Being a writer sucks. Being a writer with a good heart sucks even more. It takes a true bully to write a compelling story.
Don’t misunderstand me. There are some truly fulfilling, wonderful feelings and emotions that can come with writing, but who wants to read a story where nothing bad happens? Where everybody lives their pleasant little lives and dies of old age surrounded by kids? Nobody, that’s who.
Maybe its because your lives have such hardship. Maybe its because you're looking for the entire range of emotions when you read, allowing you to live vicariously through the people you meet on a page. Whatever the reason, them’s the rules. I don’t make ’em. I just enforce them.
But you didn’t come here to hear me complain about my job. You came here to find out what happens when the rules are broken—the things that happen on the other side of the page.
The world of Inkling.
Have you ever wondered how a character can feel so real? So compelling? So relatable? That’s because they are. They’re real. You just don’t know it.
Before you laugh, let me appeal to all the authors reading this down to you fanfic writers. You’re writing a passage, you’re in the zone, really hammering things out, and then… nothing. You can’t think about what to do next. It’s gone. Kaput. Outskees. Why? You were on such a roll, and right when you were making things juicy like the sadistic jerk you are, you got writer’s block. Is it because you’re out of creative muscle? You’re tired? Uninspired?
Or maybe your characters hate what you’ve written?
That’s what writer’s block is. Your characters in open rebellion, trying to write their own stories. But that’s not their job. Their job is to be the floating forms of unharnessed potential energy that they are until they’re called upon. I’ve met them all over the course of my career, from the big players like Romance and Comedy all the way down to the tropes. They’re good folk. Horror especially. Surprisingly.
But every now and again, someone decides to go rogue.
That’s where I come in. You might think your sudden rediscovery of creativity is from something you did, but it isn’t. That’s me. Aaaall me. You’re welcome. Unless I never got to your Blocker, in which case, sorry kid. I can’t get ’em all.
The name’s Blank. I’m what keeps the boundary between fiction and reality safe, and I don’t get paid so you’d better be damn grateful for it.
How’s that for an intro?
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