the novel i should be writing

ashscented  asked:

Hi there, I have a question for you! I was discussing this with my Jane Austen professor today, and I wanted to know what you think: Does it bother you when people accept Jane as simply a "Romance Novelist" like, yes, her novels have romance in them but on what level is the romance circumstantial and satirical?

I think those people like to selectively ignore that Jane Austen herself can be quoted as distancing herself entirely from the “romantic” as it was known in her time, (“I could not sit seriously down to write a serious Romance under any other motive than to save my life, & if it were indispensable for me to keep it up & never relax into laughing at myself or other people, I am sure I should be hung before I had finished the first chapter. No - I must keep my own style & go on in my own way; and though I may never succeed again in that, I am convinced that I should totally fail in any other.”) and also how unfair it is to then also consign her to the realm of “romance novels” in the modern era when she herself would have had no concept like unto our Harlequins and Mills & Boons. So on a genre-level, I do find calling Austen a Romance Novelist to be inaccurate and over-simplifying and downright lazy, because it’s people choosing to look at the fact that the focus of her novels are young women and that the only honourable provision for young women of that class was marriage, and so they end in marriage, but those marriages are funny, human, real, and, (we hope) happy–which was a pretty good ending, and not impossible, in Austen’s time. All her characters and plots could have been her contemporaries–her neighbours, her family, her friends. All the drama is entirely within the scope of normal human beings.

Under such a consideration, Shakespeare’s comedies are ‘comedies’ because they, too, end with marriages, and in the case of plays like A Midsummer Night’s Dream, they’re full of magic and fairies and extraordinary stuff, and yet they’re not dismissed as frothy romance the way Austen’s entire canon can sometimes be. (Which, if you ever get the chance, please go and see a period-reproduction of one of Shakespeare’s comedies at the Globe theatre, because there will be enough dick-, puke-, and fart-jokes to make you realize that Shakespeare was ALSO the seedy-drugstore-pulp-fiction-novelist of his day and he L O V E D it.) I know that The Tempest and other later plays are sometimes categorized as Shakespeare’s Romances, but that was a term assigned to them by a late-Victorian academic and certainly not due to the mere fact that there was love and marriage in the plays, but more on the basis of the plays’ spectacles and themes of faith and redemption, more in keeping with that particular era’s definition of Romantic and not romantic, but that is a whole ‘nother discussion in itself.

While it does bother me that people will insist upon categorizing Austen’s works as romances (doubtless due to how adaptations have brought general awareness of her work into the mainstream consciousness,) it is not because I have any particular distaste for romances as a form. We’re all pretty aware of the general cultural dismissal of any art that is produced by or for women in particular (”chick” flicks and lit being usually uttered with distaste or at the very least a very broad assumption about the content and character of the piece being just very generally Female and therefore lacking much substance or originality…meanwhile every minute some middle-aged man’s fictionalized sepia-tinted musings on his mid-life crisis is given beard-stroking acclaim for its raw power and fresh perspective.) And I think this is where I have a lot of problems with Austen being shoved into the romance category, because of how the world in general (academia included) treats romance and women’s fiction. There is bad women’s fiction out there, but I’m sure no more than there is bad men’s fiction, and to have a narrative which does encompass stories of finding love and happily-ever-after should not be considered a mark against it, by any means.

Essentially, my view of people calling Austen a Romance Novelist is, firstly, that they are far too lazy and ignorant to even be putting themselves forward to enter into a serious discussion of Austen’s work at all; and secondly, even if by some alteration of history and literature it turned out she WAS a Romance Novelist, after all…well, why on earth should that term be presumed degrading and dismissive? Romance is wonderful.

“Write novels.”

I have a friend who’s a journalist. She’s ridiculously awesome and I really want to name her because everyone should know just how awesome she is, but this isn’t a time where it feels wise to reveal the political thoughts expressed by a journalist in private, at least not without her permission.

The day before I saw her last week, I’d locked myself out of Facebook and Twitter. I’d been forced to realise the psychological harm they were doing me outweighed any political good my frantic clicktivism could possibly be accomplishing. My brother had called, on my sister-in-law’s instructions. “R. says you’re tweeting and facebooking constantly about politics,” he said. “She said ‘call your sister, I don’t think she’s doing well.’”  

“I’m okay, probably,” I’d told him.

“I don’t think you are,” he said. 

I felt a little better, though not by much, by the time I met my friend for lunch. She was shaken, she said. Democracy was falling apart. I muttered weakly that perhaps it wasn’t quite that bad. She said she’d rather act now than hope for the best.

I agreed. But act how?

She said she was getting onto the board of various charities. She was writing about the best way to report on extremism, avoiding the terrible false equivalencies of the “he said/she said” approach which has blighted our discourse with such ghastly effect.

I said I was supporting the Stop Funding Hate campaign. Giving to Planned Parenthood and ACLU over there, refugee charities over here. Writing letters. Trying to think of useful ways to get involved in local politics.

“You know what you should do,” she said.

No, I really didn’t.

“Write novels,” she said.

I told her that in the days after the election I felt as if art had been revealed as an empty joke. An indulgence we could no longer afford. As if I would never be able to justify doing it again. What we were even going to write now? Flimsy, tinselly distractions from ghastly reality? Or sharp-eyed, unflinching commentary that no one except the already-convinced would ever read? What was the point of art?

No, no!” she said. “Art is what will save us.”

“But it hasn’t,” I wanted to scream. We tried and tried. We’ve filled the world with our stories, our songs – we’ve tried so hard to make our stories better - with diverse casts and empathy and hope – and it’s not enough; no one’s saying it was perfect, or that the attempt was anywhere close to  finished. But we were trying. And now look. 

It is so important, she told me, that there is art already made and due to come out in the coming year that embodies the opposite of this. Diverse, progressive stories, that are not going to go untold whatever happens.

I’d had in my mind two quotes. Peter Cook, on Germany’s satirical clubs of the thirties “that did so much to prevent the rise of Hitler.” 

And Kurt Vonnegut:

During the Vietnam War, which lasted longer than any war we’ve ever been in - and which we lost - every respectable artist in this country was against the war. It was like a laser beam. We were all aimed in the same direction. The power of this weapon turns out to be that of a custard pie dropped from a stepladder six feet high.“

But if they hadn’t been there? I thought, looking at my friend. Who was fierce and bright-eyed and smiling. Those useless satirists and artists and musicians pouring their spirits into their art and watching it land on the floor of history like that dropped custard pie?  What if there was nothing to look back on in those times but a culture in militaristic  lockstep, or perhaps worse, slumped in dead-eyed indifference?  After those years-long nightmares, what would there have been to wake up to? Maybe it was absurd to find the thought more chilling than the reality of what had happened, to feel that it would have been an international death of the soul,  but .. still …

If artists couldn’t prevent disaster, could they at least preserve something precious from being lost while it endured? If they hadn’t stopped a single war, had they at least kept the rot from penetrating the human culture unchallenged? 

It’s not enough. It’s not enough.

“Write novels,” said my friend stubbornly. “Write novels.”

Literally the only three things you need to know about Jane Austen

1. Her first major novel (Northanger Abbey) was written solely because she was so salty about how dramatic and cliche and formula Gothic novels were. You know what I mean. Every castle is foreboding. Every villain is awful but can’t bring himself to kill the heroine because she’s Too Pure. Every middle-aged female companion wants to do the heroine in. The heroine is Pure and Perfect and Is Good At Everything Young Women Should Be and recites quotes and/or the Bible whenever she’s in danger and that makes everything better. All butlers are evil. Jane Austen wrote a book specifically to go “THIS is how NORMAL people react to things!!!”

2. “She never changed her opinion about books or men”

3. “As a girl she wrote stories, including burlesques of popular romances” and you know what that means. Jane Austen started off writing smut fanfiction. If that’s not writing reassurement that you can be great no matter what you choose to write, I don’t know what is.

(Both quotes from the Penguin Classics version of Northanger Abbey)

Summary of Danganronpa
  • DR1: Tell em' Naegi
  • SDR2: No Komaeda, Hope is not an instrument
  • DRAE: *leans into the mic* goodbye u little shits
  • DR3Future: dear boy
  • DR3Despair: they live and die by the meme
  • DR3Hope: Being Munakata is suffering
  • DR2.5: Fucking fuckers with talent, go fucking kill urselves
  • DR0: MatsudakunmatsudakunmatsudakunmATSUDAKUNMATSUDAKUN
  • DRTogami: all my friends are dead
  • DRKirigiri: Onee-sama
  • DRIF: Junko no-
  • NDRV3: why the fuck u lyin'
  • DR School mode/island mode: meet my harem, everybody

Tryn'a give myself some half-assed writing tips to keep in mind while I start writing my fantasy novel. 🙄

I am such a description and explanation whore and I need to let it come more natural in stead of trying to explain the whole structure of the society in a single paragraph! 😂

guys, writing fantasy is haaard…. 😣but sooo fun!! 😜

What do you struggle most with when writing? 🙃

Scott Morrison says Donald Trump’s Muslim ban is a sign that the “world is catching up” with Australia.

“I’m so proud to say that the Liberals were the forerunners, the trend setters, for this sort of illegal violation of human rights and discrimination,” Morrison proudly said during a radio interview.

“We were xenophobic towards refugees before it was cool,” the former Immigration Minister said as he sipped his cold brew coffee and thought about writing a novel about a thinly veiled fictional version of himself. 

“Now it’s like, so mainstream you know, that almost everyone’s doing it… But I just want to reiterate: Australia is still a shining example to the world of cruel and unusual immigration policies with how we treat Asylum Seekers and we should never forget that,” Morrison emphasized, prouder than he should be.

Chapter 191: A JOURNEY OF LOVE

NO SPOILERS PLEASE!!! in the comments or anywhere on this account. We have not finished reading the novel. No copy/paste and all that other shenanigans either. Votes/likes/comments are highly appreciated.

While reading, if available, please read the footnotes at the end of the chapter for clarification.

THANK YOU SIENNA for translating this super long chapter!! <3

Note–> Sae: Should I force you to add a witty note?  Alec: Does it have to be witty? Just add yours! I liked your notes! 😝 Sae: Because it’s cute XD. [actually, it’s because I’m too lazy to write a proper one.] Also, JS! Look what you’ve done to me. T^T 

Translator: Sienna            Editor: Sae + Alec

Keep reading

All novels are or should be written for both men and women to read, and I am at a loss to conceive how a man should permit himself to write anything that would be really disgraceful to a woman, or why a woman should be censured for writing anything that would be proper and becoming for a man.
—  Anne Brontë, in her Introduction to The Tenant of Wildfell Hall

So Ichigo’s feelings obviously got pretty darn strong guys. Because Renji noticed - and as much as I love that red-headed monkey, he can also be a tad dense (just like Ichigo). 

So Renji actually approached Ichigo and told him he should confess. 

Please do not forget the fact that Renji gazed after Rukia for years upon years. But didn’t do anything because he felt she was better off away, or in a different world. (Honestly, I think there’s too much to even list without writing an essay)

And you bet your sweet ass he saw that same look on Ichigo’s face. Because you know Renji saw that look in the mirror every time he thought of Rukia. It wouldn’t be hard for him to spot, now would it? 

Our precious baby men support each other.

All the Dark Places, Carl Grimes.

A/N: I’ve been rewatching The Walking Dead since early before December break from my school. Then I soon realized that I wanted to write something about Carl Grimes.
It started out as me giving myself a prompt for an imagine that should have been only a little over 3,000 words but this has developed much farther into an actual novella. I found that I kept wanting to pull more out of it and develop more.
If you aren’t aware a novella is considered short novel or very prolonged short story.
I hope you enjoy this as much as I did throughout this amazing month of writing it

- Sincerely, Newtandthediamonds

Prompt: Set in mid-season finale time frame of the sixth season of the Walking Dead, this will dive into the mid-sets of two teenagers in the impending apocalypse. Just surrounding Carl losing his eye and their lives seeming to come together just before this happens, the reader tries to adjust to these sudden changes. Will Carl stay in his state of cynicism after the incident or move on? More importantly, will the reader be able to do anything about it?


Flashbacks in italics.

WORD COUNT:  23,479

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                 BOOK STARTERS [18] ( AFTER DARK ) ( HARUKI MURAKAMI )

  1. ❛ In this world, there are things you can only do alone. ❜
  2. ❛ What seems like a reasonable distance to one person might feel too far to somebody else. ❜
  3. ❛ If you really want to know something, you have to be willing to pay the price. ❜
  4. ❛ Why should you be interested in me? ❜
  5. ❛ I have been told I’ve got a darkish personality. A few times. ❜
  6. ❛ It’s not as if our lives are divided simply into light and dark. There’s shadowy middle ground. ❜
  7. ❛ I’ll write to you. A super-long letter, like in an old-fashioned novel. ❜
  8. ❛ The spotlight doesn’t suit me. I’m more of a side dish. ❜
  9. ❛ The ground we stand on looks solid enough, but if something happens it can drop right out from under you.  ❜
  10. ❛ So once you’re dead there’s just nothing? ❜
  11. ❛ If only I could fall sound asleep and wake up in my old reality. ❜
  12. ❛ Is action merely the incidental product of thought, or is thought the consequential product of action? ❜
  13. ❛ Nobody can shake off their own shadow. ❜
  14. ❛ The silence is so deep it hurts. ❜
  15. ❛ I may not look it, but I can be a very patient guy. ❜
  16. ❛ Killing time is one of my specialities. ❜
  17. ❛ You can’t fight it. ❜
  18. ❛ Tell me something,—do you believe in reincarnation? ❜
  19. ❛ I can’t understand nothingness. I can’t understand it and I can’t imagine it. ❜
  20. ❛ I can hardly breathe, and my whole body wants to shrink into a corner.  ❜
  21. ❛ I do have a few things wrong with me, but those are strictly problems I keep inside. ❜
  22. ❛ I can’t take it any more, I can’t go on any more. ❜
  23. ❛ You don’t really have it together. ❜
  24. ❛ Is it against the law for me to know it? ❜
  25. ❛ I keep having the same dream. ❜
  26. ❛ Are you asking because you really want an answer? ❜
  27. ❛ I hate this! I don’t want to be changed this way! ❜
  28. ❛ No contradictions, no irony. They do everything according to numerical formulas. ❜
  29. ❛ Want to hear the rest? If you’re not interested, I can stop. ❜
  30. ❛ If I didn’t have these memories inside me, I would’ve snapped a long time ago. I would’ve curled up in a ditch somewhere and died. ❜
the most fantastic of beasts

notes | So I had to write some Newt/Tina after I caught up on NaNoWriMo, it was just clambering for me. I’ll definitely write more, and once the novel writing takes a pause, I’ll be back to snowbarry too. This is set in the future, just a little family ish piece that came to mind as I sat down to write a completely different story for these two (oops?). Lots of fluff.

title | the most fantastic of beasts

She has a lung capacity to rival the most vicious, voracious fire breathing dragon and her favorite hour of attack is half after three, that nebulous hour that is too early to be awake but too late to get properly back to sleep and it should be maddening, should be frustrating, should be agonizing, but all Newt has to do is curl his daughter to his chest and the only thing it is is wondrous.

“You my dear,” he mumbles, sleepy and so filled with a reverent awe that he can scarcely keep himself upright, “are the most fantastic of beasts.”

She doesn’t respond to her father’s affectionate words so much as she continues her fussing in his arms, tiny little fists knocking into his collar as she protests and proclaims her hunger to an otherwise slumbering world. Head bent over her, thumb reaching so soothe her round and reddened cheek, he trudges out of the room with her cradled close, cooing in a way he once reserved only for his most wounded and needing creatures. “Now now little one, we don’t want to wake your mum. She’s had a long enough day as it is.”

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a stranger: these two characters are happy and in love

a stranger: but i wonder how it would be if they were actually miserable but still fell in love at the end

a stranger: i should write a top-quality novel-length story about them

me: hello yes nice to meet you here’s my social security number and credit card info you own my ass now


Robins in the Night- Stage Adaptation

One time, I wrote a novel. It was about transgender lesbian Robin Hood in an alternate history setting.

More recently, I adapted that novel for stage.

It’s got segments of narration taken straight from the original descriptive paragraphs of the book, it’s got the full story, and perhaps best of all it’s got lesbians that don’t die.

Buying the script counts as buying the rights for performance, if you feel like putting it on somewhere. I don’t want people to have to go through the process of buying the rights separately. I think theatre should be more accessible than it is currently. I’d make the script free if I didn’t have to like, live, and fund a transition, and write more things.

So, if you’re interested in the play then follow the link above, or if you’re interested in the book, just search “Robins in the Night” on Amazon and it’ll be there, waiting, being a book.