There's a version of the "don't go grocery shopping while hungry" rule specifically for writers where you should never under any circumstances be allowed to touch your draft within 3 hours of reading a really good story. Because sometimes when you read something great your head goes "fuck this is so much better than my stuff I should make that more like THIS instead!" Look at me. That's the devil talking and you should close the document NOW.

I used to work for a trade book reviewer where I got paid to review people's books, and one of the rules of that review company is one that I think is just super useful to media analysis as a whole, and that is, we were told never to critique media for what it didn't do but only for what it did.

So, for instance, I couldn't say "this book didn't give its characters strong agency or goals". I instead had to say, "the characters in this book acted in ways that often felt misaligned with their characterization as if they were being pulled by the plot."

I think this is really important because a lot of "critiques" people give, if subverted to address what the book does instead of what it doesn't do, actually read pretty nonsensical. For instance, "none of the characters were unique" becomes "all of the characters read like other characters that exist in other media", which like... okay? That's not really a critique. It's just how fiction works. Or "none of the characters were likeable" becomes "all of the characters, at some point or another, did things that I found disagreeable or annoying" which is literally how every book works?

It also keeps you from holding a book to a standard it never sought to meet. "The world building in this book simply wasn't complex enough" becomes "The world building in this book was very simple", which, yes, good, that can actually be a good thing. Many books aspire to this. It's not actually a negative critique. Or "The stakes weren't very high and the climax didn't really offer any major plot twists or turns" becomes "The stakes were low and and the ending was quite predictable", which, if this is a cute romcom is exactly what I'm looking for.

Not to mention, I think this really helps to deconstruct a lot of the biases we carry into fiction. Characters not having strong agency isn't inherently bad. Characters who react to their surroundings can make a good story, so saying "the characters didn't have enough agency" is kind of weak, but when you flip it to say "the characters acted misaligned from their characterization" we can now see that the *real* problem here isn't that they lacked agency but that this lack of agency is inconsistent with the type of character that they are. a character this strong-willed *should* have more agency even if a weak-willed character might not.

So it's just a really simple way of framing the way I critique books that I think has really helped to show the difference between "this book is bad" and "this book didn't meet my personal preferences", but also, as someone talking about books, I think it helps give other people a clearer idea of what the book actually looks like so they can decide for themselves if it's worth their time.

Update: This is literally just a thought exercise to help you be more intentional with how you critique media. I'm not enforcing this as some divine rule that must be followed any time you have an opinion on fiction, and I'm definitely not saying that you have to structure every single sentence in a review to contain zero negative phrases. I'm just saying that I repurposed a rule we had at that specific reviewer to be a helpful tool to check myself when writing critiques now. If you don't want to use the tool, literally no one (especially not me) can or wants to force you to use it. As with all advice, it is a totally reasonable and normal thing to not have use for every piece of it that exists from random strangers on the internet. Use it to whatever extent it helps you or not at all.

Something that's been knocking around in my head for a while: I think a lot of new writers get thrown off by their assumption that writing will be anything like reading. Reading is a dreamy, passive experience--scenes, dialogue, and description flow over you as you are taken under the writer's spell. Writing, on the other hand (with the exception, sometimes, of the first draft), is the laborious, almost mechanical-like task of putting narrative elements together so that the reader can lose themselves in your story. In short, reading and writing are very different experiences, and the assumption that they will be, or even should be, the same, is cause for much angst among new and experienced writers alike. It's a frustrating thing, because a love of reading is usually what gets people interested in writing in the first place. I've been writing for several decades and I still feel confounded by this clash--it's part of why I don't read much when I'm deep into my writing, and vice versa. And when I am writing, I constantly have to remind myself: Writing is not watching a magic show. Writing is figuring out how to smuggle the rabbit into the hat.

Writing Angry Scenes: Tips to Avoid Melodrama and Make It Real

Anger can be one of the most intense, relatable emotions to read—and one of the trickiest to write. When handled well, an angry scene can pull readers deep into the emotional world of a character, building tension and driving the story forward. But when handled poorly, anger can easily slip into melodrama, making the character’s feelings seem overblown, forced, or even cringe-worthy.

So how can you avoid these pitfalls and write anger that feels real and compelling? Here are some tips to make angry scenes powerful without overdoing it.

1. Understand What Fuels Your Character’s Anger

To write anger authentically, you need to understand its roots. People get angry for complex reasons—fear, frustration, betrayal, grief, and even love. Ask yourself what’s truly driving your character’s anger. Are they afraid of losing control? Do they feel abandoned or misunderstood? Are they hurt by someone they trusted? Anger rarely exists in isolation, so dig into the deeper emotions fueling it.

When you understand the core reasons behind a character’s anger, you can weave those nuances into the scene, making the anger more relatable and layered. Readers will feel the depth of the character's rage, not just the surface heat of it.

2. Show, Don’t Tell—But Don’t Overdo It

“Show, don’t tell” is classic writing advice, but it’s especially crucial in angry scenes. Don’t rely on generic phrases like “She was furious” or “He clenched his fists in anger.” Instead, look for unique ways to convey how this specific character experiences anger. Maybe their voice drops to a deadly calm, or their eyes narrow in a way that makes everyone around them uncomfortable.

That said, showing too much can backfire, especially with exaggerated descriptions. Over-the-top body language, excessive shouting, or too many “flaring nostrils” can tip the scene into melodrama. Use body language and physical cues sparingly and mix them with subtler reactions for a more realistic portrayal.

3. Use Dialogue to Reveal Hidden Layers

People rarely say exactly what they feel, especially when they’re angry. Angry dialogue isn’t just about yelling or throwing out insults; it’s an opportunity to show the character’s deeper thoughts and vulnerabilities.

Consider using controlled, icy responses or unexpected silences. Maybe your character says something hurtful in a low voice rather than screaming. They might express sarcasm, avoidance, or even laugh at the wrong moment. Anger often carries hidden layers, and using these nuances can help your character’s dialogue feel genuine, even haunting, without falling into dramatic clichés.

4. Control the Pacing of the Scene

The pacing of an angry scene can be the difference between a powerful moment and a melodramatic one. In real life, anger doesn’t always erupt instantly; it can simmer, spike, or deflate depending on the situation and the character’s personality. Experiment with different pacing techniques to create tension.

You might build the anger slowly, with small signs that something’s brewing. Or maybe the character explodes suddenly, only to calm down just as quickly, leaving a chill in the air. Controlling the pace helps you control the reader’s emotional engagement, drawing them in without overwhelming them.

5. Avoid Clichéd Expressions and Overused Reactions

When writing anger, avoid falling back on clichés like “seeing red,” “boiling with rage,” or “blood boiling.” These phrases have been overused to the point that they lose their impact. Instead, get creative and think about how your character’s anger might feel specifically to them.

Maybe their skin feels prickly, or their jaw aches from clenching it. Think about details that are unique to the character and to the moment. By focusing on small, unique sensory details, you’ll help readers feel the anger rather than just reading about it.

6. Let the Setting Reflect the Emotion

The setting can be an effective tool to amplify a character’s anger without overstating it. Small details in the environment—such as the hum of a refrigerator, the slow ticking of a clock, or the distant sounds of laughter—can create a sense of contrast or isolation that heightens the character’s rage.

For example, imagine a character seething in a peaceful park or a quiet library. The calm of the surroundings can make their anger feel more potent. Or maybe they’re in a crowded, noisy room where they feel unseen and unheard, which fuels their frustration further. This use of setting can add depth to the scene without the need for dramatic gestures.

7. Let Consequences Speak for Themselves

An effective way to avoid melodrama is to let the consequences of the anger show its intensity. Characters don’t always have to yell or physically react; sometimes, a single choice can convey more than any outburst.

Perhaps your character cuts off a close friend or says something they can’t take back. Maybe they throw away a meaningful object or walk out in silence. By focusing on the consequences of their anger, you can reveal the impact without over-explaining it.

8. Let the Emotion Simmer After the Scene Ends

Anger is rarely resolved in a single moment, and its effects often linger. When writing an angry scene, think about how it will affect your character moving forward. Are they holding onto grudges? Do they feel guilty or exhausted afterward? Does their anger transform into something else, like sadness or regret?

Allowing the anger to simmer in your character’s mind even after the scene ends creates a more authentic and layered portrayal. It shows that anger is complex and doesn’t just disappear the moment the scene is over, adding emotional weight to both the character and the story.

Yay, unsolicited advice time! Or, not really advice, more like miscellaneous tips and tricks, because if there's one thing eight years of martial arts has equipped me to write, it's fight scenes.

.

Fun things to add to a fight scene (hand to hand edition)

.

Just thought these might be useful! If you want a more comprehensive guide or a weapons edition, feel free to ask. If you want, write how your characters fight in the comments!

Have a bitchin day <3

How to avoid White Room Syndrome

by Writerthreads on Instagram

A common problem writers face is "white room syndrome"—when scenes feel like they’re happening in an empty white room. To avoid this, it's important to describe settings in a way that makes them feel real and alive, without overloading readers with too much detail. Here are a few tips below to help!

Focus on a few key details

You don’t need to describe everything in the scene—just pick a couple of specific, memorable details to bring the setting to life. Maybe it’s the creaky floorboards in an old house, the musty smell of a forgotten attic, or the soft hum of a refrigerator in a small kitchen. These little details help anchor the scene and give readers something to picture, without dragging the action with heaps of descriptions.

Engage the senses

Instead of just focusing on what characters can see, try to incorporate all five senses—what do they hear, smell, feel, or even taste? Describe the smell of fresh bread from a nearby bakery, or the damp chill of a foggy morning. This adds a lot of depth and make the location feel more real and imaginable.

Mix descriptions with actions

Have characters interact with the environment. How do your characters move through the space? Are they brushing their hands over a dusty bookshelf, shuffling through fallen leaves, or squeezing through a crowded subway car? Instead of dumping a paragraph of description, mix it in with the action or dialogue.

Use the setting to reflect a mood or theme

Sometimes, the setting can do more than just provide a backdrop—it can reinforce the mood of a scene or even reflect a theme in the story. A stormy night might enhance tension, while a warm, sunny day might highlight a moment of peace. The environment can add an extra layer to what’s happening symbolically.

Here's an example of writing a description that hopefully feels alive and realistic, without dragging the action:

Hope these tips help in your writing!

Honestly? My main piece of advice for writing well-rounded characters is to make them a little bit lame. No real living person is 100% cool and suave 100% of the time. Everyone's a little awkward sometimes, or gets too excited about something goofy, or has a silly fear, or laughs about stupid things. Being a bit of a loser is an incurable part of the human condition. Utilize that in your writing.

I’m begging you to write for yourself.

“But readers don’t like—“ who cares?

The only reader of your story that you should care about is yourself.

Do you like your story? Yes? Then it’s perfect.

That's what creating is all about! 🫶🏽

You really need to make non-tragic past for your characters, significant people and events that impacted their lives, non-dramatic mundane moments that shaped them, happy memories, bitter memories, embarrassing memories.

Like yes the space princess lost her whole civilization, but did she have friends before that? Favorite place? Does she miss the sound of her favorite music she use to listen to?

My #1 recurring thing as an editor is to guide people away from writing shyly and defensively. If you preempt aggression and try defuse it in your writing itself, you are showing your belly. The audience wants blood.

If you write with the expectation of being hated, you are writing for your haters. This is exactly what they want. So the more you do it, the more of your readers will be haters.

i think one of the reasons i get mildly annoyed about worldbuilding threads that are 200 tweets of why you should care about where blue dye comes from in your world before saying someone is wearing blue is that so few of them go up to the second level of "and that should impact your characters somehow" - i don't care that blue dye comes from pressing berries that only grow in one kingdom a thousand miles away if people are casually wearing blue

a couple of people reblogged this so i was thinking about it again (ok i'm almost always thinking about material culture worldbuilding tbh) & a lot of my problem is that these kinds of worldbuilding threads and posts treat it like an obligation and not an oppurtunity --

"blue dye is rare" is a world fact that could be a plot obstacle (character is a dyer and needs blue cloth, of the right shade, for a festival); a clue (main character notices someone wearing blue and realizes that they're in disguise); a way to inform character (main character sees a blue banner and thinks its owner is showing off); and any number of other things, from small to large.

and if the rarity doesn't serve any of those functions in your story, then the existence of blue dye is not important enough that you, as the author, need to consider it.

i'm a trends and forces guy - i believe any given worldstate is created by billions of coinflips leading up to that moment, some random (the sun rose on the day of the battle and gave one side victory) and some more directed (a law was enacted with a specific intent). expecting, as an author, to have generated a worldstate that coheres and connects in the same way and with the same complexity as ours is going to lead to paralysis more often than it is to interesting worldbuilding, or worldbuilding that supports the story you're trying to tell.

Yeah you don't need to know where everything comes from. What you need, which I think a lot of these demands are actually angling for, is a good intuitive sense of where your setting differs from your present reality.

I don't care where they get their common blue dyes if it's not relevant to the story, but I do care if the narrative's handling of clothes and their color reflects a 'pick out entire readymades from the mall' relationship to wardrobe in a technological and social milieu where that is not logically an option, and there's no sign they're going for one of those surreal modern-pop fantasy settings.

You really do see this quite regularly, coming from writers who just haven't thought about it; they haven't noticed their own cultural framework is historically contingent and actually super abnormal.

'Who domesticated wheat' and 'where does the blue come from' are very handy as sort of shortcut checkpoints to make sure you're making regular contact with material worldbuilding at all--if you know where the blue is from you don't need to decide where the red is from also; you've done the important bit of aligning your thoughts about clothing color with premodern dyeing practices. Other details will tend to accrete on that surface now as they arise.

But yeah if these are approached as literal dictums you just overbuild to no purpose.

#my current textile bugbear is rags#we've basically abandoned them as a society#and now you routinely get people who *have* done some worldbuilding thinking and are doing okay with the period content#but don't really grasp where rags come from or what they're good for#apart from labeling The Poors#and will say things like the torn and bloodstained garments had been thrown out#as they were no longer even fit for rags#how so????#what do you imagine the minimum qualifications of a rag are??#kakl;jdkdfa

#look rags are kinda the plastic bag full of plastic bags of the premodern era#only they're useful in a much wider variety of ways#and much more expensive#i threw out the rags because they were stained is like. i threw out your socks because they were stinky.#normal people don't *do* that#disposable fabric has made us insane

Just to give you some idea of why even rags were very valuable in any pre-industrial setting, here are some facts about fabric production throughout history.

In the Viking era, when drop spindles and vertical looms were the height of technology and every step had to be done by hand, it too about seven hundred hours to make a blanket big enough for one person. First you had to harvest the fiber that you were going to use, then you had to clean it and prepare it, then you had to spin it, then you had to weave it and then you had to finish it.

To support a household of five, and keep them supplied with a bare-minimum of fabric needs (so they weren't naked or cold), took approximately 40 hours of work per week just on textile production. In a reasonably prosperous family, everyone would have two outfits (one for every day work, and one nice one, and when the nice one became too worn or stained to be "nice" it would be your everyday outfit and (if you were lucky) you would make a new one to be nice, and your old everyday outfit would be either passed on to someone or (if it was in too bad a shape for that) would be cut up for various other uses.

As technology progressed, all of the steps in fabric production ended up taking less time; for example, the spinning wheel spins thread much more quickly than the drop spindle does. But it was still a hell of a lot of work.

In the 18th Century, here's the life cycle of bed sheets:

They start out as sheets (flat, both top and bottom) and are needed because they are MUCH easier to wash than your sheets than a blanket. As sheets get used, they develop worn patches to the middle. Those get darned. When even darning is not enough to save them, you cut them in half down the middle, flip the pieces, and sew the edges together so that what had been the edge is now a seam down the middle and the worn parts are on the edges (where the fact that they're worn doesn't matter much). When the new center gets worn out, you cut the fabric apart and turn the usable bits of fabric into pillow cases. When the pillowcases get worn out you turn the usable bits of fabric into handkerchiefs.

And the pieces of fabric that are truly too worn to be used any longer were not thrown out: they were sold. To a ragpicker. Someone whose entire job was buying rags and scraps from households and then selling them on to merchants and tradesmen who could use them. Rags too worn to be used as fabric any longer could be made into paper, for example. Or used as stuffing padded/quilted garments or cushions.

Hey, random writing tip: Instead of having something be a ridiculously unlikely coincidence, you can make the thing happen due to who this particular character is as a person. Instead of getting stuck on "there's no logical reason to why that would happen", try to bend it into a case of "something like this would never happen to anybody but this specific fucker." Something that makes your reader chuckle and roll their eyes, going "well of course you would."

Why would the timid shy nerd be at a huge sketchy downtown black market bazaar? Well, she's got this beetle colony she's raising that needs a very specific kind of leaf for nest material, and there only place to get it is this one guy at the bazaar that sells that stuff. Why would the most femininely flamboyant guy ever known just happen to have downright encyclopedic knowledge about professional boxing? Well, there was this one time when he was down bad for this guy who was an aspiring professional boxer...

I know it sounds stupidly obvious when written out like this, but when you're up close to your writing, it's hard to see the forest for the trees. Some time ago I finished reading a book, where the whole plot hinges on character A, who is 100% certain that character B is dead, personally getting up and coming down from the top rooms of a castle, to the gates, at 3 am, to come look at some drunk who claims to be this guy who died 17 years ago. Why would A do that, if he's sure that B is dead?

Because he's a Warrior Guy from a culture of Loyalty And Honour, and hearing that someone's got the audacity to go about claiming to be his long-lost brother in battle, there is no other option than to immediately personally go down there to beat the ever-loving shit out of this guy. Who then turns out to actually be character B, after all.

I'm crawling out of the sewer to say it again: don't let anyone stop you from writing what you want to write.

Don't let people saying your writing is too 'self indulgent' stop you.

Don't let people saying your writing is 'not original enough' stop you.

Don't let people saying 'you shouldn't write this' stop you.

Write what compels you.

not the first person to say this at all but the main thing for female villains when it comes to thriving to make them more multifaceted and dimensional and empathetic for an audience being “but she loved her children… but she wouldve done everything for her children…” drives me up the fucking wall. the men do not get this same treatment at all. there is so fucking much other shit you can do to make these characters complex and sympathetic

If it's not "she's a mother" it's "she was raped", different case but same simplification

We... need worldbuilding by Seth Dickinson

Plaint Text, also broken into slightly smaller paragraphs:

From the notes:

https://elldimensional.wordpress.com/2015/07/12/the-compendium-of-limyaaels-rants/

hey all u long-form writers out there (novels, novellas, serialized fiction, anything): how long are your chapters?

google tells me 2,500-5,000 words is normal, but every time i write a chapter it ends up being around 3,000 and 5k just seems so INCREDIBLY long

how long are yours? pls tell me in replies for science