Merlin! Melody has this week's recap waiting for you and your juicy thoughts.
And thank you again to everyone that is helping us get noticed by tweeting links, tumbling, liking - it's just a click for you, but it helps us TREMENDOUSLY. <3
My poor kid was sick all through the weekend, but rallied mid-day yesterday (his actual birthday) and we had a small family dinner. He'll get to have a proper party this coming weekend, but still. Poor buddy.
But now for my shock. SHOCK, I SAY! So, most of y'all that have been around here for a while know that I LOVE reading crappy fanfic. Like, really really bad. Comically bad. "He egressed in the seat of her audience" bad. (That remains one of my favorites. That and "he put his think in her butt.") That stuff is hilarious and entertaining. Then there are the stories that you think, "Huh, that's really boring." Or, "What the hell? This is the story everyone is going on about? REALLY?"
I am not going to link you or post names, because that's shitty. But I haven't been able to get these two stories out of my head for DAYS NOW, because I am so AGGRAVATED by their hit counts. <-- I am a child, yes. Your point? Lol.
That's an awesome concept! But LAWS, what terrible execution.
This is the worst, in my opinion. A story that sounds good on paper, and then you read it and think, why aren't you working with a proper beta? NOTE TO BABY WRITERS OUT THERE: you need a beta. YES. Yes, you do. And a beta isn't your BFF who thinks you are wonderful. A beta is someone that actually understands composition and grammar, that (hopefully) understands the characters, and is willing to tell you NO. That last one is the most important part.
"NO. No, Laura, you do not need fourteen paragraphs of fart jokes in this story."
(For example. Which we know is a lie, because fourteen paragraphs of fart jokes is AWESOME.)
Things a Good Beta Does:
- tells you to stop abusing the same word. (I read "keen/keening" FIVE TIMES in one paragraph. And no one was confronted with a banshee, huh.)
- tells you to not drop the ball on emotion - if it's important enough to write about, it's important enough to finish the thought
- tells you when a joke doesn't land
- tells you when you've used a word INCORRECTLY. (omg, clamor doesn't mean to get on top of, the fuck?)
- tells you when you've misspelled a word. Oh, you may have spelled the wrong word correctly, but if it's not the RIGHT WORD, it's spelled wrong. (Leaks for leeks, for example.)
- tells you when your characterization is slipping.
- when you've written the same damn thing over and over for the space of three pages. We don't need multiple paragraphs about the bare trees. The trees are bare, it's cold and stark. BOOM, move on to the story.
They also encourage you to keep going and to improve. I highly recommend you get one. Lord knows my writing has improved tenfold since I started working with flaming_muse.
The other kind of story... hmm.
The kind of story that is the literary equivalent of watching paint dry - and yet it has thousands of hits.
I almost called flaming_muse last night until I realized that it was 1:30am where she lives and she would be very mad at me if I had done so. And why? because I came across a story on the AO3 (which I am loving for multiple reasons) that had just over a couple thousand hits, loads of kudos, and I thought, "You know, normally I don't care for this author's story telling [to be honest, I'd only tried to read one or two of their stories and found them not to be my liking] but hey, maybe all of these people know something I don't?"
Nope. The public is stupid, I had it reconfirmed. (I am making up examples, because I'm not actually a finger pointing jack ass, so bear that in mind.)
Character A called Character B and asked about laundry sorting. B said, "Well, I find that sorting clothes by color first, and then texture second, leads to the best results."
A, "Oh? That's so fascinating. Did you know that the codes on your clothing were instituted by a Federal Law crafted in 1983 after John Henry, a laundress with a man's name--"
B interrupting, saying, "Oh, that's so unbelievably interesting! A man's name for a laundress?"
A said, "It is unusual, is it not? However, back to the riveting tale of how a triangle and a circle mean dry cleaning and so forth. I would like to talk for another nine paragraphs about how this works."
B said, "I would also like that. I would like that a lot. I like that."
A, "(nine paragraphs later) By the way, my cock is hard, shall we suddenly be boyfriends and have sex?"
Narrator: and they did.
Character A has bought a day planner and is going to outline all of his life's goals in excruciating detail...
WHAT THE FUCK?! Wait, wait. The writer established a friendship, they yammered bullshit about laundry, and then they had sex OFF CAMERA?! I hate you. I hate your parents for making you. I hate the teachers that educated your parents enough to put them in a place in life where they were free to make you. Also, I hate your dog. JUST BECAUSE.
No one wants to read minutia. They don't. Details are not minutia. POR EJEMPLO:
Billy loved ballet When he was three and a half years old his mother took him specifically to the Ballet on Bleaker Street because it was close to his house and his mother only had a few minutes a day to devote to things that didn't involve her job because she worked for Mrs. Johnson up the street, and Mrs. Johnson was really mean to her and her husband was a banker so they had a big house with a lot of rooms for Billy's mother to clean, like lots of floors and windows and carpets and things to dust like knick knacks and lamps and tchotchkes and books and statues and small dogs. The bank often had tens of millions of dollars in transactions each day, transactions like deposits and withdrawals and other types of transactions that I would list if wikipedia was up today, and Mr. Johnson was happy about that, but he usually stayed at work for long hours, which made Mrs. Johnson unhappy because she was lonely. Her own parents had been workaholics and also she loved the color orange.
So Billy went to his first ballet and his mother went back to work for Mrs. Johnson where she pulled out all of the cleaning products and lined them up alphabetically and--
It was a hardscrabble life in Manchester where the women worked their fingers to the bone and their children suffered for it. Billy was no different. Billy wanted to join the ballet, but no boy from a neighborhood like his would allow it, nor would his mother, a housekeeper for a mid-level banker, be able to afford it. But Billy continued to dream, even as his mother continued scrubbing floors.
No one gives a shit about Mrs. Johnson, unless she suddenly pays for Billy to go to ballet school. Or has sex with him. LOOK, I DON'T WANT TO STIFLE YOUR CREATIVITY.
Just...Christ. Details matter, minutia doesn't. I haaaaaaaate stories that aren't about the people, but about the thing they're doing. Like taking pictures, for example. I don't want to learn how to use a dark room, I want to read about the people USING THE DARK ROOM. In that they're doing something, then they do something else. I don't need the chemicals used, the length of time explained for each process... that shit is BORING. Are they developing pictures of a murder scene? Tell me about the pictures! Otherwise, no one gives a shit that you read three wikipedia pages. Really. I'm telling you this so you can get better.
(This is not to say that I think I'm an amazing writer. Because HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, no. Anyone that knows me knows that i have horrible self esteem. BUT. I do know how to keep an audience. After all, you read this, didn't you? BOOM, gotcha. Lol.
Now if you'll excuse me, I am going to write a story about Abraham Lincoln trying to make a light bulb. And then I am going to write it in real time so it takes you 24 hours to read about his 24 hours.