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See, that’s what the app is perfect for.

Sounds perfect Wahhhh, I don’t wanna
chocmarss fickleminder

Words to remove from your writing: make

letswritesomenovels

Make is a pretty ubiquitous verb. It’s an easy verb. A catch-all verb. You can make it work just about anywhere. 

  • He made a statue.
  • She made herself small. 
  • They made her feel embarrassed.
  • It was made of stone. 

Don’t use make as a verb. 

I’ve made a point of calling out weak words on this blog.(x,x) Make is one of the worst offenders. 

‘Make’ doesn’t describe anything. It doesn’t clarify actions for the reader. In fact, ‘make’ hides your verbs. It obscures actions from the reader. If there was such a thing as un-describing something, that’s what the verb ‘make’ would do. Even the federal government suggests not using it as a verb in their ‘plain language’ guide. x

Let’s take another look at those sentences. What are the actual things happening here?

  • He sculpted the marble. 
  • She slouched her shoulders and shrunk in her seat.
  • They embarrassed her. 

The last sentence isn’t an action. Nothing at all is happening here. It’s a description, and not a particularly engaging one. The information here can be incorporated into more interesting statement, or at least presented in a more interesting fashion. 

  • The rough stone walls gave the tower a dangerous appearance. 

In each situation, taking ‘make’ out doesn’t remove any meaning from the sentence. It either gets rid of extraneous words or forces the sentence to give more information. 

This isn’t to say you should never, ever use the word ‘make,’ but it’s an easy word to use. You don’t have to solidify the action in your head or search for the precise word you need. You can just throw ‘make’ in and voila! your sentence is complete. 

Avoid the temptation. 

If you absolutely can’t think of another word to use, put ‘make’ in there. Highlight it. Underline it. Mark it in some way. Come back to it later, when you have more time to pay attention to word choice. 

Just remember to always use the strongest verb you can. I guarantee you, that word will rarely be ‘make.’ 

sarahcada

I AGREE WITH ALL THIS. Also applies to “say”!

Removing “make” and “say” as a default opens the door to a WORLD of more beautiful narration. (Of course, sometimes you do end up using “make” and “say” sometimes, but let this not be your comfort zone.)

Source: letswritesomenovels writing reference
bittenred

“Chat Noir,” Marinette’s voice comes to him, sweet and decadent as honey, “please stop hurting me. All you ever do is hurt me.”

He stares down at the akuma, heat shivering behind his wide eyed gaze.

“It’s because of you that I was taken. It’s because of you. You’ve ruined my life. He hurt me, Chat Noir.”

“Stop,” Chat says quietly, the rage a soft snarl caught in his throat. His hands clench around the staff.

chapter 11 anyone???
creativecreepie riquis
un-doodles

I…. I’m not crying…. There’s just something in both my eyes…

sarcysnarky

Truth

sugaryviolet

@turquoisesplashmusic, @autumn-prose, @aeon-of-dreams, @nickyvmlp, @vocalscorepony, @goattrain, @paigescribe, @fallfeatherspony, @ciderbarrel, @matackable, @denzeltip, @smokeymcdaniel, @leembutt, @thefireboundmage, @p1kenobi, @capseys …and the names just keep on popping up in my head so I’ll stop here. You know who you are <3

aeon-of-dreams

*snuggles* I’ll add some of mine too

My Girlfriend <3, @fanboyingoveranypony, @eliyora, @hennalyes

I’m spacing right now but wanted to add a few ^^

riquis

@cakeywakeyc @acrylicbanter @dragonfoxgirl

miraculer clairelutra

Major Awkwardness

clairelutra

Today had not been a good day so far for Marinette Dupain-Cheng.  First, the bastard cat–bless his heart, he was sweet, but his insistence on coming to visit her whenever possible was starting to try her patience–had distracted her until one in the morning, at which point she’d remembered about the physics homework they had due this day.  He’d offered to help her, but come on, how good of a student could Chat Noir be?  She’d been up until three struggling through four damn problems while Chat catnapped in a secluded corner, and then getting him out had taken another ten minutes.

She’d gotten a little sleep after that, up until her dad had dropped a tray of croissants–an oven-hot tray of croissants–onto his foot.  The resulting clatter had woken her up thoroughly, at freaking five-thirty.  After that she’d just laid awake in bed, staring at her wall, until her mom called her down for breakfast.

And now she was trudging along towards school, except that even the freaking weather had decided to screw with her today.  She has to struggle forwards with every step, squinting into a hurricane-force gale.  She reflects briefly with a spark of optimism that at least it isn’t raining in spite of the clouds above, at which point–of freaking course–it starts pouring, the school doors mocking her as the crossing light glares a steady red.  It’s a relief when she finally crosses the block and gets inside.

Well, up until Chloe happens.

“Look at her,” the banshee shrieks with malicious glee.  “I really like your makeover, Marinette, it suits you.”

Marinette glances down.  Her jacket is soaked and dripping, her shirt translucent with the damp–at least she hadn’t forgotten a bra today, small mercy–and there’s an uncomfortable squelching in her pants as she shifts.  Still, she doesn’t look too bad.

Something jabs her in the back of her neck as she looks back up.  She reaches back with a grimace.

It’s a twig.

Marinette reaches back again and plucks out another twig, then a leaf, then yet another leaf.  She swears and slumps into her chair with a squelch, closing her eyes against the impending tears of frustrated rage.  She’d heard that Adrien liked long hair a while back and now this bullshit had to happen?

There are footsteps and the quiet thump of a bottom meeting a seat.  Alya drags her chair around and plucks the ties from her hair.  There are a few twinges of pain as a few twigs refuse to let go–thank god for straight hair, Marinette reflects–but soon enough they’re all free.

“Brush,” Alya murmurs.  Her voice is lower and scratchier than usual.  Must’ve caught that bug going around.

Marinette raises a hand and points wordlessly at her backpack.  There’s a ziiiiip as Alya opens up the pocket, rummages around for a moment, and pulls her small, straight-handled brush out.  She starts working the brush through the remaining tangles with brisk motions, murmuring soft apologies whenever Marinette winces.

Marinette relaxes a little as Alya finishes and starts idly braiding her hair, then winding the braid into a tight bun.  There’s further rummaging in her backpack for a couple of bobby pins.

“Thanks,” Marinette mumbles, as Alya fixes the bun in place.

She opens her eyes.  Everyone is staring at her.  Alix is staring, mouth gaping.  Ivan to her right is staring.  Nino to her left isn’t staring, but he’s filming her with his phone and suppressing giggles poorly.  Mylene looks as though she’s trying to suppress an excited squeal with somewhat more success than Nino is, even if she is turning bright red.  Alya, right in front of her–Alya?

She turns to look over her shoulder with the same kind of caution that hikers do when they hear a hungry growl from about ten centimeters behind them.

Adrien is sitting behind her, her brush clutched before him like a shield.  He’s flushing.

“Um,” he says.

“Um,” she squeaks.

“Sorry about that,” he says, grinning sheepishly.  She just rabbit-in-headlights stares at him, and his smile falters into the terror of uncertainty.

Chloe breaks the awkwardness by bursting into tears and running out.

hell fucking ye ml fic treat me like a princess
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