People like writing about war, but they rarely like writing about the aftermath. And I think that’s a shame, because sometimes writing about the aftermath can be at least as interesting. There’s a lot you can do with what happens after the fighting is done, when people need to rebuild, when they need to find who they are and where they fit in a world that is different than it was when they began.
Write about interpersonal relationships, and how they changed.
Write about how people view themselves and the actions they needed to take.
Write about rebuilding—physically, socially, mentally, emotionally.
Write about the choices people made because they thought they were never going to need to face the consequences.
Write about the emotional toll that war takes, that constant violence takes, that never being able to relax takes.
Write about the physical toll that war takes, about the people who come back missing limbs or neurons.
Write about the people who lost everyone they knew and still have to live with themselves.
Write about the people who lost everything, their homes, their land, the cities, about them finding new places to call home, or not.
Write about the people who are tasked with creating a new world, and the decisions they have to make.
Write about the people who only knew war, who were born after the war started and grew up with only that, who now need to figure out who they are in a world that has no place for them anymore.
Write about the people who were heroes, who know how to be heroes but don’t know how to be people.
Write about the people who weren’t heroes, who were hated, who were disgraced.
Write about the people who didn’t fight in the war because they couldn’t, because they weren’t physically capable or because society said they weren’t suitable.
Write about the people who fought on the losing side, who sacrificed everything and still lost and now need to rebuild with nothing, who are painted as monsters when they need no worse than the side that won.
Write about the trials, for people who committed war crimes, for people who took advantage of what was going on to do what they wanted.
Write about the weapons that are finding their way into the hands of children, cheap and easy to use, because they were left behind when the soldiers packed up and left.
Write about the landmines, the unexploded ordinances, the things that governments forgot were there or just didn’t care.
Write about ten years later, or twenty, or thirty, or one, or six months, or the next day, about what people do when the adrenaline of victory or defeat subsides and they’re left with a world that they no longer understand, that they no longer know, because they spent so long trying to destroy the old world that they forgot that they would have to live in the new one.
Write about the next generation, who grew up with parents who flinched at loud noises and cousins who could remember air raid sirens, who grew up doing drills they didn’t understand because the people who made the drills couldn’t forget that one day they might have been necessary.
Write about the women who stayed behind because they had no choice, about the women who stayed behind because they wanted to, about the women who couldn’t stay behind because there was no behind, because everywhere was a warzone and they were soldiers because everyone was a soldier.
Write about the children who trained for a war that ended before they were old enough to take up arms, where all they know is violence, not peace, how to destroy a city but not how to build one or how to run one.
Write about career soldiers who no longer have a career because the war is over, there’s peace, and so they find work for the highest bidder, for the person most willing to give them a knife or a gun and throw them wherever a little muscle and a lot of violence is needed.
Write about the people who did research on things nobody should ever research, who discovered things they could never speak about, who rationalized what they did as science while knowing it wasn’t.
Write about everyday people coping with everything that happened, with things they saw and things they did and things they knew that they wouldn’t wish on their worst enemy.
Okay, so remember in our first World-Building post where I listed about fifteen things that a fantasy writer should take into consideration when building their story’s world? I did promise you all that I would be making individual posts that focus more on every component. It’s easier this way so you can get a better idea.
Here is a list of questions you should ask yourself about the government of your story’s world.
1. Who is their leader/ruler/king?
2. How are they chosen? It can be by strength, birthright, or some kind of contest/election/competition.
3. Who makes the laws? Is it the people, the ruler, or the ruler’s subordinates? Or do the people think that the laws are already set by the gods?
4. Who enforces the laws? Is there a police force, patrol, or guards?
5. What happens if a law is broken? Jail, stocks, death, eye-for-an-eye? Do the people who were hurt in the crime decide on the punishment?
6. Are law breakers considered scum or hailed as rebels?
7. How powerful is the ruler? Does the ruler humbly serve the people or are they a dictator? Is the ruler’s power limited by something else (think about the checks and balances system in America).
8. How big of a role does government play for your people? If your people put God first above everything, then maybe the government isn’t as important in your story as God/gods. If your people do not break laws and are generally peaceful, maybe the government isn’t that important either. Think about these things before you ask yourself all the questions from 1-7. Maybe, depending on the relevance of government in your society, you don’t have to answer all these questions.
one time he and i were sitting in bed and i said “where do you feel stuff?” and he said “what do you mean” and i said, “here is anxiety” and pointed to my bottom left rib where the spiders start. he pointed to his throat. “it’s here for me.”
i keep anger in my breastbone, he holds it in his hands. i feel sadness on my shoulders, he feels it in his lungs.
we play this game until we come to love, and i realize that i am terrified (jugular vein) of what might come. what if it is not the same. what if he feels it somewhere else, what if it is just a flash fire, not the slow burn, what if it is congealing in one place instead of radiating, i try to change topics, flight response (sternum)
he takes my hands in his and puts them over his ribs and says, “everywhere, everywhere, like a sun is trying to escape me, like i am being consumed and you are filling up where used to be empty.” i say, “don’t be ridiculous humans are 99% empty space,” i nervous laugh (spiders down spine), he holds his gaze with me.
“everywhere,” he repeats.
As if I’m always confident, know what I’m doing, and have perfect instincts.
the curiosities
We have had several amazing people ask for our advice regarding writing together, writing in general, getting motivation and ideas and what exercises to do for practice. So we decided to make a post about it!
Listed will be some of our personal ideas for how to work on writing alone and with a partner, we will toss in examples where applicable and if you have any other questions or want anything else added to the post, we will do that for you!
You’ve been there.
After a long day, you’re ready to sink so deep into a novel that the day’s stresses seem to belong to someone else, to some other life. For a moment, the words on the page disappear and play instead like a movie in your mind.
But something happens. You’re torn from the story. And the novel? Just words on a page.
Maybe the author used a phrase that didn’t fit. Maybe he rambles. Maybe he’s just in love with the sound of his voice. Whatever it is, you toss the book aside because you just can’t get into it.
It sucks to be that reader. But it’s worse to be that writer, isn’t it?
Wordy prose. Elaborate description. Redundancies and filter words. These little indulgences—exciting for the writer, dull as dirt for the reader—weigh your story down.
Worried you’re that writer? Do you wonder if your readers can get into your work? What’s standing in their way?
The resources below can help with that. Here, you’ll get five techniques to obliterate the barrier between you and your reader. So you can cut the fluff and get out of your story’s way.
#1: Nuts and Bolts: “Thought” Verbs
You know that “show, don’t tell” rule everyone’s always talking about but no one is really explaining? (Check out my post: Show don’t tell: Or Should You?)
This article from Fight Club author, Chuck Palahniuk does the opposite. He never mentions “show, don’t tell.” He just tells you how to do it.
You’ll learn to identify and obliterate passages of boring explanation. It’s a shot of adrenaline for flabby fiction.
#2: The Adverb is Not Your Friend: Stephen King on the Simplicity of Style
Not sure what an adverb is? Then it might be killing your fiction.
In this article, Stephen King walks you through adverbs: how to recognize them, how they weaken fiction, and how adverb-laden passages compare to those without.
After you absorb this simple tip, you’ll be leagues ahead of most writers.
#3: The 200 Most Common Redundancies
Phrases like “added bonus,” “advance warning,” and “past experience” bloat your writing.
Why?
Because bonuses are always additional. Warnings always come in advance. And experiences? Well, they always happen in the past, don’t they? So “added,” “advance,” and “past” add no meaning. Which means they don’t pull their weight.
Get rid of them. Then check out this resource for 197 more common redundancies to strike from your fiction.
#4: 25 Editing Tips to Tighten Your Copy
This article may target copywriters, but every writer benefits from these skills.
Copywriters, those people who write Coca-Cola taglines and perfume ads, are great at one thing: persuasion.
Don’t turn up your nose. Persuasive writing creates images so powerful, they slip into your subconscious before you realize you’ve read a word.
Copywriters are also the masters of brevity. They have to be if they’re going to persuade busy people. So their imagery conveys concepts in very few words. That’s like telegraphing emotion right into the subconscious, and it’s effective writing no matter your genre.
Use them to ignite your fiction.
#5: Short Story Shortcuts: 4 Techniques for Making a Big Impact in Few Words
Brevity is an art. And a vivid image conveys more than a long-winded explanation. That’s why this article focuses on character gestures, clothing, and dialogue.
Here, you’ll learn how to pack meaning into fewer words. It’s great for short story writers and novelists too.
I hope this helped! If you have any questions, or you just want to talk (I don’t bite!) feel free to drop by my ask box!
Of course! According to Rachel Aaron/Rachel Bach of This Blog Is a A Ploy, you can now use Google Maps to make custom maps which is great news for all authors. “Being an author practically guarantees you will struggle with real life details like travel distance at some point in your book. If you’re writing about a real city, the bar is even higher. Even if you’re writing about your own city, a map can be a life saver just for keeping everything straight in your head,” says Bach; you can read more about her discovery and the How-To Tutorial [here].
Here are some other sites I’ve found that I hope might help:
