Soichiro: Kira Killed About 27 People Today

Hey btw, if you're doing worldbuilding on something, and you're scared of writing ~unrealistic~ things into it out of fear that it'll sound lazy and ripped-out-of-your-ass, but you also don't want to do all the back-breaking research on coming up with depressingly boring, but practical and ~realistic~ solutions, have a rule:

Just give the thing two layers of explanation. One to explain the specific problem, and another one explaining the explanation. Have an example:

Plot hole 1: If the vampires can't stand daylight, why couldn't they just move around underground?

Solution 1: They can't go underground, the sewer system of the city is full of giant alligators who would eat them.

Well, that's a very quick and simple explanation, which sure opens up additional questions.

Plot hole 2: How and why the fuck are there alligators in the sewers? How do they survive, what do they eat down there when there's no vampires?

Solution 2: The nuns of the Underground Monastery feed and take care of them as a part of their sacred duties.

It takes exactly two layers to create an illusion that every question has an answer - that it's just turtles all the way down. And if you're lucky, you might even find that the second question's answer loops right back into the first one, filling up the plot hole entirely:

Plot hole 3: Who the fuck are the sewer nuns and what's their point and purpose?

Solution 3: The sewer nuns live underground in order to feed the alligators, in order to make sure that the vampires don't try to move around via the sewer system.

When you're just making things up, you don't need to have an answer for everything - just two layers is enough to create the illusion of infinite depth. Answer the question that looms behind the answer of the first question, and a normal reader won't bother to dig around for a 3rd question.

friendly reminder that Harry didn't know his mother's maiden name until he saw it in Snape's memory :)

Light: Do you take constructive criticism?

Misa: I only take cash or credit.

Light: Do you want some tea?

L: What are the options?

Light: Yes or no

Misa: WHAT’S YOUR TYPE

Light: L

Misa, desperately, as Light bleeds out: YOUR BLOOD TYPE

Light: Oh! B positive.

Misa: DON'T TRY TO CHEER ME UP JUST TELL ME YOUR BLOOD TYPE

Light:

i've come to realize there are only two kinds of tragedies: preventable and inevitable. preventable tragedies are the kind where everything could have maybe worked out if only. if only romeo had gotten the second letter. if only juliet had woken up earlier. if only creon had changed his mind about antigone sooner. if only orpheus hadn't turned around.

inevitable tragedies are the kind where everything was always going to end terribly. of course macbeth gets deposed, he murdered his way to the throne. of course oedipus goes mad, he married his own mother. of course achilles dies in the war, he had to fulfill the prophecy in order to avenge his lover.

both kinds have their merits. the first is more emotionally impactful, letting the audience cling to hope until the very end, when it's snatched away all at once leaving nothing but a void. the second is more thematically resonant, tracking an inherent fatal flaw in its hero to a natural and understandable conclusion, making it abundantly clear why everything has to happen the way it does.

L: We need more help. Maybe I should call my friends.

Light: … Your what?

L: My friends.

Matsuda: Is he saying “friends”?

Misa: I think he's being sarcastic.

Aizawa: No, no, no, this is delirium, he's cracked from being awake all night. Hey, L! All of your friends are in this room.

L: I have other friends.

L: [calls Naomi] Naomi they're bullying me again.

WRITING EXERCISE: Going macro

Sometimes you’re so concerned with the overarching concept of your story that you forget about the small stuff that makes your writing unique. So let’s use a bit of mindfulness and focus on the teeny tiny miniscule details for a mo, shall we? Let’s go MACRO, kids.

Because as tempting as it is to go for the BIG themes and HUGE life experiences and SIGNIFICANT moments and ALL THE DRAMA ALL THE TIME, good writing is really about the stuff we DON’T notice.

Observing the little things.

Taking note of the seemingly day to day stuff and bringing it into focus.

Highlighting the human.

Being mindful of everything you do, everything that’s going on around you.

And using it as writing-fodder.

So. Today (or not necessarily today – but a day when you’re able to try this exercise out) try keeping a little diary of observations. Keep a notebook to hand, or use a notes app on your phone, or send yourself a bunch of random little emails – whatever works for you.

Really tap into everything you do, no matter how mundane, and see if you can note down as many interesting observations as you can.

Observe all your little routines, tics, habits and foibles:

Do you always brush your teeth in the same way?

Do you have a silly little conversation with your dog when you let them out to pee in the morning?

Do you see the same yellow car pass by every day on your way to work?

Do you get antsy if someone else makes your coffee because they never get it the way you like it?

Pay attention to all those mindless tasks you do without thinking:

Look for patterns in the bubble bath

Listen for a beat in the thump of the washing machine

Catalogue the smells, sights and sounds of your commute

Separate out the steps of cooking your dinner

Map your emotions and physical senses throughout the day:

Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed with a cracking headache? Can you describe the feeling?

When did you feel most chilled out?

Most stressed?

What made you laugh and what sound does your laugh make?

What was on your to-do list and how did you feel about it?

Remember: we’re not necessarily looking for Big Meaningful Truths here (though they may emerge). We’re simply making a series of mini observations, any of which could be transferred into your writing as little details that will bring an extra dose of realism to your work.

You may find that some sneaky bit of fundamental human truth will come sashaying in to turn the most innocuous observation into a great big metaphor, and that’s all well and good, but there’s no pressure to make connections, or consider the universe and what it is to be human.

Today, we simply observe. Take notes. Be mindful (ugh). Create a list of senses and moments and potential new ideas. Wallow in the bottomless sinkhole of human existence and the multitudinous amazing, mundane, varied, ridiculous, touching, scary, weird things all around us…

Taking a moment to be mindful and harvest little nuggets of life for your writing is a GREAT habit to get into. You don’t have to note EVERYTHING down, obviously – just get used to pausing, observing, and making note of all the little things that other people might skim over.

Because THAT’S what makes fiction so wonderful – seeing something tiny and innocuous but oh so familiar suddenly pop out of the page. It might be a gesture or a tone of voice or an object or a reaction or a sensory detail. It doesn’t matter how commonplace it may be.

The trick is to discover your own unique way of seeing the world and translating that into words. And like all writing, it takes practice. So start today. Keep an observation diary and see what you notice – and just how many details we miss on a regular basis.

Psst. More writing exercises over here...