Send Me To Mars With Party Supplies Before Next August 5th

Sun Tzu is so fucking funny to me because for his time he was legitimately a brilliant tactician but a bunch of his insight is shit like "if you think you might lose, avoid doing that", "being outnumbered is bad generally", and "consider lying."

I see a lot of new writers struggling with pacing dialogue so here's some tips. First off, unlearn your distaste for "said." If you need to quickly remind readers who is speaking without distracting them, put "said."

Second, if the dialogue is meant to be happening rapidly, cut tags out for several lines. Example:

"Give me the map."

"What map?"

"Don't play dumb with me. Hand it over."

"Not until you give me the keys."

"What keys?"

See how quickly this moves? Every beat is another piece of dialogue, feeding the exchange back and forth. We can slow this down by adding tags that carry some description. This makes the reader spend longer on the passage. Example:

"Give me the map," she demanded, holding out her hand.

"What map?" he asked, face a picture of perfect innocence.

"Don't play dumb with me," she said.

See how much slower this exchange feels now? We didn't add any new information and yet the beats have totally changed. Think of description as something that adds time. To demonstrate, consider this example:

"Don't play dumb with me. Hand it over."

He didn't answer right away. "Not until you give me the keys," he said finally.

How do we make the reader pause in a more natural and effective way? By adding description and tags. Example:

"Don't play dumb with me," she spat, voice dripping venom. "Hand it over."

He stared at her outstretched hand, palm empty. Somewhere in the distance, a coyote howled.

"Not until you give me the keys," he said with a sigh.

See? Without using a single time indicator, we showed a pause, by slowing down the reader and filling those beats with description. Remember that people visualize at the same speed they read. If you need to slow them down, make them read more words. For faster, more intense exchanges, skip all but necessary clarifying tags, as in the very first example.

Lastly, consider the rhythm of your passage. See this example:

"Give me the map," she spat, hand outstretched.

"What map?" he asked, shrugging.

"Don't play dumb with me," she said, narrowing her eyes.

This is repetitive. Avoid using the same pattern of tags and description two or more times in a row. You can fix this by reworking your passage to include more or different descriptions, but for a quick fix, try changing the tags into stand alone sentences and/or moving them before the dialogue. To fix the passage above, we might try this:

"Give me the map," she spat, hand outstretched.

He shrugged. "What map?"

"Don't play dumb with me," she said. Her eyes narrowed.

See how much more natural that is? And we changed nothing but the order and punctuation. Removing the repetition helps you avoid pulling the reader out of the story by reminding them that they're reading. A good dialogue passage should be remembered in your reader's minds as a movie scene.

I was talking to one of my cis guy friends, and I called him “the big man” and he said, “that just made me very happy.” And the tone in his voice, I just knew exactly how he felt, “that’s gender euphoria!” I exclaimed. 

I don’t know why I never realized, but yeah. Cis people experience euphoria. Like many cis guys who go to the gym do it to affirm their gender. The cis men who get mad at being emasculated–they’re experiencing dysphoria! Trans people aren’t different or odd for experiencing these things. We’re just like everyone else, and somehow nobody talks about it! 

Like my femboy friend gets euphoria from being gnc, but he gets dysphoria by the idea of someone calling him a girl or using the wrong pronouns. Cause cis people have their own gender identities, they just happen to align with their agab. 

It all makes sense. 

I feel like cis people might understand if we explained it like this. Maybe I’m just being hopeful though. I’ve always just thought the “well they feel like the opposite” explanation is lacking any amount of personal relation that a cis person could attach to. 

I hope you learned something

inseparable

cue the orchestra in the back

What is this nuclear winter Kara we are speaking of 👀

👀👀👀

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“Your son just kicked me, Miss Luthor-Danvers.”

Kara looked over to the couch, where Lena bad stopped reading her book, which now lay propped on the dome of her stomach. She looked absolutely exhausted, with dark circles beneath her eyes, marring paler than usual skin.

The pregnancy was taking its toll on Lena, but just as difficult for Lena was the order to remain on pelvic rest, as were the Herculean caloric requirements of gestating a Kryptonian child on Earth. Lena Luthor was the type of woman who grew more fatigued from orders to lay up in bed, and Kara had to practically bat her phone out of her hand to stop her from answering emails at all hours of the night.

Kara swung out from behind the kitchen island, carrying another smoothie with a carefully selected mix of fruits, vegetables, and protein powder.

“Blegh,” Lena said, as she choked down a gulp of the stuff. Does it have to be so sweet?”

Kara didn’t answer. Lena looked haggard by her own usual standards, but to Kara, she was the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen. Yes, she was pale, but there as a rosy glow in her cheeks and though she sighed and complained and groused, rarely had there been such joy in her eyes. One of Kara’s new favorite things was catching Lena unawares, finding her smiling at nothing and cradling protective arms around the new life coming to being within her.

After she gulped down the last of the thick, gloppy shake -which Lena had given the appetizing name of ‘nutrient slurry mark one’, she turned halfway on the couch.

“There he goes again,” said Lena, sighing.

Kara reached out with a trembling hand, resting it gently on the warm curve of Lena’s skin. She went quiet for a moment, forcing back the tears. Thinking about this overwhelmed her. She’d never dreamed she’d really have this, much less with the most beautiful and kind woman she’d ever known. A soft twitch against her palm made her grin from ear to ear.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this. I’d like to get some sleep.”

Kara chewed at her lip for a moment.

“What if I try singing to him?”

Lena raised a sharp eyebrow.

“Alex gave me an article that says that babies can hear us while they’re in the womb.”

Lena’s head fell back against the cushions.

“Do you know any lullabies?”

Kara swallowed, hard.

“Yes.”

There was a pause, as Kara worked herself up, pulling the words from the lost days of her youth, across an ocean of stars beneath a far distant sun.

She more spoke than sang at first, until her voice grew into something soft and light, like a rare flower opening its petals to greet the sun. By the time she really began to sing, Lena was smiling, listening intently.

Kara dug deep in her memory for the words to the traditional Kryptonian lullaby, a promise from a young mother to her child lost in the wilderness, an invocation to come home safe to loving arms before the reunited in the final verses.

When Kara finished she looked up and saw that Lena was fast asleep, her hand now resting atop Kara’s as it rested on Lena’s belly. Tenderly, Kara drew her hand back and, with practiced ease, raised Lena in her arms and carried her back to the bedroom, another Kryptonian verse flowing softly from old memories, and the eventually they slept, until sunrise.