In the process of writing, you will have parts of your work fall into the “Bad Tropes” list. You will use Bad Tropes. You may write *gasp* Mary Sues. Your characters may even end up with *gasp* Plot Armor. Everything you are afraid of right now will probably happen at least once, no matter how meticulous and careful you are.
It happens to everyone. It’s part of learning. Making mistakes is part of the learning process. Write Bad Tropes so you can recognize them. Write characters that you can’t figure out if they are Mary Sues. Even if they never escape the contents of your notebooks, make no subject verboten.
Learn to trust yourself and your instincts.
Forgive yourself for your mistakes.
The more experience you gain, the better you will become.
But, the key part of this is you need to start getting that experience.
You can only get it one way: writing.
None of us can escape that required amount of suckitude that is part of learning to write. Writing is a skill, really good writing is something you practice and perfect over time.
Part of learning is making mistakes.
Embrace your mistakes.
Write your damn story.
Clean it up later.
The first draft is you telling yourself the story. It may not be any good, you may hate it when you’re done or you might see all the problems in it.
It is only the first draft.
The books you read from the published authors you love are the results of ten to fifty to a hundred drafts, carefully polished to a diamond shine.
Hope wandered outside, Popsicle in hand as she walked past the guards and past the gates. She continued to lick her Popsicle as she walked past houses, normally she wouldn’t be allowed to do this, but no one was home, surprisingly, so she wanted to explore. Hope knew where everything was since her family always walked around New Orleans together.
She wanted to visit her auntie Cami, she knew exactly where she was, her usual place at the bar. Hope kept walking till she was stopped by a man, he didn’t look much older than thirty, Hope took noticed of the small scar under his eye as he smiled at her. “Hello, young one, would you like some juice?” He asked her, in the most convincing tone. Hope nodded, not knowing what would come next after the drink was gone.
Hope took the drink and took a sip, apple juice her favourite, she thought to herself. Hope thanked the man but before she could walk away, she felt her head spin. ‘I feel funny’ she thought to herself. What she thought was walking forward was actually her falling onto the ground. Her Popsicle landing beside her as it melted away in the hot sun.
Hope opened her eyes, she could barely see past the blurriness, she went to rub her eyes but she couldn’t, her hands were clasped together in a pair of cuffs. She tried using her magic to break free, but it was no use. It finally clicked when she remembered what her aunt had taught her about magic cuffs, they stop all magic from coming in. Hope sobbed, she missed her home, she missed her family. This was definitely going to be the last time she left home to explore.
Hope looked up after the blurriness was gone, she saw a man standing across from her, he seemed to be in the same situation, hand cuffs, and he seemed to be out as well. Hope cleared her throat, a burn feeling rising, from lack of water. “What’s your name?” She asked, not a trace of a smile hitting her lips.