oh horror. I rushed to by small planting of watermelon radishes. The dirt around them had been excavated by tiny paws. Each was gnawed at the plant ankle, the rest of the plant lying over. The red interior made each look like the leg of an animal, dead, having bled out.

I hissed. "Squirrel!" I swore and stomped around. I was glad the yard was fenced it in that moment.

A chittering came from my right, up on the telephone line. I looked. My bushy nemesis twitched its tail, blinking and regarding my behavior. Curious.

I stooped, grabbing a stone.

I missed.

The fluffy monster, who was in no ways cute, stood on two legs, chittering loudly, swearing and cursing at me, no doubt.

I threw another stone. Another. I'd never been an athlete. What made me think this would work?

I threw again.

Missed.

Then heard the neighbor's window shatter.



sfwrtr, (edited )
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

(hashtag)Writever 10.2 — Nuit (Night)

I am not hash-tagging this Writever post because it was previously posted here: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/111180241113244481. I am reposting below in its entirety so the thread I replied to (my October writevers) will be complete.

À la Tombée de la Nuit ou Lest Night Fall

I asked, "Do I look like the woman you accuse me of being?" I actually wanted to know. I wasn't the Sunny that Raven Caw had named me, and even this encounter didn't spark memories.

The two day angels floated midair, gravity disturbance crackling and sparking around their wings. They wore plate armor that weighed as much as they did. They looked unimpressed, and pushed their spears closer. "Aye, you're a monster, but your face—"

Raven wasn't taking chances. My night angel pushed his sunglasses up on his nose dismissively, then waved a similarly sparking quarter arc of folded gravity between us and them, teeth clenched. I smelled ozone mixed in the corruption on the breeze.

I added, "Were she on the battlefield, she'd be dead." I waved my arms expansively, at how bright daylight had settled into the four cardinal directions and left the zenith deep dusk blue. "The old order is broken, just like the sky. Would they leave our world like this, otherwise? Would they not let night fall after all these days of constant light?"

The day angels looked at different horizons. Surprised, it took me a few moments to notice the four shadows of the fire-blasted trees beside me begin to circle about, lengthening, deepening. As my heart stuttered in my chest, it seemed every nearby tree pointed at my face.

Scattered cirrus became strands of sparkling orange crystal, turning purple before they dimmed as daylight vanished below the horizon. The sky went from hazy blue to midnight blue, before a bluer, dimmer, colder light rose in the cardinal directions.

I shivered. Night had fallen.

What an unfortunate coincidence, considering the trash I'd just talked about the old order to a pair of its last soldiers. Rebels apparently. Not good.

[Author retains copyright.]


sfwrtr, (edited )
@sfwrtr@eldritch.cafe avatar

I stood there, having stopped him and his friends in the hall. I stuttered half a minute until he rolled his eyes. I blushed. Barely appropriate for getting what I needed in middle school; embarrassing at university. I'd turned to stone in his cockatrice gaze as he spoke. "You're tall, plain, gawky, not even wild looking. Your magic lacks power. Smart, I'll grant you that much, but timidity is /never/ attractive, nor is it sexy."

I stuttered, arms crossed, hands clasped at waist level, protecting my—

I was a graduate student Phd candidate in Calculative Thaumaturgy. I taught classes, one that he attended. He was a year from his baccalaureate. Yet, /physically,/ he was my /everything./ A whiff of his lavender cologne would turn me in a hall, looking into classrooms. Very intelligent, too, despite his arrogance. I could /learn/ things from him, in addition to what my betraying body wanted to learn.

His friends laughed with him as they turned, walking away, leaving me—

Mortified.

I still wanted him. Hormones and pheromones? Doubtless. I'd made a scene. I heard hushed voices, found impetus, and rushed away.

I sat at my desk in the graduate dorm, wiping hot tears that had come unexpectedly. I wasn't sure I liked myself, but my late mother's words echoed in my head and I pulled out the contents of the bottom drawer.

A white noh mask. Black sumi-e brush strokes were incised through the surface, implying a face and a kanji at the same time, but spelled nothing. Splashes of red and yellow paint hinted it represented a lion.

"If you need courage or solace, wear it," Mother had said on her death bed, wounded in battle. She'd lived a full life, nonetheless. An anonymous war orphan as a toddler, she'd gone on to rule a prefecture.

On the inner surface was inscribed 貪欲. /Avarice./The kanji glowed faintly electric blue, only when you read them.

Two hours later, I put it on. It fit perfectly, as if carved for my face. Assembled of worked bone, the interior nonetheless felt soft and silky against my forehead, temple, and chin. I smelled chrysanthemums. I breathed in freely and felt immediately better. I felt...

Powerful...

Hidden...

Anonymous...

The mask thumped on the blue carpeted floor. I found myself in a different dorm. Undergraduate. Institutional white walls. Two desks, two beds. A chair propped under the door nob enforced privacy. The window was flung open, orange and pink-tinted sunset light streaming in. Drapes fluttered in a breeze that cooled my skin. Everywhere. I frowned. I wore...

My heart beat rapidly. Well, a man's cravat was clothing, wasn't it?

I smelled lavender and heard outraged mumbling at the same time.

My eyes dropped to the man tied hand-and-foot to the small bed. A piece of my clothing was stuffed in his mouth. He thrashed his head side to side, but stopped and stared up at me having caught my attention. He'd put me in my place this afternoon, so I'd done this? Certain parts of a man's anatomy implied that he wasn't all that frightened.

Average, I thought. "Perfect" my mind added. I squatted rapidly when I realized what he could view, did view.

I'd done this.

Maybe I'd said it aloud. He nodded, mumbled. I pulled the silk out of his mouth so he could demand, "Untie me! Now!"

I almost jumped at his command. Then, "Why?" bubbled up. Behind the mask, I'd been hidden. Remembered courage made me rub the back of my palm on his cheek.

Bristly. I shivered. "Really?" I asked.

"No."

Of course, /no./ Active in student government. President of an athletic club. Ranked high in his class, he tutored others. He was responsible. Driven. Attractive in that, also, but always taking the reins. Had to be tiresome. Being led sometimes wasn't bad, was it?

"You... suggested this?" I asked, leaning over his face, feeling his warm breath.

Expression suddenly perplexed, he admitted, "Yeah."

His head reached up as I kissed him and it was all the consent I needed.

Later, he held me. I'd untied him for practical reasons. Spooned, I felt warm, syrupy, still smelling our perspiration. In the light of the dusk, autumn crisp air cooling my skin, I looked at Avarice laying there, colored blue and highlighted in orange by the sky. The kanji glowed blue. I thanked my mother mentally.

I'd wear the mask again. Yes. Definitely. I could think of plenty of things that required courage and would provide me solace, as likely Mother had, too.

Maybe greedy was alright?

[2 1/2 hrs writing time. Author retains copyright.]


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