Killing a character is easy — making that death meaningful is the real craft. Effective character deaths arise from consequence, inevitability, or choice rather than shock or author convenience. When death genuinely changes the story — its direction, relationships, or emotional stakes — it deepens narrative power; when it doesn’t, it feels hollow. Sometimes the cruelest outcome isn’t death at all, but survival with irreversible loss.
Local stories aren’t unpublishable — they become publishable when they shift from being about a place to being about the people shaped by that place. The strongest local fiction translates lived experience into human truths that any reader can recognise, while handling recognisability, ethics, and context with care.
Many writers believe they’re creating layered, dynamic scenes because characters are moving, talking, or interacting with their environment. But activity alone doesn’t create momentum. Readers skim past action that doesn’t change anything.
If writing has felt heavy lately, it might not be because you’ve lost your voice. It might just be because you’ve been trying to carry it on your own. So gather a few people. Bring whatever words you have. Bring pizza if that helps.
Writing contemporary and general fiction can be quietly lonely. There’s no shared monster to defeat. No obvious genre rules to rally around. Often, the work is subtle, personal, observational — which makes it powerful, but harder to do together.
That’s where community prompts and group writing projects really shine.
When you only offer yourself one type of writing — say, short stories — you might feel safe. But eventually, the flavour dulls. The texture becomes stale. Writers often fall into the trap of “I must chase that one big idea” and ignore everything else. Much like eating only a block of cheddar all night.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about writers, it’s that we worry — a lot — about what’s ‘allowed’. We worry about doing it right, being taken seriously, and being seen as ‘real writers’. And nothing stirs that pot more than AI.
Not every minute needs to be programmed. Some of the best launch moments happen near the signing table, around the snack table, beside the kids’ corner, in the queue for photos and/or at the “Oh my goodness, you wrote this?” recognition moment.
Writers are funny creatures. We crave imagination, curiosity, and creative freedom — and then, without meaning to, we quietly tuck ourselves into the smallest possible corner. We sort ourselves into genres. Neat and tidy. Manageable. Predictable. But creativity is not predictable. And it is certainly not tidy. And while familiarity feels good… it doesn’t make us better writers.
You’re in a Facebook writing group with 500 members. You post once. Nobody replies. You scroll. You lurk. And your word count? Still zero. It’s a natural phenomenon known as social loafing, where motivation decreases as group size increases. Online groups are great for inspiration and networking. But for consistent writing progress, smaller is better.
If you’re new to the scene or if you’ve been hesitant to take the plunge, this blog is for you. We’re going to break down what writing events are all about, how to prep for them, and how you can excel while you’re there.
Prompts are like maps. They don’t dictate where you go — they just get you on the road. Some will take you a block from home. Some will lead you halfway across the country. The trick is to start walking. And because we’re The Collective Pen, I’m not just giving you prompts to keep to yourself. This is an open invitation to share your responses, swap feedback, and maybe even find a writing buddy. So, kettle on. Timer ready. Let’s get stuck in.
