ARTICLES FOR WRITERS

THAT ARE KINDA FUNNY

What People Think a Romance Writer Does vs. What They Actually Do

What People Think: "You must have such a romantic life!"
What They Actually Do: Writing arguments so intense even their keyboard sighs in exhaustion.

What People Think: Writing in a candlelit room, sipping wine, surrounded by rose petals.
What They Actually Do: Typing in sweatpants, fuelled by caffeine, trying to stop the cat from sleeping on the keyboard.

What People Think: They’re living in a fairy tale of love and passion.
What They Actually Do: Staring at a blank page muttering, "Conflict… need more conflict…"

What People Think: Writing stories filled with butterflies and romance.
What They Actually Do: Writing angsty breakups and sobbing into a cup of tea.

What People Think: "You must have read so many romance novels!"
What They Actually Do: Watching soap operas and calling it research.

What People Think: "Every romance has a happy ending, right?"
What They Actually Do: Debating if the love interest should die for maximum emotional impact.

What People Think: They're professional matchmakers.
What They Actually Do: Inventing absurd obstacles like "she’s a vampire hunter, and he’s a vegan vampire."

What People Think: Writing “happily ever afters” comes easy.
What They Actually Do: Crying over how hard it is to make an epilogue “not cringe.”

What People Think: They're always swooning over fictional love interests.
What They Actually Do: Plotting how to torture their characters for maximum angst.

What People Think: Being a romance writer is sexy and glamorous.
What They Actually Do: Getting their fifth cup of coffee while wearing fluffy socks and yelling at their dog.

What People Think: Writing is their full-time job.
What They Actually Do: Balancing day jobs and writing between laundry loads and school runs.

Top 20 Signs You’re a Writer in a Coffee Shop

You’ve taken up an entire table with notebooks, a laptop, and a teetering stack of "research."
Your order is something cryptic like "the strongest tea you’ve got, and a miracle."
People keep glancing at your screen, trying to figure out why your characters are yelling in all caps.
You’ve forgotten your headphones, so you’re stuck overhearing breakups, first dates, and awkward job interviews.
You’ve spent more time thinking about where the best power outlet is than on your actual plot.
Your coffee has gone cold because you’ve been too busy staring blankly into space while imagining your next scene.
You silently judge other people typing loudly because you are obviously the more serious writer.
The barista knows your "usual" and gives you a knowing nod when you come in looking sleep-deprived.
You get weird looks when you mutter lines of dialogue to yourself under your breath.
You’ve Googled "how much coffee is too much" while drinking your fourth cup.
Your table neighbours look alarmed when they catch phrases like "and then he hides the body" on your screen.
You’ve reached peak "writer mode" when you write a new chapter title and whisper, "Yes!" like a mad scientist.
You keep glancing at the bathroom line, wondering if it's long enough for you to brainstorm your next twist.
You have a specific spot you need to sit in or the vibe feels wrong for writing.
You’re half-convinced the couple next to you are prime material for a romantic subplot.
You secretly hope someone’s going to ask what you’re writing so you can answer enigmatically, "Just a novel."
You pretend you’re in an indie movie about writers as you sip your drink dramatically by the window.
You’ve accidentally stayed so long that you had to order something else just to avoid guilt.
You’re trying to ignore the group of loud friends but have already mentally written them into your next scene.
You tell yourself the background noise helps you focus, but really you’ve rewritten the same sentence five times.

TOP 20 GIVE AWAYS THAT SOMEONE IS A HORROR WRITER

Their search history looks like evidence from a murder trial.
"How to make blood look realistic" and "can ghosts hold grudges?"
They own at least three decorative skulls.
And at least one is named.
They casually refer to “the call of the void” like it’s a daily struggle.
And you’re not sure if they’re joking.
Halloween is a lifestyle, not a season.
Their decorations just… never come down.
They get really picky about haunted house movies.
"That's not how hauntings work, Susan!"
Their pets have sinister-sounding names.
Meet their cats, Poe and Hades.
They think the sound of rain on windows is “inspiring.”
Meanwhile, you're just trying to stay dry.
They can’t walk past an abandoned building without staring wistfully.
"Imagine the backstory..."
Their bookshelf is 80% horror, 10% research, and 10% questionable.
Why do they have six books about Victorian death rituals?
They say "this would make a great murder scene" at least once a week.
During breakfast.
They have opinions about which historical plagues had the best drama.
"The Black Death had layers!"
Their idea of a romantic date involves cemeteries and foggy cliff walks.
And they get offended if you call it creepy.
They laugh at horror movies while everyone else screams.
"Oh wow, great use of practical effects!"
They casually use terms like “eldritch” in normal conversation.
"That lasagna was borderline Lovecraftian."
Their notes app looks like a manifesto.
"Don’t forget to research eerie lighthouse legends."
They’ve perfected the “haunted stare” during brainstorming.
You’re talking to them… but are they here?
Their Pinterest board is 90% Gothic mansions and weird symbols.
And they call it “home décor inspiration.”
Their favourite coffee mug says something like “Caffeine and Curses.”
Bonus points if it’s chipped.
They have a weirdly encyclopaedic knowledge of poison and folklore.
"Actually, belladonna wasn't historically accurate in that scene..."
They say things like “I promise I’m not a serial killer” way too often.
…usually right after they explain how they'd hide a body.

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.