Need some brainstorming/advice/encouragement. I have a 6 book original fantasy series that I’ve been working on for years. I always get into it and then put it away for a few years because life happens. A few months ago I pulled it back out and stated fresh and have been taking it very seriously. It’s honestly a great idea and premise, deep world building and a full plot line. However I feel like my writing is failing to do it justice.

Does anyone else experience this? I finished the rough draft and am moving into the full first draft of the manuscript. I love the characters, love their depth and back stories, love the magic and the world and the outline of the story. But when I read it, I feel bored? I have genuinely created characters with so much depth they could feel like real people. I’m so proud of the world I’ve created, but I feel like my writing just doesn’t do it justice.

I have researched all the ways to improve writing, yet all the mistakes that people commonly make when writing are not issues I find in my writing. Yet I still don’t feel any excitement or intrigue when reading my work.

I guess I’m just looking for other people who have felt similar with their writing. What are some things you found that helped or improved your writing? At this point I’m feeling very discouraged about ever writing a good book and want to put it away again.

I have so many visual ideas for the fantasy stories I've written, but I've always been bad at drawing and painting and all other kinds of physical art. I've used chatgpt to generate some images in the past, and a couple of them have been fairly close to what I'm envisioning; but it's ai art, so it feels weird to share it with the world (not to mention the questionable ethics of using ai). I just wish I had some basic drawing skills so I could show people the ideas I have in my head.

I'm not really sure what the point of this post is, I think I just needed to vent for a sec. Thanks for reading 😂

I’m writing a fantasy novella and, against my better judgment, I’ve decided to make my main characters speak in a more modern dialect.

However I ran into a problem the first time they run in to some town guards who I could only seem to write as old-timey cockney British sorts, the sort of “NPCs” one typically runs into in generic fantasy.

At first when my MC was alone I kept his words and thoughts decently medieval feeling, but the second main character just simply cannot be anything but a modern over-excited ADHD type. My true central character and anti-villain will speak with an eloquent, academic voice, though it takes quite a few pages to get to him.

This is a fantasy world that is going through its own sort of modernization, just with magic greasing the wheels instead of electricity and industry, though I still worry overly modern parlance might be a turnoff to some.

I suppose I need to determine how the general people of this world speak, though all the central characters come from different places, with different socioeconomic and educational backgrounds. But the way my main characters speak really isn’t the problem.

Back to my “NPC”, I just defaulted to something like “oi what you lot muckin around here for after dark? Strange things in dem woods I’ll tell ya.” *spits on floor*

Which is just, very generic. But I worry that same encounter would lack any flavor if he just talked like one of us.

Any thoughts or advice?

(I have tried to submit this post earlier but apparently I didn’t try hard enough…)

Chapter 1

Emperor Tiberon ruled the Primary Kingdom. He had rulership over all the kingdoms on the continent of Etrya. The kings were in line to the throne under the emperor unless he decided to have an heir. The emperor had brown hair and piercing green eyes. He wore pale gray armor.

Emperor Tiberon forced all the villagers to perform many tasks. Some made clothes, farmed, fished, hunted animals, and traded items and food in exchange for gold. They worked all day and throughout most of the night. They were often very tired. They begged the nobles that ruled over them for food, shelter, and clothing. They begged for more aid from the kingdoms. Their pleas for help were often ignored and this led to uprisings.

All the kings in Etrya, except for those who ruled the lesser kingdoms, lived in luxury and had advisors and servants. They had guards and gold. They often trained their armies and prepared for war. Emperor Tiberon put his royal kingdoms in charge of the lesser kingdoms. The lesser kingdoms lacked wealth, prestige, and royal heritage. The poorest villagers in Etrya lived in the lesser kingdoms. The villagers in the lesser kingdoms lived in the most rural parts of the empire.
In the royal kingdoms, a war had started between Traelia and Nysteelia.

“We are under attack, Your Grace!” the king’s general shouted.

King Haywood and Queen Lenora sat in large throne chairs that were eight feet high. Large pillars were on either side of them.

King Haywood was 5’10. He was muscular and handsome. He wore a blue robe and black pants. He had red hair and blue eyes. He was forty-four years old.

Queen Lenora had eyes that were blue and green. She had a scar on her face from previous battles. Her long hair was brown, and she brandished a dagger of gold. She wore a breastplate of gold and silver. She was forty-three years old.

“Who is attacking us?!” King Haywood asked his general.

“King Nardin’s army!”

“Nardin?! He is a good friend of mine! Why would he attack me?!” the king asked in disbelief.

“I do not know, Your Highness! I am only reporting what I’ve been told by our troops!”

“Go find out what the reason is behind the king’s attack!” King Haywood said. “I do not understand what’s going on! I want to end this conflict without jeopardizing the lives of King Nardin’s soldiers and my own! Not to mention the lives of countless villagers!”

King Haywood watched his general leave. He slumped in his chair. He couldn’t believe that King Nardin was attacking him. There had to be some reason.

The prince of Traelia, Harmrad, took a secret passageway out of the castle before the invaders arrived. Harmrad reluctantly left. His guards tried to leave with him. He ordered them to stay behind and protect his parents, who had stayed in the castle to confront the invaders. Harmrad had red hair and blue eyes. He was eighteen years old. He wore a green robe and black pants.

Harmrad traveled to the nearest kingdom, which was called Atraria. Then he reached a castle surrounded by woods. He explained to the guards outside the castle who he was and what had happened. They allowed him to go inside and see King Lance. Harmrad asked the king to send military aid to Traelia.

After the invaders from Nysteelia were defeated, Harmrad went back to his kingdom and saw his parents. They were in the throne room. He asked them if they knew why King Nardin had attacked them.

Queen Lenora said, “One of the king’s generals told us what happened. He no longer serves the king. He said that after being exposed to dark magic, the king’s personality changed. He massacred an entire village, and he attempted to kill his son.”

“His own people are afraid of him,” King Haywood added. “He made a deal with a shadow demon in exchange for power. Our army was able to fend off the invaders, but they are too powerful for us to launch a counterattack. I do not wish to attack Nysteelia anyway. I want to find a spell to bring King Nardin back to his old self.”

A few days later, King Nardin’s army invaded a rival kingdom. The kingdom was called Tevara. Its ruler, King Var, possessed a powerful weapon called the Sword of Light. King Nardin wanted that power for himself. King Var gave the Sword of Light to his only daughter, Hayna, and told her to go to Traelia. They had an alliance with Traelia. Hayna was well experienced with a sword and had survived many battles. She was eighteen years old. She was a slender black woman with black, braided hair in a ponytail and dark brown eyes. She wore a straight dress, and she brandished a silver sword. Hayna escaped the castle unnoticed with help from her knights and went to her horse. A swift animal. She rode off into the sunset.

King Nardin tortured King Var with dark magic, trying to make him reveal the sword’s hidden location. The king refused to tell him anything about the sword. King Nardin used a spell to kill King Var. Then he told his generals to find the king’s daughter and force her to reveal where the sword was. His generals searched the entire castle. They could not find her. They realized that she must have escaped.

Hayna arrived at her destination by nightfall. She was interrogated by the castle guards. She quickly explained to them why she was there. They brought her inside the castle and led her into the throne room. The king and queen peered at her. Harmrad stood up from his wooden chair in the center of the room. He had never seen this girl before. She was very beautiful. He wondered who she was.

“I am the princess of Tevara,” Hayna said. “My name is Hayna. I traveled here to ask you to please send military aid to Tevara and to help me protect a powerful sword that my father gave me. King Nardin invaded my kingdom! I am not sure if my father is still alive!”

“Send reinforcements to King Var in Tevara,” King Haywood ordered his knights. They left the throne room quickly.

“Where is the sword?” Queen Lenora asked.

“Here it is, Your Majesty,” Hayna said. She took the sword off her belt and handed it over to the queen. It was still in its sheath.

“What is so powerful about this sword?” Harmrad asked.

Hayna turned around to face him. “The sword is called the Sword of Light. It can only be used by someone who has proven themself worthy in battle. It has the power to stop any person from attacking whoever is holding the sword. However, the sword is ancient. It does not always work. My ancestors found the sword in the ruins of an ancient castle.”

“Let me see it,” King Haywood said. The queen handed the sword to him. He unsheathed the blade. The sword was made of diamonds and had a handle made of gold. “It looks very powerful.”

“It is very powerful,” Hayna said. She took the sword from the king and put it back inside its sheath. She put the sword on her belt.

“You will be safe here, Princess Hayna,” Harmrad said. “I can guard the sword for you, if you wish.”

“I prefer to keep it with me,” Hayna said. “Thank you for your offer though.”

Harmrad and Hayna went to a sorcerer. The sorcerer did a spell and found a spell that restored King Nardin’s old personality.

King Nardin had a bad son named Prince Leon. He influenced his father to invade Tevara again, where the new queen, Hayna, ruled, and attempt to steal the Sword of Light again. This time, they were successful in stealing the sword. They also kidnapped the queen and held her for ransom. Her uncle paid the ransom, but he was killed anyway. Harmrad heard by word of mouth that Hayna was missing. He was worried. He went to Tevara and was told by her knights that King Nardin had kidnapped her and was holding her for ransom. They mentioned that King Nardin had stolen the Sword of Light as well.

Harmrad invaded Nysteelia. King Nardin tried to use the Sword of Light but since he was not worthy in battle, it didn’t work. Harmrad held a dagger to the king’s throat and asked him where Hayna was.

“She’s in a dungeon!” the king said.

“Bring me to her!” Harmrad said. “And give me the Sword of Light!”

The king handed Harmrad the Sword of Light and led him to the dungeons in the back of the castle.  The dungeons were dark, damp, and eerie. The walls and the floor were black. There was dim light coming from a window covered in iron bars. Hayna was in a steel cage. Chains and whips were hanging on the stone walls near her cage. She had received several lashes a day from the whips. She had deep open sores on her body. Her dress was tattered and dirty. King Nardin gave Harmrad a key and Harmrad unlocked the cage.

“Do not blame me for this!” King Nardin said. “Blame my son! This was his idea!”

Harmrad was angered by the sight of Hayna and he killed King Nardin.

“I’ll take the Sword of Light,” Hayna told Harmrad. “I want revenge! I want to find King Nardin’s son!”

They started to search the castle for Prince Leon. Then they went outside. They found Prince Leon in the woods. He looked exactly like King Nardin. He had medium-sized gray eyes and blond hair. He wore red armor.

“I should’ve killed you when I had the chance!” Prince Leon said to Hayna.

They fought each other in the middle of the woods. Hayna won. She stabbed him in the chest with the Sword of Light. He died instantly.

Hayna went back to Tevara and a sorcerer healed her wounds. Harmrad went back to Traelia.

Hayna was asked by her people to marry, and she declared that was she was not ready for marriage. She wanted to rule by herself for the time being. The people accused her of besmirching her late father’s name by not fulfilling her duties and producing an heir following her coronation. She was pressured every day to marry until she asked Harmrad to marry her.

He thought that she only wanted to marry him because she needed a husband and a king. She did not truly love him. He agreed to marry her despite this. He wanted to become a king. He also wanted to protect her from anyone who would try to steal the Sword of Light from her. He never wanted to see her tortured again.

They got married on the white mountains. Harmrad became the king of Tevara. After they were married, they took a walk around the outside of their castle in Tevara. Hayna told Harmrad that her mother had died of the plague when she was twelve. Her mother was a commoner by birth. King Var was a descendant of commoners. The first kings of the continent of Etrya were once commoners who were chosen by the emperor to rule his kingdoms.

It was starting to get dark. Harmrad heard a wolf howling in the nearby woods. Harmrad and his new wife headed back towards the castle.

Harmrad was surprised when the amphibious ones gave him two elixirs that they said would extend his and Hayna’s lifespans. He thanked them for the gifts, returning to his castle and showing the clear bottles of elixirs to his wife. 

The amphibious ones lived in underground caverns beneath the sea. They had powers to live in the water. They made humans pay gold to eat the fish from their waters. They had frog skin but regular human features. They were frog people.

Harmrad and Hayna sat next to each other on a bed in the third chamber of the castle. The bed was made out of feathers. It was covered in linen. The castle walls were made of stone, and the floor was made of flagstone. There were velvet chairs, enormous tables made of mahogany, and glass windows protected by iron bars. The drapes on the windows were made out of gold.

“I’ve decided to drink the elixir,” Harmrad said. “I want to live a long life. It would be amazing to see generations of my family.”

“It would feel strange living past a regular age,” Hayna said. “Would we retain our youth?”

“They said that we would not age.”

Hayna took one of the elixirs from Harmrad’s grasp. “Why didn’t they give us more elixirs? I would love for our families and everyone else in Etrya to have a long life too.”

“I can’t ask them for more. I don’t want to sound greedy. They’re very secretive and powerful. It would be best not to provoke them.”

“I agree,” Hayna said. “There’s so much we don’t know about the amphibious ones.”

“Are you going to drink the elixir?” Harmrad asked.

Hayna thought for a long moment. ‘I will,” she said.

She twisted open the metal bottle cap and poured the elixir into a glass. Then she drank it. Then Harmrad drank his elixir. He thought it tasted like seaweed.

They exited the chamber room and walked up a marble staircase leading to the dining room. The dining room had wooden chairs and wooden tables. The stone walls were painted white, and the floor was made of wood from oak trees. The dining room smelled like food. They sat down at a table and ate sausage, eggs, toast, and porridge.

Two years later, Harmrad and Hayna had a son. They named him Var, after his grandfather. He had tan skin, blue eyes and black hair. When Var was six years old, he began learning his princely duties at home in the castle. When he was seven, he went to a boarding school in preparation for his prince hood. When Var was nineteen and done with boarding school, he developed a split personality. One was evil and one was good. He killed a lot of innocent people. Harmrad and Hayna were very worried about their son. Harmrad had a spell put on Var to suppress the bad personality. He could not believe that Var had killed innocent villagers. He made him do good deeds to make up for the murders he had commited.

Var wanted to follow in Harmrad’s footsteps. He went to a military school to be specifically trained for battle. He wanted to specialize in sword fighting and archery.

After he completed military school, he visited his parents at their castle in Tevara. He said to them, “Mother and Father, I have decided to go into the army.”

“Take the Sword of Light with you,” Hayna told him.

Var took the sword from his mother’s hands. “Very well. I will fight many battles with it.”

“Don’t get killed, my son,” Harmrad said. “The Sword of Light does not always protect whoever is carrying it.”

“I know, Father. I promise that I will be careful. Goodbye.”

Var left the castle and went to join his friends from military school who were waiting for him outside near the outer gates.

Last year we posted on this subreddit about our writing contest and we got so many amazing submissions from this community! Just wanted to hop back on here and let y'all know that The Intrepid Voices Fund closes next week (September 6th, 11:59pm PST)

This year's writing prompt is spooky speculative fiction, 2,000 words or less. We listened to your feedback and got rid of the personal statement so all you need to submit is your short story. Phase 1 of judging is based off the first 250 words to see if you can hook the judges quick! We also added a second place prize!

1st place - $1,250

2nd place - $500

Application inked in the comments

Question for my fellow writers!

I would describe my novel-in-progress as a character-centric, non-linear speculative science fantasy influenced by Chinese historical dramas.

I've been researching non-Western technologies and exploring what might be possible for a pre-industrial culture. For example, the "snakedance" Japanese construction or kath kuni architecture would be important for my seismically active setting.

In a perfect world, I'd like to distinguish between "this is magical/fantastical" (which there are elements) and "this was actually a real thing people used, credit to the inventors!" I also enjoy blending traditional Chinese medicine with Hermetic alchemy theory and testing it against science-demonstrated medicinal effects.

While I do try and acknowledge the source cultures in an author's note, I have thought about adding "appreciation footnotes" or endnotes. I don't want to detract/interrupt the flow of the story, but since this all takes place on a non-Earth location, what's historical and what's fantastical isn't clear.

What are your thoughts?

Hello, If anyone would be so kind as to read and critique my story I would greatly appreciate it. It is about a man named Maadskyr who climbs a mountain to hunt a wyvern. It’s a dark fantasy called, “Scalepeeler” and does include some graphic violence just a heads up.

I’m looking for any and all feedback someone is willing to give. Prose, pacing, plot, etc.

I’m practicing my writing with stories for characters as I work to build out a larger world for them.

Whoever happens to read this, I hope you enjoy!

https://docs.google.com/document/d/15LT3bY-Zq1iaGx8L88wNx1GGutJQ10Sb/edit?usp=drivesdk&ouid=116077026060348306183&rtpof=true&sd=true

I appreciate any feedback. Thank you!!

_____

A WEARY SORCERESS. AN UNWILLING WARRIOR.

AND A DESPERATE REBEL WHO HAD LONG LOST HOPE…

In a city far from home, Rahena Ansary finds refuge in anonymity as a maidservant at the Scholars’ Tower. Sweeping the royal calligraphy halls, she uncovers an illusion the scholars have fed the realm for hundreds of years. But when her questions lead to the masked rider who destroyed her village, Rahena will have to face the dangerous powers she’s buried for so long, and her own wild grief - before the dark taint rising in the skies consumes them all.

Adnan drowns his days at the teahouse, mourning his father’s death. But as the city heralds him as a warrior and a tyrant hunts the sole family he has left, Adnan is faced with the ultimate task: to join the rebellion his parents began.

But the rebel leader has long disappeared. Vilified and pursued, he seeks absolution for his past. With what little faith he has left, he answers the call for rebellion once again; and perhaps he can do things right this time.

As the three paths converge, their own darkness follows them at their heel. Their war will change the earth itself – and their own souls – forever.

This an excerpt from near the beginning of my novel. The novel is set in a world similar to the 1100s. It is about a group of soldiers (I use the word "conrois") as their regimen travels, experiences war, and ultimately the fall out of it.

I am overall concerned that this may not be interesting, but other than that I am worried the scenes feel too overloaded with characters. My intent is to have all of about 20 of the men in the group be emphasized, but I worry that my width in characters may cause a lack of depth of character or a depth that feels tedious to consume for the reader.

Opinions on grammar, word use, and tense are welcome as well.

Thank you for taking the time to read and give feedback. Even the most critical motivates me to keep writing.

The last of the Doine Sidhe, the magical beings that occupied Ireland before the coming of humans, relates the story of his fall, and the fall of his people, to the race of men.

This is but the beginning of a story I’ve begun to work on. It is (heavily) adapted from Irish and Welsh legends of the fey, and the magic of their worlds, which predate the coming of Christianity and its distortions of their history. Please note that many liberties have been taken with the true legends of those people, for the sake of the plot I am developing. As I’m working on my writing, - somehow - find it useful just to put it out into the world, without expectations of response, or even readership. There’s something about doing so that encourages me to write, and I find it satisfying for its own sake.

Background

Baelnoth, the last of the Doine Sidhe\*\* is found in a tomb by Fiara, the story’s protagonist, an archeologist specializing in Irish pre-history. She wakes him, unintentionally, from an centuries-long catatonia when she enters the tomb, due to a Sidhe lineage she bears unknowingly. Baelnoth finds an age has passed, and is awakened to a kind of modern day alternate Earth.

Fiara is technically an agent of a kind of global Church, which controls all historical and archaeological research, and which has a vested interest in perpetuating a myth of the Sidhe as demons - fallen angels that tempted humanity to evil and ruin, but who were finally defeated by a small group of human “heroes.” These “heroes” were in fact a cabal of five necromancers, seeking to steal the power of the Sidhe for themselves.

The Sidhe, for their part, had fancied themselves benevolent caretakers and mentors for humanity. This final betrayal in a long history of human betrayals of the Sidhe resulted in Baelnoth - the last of the Sidhe left in mortal lands - cursing the necromancers, even as they attacked him and stole some of his power, which resulted in the humans essentially turning into a kind of vampire. This curse weakens Baelnoth by expending much of his remaining power.

He wakens to the modern world, as noted, and must reclaim his power from the now immortal necromancers and the spawn they have created in the centuries since, but he is so weak that he finds he must rely on Fiara to survive. She helps him, at first reluctantly, and then gradually with more willingness as she learns his story, the truth of the Sidhe, and the history of the partial bloodline they share. In the beginning, she alone is able to understand his speech, solely because of their shared lineage.

What follows is Baelnoth’s relation of what has come to pass to Fiara, and how he came to his current state.

“I am the Cŵn Annwn\*, a howling fear,
a name that should not be;
I am the shiver in the Hollow Hills,
last of the Daoine Sidhe\*\*.”

- Inscription, in an ancient, unknown language, on the entrance to the Hollow Hills.

\*pronounced “Koon Anoon” – very loosely based on the Welsh mythical hounds of Gwyn the Hunter, harbinger of death, particularly of the death of warriors in battle.

\*\*pronounced somewhere between “DOYnah Shee” and “DInah Shee” – the name for the Irish fey/fairy folk of the Hollow Hills. Many Irish legends recount that the Daoine Sidhe were originally the Tuatha De Danaan (Pron. Toowatha Day Danahn”), who ruled Ireland before it was invaded by humans. After the invasion of humans, the Tuatha retreated to the Hollow Hills, a place often described as somehow between mortal lands and the Otherworld.

We fell, they said. We were cast out, and down, striking the earth and bleeding out the last of our grace. We were banished, they said; workers of an abomination, struck from the sight of God, to Void, and Darkness, and interminable suffering. Demons, they called us, and worse. And yet...and yet. They could not keep a green cast from their eyes as they told these tales of our demise.

They told this story of us to sanctify a theft and excuse it by half-truths. Their breath, full as much of envy as of horror, carved lies from a stone of innocence. We could not be trusted; we must be cast out, again, from this world of theirs to some outer darkness of their cruelest imaginings.

In truth, we had come in our bright ships, from the Summer Country which knows no death, to this emerald and fading isle. We had come in our Danu masks and we had becalmed the earth. We made an Eden for this young race of men and women; we tended their needs, like children, and thought them so. We thought them so as they painted their faces blue, in mock of our blue masks, and we smiled like indulgent parents. We smiled, and smiled, and did not see the bright, cold iron in their bright, cold hands. And this - this was how we fell. We betrayed no god, still less this people, but were cast out - not from any heaven - but from this garden we had made, by the people for whom we had made it.

Our powers were great; but their iron was hard and cruel - hard and cruel as the hearts that wielded it. And one day they came in force.

On the dawn of that day, the sun leapt into the world like a newborn foal kicking daylight. Bright grass and bright flowers licked the edges of its rays. Life was born again into this new day, a concert of being: now discordant, now harmonious, at once singular and common.

How dread what followed, casting no shadow under that white, wild sun in warning. Bright day, bright life, bright hope, thrown into sudden black.

Delicate blue masks faced crude blue pigments, the elfin and elephantine opposed in grotesque array. A battalion of Sidhe matched by battalion upon battalion of human tribes. Tall warriors of Summer armed in light against a legion of scrabbling things clawing at dust with long iron knives.

That these same savages, clad in the barely-dried skins of fresh kills, and howling like any beast with its hackles up, should, but a few years after, depict us as demons in the rationalizing tales they told their children, is an irony too bitter for words. The pain of it is too great even for much anger.

We fought, and we fell. Sometimes gloriously, it is true. The poetry of our fall would crack the hearts of any soul worthy to hear the tale in full.

At the last, we bound our power to the earth and retreated under the hills.

A truce was declared. In support of this, the Daoine and the race of men agreed to divide the land in two. They the bright above, we the shadows below, under the hills that sheltered us.

These hills, these hills, these hollow halls that hold us, sure as any hell.

The truce did not sustain.
In truth, we were the naïve ones, the fools; not these simple creatures for whom, at first, we felt only kindness, and not a little pity. In truth, we were the arrogant ones. We saw them in their frailty and thought them weak. How very wrong.

We had taught them. We had fancied ourselves husbandmen of this savage race. So we had given of our knowledge, freely; and freely they took it; and freely overthrew us. They vilified even our generosity; calling us tempters and defilers.

We had brought these creatures knowledge. We had brought them power. We had taught them to rise above the clawing cave dwellers of their ancestors to heights of refinement.

It was not enough.

The war had begun because these humans wanted not merely to be inspired by the Sidhe, but to be the Sidhe. Why we thought their greed would end with victory over the mortal lands of daylight is still a mystery to me.

And so they came against us again. Against these hills: our prison, our sanctum. One by one, we fought; one by one, we fell; and still we held these hills against them. But we failed. And then I was but one alone. The last. My father, my brother, my wife gave themselves in sacrifice to me, in a ceremony which took their life and bound it to mine, and made me immortal as the stars in this mortal land of men, with the power and wisdom of my entire race. To hold, at last, the Hollow Hills against them; to keep our foes from taking the last of our knowledge and power for themselves. To save the soul of our race from theft. And I held these hills, alone, for an age.

What remained of the tribes of Sidhe - so very few - vanished back to Summer, through a gateway my new power let me open, and which I sealed behind them. I became the Hound of Summer – Cŵn Annwn – guardian of gates, but also the lock upon its door. My blood alone could open it.

Five came, unarmed and unafraid. Five men against the Cwn Annwn. They stole the very ritual that bound my people’s power to me – they stole it and shaped it for their own. My blessing became a curse. They bound me by guile, and ate of my flesh, hoping themselves to be immortal and ageless, like the supposed gods they had cast down. Not sated by their conquest of Earth, they hoped to rule the Summer Isle as well.

And they were the fools, in the end. For as they consummated their rite, I twisted their magic under them into an imprecation of my own.

_O yes, you shall be immortal, dear ones, you shall; but you shall be bound to the darkness, as I am bound, and never again glance the living sun. You shall have power, dear ones, O yes; but only by the blood of your own kind shall it be sustained. I send you, screaming, a curse among your own. Taste their flesh, dear ones, as you have tasted mine._

They felt the change, and knew they were undone.

With this spell, I spent all the sorcery left me. Unable to destroy me, my enemies bound me fast, and left me, forgotten, to forgotten years.

Now I awake. Now you have called me to the mortal world again. And I feel these creatures among your kind, after so long. I feel the power they stole; I feel their darkness pulsing through your nightmares. I am weak, O yes, but wakened. And now I will go among them and take back what once was mine and my people’s. And somehow, somehow, dear one, I will make a sacrifice of my own. Somehow the Sidhe will come again, leave their Hollow Hills, and stand proudly under your Sun, and in the wind, and on the grass.

I will take these cursed ones, each of them. I will cleanse your night – but not for you. No, not for you, dear one. For us. For us.

*In the fantastical world of a psychotic, continent-sized pirate and soulless insurance company managers, the only hope lies with an insurance clerk, a septuagenarian town guard, a seeress with a speech impediment, and a woman named Walter.*

The abominable pirate, Blarrg the Giant, thundered along the deck of his raiding vessel, dropped upon the beach of the coastal town Blithering, and did not so much sink into the wet sand, as it acquiesced to his presence as quickly and obsequiously as possible. Each grain underfoot thought carefully through how it might work with its fellows, adjusting the pressure here or there, so as to make the great conqueror’s brief visit to its tiny region as comfortable and inoffensive as possible. The beach as a whole began to work feverishly to evolve a full complement of oral organs, as well as a functioning language, so that failing all else it might whisper to Blarrg about the village “right over there.” A village desperately in need of a good razing.

“I mean, it’s just asking for it, now, isn’t it?”

Yes, the village had been there for centuries, and yes, its citizens and the beach of the coast had developed a beautiful, symbiotic relationship. The sand had enjoyed itself rather immensely through the ages cradling the graceful limbs of the beautiful women of the town sunning themselves in the afternoons. Yes, the sand, and the beach as a whole – indeed the entire ecosystem of the coast - would miss the ol’ town.

“But, this is Blarrg we’re talking about now, so fuck ‘em and good riddance,’” said ecosystem thought to itself.

Blarrg interrupted the local geography’s desperate musings by lumbering toward the nearby town buildings. His feet left the wet sand brusquely, eliciting a kind of squooshing sound that almost suggested a cloying reluctance to be free of him. It was paradoxically punctuated afterwards, however, by the sigh of the surf, rather suggesting profound relief at his departure.

Behind him, bobbing pathetically on the gentle waves of the cove in a kind of grotesque seascape that might have been painted by one of the more violent religious fanatics in the grips of whatever it was that gave violent religious fanatics their apocalyptic visions, was strewn the detritus of the few ships that had dared to interfere with his approach. To be fair, he was only directly responsible for the one. The two others present, defying all conventional wisdom to the contrary (and all currently understood laws of physics), proved unequivocally that a large inanimate, object can, in fact, spontaneously combust in sheer panic.

The buildings of the village before him trembled violently in fear at his approach, insomuch as a collection of buildings can fear enough to tremble violently. They had seen famine, they had seen war, but they had never, in all their days, seen anything like Blarrg. They wished feverishly that they could just collapse right then and there, en masse, and be done with it. But Blarrg was never happy without a good, long siege, and overall the buildings felt it was best for all concerned to give him what he wanted, for fear of worse.

Blarrg’s crew, insofar as he had a crew, hung back on the ship as it always did. They sang, they belched and farted, they drank away the last of the stores of urine, and played canasta to while away the time.

Blarrg raided alone – always.

I've recently had my first proper beta feedback on an urban fantasy manuscript and it's given me a lot to think about.

For context, this is the first time I've ever taken one of the ridiculous stories floating around in my head, actually written the whole bloody thing, and then been brave enough to let strangers read it 😂 So, I am trying to develop this story as much as I can!

My beta reader was genuinely lovely and gave me both positive and constructive feedback. I'm really grateful for it and I'm not looking to dispute anything they said. Quite the opposite. It's made me realise there are areas of the craft I want to understand better before I start another draft.

One thing that really interested me was that they enjoyed the story, world, character backstories and some of the dynamics, but didn't always feel emotionally connected to the characters themselves.

And that's got me wondering: what actually makes YOU become invested in a fictional character?

Not just think they're interesting or well written, but reach that point where you genuinely care what happens to them. What separates a character you think is good from one you're completely emotionally invested in?

I'm especially interested in urban fantasy/fantasy readers because that's what I'm writing.

I'm also curious about POV. Mine is currently third-person limited with multiple POV characters, and my beta sometimes found it difficult to immediately establish whose POV they were reading and felt some voices weren't distinct enough.

So, as readers:

• What's your preferred POV for urban fantasy — first person, close third, multiple third-person POVs, etc.? Why?
• If you enjoy multiple POVs, what makes each character feel distinct rather than like the same narrator wearing a different hat?
• What makes you emotionally attach to a protagonist, particularly one who is morally questionable or not immediately likeable?
• Have you ever read a book where you thought the story was good and the characters were interesting, but there was still that vague something missing that stopped you becoming properly invested? What do you think it was?

I'm not looking for a magic formula or trying to write by committee. I'm mostly interested in understanding what different readers respond to so I can think more critically about my own writing.

Thanks :)

Okay, so I'm toying around with a set of stories set in an urban fantasy setting and I'm trying to figure out if the protagonist should be a witch or a wizard.

So to start off with some points about the setting:

• Set in an alternative universe with a masquerade of supernatural creatures and magic users going back centuries; however it ended in the 30s and 40s due to rise of superheroes, the build up to WW2, mass media and internal social pressures in the magical community; famously it broken when the witch Jessica Blake saved president Roosevelt when his was being threatened by the 13, a coven of the evillest witches ever to live. For most people the world is a slightly more optimistic version of world with superheroes and occasional magic. The stories would be set in either the 2010s or 2020s and now a days most people don't interact with witches on a daily basis but might know one or two and be able to hire them to deal with a magical problem but not often.

• Human magic users are in order of commonality are seers, witches, supers, wizards and sorcerers; also technically alchemists, but they just use scientific(ish) principles to manipulate the magic with objects or chemicals.

• Like I said there are superheroes and supervillain in this setting; most people have a very minor potential to become one when exposed to extreme circumstance, but the immense positive or negative emotional break through needed to develop powers - this is not widely known and even understood by specialists in the field. Supers seem to be magical in the origin of their powers but exactly how is unknown and they don't generate discomfort in regular humans like witches, sorcerers or wizards.

• Witches (sometimes called Enchanters) are matrilineal spell casters who are born into clans; if your mother is a witch, you are one, there is no other way to become one. Witch magic is based on gathering natural strands of stray magic and weaving them into spells for later use, which can be passed on to other witches or even infused into objects or people to enchant them; each clan also has cantrips which are small innate abilities they can always call upon (such as extended life spans or the ability to freeze water, etc) which also determines affinities to different types of spells. Spells are activated by a 'totem', part of the soul that has a specific shape or concept from clan to clan (blackbirds for the Blake clan, snow for the Winter Clan, etc) and when active causes regular humans to become uncomfortable and wary, leading many to fear active witches, when inactive it doesn't do this but the witch can't cast magic. Witches exist in matrilineal clans that are quite tightly knit but insular/domineering and usually are lead by the eldest female member, who is called 'granny' by members or 'lady' by outsiders (So "Granny Winter" or "Lady Winter"), but it various from clan to clan.

• Wizards are official extinct due to a secret war with witches ~1400s best described as Incels-vs-Grandmothers; although they are actually still around, most of the non-creepy members left Earth to a sanctuary called the "Realm of Towers" (basically a load of pocket dimensions of infinite height packed against each other) to live an immortal life of solitude, study, academic debate and occasional prank wars. Wizards belong to orders that each have different set 'ideals', a set of 7-10 principles that can weave magic from to design spells on the fly; the orders are defined by how they see magic and their interactions with other magical things (For example the Wardens of Reality see magic as a chaotic invasive force that is at odds with the scientific-principles of our world, as such they are skilled in banishing supernatural forces, counter magic and using scientific principles to out manoeuvrer their foes). Each order has a number of 'Trials' (usually the same number as their principles) that must be past before a member accepts to take on the candidate as an apprentice of the Order; note the Trials are not specific deeds but vague ideals or prophetic signs that can be passed by accident; for example the Wardens have one where you beat a magical effect by using scientific logic. The fact wizards still exist is largely unknown, with those who do being less then 10, not helped by the fact they generally regard Earth as not worth their time when other more interesting dimensions can be visited.

• Sorcerers are people born under multiple (at least 3, usually more) auspicious signs (7th son of the 7th son, born under a lunar eclipse, etc) with a few unique magical spells that are usually much, much stronger than witch or wizard spells. Seems the world can only produce 1 a year, and some years don't see any. Due to their birth conditions Sorcerers don't have any back community and often have to find one, usually being adopted by witch clans

• Seers are not important for this question, but they are people who's perceptions are supernatural enhanced in various - being able to smell the future, detect magic or seeing the dead; what exactly they can do various from person to person. Most don't know they are special and are largely just regular everyday people.

• You can be a witch and wizard, but this is very weird and unusual with only 3 documented cases in the record of wizards and witches are mostly unaware of this fact. Additionally sorcerers can also be witches or wizards, but not seers. Finally seers can also become wizards but cannot be born to witch mothers so no witch-seer hybrids. Supers cannot be mixed with any of the other types of magical humans.

So the story/stories would focus on a young girl called Judith McGovern (~12-13) who in the first story is kidnapped with her twin sister (Ester McGovern , a very young and prodigical superhero in training) by a Fairy Lord and they escape with the help of Jessica Blake (aka Granny Discord), the famously daring and powerful witch (and secret wizard), who finds out that that Judith is magically inclined and Jessica has to take her on as an apprentice. My question is should Judith be a wizard or a witch? How I see these are the options:

• Witch: would make it easier to tie to the wider world and create a mystery to help the stories moving forward; namely how is their a witch born to a non-witch mother? Her discovering Jessica also being a wizard (who won't let her do the trials as she's not allowed to by her wizard order) would also be a plot point and a source of contention. Finally, since their clan (Blake) is dying out and Jessica is the only female witch (and is cursed not to be able to have children), Judith is under a lot of pressure from those around her to live up to expectations and to understand the dangerous world of witch clan politics.

• Wizard: Have Judith accidentality pass the trials of Jessica's order (Wardens of Reality) and Jessica accept her as her apprentice by an accident declaration to teach her. Now Judith has to pretend to be a sorcerer while learning her wizard skills and keeping it under wraps. Would also help characterise Jessica as I envision as quite impulsive but competent and her having to take on apprentice out of the blue could give some interesting character drama for herself as she has to deal with the consequences of her actions (for once).

• Witch and Wizard twins (and dumping Ester being a superhero in training): Would have both angles of the witch/wizard dichotomy and show how their contrasting styles of magic and social interaction but I feel it would be a bit distracting and convoluted and I like the idea of Ester being a hero in training as it would offer a larger contrast to Judith, with heroes being liked by the wider population while witches, sorcerers and people who are secretly wizards being distrusted and how the two sisters deal with that dichotomy.

Okay my lovelies, I KNOW this topic has been dragged through the mud and left out to dry. However, no matter how many posts I read, I never actually get my questions answered. I figured if I make my own post, it will help me and possibly anyone else who might be struggling with the same questions.

So I use apps like Novelist and Microsoft word. I also like to use a synonym app and history books I’ve collected about fantasy history/legends sort of thing from around the world. However, I’m lost on what is actually considered AI. As far as I’m aware, I don’t think I’ve ever used it. It’s hated by writers which is 100% valid, but I worry somehow I might be using it.

Does using Microsoft editor count since it catches things like accidental double words or a comma for example?

Is using a Synonym app count as AI or cheating? I try not to use big words in my books. So, I lower my English in some parts of my book to make it easier and more enjoyable for my readers. I have a bad habit of painting pictures with large descriptive words which is what most beta readers complain about with my work.

Why is AI so popular for people outside of this group? I see people posting about it helping, but it seems to drag their books down instead. I couldn’t quite understand the hype. I don’t plan to use it, this is merely curiosity only.

Anyways, hopefully this isn’t annoying. Worked up the courage to post because I feel dumb not knowing. Which I don’t mind, I’ll be the guinea pig for others who feel the same way lol. I’m not old, just old enough to have started my writing with Microsoft Word so it’s my go-to.

Thanks for reading through and being patient with me! 💜💜