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angstymarshmallow · 7 years

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Hey there! Do you mind to share any writing tips for writing poetry, fan fic, etc.? :) You're one of the amazing writers on the fandom ty!

Hey anon!

Hope it’s going well. Oh, thank you so much! And sure I mean, I’ll share what sort of works for me. Writing is sometimes like a dance and even when you’re not too sure about all the steps - they come with practice and time.Writing tips: In terms of writing there’s a couple good tips that already exists out there on tumblr and other places on the web, but since you asked for my personal opinion - the most important thing I always tell myself when whenever writing is:

It’s about showing, not telling. You want to be able to immerse your reader into your story, for fanfiction especially I find the emphasis lies heavily in the characters themselves and the focus isn’t so much on what they’re doing. But more so on showing how their dynamics work. More importantly, it’s showing how they feel about their circumstances, what they’re thinking and it should never feel overtly forced. Sometimes what you can’t say in dialogue is better expressed through gestures - hands shaking, a cracked voice, or the inability to stare at someone in the eyes - things like this for instance say a lot without really ‘saying’ anything. Coerce the readers and tell your story through your characters. In some ways, writing is a manipulative linear narration. It’s like a long winding road; because you are guiding your readers on a specific path and hoping they’ll enjoy it by the time they get to the end.

Plot: Whenever I’m writing fanfiction or just anything in general - sometimes I’ve got a goal in mind and other times I am just writing little drabbles here and there (for the sake of writing) until I can come up with something substantial. Having a developed plot sometimes makes the better difference. Instead of having two characters in one position with a lot of dialogue and nothing else - having a goal in mind helps in telling their story. Well why are they sitting on the couch? What’s so important about what they’re doing? Why should I care? It helps to ask relative questions while writing, and seeing if you can come up with explanations as to why you chose that specific line of dialogue, or that specific setting etc.

Emotional: Writing can be pretty emotional. Make them feel how your characters are feeling. Make them want to care. Sometimes I’ve been told my fanfiction is just that. I love getting feedback in general, but especially of that kind - where people tell me I’ve made them cry, or laugh or just I don’t know - made them feel something. Most of the time people are just looking for something they can relate to, or something they can sink themselves into. It’s a bit like falling in love. If your writing can be emotional within confines of what works for those characters - you should try that.

References: Any topic you want to tackle on takes a bit of research. Convince the audience you know exactly what you’re talking about when you write your pieces of fiction. For fanfiction, I always revert back to the source material and analyzing snippets of dialogues. I ask myself questions as to why they chose those specific lines for that specific character. It helps to have references to fall back on when you’re uncertain if characters are in or out of character.

Inspiration: Find something that inspires you - whether it’s people, quotes, music. Inspiration is really important in writing and it helps in keeping motivated. I cannot tell you how many ideas I’ve had to abandon because I didn’t feel inspired to finish.

Visualize what you want: A lot of what I write, I tend to see it like scenes playing out in a movie except I’m the only audience and I’ve got to somehow relate all that information to everyone else that hasn’t seen it yet. As cohesively as possible, you’re undergoing that task. For instance - sometimes, my writing can come off as quick and intense because it’s about being ‘in the moment’, or long drawn out and descriptive because I want you to see what I see. If you can visualize what you want to write, I think it’s a little easier to jot down your story on a page.

Practice, practice, practice: I cannot stress this enough. I’ve been writing fiction since I was a little kid and I don’t think I’ve reached where I need to be yet. The potential to be better and better at something can always be accomplished in practicing. The best advice I can really offer is keep doing what you’re doing. In general, things get easier with more time and dedication. In the beginning I really dreaded writing fanfiction in fear of writing people out of character I still worry about that but not so much, now I find myself not as anxious whenever I post. I feel a little less unsure, and a little more confident because I’ve been practicing what I think writing in a certain character’s voice is like. You can only overcome that kind of fear, and similar feelings like that if you’re constantly practicing and changing your perception.

Writing poetry: Oh boy, I’m not sure if I can provide any insightful advice on this subject matter. I am by no means a poet - I used to write a lot more when I was younger than I do now. I think a lot of what I said in writing applies here too. Generally, I write poetry when I’m feeling a particular way - whether I’m happy, depressed, miserable, angry. It helps to have an outlet where I can just simply let go. To be honest, poetry really is just another way of telling a story and sometimes it’s an abstract way or sometimes a really specific way. It just depends on what your story is and how you want to say it.

Hope this helps anon! Thanks so much for dropping by, and thank you for the ask!

#writing tips #fanfiction advice #fanfiction thoughts #my own experience?#personal #long post #writing is hard #but rewarding #writing guidance #hope this helps #asks

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gashinamoon · 7 years

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Across the Hall - an Olicity AU

Words: 2405

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Humour, Feels, Neighbours AU

Summary: Felicity Smoak is used to being alone, used to loneliness. Until one day she doesn't want to be.

Notes: I woke up feeling sad and miserable and instead of wallowing in it, I decided to channel it into some writing. I'm posting this as a new work rather than sticking it in with my drabbles even though I currently have no plans to write anymore to it, just in case my muse ever strikes and wants me to continue it. I always forget how much I love a good old Neighbours AU until I start reading/writing them. And writing this has left me with only 3.2k words left to hit my Camp NaNoWriMo goal, so yay!

Any words of encouragement are always greatly appreciated! So please let me know what you think of this once you're done :)

Read on AO3

Friday nights are the worst.

Felicity is used to being by herself, she's used to the dull ache of loneliness and has grown to just accept it as part of herself at this point. She’s used to doing everything alone and spending entire days in silence, entire weeks without really communicating with anyone besides the cashier at the grocery store or the doorman delivering her takeout or the casual exchanges of small talk with her neighbour who lives across the hall whenever they happen to cross paths every now and then. Sometimes she even enjoys the long, quiet days; sometimes they feel more like solitude than loneliness.

But Friday nights are hard because she's aware more than usual of now unusual it is for a human being to spend so much time alone.

If she's really quiet, which she usually is, she can hear people in the apartments nearby all getting ready to go out on Friday evenings. She hears them playing music, singing loudly and out of key as the alcohol they're consuming starts to take over their body. She hears them greet friends and offer them inside. She hears them laughing and singing some more, together this time. And then she hears the door close as they head out for the night, to bars and movies and dinner dates.

The building is never quite as quiet as it is on Friday evenings, the loneliness never quite as loud.

Felicity knows she's partly to blame for the way her life is now. She knows she could try harder to make friends, introduce herself properly to her neighbours, even go out downtown one evening and start talking to people in bars. She knows she could look for a job, one in an office building or a store, anything other than one that she does from home, day in day out just sitting on her computer at her dining room table. She knows she could join the gym, go to a class on poetry or pottery, start going running or hiking with local groups. But she doesn't. Whenever she convinces herself to try, she talks herself out of it in the end. Convinces herself she's perfectly happy and content being by herself.

And she is.

Until the days where she isn't.

Until the days where she feels suffocated by silence and wants to stand out in the street and scream and beg for someone to notice her. Until the days where she sits alone and cries into the arm of the couch for what feels like hours. Until the days where she can't face getting out of bed in a morning because the thought of another breakfast alone is just too much to bear.

She hears her mother’s voice in her head on those days, strong and warm and whole, as though she’s standing right in front of her with her hands on her hips and a stern but soft look on her face. “You need to get out there, Felicity. You need to let people in.”

She misses her mom so much. She can't believe it's been two years now since she passed away.

She knows her mom is right, she knows that she should open the door and get out there, just out of her apartment, but she's become so used to the safety of her four walls. Nothing can hurt her in here. Nothing can leave her.

But for once in her life it's Friday again and she's sick of being alone. She's sick of drinking wine by herself and falling asleep halfway through a movie before it's barely 9pm because she's so exhausted.

So before she can even talk herself out of it, she's leaving her apartment and crossing the hall, hesitating only minutely before knocking on the door of her neighbour, the only one who has ever made an effort to speak to her in passing. She doesn't blame her other neighbours for ignoring her. She knows she walks around with her headphones on and her hood up and refuses to make eye contact or smile at anyone. She knows she's not an approachable person in the slightest.

But that's never stopped him. He's smiled and said hi almost every single time he's seen her for as long as she can remember, ever since she moved in two years ago. She doesn't even speak back sometimes, but that doesn't seem to deter him. Sometimes, those basic and short interactions with him have felt life saving. A simple hello can mean so much when you're as lonely as she is.

She doesn't know much about him; their conversations, if you can call them that, have never strayed beyond small talk. The most she knows about him is that he loves the rain. She knows that because whenever it's raining and she bumps into him, he tells her what a wonderful day it is. She hates the rain, but hearing him say that always makes her smile anyway.

She's deep in thought when he answers the door. He looks confused for a fraction of a second before a smile crosses his face. “Hey, you.”

Felicity smiles back. “Hi. I know this is weird because we don't really know each other but-”

“I know you. You're the mysterious girl from across the hall who hates the rain and is always listening to music,” he grins, leaning on the door frame looking completely at ease.

She's never really paid attention before to how tall he is, but he towers over her even leaning over like that. Normally she’d find that intimidating. But she doesn't feel intimidated at all, not whilst he’s smiling at her the way he is. Her face feels hot under his gaze and she knows she’s blushing. She hopes he doesn't notice.

“Right, I mean besides that, obviously.”

“Obviously.” There's that grin again, it reaches all the way to his eyes.

“Anyway, as I was saying, I know we don't really know each other and I've never knocked on your door before, but I was wondering if you'd like to come over and watch a movie with me? I have wine and snacks and an impressive collection of horrors. Or sci-fis. Or any movie, really. Except romantic movies. I hate those.”

“I can tell. You really don't look like the kind of girl who would cry herself to sleep over The Notebook.”

“Nicholas Sparks is the worst. His novels are so unrealistic. And someone always dies! I can't believe people actually want to make movies about depressing stuff like that. I don't understand why anyone would invest so much time into something that's going to make them feel miserable. I mean, what's the point? There's plenty of stuff in reality that makes people cry without creating fiction that does the same thing,” she laughs, rolling her eyes

Oliver doesn't respond, he just looks at her intensely, still smiling, like he's trying to figure out a puzzle.

She shifts awkwardly, resting her weight on one leg and then the other.

“Who would have ever thought you had so much to say?” He asks, although she's not sure he's asking her directly or whether the question is rhetorical, a thought he’s said aloud.

She shrugs anyway, biting her lip. “Sorry.”

He almost looks offended as she speaks. “Don't apologise. You have a nice voice.”

She blushes again and this time she knows he notices because his eyes warm and his smile grows as she feels the heat in her cheeks.

He holds out his hand. “I'm Oliver, by the way. I figured if we’re going to hang out, you should probably know my name.”

She takes his hand and shakes it, delighting in how warm and firm his touch is, feeling goosebumps run down her spine. It's been so long since anyone touched her. So long she can hardly bear to think about it. She inhales deeply, shakily, trying to stop her mind from going there.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and she silently screams at herself inside her head for being so readable.

“Yup. Fine. Just fine.” He's still holding her hand. “I'm Felicity,” she forces herself to say, before she lets go and returns her hand back to her side.

Oliver watches her every movement and for the first time that evening, she starts to question whether this was a good idea after all. Maybe making friends with an attractive stranger wasn't the best way to start after years of extremely minimal social interaction and human contact. Maybe she should just go home and call an old friend from high school or something.

“Felicity,” he says thoughtfully. “It suits you.”

She snorts. “Really? You know that it means happiness, right? I don't think I could be any less suited to my name.”

But Oliver doesn't laugh, he just smiles softly at her. “I think I could prove you wrong.”

It sounds like a promise.

She doesn't know what to say so she's says nothing. She figures he's used to her silence by now anyway.

He watches her for a long time and surprisingly, Felicity grows less and less uncomfortable the longer he does. She still can't bring herself to meet his eyes, so she continues staring at his hands instead. She wants to hold his hand again. She hates how much she wants to hold his hand again.

“Are you seeing anyone, Oliver?” She asks, surprising herself and him, and she blushes again. “Not that I'm asking for any particular reason, obviously. I'm just making conversation.”

She curls her fingers into tight fists, until she can feel her nails digging into her palms and for the second time wishes she hadn't come over after all. But Oliver doesn't seem too phased by her question. His eyes only stay surprised for a short while before the warmth returns to them and his smile.

“Honestly, Felicity, I'm not sure.”

She looks up at him then, meeting his eyes, and for the first time, she sees a hint of sadness in them. The overpowering urge to hold his hand returns but she forces it down, curling her fingers even tighter into her palms, almost until it hurts.

“It sounds like there's a story behind that,” she says and he chuckles, softly.

“Maybe after that wine you promised, I'll tell you about it,” he replies, his smile returning as he leans into his apartment and grabs his phone and keys, slipping them into his pocket. “Should I bring anything?”

“Hmm, well I have chips and I'm sure I have popcorn in the cupboard somewhere. And the wine, like I said. But it would be awesome if you happened to have ice-cream or something.”

“I have ice-cream.”

“What flavour?”

“Guess.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said guess. Try and guess what kind of ice-cream is my favourite. Which kind I always have in my freezer.”

Felicity stands back a little and regards him. For some reason, she desperately wants to get this right. She thinks carefully over each flavour inside her head, trying to picture exactly which one he’d indulge on after a long day at work.

“My instinct is to say chocolate, but that's boring. That's the obvious choice. And I don't think you're that obvious,” she begins, watching his face for any clue that she’s getting the answer wrong. When she doesn't spot any, she continues. “And I don't think you're a vanilla kind of guy either.”

Oliver chuckles, watching her as she watches him. “You really thought long and hard about this, didn't you?”

“I'm usually really good at reading people, I just haven't had a lot of practice lately. So I wanted to make sure I got this right,” she smiles, amusement pulling at her lips as she watches his reaction, watches him raise his eyebrows questioningly at her, clearly in disbelief that she’s going to guess correctly.

She thinks for a few more long seconds before she decides.

“Raspberry Ripple,” she says, confidently. “Am I right?”

He doesn't answer her right away, just continues looking at her with an unreadable expression.

“What makes you say that?” He asks, opening his door fully and stepping inside towards his freezer.

“I'm not sure, exactly. I just know that people wouldn't expect it. So that's why you choose it. No one would ever assume that you like the slightly bitter but deliciously sweet taste of raspberry in your ice-cream. Not a lot of people do. Most people prefer more conventional flavours. And that's why raspberry is your favourite. Because it's unexpected,” she says, thoughtfully, partly making it up on the spot and partly just watching his face and letting it tell her what to say. “And also because the stores never run out of it. Because it's no one’s favourite,” she adds with a laugh, trying to lighten the mood a little.

Oliver is standing so still and looking at her so intensely that her joke goes unappreciated. She clears her throat awkwardly.

A smile creeps back onto Oliver’s face as he reaches into the freezer and pulls out a tub of ice-cream. Before he's even turned around to face her again, she knows she was right.

Raspberry Ripple.

“See? I told you I was good at reading people,” she says, feeling pleased and proud of herself.

She's glad she hasn't lost the ability to read others. In fact, if anything, it's probably stronger now than it ever was. Being a natural born introvert has always made it easy for Felicity to watch people and learn things about them without them ever having to say a word. She used to spend her entire lunch breaks at school just sitting in the cafeteria guessing things about the lives of her classmates around her. And given that she hasn't really spoken to anyone since her mother died, and before that even, most of her life is spent watching people, learning them, comparing their behaviours and unconscious habits.

“Felicity, you are remarkable,” Oliver says, as he approaches her again, his eyes meeting hers with that same intense look he’d had before, except now it’s a little softer around the edges.

She smiles somewhat awkwardly under his gaze. “Thank you for remarking on it.”

Oliver grins at that and steps out of his apartment, letting the door close softly behind him, the ice cream tucked under one arm. “So, where’s this wine you keep talking about?”

She smiles back. “Follow me.”

If you want to be tagged in my fics/chapter updates, feel free to let me know! :)

(Also, let me know if there’s anything you don’t want to be tagged in! i.e. fics that aren’t strictly Olicity/Arrow, I’m more than happy to remove tags!)

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#mywriting #olicity fic #olicity fic rec #olicity #oliver queen #felicity smoak #oliver x felicity #olicity fanfiction #arrow fic #arrow

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