Recent comments in /f/WritingPrompts

WokeJabber t1_jcrtlvk wrote

Reply to comment by Xexotic_wolfX in [OT] Any tips on how to write a good mystery? by Xexotic_wolfX

Write an outline, filling it in and correcting it as your ideas develop and change.

Use a big white board or cork board with lots of connections, like a conspiracy theorist.

Write by hand whenever you can, pencil is better than ink.

When you get stuck with the actual writing, tweak the outline and play with the connections.

Listen to good actors read early to mid 20th century short stories and mystery novels.

No, I do not write fiction, but I do some writing.

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NextEstablishment856 t1_jcrsjoo wrote

Reply to [OT] Any tips on how to write a good mystery? by Xexotic_wolfX

Big tip that changed my writing, "Everyone has a secret. They all have somewhere they won't cooperate." Basically, if your murderer is the only dodgy character, the mystery is too easy to solve. So every suspect has to be hiding something. And often, when they do, try to hide it, they inadvertently help the murderer stay hidden. Even if your detective knows who did it, those other characters may be ruining evidence.

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wathcman t1_jcrqr1u wrote

Reply to comment by AutoModerator in [WP] Everyone has something referred to as “Narrative Potential Energy” the higher this value is, the more involved in a story you are. Protagonists have a high amount as they drive the story forward, and background characters have little. Somehow you have negative narrative potential. by -Mothonawall-

I guess that just means you live on the other side of the world from where any of the plot takes place

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MMRicain t1_jcrpl64 wrote

Reply to [OT] Fun Trope Friday, Writing with Tropes: Reluctant Hero & Horror by katpoker666

Ow. Ow ow ow.

My eyes peeled open to be seared by what had to be the brightest overhead lights I had ever seen. Every piece of me was racked with pain, except for my hands and feet which had lost all feeling due to overly tightened restraints. I could feel my back sticking to the metal slab beneath me, adhered by fluid that I feared was mine. I could hardly breathe the burning antiseptic air, underscored by a sharp tang of iron, copper, and fear. I managed to lift my head and saw crude stitching across my stomach and chest. Too exhausted and frightened to vomit, I turned my head and saw other gurneys with fellow victims strapped in, similar inflicted wounds covering their bodies, blood running in rivulets down from their slabs, across the white tile to a floor drain. I could see their chests rising and falling, too rapidly. They too struggled to breath. I tugged at my restraints, and to my utter surprise, yanked one free.

Unsure when our tormenters would return, I frantically clawed at the remaining straps. I heard voices echoing down the hallway outside the door and increased my efforts for freedom. Success! I rolled off and hit the floor, almost blacking out. I pulled myself upright and staggered forward, intent on leaving the others behind. I had to get free! I could bring reinforcements for them later – I was only an engineer; I wasn’t trained for combat. The room stretched in front of me, each step seeming to take me farther from the door. I slipped back down to the floor, thirst and blood loss taking their toll. I looked back and cursed. I couldn’t do it; I couldn’t leave them. I told myself this was practical – if I collapsed, another would have a chance to escape and bring rescue. I crawled back and went to each of the three tables, fumbling to free them from their straps. I could here one of them stirring, and hoped my efforts were enough – the voices were getting closer.

Crawling now towards the door, I pushed myself to keep going. I finally reached it and pulled myself up against the doorframe. I staggered down the hall and almost collapsed when a blaring klaxon pierced my ears. I heard a cacophony of voices and booted feet thumping toward me. I’d never outrun them, but maybe one of my crewmates could get out. I shouted to bring the hoard toward me and turned toward the heavy door with a push bar in front of me. Big letters brilliant red glared down at me.

EXIT

I hope that meant a way out. I pushed through and staggered onto pavement. My breaths came harder; this atmosphere wasn’t right for my lungs. I squinted, trying to see past the shining lights that were pointed at me. I couldn’t equilibrate fast enough – I felt dry hands grab me and force me to the ground. One of the torturers xyr white coat leaned down into my face – ugly tiny eyes boring into mine. Xyr headfur was tied back and xyr pale washed-out face smooth of lines. Blunt teeth flashed as xyr mouth pulled back and babbled something at me. I stared hard back – my unblinking black eyes, huge in comparison, elicited a shudder. I was roughly dragged back to the room of horrors, but to my delight, one of the tables was now empty. This planet will be dust.

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MandosOtherALT t1_jcrd2n9 wrote

Reply to [WP] The man held up the syringe. "If this doesn't kill you, nothing will." by [deleted]

"Nononono!" I get injected, yelling in pain, and he takes the syringe out. I squirm in the chair that I'm bound to. Red veins appear across some of my skin, and I yell in pain again. After a minute or two, my body goes limp. I then start breathing fast and then slow but hard.

"wh- How?! You're alive!" The guy makes a fist in anger.

I look at the man and spit at him. "Nothing will, hm?" I squirm, break out of my boundings, and launch myself at him with an experimenting knife. "Say hello to Nelson for me." I then stab him in the hard and twist, then pull it out.. He is dead, and I am free.

[the prompt reminds me of project 863 but an extended universe]

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Willowrosephoenix t1_jcr5jeb wrote

Reply to [WP] Every time something bad happens to you, e.g. someone tries to mug you, you attempt to warn the perpetrator away for their sakes. The reason? One of the gods of old, who has unresolved maternal urges due to their roles e.g. Artemis, has decided to focus all this energy onto poor you... by MidgardWyrm

Surveying the shattered remains of my would be assailant, I sigh.

I’m tired of explaining things to the police. Maybe this time I could just quietly slip away?

If only she weren’t so “showy” and…gratuitous.

I’m not sure how it started. See…I’m autistic and I took a special interest in old religion.

I was particularly fascinated by Ishtar, the first name I knew her by anyway, she’s had many. Inanna was one of the first recorded, to list them…well it would become exhaustive and I’ve been told people get bored.

Maybe why no one heeds my warnings or believes me?

I didn’t ask for a bipolar goddess to take a special interest in my life. But…here I am.

I will say life is never boring, things always work out in the end, but the path there is rarely easy.

Finishing my internal reverie, I hear sirens approaching in the distance. I have no idea how I’m going to explain a charred, nearly dismembered corpse lying on the ground near my feet, my purse still on the ground nearby.

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equisint t1_jcr5hdg wrote

Reply to [WP] Everyone knows the hero won't defuse the bomb until the are less than 10 seconds left. That's why I've set it to explode at 20 seconds. by Sh4d0w927

"Your time is running out~" I mocked, watching the hero fiddle with the wires on the bomb I had placed.

"You sick bastard!" he yelled at me while I laughed at him.

The timer ticked on. One minute. The hero had one minute.

...or so he thought.

The hero always defuses the bomb within the last 10 seconds. Always. That's why he doesn't know that he only has 40 seconds left.

"Having fun there?" I grinned as he pulled around more of the wires. A bead of sweat rolled down his face.

"Why so many fucking wires?!" He hissed at me. I laughed once more at his aimless attempts to find the right wire. But he wouldn't. I knew he wouldn't.

I watched the timer go down. 40... 39... 38... For years, people had seen him as the hero. The one who saves the day. The perfect, golden guy who's never done wrong. But today, I'll finally get him back for what he did to me. The hero will finally get what he deserves.

The timer still ticked on. 25... 24... 23...

My grin widened as the timer reached its end.

Leaving the scene, I smiled to myself. His last words were "why so many fucking wires".

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