Harry: I Want To Go To Hogsmeade

harry: i want to go to hogsmeade

mcgonagall: sorry, potter, you need signed permission from your guardian

harry: i want to not be in the triwizard tournament

dumbledore: aw, but the magic will be sad. you don’t want to make the magic sad, do you harry?

Hi! I was just wondering what advice you would give to first time writers.

Hi there!

Depending on time of day, mood, and what I’ve been editing and/or reading recently, my answer to this sort of question changes. Today, I’ve gone full prose, and I’m not sure how strictly helpful this is going to be, but hopefully you’ll be able to glean something useful!

That said.

One of the most important things—if not the most important thing—a new writer can do is WRITE. Just write. Fiction? Absolutely. Nonfiction? Sure, why not. Poetry? If you’re so inclined! Song lyrics? You’re a more brilliant writer than I. Essays? Analyses? Any series of words that comes to mind? Yes, yes, and yes.

Write. Experiment. Break any rules you’re currently aware of and a whole ton you don’t even know exist. Play with language. Get comfortable with using enormous words, tiny words, strong words, weak words; feel the rhythm of language and of different sentence constructions. Hone your ear, really listen to how words sound, look at their appearances, hold the shapes of them in your mouth, let them sit heavy in your gut and flutter the tips of your fingers. (If you really attune yourself to the English language, there should be no such thing as a synonym because no two words mean exactly the same thing.)

Mess about with storytelling. Write as many different kinds of characters and situations as you can. Become aware of what parts of writing you find superbly easy and what parts you want to torch with a flamethrower. Push yourself. Write raw, write real, write those things that scare you, don’t be afraid of doing this writing thing wrong. Not yet (maybe not ever). Don’t don’t don’t DON’T let yourself become paralyzed by all the writing advice out there, all the rules, all the dos and don’ts, all the this-is-how-real-writers-do-it. (Related: I am currently reading a book on writing that I think is excellent—except for the author’s approach to organic plotting. I hate the method he champions. It doesn’t mesh with my style at all. But the rest of the information in the book is A+ and I can’t discount all of it just because that writer and I have different drafting methodologies.) On that note, if anything I say doesn’t jive with your style, ignore it! There’s nothing wrong with cherry-picking writing advice, especially when it’s come from an informal setting like this.

Don’t immediately seek out feedback or editing or publication. It’s so tempting to do that—getting feedback can be addictive, I know—but you need to discover what works for you first and foremost, what makes you excited to write, what causes your unique words to bubble up like a spring. Your early writing might suck. In fact, it almost certainly will suck. I can’t read anything I wrote more than eight years ago because it’s just too cringy. And that’s okay! Every word you put down is a new stepping-stone, and one day you’re going to look back and realize that while many of those stones are shrouded in the fog of time, they’re still there—they still carried you to where you are now—and there are more ahead of you as long as you keep laying words down.

Enjoy yourself! Have fun! Those first two or so years of writing are pure magic, a budding infatuation with all the possibilities that are available to you via this new world of your own creation. Go mad with power. Get drunk on language.

If you really want to, begin learning about the craft of storytelling, about the rules of grammar, about writing in general. Don’t let any of that learning shove you into a box and tape you inside. The best writers break the rules somewhere, somehow—you just need to determine what rules you want to flout and why, and you won’t know that until you actually begin writing for yourself. (If you want a couple of excellent books that aren’t prescriptive, I highly recommend Spellbinding Sentences by Barbara Baig and Mastering the Craft of Writing by Stephen Wilbers.)

Don’t pressure yourself into finishing everything. Don’t feel guilty about not finishing every project you begin. Words aren’t wasted, and sometimes you might only write down a few sentences of a story before getting swept up in the heady elation of a new idea. That’s okay! Similarly, do occasionally finish projects. If you need to set the bar really low, that’s fine. Write a story in exactly 100 words. Exactly 200 words. Exactly 500 words. 1,500 words. Learn how to feel the weight of an idea—and learn your own tendencies. Some writers naturally come up with novels; others naturally come up with short stories. Novel ideas and short story ideas are not the same thing. Play around and discover the differences. Build the habit of finishing projects, though. Not all projects, but some. Revel in the accomplishment—you have completed a story! That’s wild, not every writer can say that! Treat yourself to something delicious or that ultraglittery bath bomb you’ve been eyeing or a pair of snuggly socks or anything. Just make it good, make it a proper reward.

Test out the method of highly structured plotting; then, for the next story, abandon yourself to the whims of your imagination. You’ll probably land somewhere in the middle—most writers do—but you’ll never know unless you try. Discover what you hate about writing, those things that make you want to flip your laptop or phone through the window; circumvent what issues you can, and learn how to mitigate the others. Alternately, force yourself to write something you absolutely hate—if you can do that without letting it crush your spark. Nurture that little flame, feed it tantalizing ideas and engaging characters and the most beautiful words you can find until it’s a roaring fire that cannot be quenched. Discover what you do love to write—and write it!

The world needs your words, your unique voice, your particular storytelling flair. Put pen to paper, fingers to keyboard, thumbs to screen—and write. Anything. Everything. Pure nonsense, your deepest fears and grievances, gossamer words so fragile they dissolve in the eddying breeze, the very truest sentence you know how to write. Don’t lie. Don’t pretend to write as someone you aren’t. Spend time mimicking other writers’ styles, sampling their voices like you’d sample an enormous buffet laid out before you, but don’t stay there. Carve out your own hobbit hole where you’re comfortable, where things are familiar and nourishing, where you’re at home. Occasionally bust down those walls, rearrange the furniture, write literary cubism one day, purple prose the next, stark, bleak, bone-dry reality the day after. Writing is a long, long, long journey, it takes a lifetime to master, so spend those early days and years playing. Delight in the process of creation. Delight in reaching your goals.

Create. Have fun. Don’t take yourself too seriously, and don’t open yourself up to criticism or spark-snuffing feedback too soon. Writing is an intensely personal thing, and you need to get comfortable with it before you can put it on display for the world. Keep laying words down, one stone after another, even when you know you’re not writing as well as you want to be or think you can. Developing your skills takes time—be aware that you’re going to need months, probably even years, before you’re going to have a solid grasp on your own writing tendencies. Work on building that foundation for yourself so you can keep reaching higher, farther, to more fantastical and amazing places.

Give yourself time; don’t expect yourself to be perfect immediately. Be gracious with yourself as you build your skills. Don’t compare yourself to other writers. Stay spongy; always be ready to learn. And—most important—have fun and don’t ever give up!

The last gif tho. Lydia's smile

Sneak Peak: Stiles’ Jeep

Accepted. Only thing that makes sense. And then they re-open hell for him because not even jail can do anything.

How TVD Should Have Ended…

Damon… injected with the cure, a parting gift from Stefan, finally human and ready to live out his life with Elena…

Matt Donovan: “Damon Salvatore, you are under arrest for the murder of Tyler Lockwood.”

And then Damon spends the rest of his miserable life in jail, separated from the “love of his life.”

McMartinski throughout every season.