ARTICLES FOR WRITERS
THAT ARE KINDA FUNNY
Top 20 Ways a Writer Gets Their Ideas (Or Pretends To)
The Shower Oracle: Hot water activates brain cells and summons full plotlines... only to forget them the second you towel off.
The Midnight Lightning Bolt: A brilliant idea strikes at 3 a.m., but morning reveals it’s just “Detective Cat solves crime with toast.”
The Procrastination Inspiration: After three hours of vacuuming and reorganising the spice rack, the perfect scene emerges.
Eavesdropping Goldmine: “I’m just people-watching!” you insist, notebook in hand, while memorising the argument at the next table.
The Grocery Store Epiphany: A bag of frozen peas inexplicably inspires a post-apocalyptic saga about sentient vegetables.
The “What If” Game: What if the moon was made of cheese? What if your dog could talk? What if you finally finished your novel?
The Mysterious Muse: Some days, ideas flow like a river. Other days, your muse calls in sick and bails to the Bahamas.
Stealing from Dreams: That weird dream about flying marshmallows? Boom, a middle-grade fantasy bestseller.
The Pinterest Spiral: One picture of an old key turns into three hours of scrolling and a six-book mystery series.
The Random Object Revelation: Spot a rusty spoon. Write 400 pages about its tragic love story with a soup bowl.
The Childhood Trauma Goldmine: Your embarrassing school play? Now it’s the cornerstone of a Pulitzer-worthy memoir.
Asking Google Too Many Questions: “How to fake your death,” “Is sword fighting still legal?” and “Why do pigeons bob their heads?”
The Dreaded Deadline: Nothing inspires creativity like pure, unfiltered panic and the fear of disappointing your editor.
Walking Therapy: Wander aimlessly for hours, pretending to think deep thoughts, but really just hoping for divine intervention.
Conversations with Pets: “Tell me, Whiskers, do dragons prefer shiny objects because of primal instincts or aesthetics?”
The Classic Caffeine Hit: One cup of coffee births a sonnet. Five cups birth a sci-fi dystopia you’ll never finish.
Borrowing from Real Life: Your neighbour becomes a villain, your boss becomes a dragon, and your ex is always the bad guy.
Staring into the Abyss: Sit at your desk, blank page open, daring the void to blink first. It usually doesn’t.
Outrunning the Writer's Block: Do yoga, bake a cake, run a marathon—anything but write. The guilt finally forces an idea.
The Grand Lie: You claim ideas "just come" to you, but really you’ve got 200 tabs open and a thesaurus in each hand.
TAG, you’re IT: USING DIALOGUE TAGS
Said: It’s invisible. The plain white bread of dialogue tags.
Whispered: Like someone is sharing a conspiracy or just forgot their inside voice.
Shouted: Everything is on fire, and the character wants you to know it.
Murmured: It's like the character is too cool to speak up. Or they’re in a library.
Snarled: The character is probably angry, or they’ve turned into a werewolf.
Growled: Similar to 'snarled' but with a hint of indigestion.
Giggled: Imagine someone trying to speak while mid-laugh—awkward and confusing.
Snapped: Quick, sharp, and probably regretted later.
Cackled: Villainous laughter, possibly involving a cauldron.
Hissed: It only works if your dialogue has a lot of 's' sounds. Otherwise, it sounds like someone’s trying too hard.
Barked: The character is now a drill sergeant or an actual dog. Proceed accordingly.
Breathed: Romantic or creepy—depends on the context.
Grunted: This character is either a caveman or trying to lift something heavy while talking.
Scoffed: A perfect way to show disdain without actually using the word 'disdain.'
Demanded: The character wants answers, and they want them now!
Sighed: Exhausted, exasperated, or just done with everyone’s nonsense.
Moaned: Be careful—this can easily sound like you’re writing a completely different genre.
Rasped: The character needs water. Get them a drink, stat.
Bellowed: The character thinks they’re in a Shakespearean drama.
Declared: They’re making a statement, possibly while standing on a soapbox.
SHOW VS TELL: WHAT ARE WE ACTUALLY SAYING?
"Show, don't tell" is the classic writer's mantra, but let’s face it—sometimes, telling is just easier.
Telling is like saying, “Bob was mad,” and moving on with your life. But showing? Now you’ve got to describe Bob’s clenched fists, his beet-red face, and that twitch in his left eye that suggests he’s seconds away from turning into a human volcano. Which is fine, if you need the word count.
Showing gives readers that vivid, emotional punch, but it’s also why we all spend 20 minutes describing the way the sunlight hits the curtains when really, all we’re saying is “It’s morning.”
Sure, showing makes your writing richer, but if every writer showed everything, we'd all be trapped reading novels that are 2,000 pages long, and nobody has time for that. So maybe, just maybe, a little telling isn’t the enemy—it’s the lifesaver keeping readers from drowning in your literary details.
TOP TWELVE reasons to plot your novel:
Avoiding Writer’s Block: So you don’t stare at a blank page wondering why you ever decided to write a novel.
Keeping Characters in Check: To stop your characters from taking over and running off to Vegas halfway through the book.
Avoiding the Plot Bermuda Triangle: So your plot doesn’t mysteriously disappear halfway through the story.
Preventing Amnesia: So you don’t forget why you made the villain allergic to kittens.
Less Drama: Your characters can’t complain about being left in cliffhangers for weeks.
Coffee Savings: You won’t need to drink 20 cups of coffee to figure out what happens next.
Avoiding Time Travel Mishaps: Prevents accidental time travel to the 18th century in your 21st-century romance novel.
Minimizing Character Rebellions: Your protagonist won’t demand a different love interest.
Reducing Headaches: Fewer “Why did I think this was a good idea?” moments at 3 a.m.
Improving Sanity: Keeps your sanity intact when explaining your plot to friends and family.
Avoiding Unplanned Sequels: So your story doesn’t accidentally become a trilogy without your permission.
Controlling Word Count: Stops your novel from becoming a 1000-page epic when you only planned 300 pages.
WHAT IT REALLY MEANS: EDITING PHRASES
Cutting the Fat
What You Think It Means: Removing unnecessary words or sections.
What It Really Means: Eliminating every word you thought was pure genius at 3 a.m.
Tightening the Prose
What You Think It Means: Making your writing concise and impactful.
What It Really Means: Compressing your epic saga into a tweet-sized masterpiece.
Kill Your Darlings
What You Think It Means: Getting rid of beloved but unnecessary elements.
What It Really Means: Ruthlessly deleting that beautifully written paragraph that has nothing to do with your plot.
Show, Don’t Tell
What You Think It Means: Demonstrating actions and emotions through description rather than exposition.
What It Really Means: Finding creative ways to avoid writing “He was sad.”
Check for Consistency
What You Think It Means: Ensuring characters, settings, and plot points remain consistent.
What It Really Means: Making sure your blue-eyed hero doesn’t suddenly have green eyes and a new accent halfway through the book.
Polishing Your Manuscript
What You Think It Means: Refine and perfect your writing.
What It Really Means: Scrubbing your manuscript clean of all those typos that appeared out of nowhere.
Fixing Plot Holes
What You Think It Means: Addressing gaps or inconsistencies in the storyline.
What It Really Means: Covering up those oops moments where you forgot what your story was about.
Eliminating Passive Voice
What You Think It Means: Changing passive constructions to active ones.
What It Really Means: Ensuring your characters actually do things instead of having things done to them by mysterious forces.
Streamlining Dialogue
What You Think It Means: Making dialogue more natural and concise.
What It Really Means: Reducing the endless chit-chat so your characters actually get to the point before the reader falls asleep.
Improving Pacing
What You Think It Means: Adjusting the speed at which the story unfolds.
What It Really Means: Making sure your readers aren’t sprinting through action scenes and crawling through descriptions of wallpaper patterns.
Trimming Redundancies
What You Think It Means: Removing repetitive or unnecessary words/phrases.
What It Really Means: Deleting every single way you described the protagonist’s hair for the fifth time.
Enhancing Clarity
What You Think It Means: Making sure your writing is clear and easy to understand.
What It Really Means: Ensuring your readers don’t need a Ph.D. to understand what your main character is doing.
Finding Your Voice
What You Think It Means: Developing a unique writing style.
What It Really Means: Discovering what you sound like when you’re not imitating your favorite author.
Checking for Continuity
What You Think It Means: Ensuring the story flows logically from start to finish.
What It Really Means: Making sure your characters don’t teleport between scenes unless they actually have superpowers.
Correcting Grammar and Syntax
What You Think It Means: Fixing grammatical errors and improving sentence structure.
What It Really Means: Spending hours battling commas and semicolons to make your English teacher proud.
Removing Clichés
What You Think It Means: Eliminating overused phrases and ideas.
What It Really Means: Struggling to describe love without using “butterflies in the stomach.”
Adding Depth
What You Think It Means: Making characters and plot more complex and engaging.
What It Really Means: Ensuring your villain isn’t evil just because it’s fun.
Fine-Tuning Voice and Tone
What You Think It Means: Ensuring consistency in the narrative voice and mood.
What It Really Means: Making sure your horror novel doesn’t suddenly read like a comedy.
Proofreading
What You Think It Means: Checking for minor errors and typos.
What It Really Means: Finding that one typo after you’ve already sent the manuscript to your publisher.
Beta Reading Feedback
What You Think It Means: Incorporating feedback from early readers.
What It Really Means: Interpreting “I liked it” and “It was okay” as “Needs a complete rewrite.”
How to recognize when your characters are driving the story
When your characters start making decisions you never planned, like quitting their jobs to become professional llama herders.
You find yourself arguing with your characters about their choices, and they always win.
Your meticulously planned outline is now just a rough suggestion as characters take the plot in new directions.
Characters refuse to follow the script, insisting on their own dialogue and actions.
New characters you didn’t create show up and demand significant roles in the story.
Characters fall in love with other characters you never intended to be love interests, creating complicated love triangles.
Your romance novel suddenly includes a zombie apocalypse because your characters decided they needed more excitement.
Characters reveal complex backstories you never wrote, but now you have to incorporate them into the plot.
Your characters' dialogue is so strong and distinct, you can’t believe you wrote it.
You start feeling like you’re just transcribing events rather than creating them, and wonder who’s really in charge here.