The Devastating Difference Between How Much Time It Takes To Write Something Vs How Fast People Read

The devastating difference between how much time it takes to write something vs how fast people read it lol

how dare you call out my executive dysfunction

i prefer the term functionally adjacent

reblog if you’ve read fanfictions that are more professional, better written than some actual novels. I’m trying to see something

ok so a little before me but that's crazy!! i literally never hear about Q these days

wattpad this, ao3 that, what about my girl quotev? 😔

writing tip - children

kiddos, ninas, ninos, kinder, whatever you like to call em, they're everywhere. especially in writing! children can be a fun, innocent way to lighten up your story or add opportunities for immeasurable angst.

But i have noticed a propensity for miswriting them. I briefly touched on this in my character continuity post, but I'll go in depth about it rn.

Kids are fascinating. Their little brains work just as hard as adults, but the way they think is way different. I think there's an equal balance of overestimating and underestimating child capabilities in stories, so I'll explain examples of both.

When writing dialogue for children, it's important to note the way that certain milestones are met.

Kids under the age of five are not going to be conjugating verbs, using tense or proper structure. They have just passed the telegraphic/multiword stage of speech, which basically means being able to string words into a sentence. The vocabulary is low, but the comprehension is high. They'll be able to describe things but with a lot of abstract thought and physical description.

Example: John (5 y.o) watches a blue tow truck carry a red car down the road. He runs to tell his father.

Overestimating: "Papa, look! There's a blue tow truck with a car!" (too specific)

Underestimating: "Papa, lookit! A blue thing had another red thing on top of it an' it was goin real fast!" (John knows what cars are at this age; he has passed the 'thingy' stage of description)

Accurate: "Papa, look! A blue truck with a hook on it was with a red car on the road and the red car was on top going fast!"

John is at the age where he can identify nouns and actions, but he can't really put them in the correct order. He might not know exactly what a tow truck is, but he can see the blue truck has a hook, so he says that instead.

Kids at this age are good at descriptions and big picture concepts. If you want to use a kid as a witness in a mystery, this age would be helpful for describing the perp's looks, but nothing specific about what happenened.

Also, kids are remarkably efficient. After the age of two, toddlers/young children can feed themselves and keep themselves entertained. Obviously an adult/caregiver would need to organize and resource the food and toys, but the kids no longer need another person for every movement.

First words.

Not gonna be anything with plosives or hard palate sounds. no -ing, no consonant blends (spider, brick) no k or ck.

Soft vowels, bilabials (m, p, s, l) are all that's really gonna be a thing. (mama, papa, wa-wa, moo, baby, that kinda stuff.) it's used a lot because it's correct.

Toddlers are not busting out complicated words like stegosaurus, ok.

Obviously there are exceptions but by and large, it's pretty simple. Use this as a reference or not, but just some tips for keeping it realistic.

xox bye

here, kitty kitty

getting nathan to do any kind of physical contact would be...a struggle, to say the least. I don't think he'd be a very touchy-touchy kinda guy, just cause he's not used to it. But I bet he'd warm up eventually.

blurb/ficlet thingy

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Baby steps. Touches to the back of the hand, a palm on his shoulder while he worked. He would violently flinch away, looking like you'd slapped his mother. Upon seeing you, Nathan would relax marginally. Despite his prickly disposition, you could tell he craved attention.

His gaze would follow you desperately around the compound, and he would sit as close as possible on the sofa without touching you. If you paid attention, you'd see his hands fidgeting in his lap. A war was raging in hid head - he wanted to touch you but he didn't know how.

You took it slowly, like soothing a frightened barn cat. Yes, he knew he was allowed to touch you, but he still didn't know how. You were such a godlike figure in his mind, the thought of something so mundane seemed wrong.

Not that you didn't try. You picked up on his nervousness, as well-hidden as it was, gently reaching for his hand on the couch. Your gaze was locked on the movie, but your firm hold prevented him from sliding away. Every part of him was tense. You stroked your finger up and down, loosening the nervousness ringing through his body.

He shifted closer, clearing his throat. Nathan's face betrayed nothing of the mentally wagging tail he was currently feeling; gaze focused on the movie in front of you. A small smile tickled your cheeks when you felt his warm shoulder tentatively press against yours.

As tempted as you were to wrap him in a hug, you knew it would scare him off. He rumbled appreciatively when your chin ducked to rest on his shoulder.

The movie concluded but neither of you made a move to get up. Nathan's beard tickled your forehead and your leg was falling asleep, but you didn't want to end the small moment of intimacy.

"You gonna move?" he asked gruffly, hands twitching in yours. You leaned back slightly.

"Do you want me to?"

His gaze didn't meet yours, but you could see it in the pink of his ears. No.

Smiling, you coaxed him back against your chest. His back was stiff until you began stroking his head, fingers scratching lightly over the stubble. You could feel him shiver. Slowly, you paused, letting him adjust.

Nathan huffed impatiently, hands tucking against your waist. You tried to look at his face and gauge his reaction.

"More?"

Another huff. Laughing quietly, you resumed the scalp massage, humming gently as his breathing slowed. He was out like a light before five minutes had passed.

-

A slow drumming gently roused him from the deepest sleep of his light. It was incredibly warm - warmer than he'd ever felt in the compound. Something soft was surrounding him in a way that sucked the energy from his bones. He blinked awake, hazily rousing from the syrupy blanket of slumber.

His glasses were folded at the edge of the coffee table. He was still on the couch. Vaguely, Nathan remembered your fingers on his scalp as he was blissfully rocked to sleep. His chest warmed as he realized the gentle drumming was your slow heartbeat against his cheek.

A thick throw blanket was pulled tight to his chin, and your arms bracketed his shoulders protectively.

Nathan burrowed back under the blanket, nosing into the warmth of your tummy. It would be a pain to wake you, he reasoned, contentedly snuggling back to sleep.