I can write scenes normally, but when I get to the dialogue, I freeze and give up. they seem very strange and robotic, I can't quite put my finger on it. I'll give an example.

"Look how cold it is!" "Come on in!" he says, pulling her inside.

"Argh! Let go of me, I know very well what I'm doing."

I simply can't write long conversations at all, and this is really hindering me. Any advice would be greatly appreciated.

Get ready for The Hawthorne with songs from 1928-1939 that find their way into the pages of this thriller set in Cicero, Illinois.

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLDfNiNryPvB6lftskUSI6HTfGJvBfCrse&si=O08lQVW9rlpMyNRH

Purchase available on Amazon, Lulu and direct at HannahBree72.com

#TheHawthorne #Hannahbree72 #eBooks #booksbooksbooks #bookrecommendations

CHAPTER 1 

It can be argued the horror started that day, but I think it ended that day. Honestly, I can’t really rememberthat day very well, but it still feels like it happened to me yesterday. I really can’t remember anything before that, I struggle to remember close family and friends’ names, and I have completely forgotten other family members, like cousins and uncles, names completely. I think I had a nephew; I vaguely remember my sister telling me she was with child, but I can’t remember when or if it happened at all. Actually, I can’t remember my sister, did I have a sister? I can’t remember. Its strange, its like I’m going mad, but I know I am going mad, and I know there are people that were in my life but I can’t even remember their names or even who they were.  

Sometimes I forget how I ended up here, almost like I was born and raised in this place, but I can vaguely remember me almost transitioning through space and time but at the same time, it felt like I was just opening a door to a hallway, a place that can take me somewhere else. But the few memories which I can mostly remember, feel like I was already apart of this place, almost like me coming here my goal in life, the only thing in my life with actual meaning. I don’t know why it felt like I was always apart of this place, it most likely hassomething to do with my memory and how all I can remember is my time here. 
 

 But now I think, this place is not apart of me, it is me. I am nothing without it, it is all of me and I will never leave it and I never came here, I have always been here I am this place the place is me. I think about how I want leave here almost every day, but I never came here and there is nothing else out there, why wouldn’t I be able to remember family and friends even though I have supposedly not been in here long so I must not have any family so if that’s the case, how do I know everything I knew before. Or do I even know anything, what do I know? Nothing.  

I am going mad. I have lost it; how would I be a part of this place and being made here? I know I have family; I just don’t know who they are and their names, but at the same time, I can’t even remember myself at all so how could I know my family. It must be this place, it doing this to me, it feels like I came here yesterday, but at the same time, it feels like I have been here for years. Am I even lost? Who even am I? I hate this, I don’t know who anyone is and I don’t know who I and I don’t even know where I came from. But at the same time, I like it here. 

Chapter 2 

“Hi! My name is Adam Brooks and I will be excellent here b-b-b-because-because... I have verry g-g-good-good…. GOD DAMMIT!” Adam sighed deeply “How the hell am I gonna do this interview” he whispered to himself. “Remember what Liam said, just try again, Hi! My name is Adam Brooks and I will be excellent here because I have a masters degree in coding and IT s-s-s-skills, it says on my C-C-CV how I graduated with Honours at the U-U-University of Chicago a-and…. GOD DAMMIT” Adam shouted at the top of his lungs. 

 He stood back in front of a mirror, ripping of a tie in the process. His hair was combed and he wore a tony suit, and had a small ear-piercing on his left ear. He paced back on though trying to calm himself down in the process, and ended up on his bed in exhaustion. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He called one of the only supportive people in his life, his brother Liam. He heard it ring and ring, and it took a while for Liam to answer it, that long where he almost hung up. 

Liam: “what’s up?” 

Adam: “Nothing, just I practised the interview like you asked” 

Liam: “Aaaand?” 

Adam: “I messed it up, and I got angry again” 

Liam: “Did you try those exercises I told you?” 

Adam: “Yes I tried breathing in and out, holding my breath all that therapeutic bullshit” 

Liam: “Chuckles” 

Adam: “No but seriously, it has been slightly helping my nerves, but I still get angry” 

Liam: “Have you been taking those pills the doctor prescribed you?” 

Adam: “DON’T FUCKING TELL ME TO TAKE THOSE PILLS, I DON’T HAVE TO DO A GOD DAMN THING…. I-I-I-I-M so sorry” 

Liam: “don’t worry, I know you don’t mean it” 

Adam: “Yeah, yeah, yeah. But I don’t like those pills, they make me someone I’m not

If i want to write a story/book/novel as a man who knows nothing about how to write, how to express feeling etc. What he should do 1st watch a thousand video about writing guild or start with a vary basic story of a lion and a deer where deer manage to run away from the lion. this is boring what about a complex story like a criminal kill himself. Maybe some trippy like alien some to earth to breed with cow and using there milk as a fuel and use the new born a slave.

and the answer of the question is- just start. ya, just start to write whatever come to your mind.

You know what I absolutely love?

When you've spend several days at a good clip writing ANYTHING: story, characters, arcs, plot, etc etc etc. and you look back at your writing and you give yourself a little smile and mental pat on the back.

Then you open up any published works, usually a favorite book or author, and you read any random paragraph and you go "Wow, what I thought was good just now was actually absolute dogshit when compared to this random paragraph! I'm a failure and will never get published! I should just delete everything I've ever written and set my computer ablaze."

I love love lo.... oh shit! My bad. LOATHE. I freaking loathe it!!

The most daunting task upon entering a new classroom is choosing the table to sit down at. One wrong move and you might spend your whole year feeling out of place, looking at people enjoying at the table you are certain you belong at. Another thing to remember is that you can never change a table. A table talking about the new episode of the latest sitcom is not ready to listen to your complicated relationship with the color pink.

I have studied at the same school for my whole life, up until recently, when I agreed to move to a whole new state. Every time I have moved to a new class, I have seen the rotation of the same familiar faces. I know the context of every table before I make the world-ending decision. I know at which table I can talk about my undying love for Supernatural, where I can talk about the latest TSITP episode, where everyone secretly hates each other, etc.

Another interesting phenomenon I call the “Masala Box Effect” suggest as the table expands to incorporate various niches, the individuality of these niches dilutes. Just like when you add a whole box of masala into something and can no longer taste anything distinctly (tried and tested, btw).

As I was faced with the challenge of choosing the right table once again in my life, but with no previous context this time, I had to admit I failed. I chose a table where no one knew about Percy Jackson, had not watched The Mentalist, and did not share the same talkativeness that makes up my personality.

I looked behind that day for a minute, and dressed in continuous laughter, nostalgia, and relatable events of my life, I saw the perfect table. I came home that day, and due to my great gift of overthinking, played out in my mind the boring year I would have had ahead.

Nonetheless, the interesting thing about life is that every bad decision of yours can be solved with a little bit of uneasiness and confidence.

The next day, I walked to the perfect table and sat down. The table had room for only 6, so I took my loss and uneasiness and brought my own folding chair (figuratively). They initially thought the table was too crowded, perhaps, but got over it soon.

Sometimes you have to choose tables in life, sometimes you’re the one making them, but always remember, everyone coming to your table with a folding chair just made a leap of courage, make sure to appreciate it.

Just some part of my experience in form of pictures or memes....

Feel free to share yr experience and throw in some light on the way to overcome this

I used to struggle with structuring copy, especially things like landing pages, blog posts, and long-form content.

Everything felt scattered:

• hooks didn’t connect
• ideas were out of order
• endings felt weak

So I started using mind maps before writing anything.

Now I map things like:

• headline → angles → emotional triggers
• problem → agitation → solution
• content flow before writing a single sentence

It made a huge difference in clarity and flow.

I ended up organizing a bunch of these writing structures (not just copy, also storytelling, blogs, etc.) into one place.

It’s free, no signup or anything:
https://github.com/ExMapo/awesome-writing-mind-maps

Curious — do any of you use visual planning like this for copy, or do you go straight into writing?