Exaggerated hand motions (fanning self, vague gestures, etc.)
Nervous quirks (playing with your hair, picking at skin/clothing, etc.)
Turning head sideways to avoid staring straight ahead
Keep in mind that blushing comes from blood running to the face, so people aren’t going to turn cherry red, especially if they have darker skin where it’s less obvious.
So I’ve been reading a lot of fics lately where people are either
A) Putting wings onto canon characters
B) Making OCs with wings
So I decided that, with the influx of people who are writing winged characters (and therefore the influx of errors that come with writing winged characters), I’d make a little thing to help you slap a pair of wings onto anyone!
This is also a bit personal, too, because the MC in my upcoming novel has wings!
1. Know that there are a lot of types of wings to choose from
Part of being a writer is the desire to take something (whether it be a pre-existing work or an idea in your head) and make it into your own. So, instead of just going with the classic bird wings, why not spice it up a bit? If your character is an angel, you certainly don’t have to stick to the classic depictions of angel wings. Why not give them butterfly wings or dragonfly wings?
Here’s a small list of different types of wings to choose from:
Bat wings
Beetle wings
Bird wings
Butterfly/Moth wings
Dragonfly wings
Note that these wings are for animals who can fly. There are also animals who can “fly” that actually glide, such as sugar gliders and flying squirrels.
Yeah, so the options are pretty limited, but feel free to make up your own kinds of wings that aren’t necessarily based on a pre-existing creature’s wings!
2. Be familiar with the anatomy of your character’s wings and their limits
If your wings are completely unique, draw them out. A diagram or picture is key when it comes to things like description. I’m not gonna tell you what everything does and give you Animal Wing Anatomy 101, that’s for you to research. Know that there are different types of wings and that they have different uses, strengths, and weaknesses.
3. Never use the full extent of your research!
Surprise, surprise!
“But wait, Maddy!” you cry, writing utensil in hand and poised to stab me. “I thought we were supposed to were supposed to show our research!”
Well, you are. Technically that’s not wrong. But, readers don’t want to know ALL of it. Over-described wings are sometimes worse than under-described wings; what sucks more than not knowing what a character’s wings look like is having to look up wing anatomy in the middle of the chapter!
Only use the most basic of vocabulary when it comes to describing the parts of the wing. Most of the time, you just have to say “bat wing” or “feathery wing” and the readers get the basic idea. (Like seriously, do you think the readers know what a dactylopatagium brevis is????? It’s a part of skin on a bat’s wing btw)
4. Don’t bring your character’s wings up only when they’re needed!!!!
Unless your character’s wings can fade away when they’re not needed, wings are a 100% real, 24/7 thing! It’s bothersome when writers mention the wings in one chapter and then only bring them up when there’s a daring escape that needs to be performed! Most of the time, I forget that the characters even have wings at all!
There is also the fact that wings aren’t all pros and no cons. If they’re functional, they’re probably big, and if they’re muscular, they’re probably bulky. If your character is clumsy, they’ll probably knock things over constantly, and if they’re not clumsy, they’ll still knock things over constantly.
Your wings are two (or four, or five, or six quintillion) extra appendages; they’re a part of your character! You don’t have to spend every second reminding the readers that they’re there, but don’t go long stretches of time without even mentioning them.
5. Your character’s wings can be a good way to indicate their mood or to provide for that little bit of description that you think you make be lacking
Why wouldn’t you want to describe the wings? I mean, you don’t want to describe every minute detail over and over again, but it’ll boost your word count a lot more than you think. They can also be used to convey your character’s feelings without explicitly telling the reader! It’s like a new set of facial expressions!
See? You can tell he’s wary and ready to fight from the movement of his wings! Also he’s crouching next to a dead body but that’s not relevant right now
Here’s a list of wing language (?) that you can incorporate into your story that will not only increase your word count, but will also add to the sustenance of your story!
Nervous
Twitch
Flutter
Ripple
Fold tightly
Fidget
Flap
Angry
Flare
Bristle
Fluff up
Ripple
Beat
Raise up
Snap open
Happy
Flutter
Curl up
Ripple
Wave
Flap
During Battle
Bludgeon
Smack
Bat
Clout
Whack
Kick someone’s legs out from under them
Snap someones neck (only for muscular wings like bat and bird wings)
Problems that may come with having wings
Poke out from under blankets and let all of the cold air in
Stepped on
Get pins and needles from being folded for too long
Hi there! I would love to! I think I’ll start out with an example with filter words and then cut out the filter words to show you the difference.
For those of you who haven’t seen my post on Filter Words.
Now, for the example:
I felt a hand tap my shoulder as I realized I had made a huge mistake. I knew the consequences would be unsettling, but I had no other choice. I saw the light of my desk lamp bounce off of the officer’s badge before I had even turned around. It seemed like I always found my way into trouble.
It was the first thing off the top of my head, so it’s a bit rough sounding….
Now for without filter words (And a bit of revision):
A hand tapped my shoulder as it dawned on me: I had just made a huge mistake. The consequences would be unsettling if I didn’t get out of this mess, but I had no other choice. The light of my desk lamp bounced off of the officer’s badge. I always found my way into trouble.
By taking out filter words, you get right to the point.
I’d also like to add a few more notes that I didn’t have the chance to post previously.
Some Examples of Filtering:
I heard a noise in the hallway.
She felt embarrassed when she tripped.
I saw a light bouncing through the trees.
I tasted the sour tang of raspberries bursting on my tongue.
He smelled his teammate’s BO wafting through the locker room.
She remembered dancing at his wedding.
I think people should be kinder to one another.
How can you apply this?
Read your work to see how many of these filtering words you might be leaning on. Microsoft Word has a great Find and Highlight feature that I love to use when I’m editing. See how you can get rid of these filtering words and take your sentences to the next level by making stronger word choices. Take the above examples, and see how they can be reworked.
FILTERING EXAMPLE: I heard a noise in the hallway.
DESCRIBE THE SOUND: Heels tapped a staccato rhythm in the hallway.
FILTERING EXAMPLE: She felt embarrassed after she tripped.
DESCRIBE WHAT THE FEELING LOOKS LIKE: Her cheeks flushed and her shoulders hunched after she tripped.
FILTERING EXAMPLE: I saw a light bouncing through the trees.
DESCRIBE THE SIGHT: A light bounced through the trees.
FILTERING EXAMPLE: I tasted the sour tang of raspberries bursting on my tongue.
DESCRIBE THE TASTE: The sour tang of raspberries burst on my tongue.
FILTERING EXAMPLE: He smelled his teammate’s BO wafting through the locker room.
DESCRIBE THE SMELL: His teammate’s BO wafted through the locker room.
FILTERING EXAMPLE: She remembered dancing at his wedding.
DESCRIBE THE MEMORY: She had danced at his wedding.
FILTERING EXAMPLE: I think people should be kinder to one another.
DESCRIBE THE THOUGHT: People should be kinder to one another.
See what a difference it makes when you get rid of the filter? It’s simply not necessary to use them. By ditching them, you avoid “telling,” your voice is more active, and your pacing is helped along.
The above list is not comprehensive as there are many examples of filtering words. The idea is to be aware of the concept so that you can recognize instances of it happening in your work. Be aware of where you want to place the energy and power in your sentences. Let your observations flow through your characters with immediacy.
Ok, sorry for the lengthy answer, I know you just wanted an example…. sorry!
If you have any questions, feel free to ask at my ask box
THIS IS SO GREAT. I dind’t even know there was a term for this (I should have figured, right, because writers have words for everything), but it’s one of those things that being aware when you’re doing it (and editing it right the fuck out) will improve your writing SO MUCH. Removing the filtering helps to draw your readers more intimately into the action of your story, and as the text above says, adds power and immediacy to every sentence. THIS IS SUCH AN IMPORTANT TIP I WANT TO SCREAM ABOUT IT.
Hi! Don’t worry, I understand your question! And it is one that hits close to home for me, because sensual scenes can be… hard for me to get into, as a reader, for the exact reason that the balance between the act and the emotion is very hard to strike.
(I don’t write sex scenes for various reasons. But I’ll do my best to answer your question from everything else I have written that is even remotely sensual, heh.)
I think one thing that always makes a sensual scene stand out for me is when the focus of the scene isn’t on the physicality of it—like, not about which bit goes where, or the positioning of their bodies, y’know?—but where the physicality is described in emotional, metaphorical imagery that carries layers of meaning.
For example, you could say: he touched his cheek.
Or you could say: he reached, and even the dust in the air held its breath; his touch on his cheek was like a whisper.
Or you could say: bracketed in his callused palms, like this, there was a heat that pooled tight and warm, and this was no quenching touch.
All of these lines describe touching on the cheek. The first line is purely physical without any other implication (and it’s not a bad line as-is, it serves its own kind of purpose, depending on what you want to write). The second and third lines are evocative of the relationship they portray. Without knowing anything about the characters here, just from the second line, you have a sense of their gentle physicality, maybe a little hesitation, maybe something precious and delicate. From the third line, in contrast, you know these are… fire emoji!!! characters, in a passionate relationship.
Another thing I think is important to keep in mind is: just because the sensual scene is a short vignette, doesn’t mean you can’t weave in hints of the relationship backstory. You can do it subtly through the POV character’s inner monologue, for example: and as those chapped lips found his own, he remembered a time by the riverbank after school where he’d pressed his soft-serve against them, laughed when the ice cream dripped onto the grass.
You can even use dialogue to great effect. Just because your characters are making out doesn’t mean they can’t talk. A few lines can do a lot to establish a dynamic.
“Hey. Still breathing?” “I can’t hear you. Come closer.”
conjures a different emotional effect from:
“Hey. Still breathing?” “Yeah. Just. Say my name again, will you?”
These are just some ideas, and some of the things I’d do when writing a scene like this. I think it helps when you read sensual scenes to pay attention to what it is you enjoy about them, and to parts where the writer manages to convey emotion as well as action. Learning from example is the best way forward 🙂
1. First write for yourself, and then worry about the audience. “When you write a story, you’re telling yourself the story. When you rewrite, your main job is taking out all the things that are not the story. Your stuff starts out being just for you, but then it goes out.”
2. Don’t use passive voice. “Timid writers like passive verbs for the same reason that timid lovers like passive partners. The passive voice is safe. The timid fellow writes “The meeting will be held at seven o’clock” because that somehow says to him, ‘Put it this way and people will believe you really know. ‘Purge this quisling thought! Don’t be a muggle! Throw back your shoulders, stick out your chin, and put that meeting in charge! Write ‘The meeting’s at seven.’ There, by God! Don’t you feel better?”
3. Avoid adverbs. “The adverb is not your friend. Consider the sentence “He closed the door firmly.” It’s by no means a terrible sentence, but ask yourself if ‘firmly’ really has to be there. What about context? What about all the enlightening (not to say emotionally moving) prose which came before ‘He closed the door firmly’? Shouldn’t this tell us how he closed the door? And if the foregoing prose does tell us, then isn’t ‘firmly’ an extra word? Isn’t it redundant?”
4. Avoid adverbs, especially after “he said” and “she said.” “While to write adverbs is human, to write ‘he said’ or ‘she said’ is divine.”
5. But don’t obsess over perfect grammar. “Language does not always have to wear a tie and lace-up shoes. The object of fiction isn’t grammatical correctness but to make the reader welcome and then tell a story… to make him/her forget, whenever possible, that he/she is reading a story at all. “
6. The magic is in you. “I’m convinced that fear is at the root of most bad writing. Dumbo got airborne with the help of a magic feather; you may feel the urge to grasp a passive verb or one of those nasty adverbs for the same reason. Just remember before you do that Dumbo didn’t need the feather; the magic was in him.”
7. Read, read, read. “You have to read widely, constantly refining (and redefining) your own work as you do so. If you don’t have time to read, you don’t have the time (or the tools) to write.”
8. Don’t worry about making other people happy. “Reading at meals is considered rude in polite society, but if you expect to succeed as a writer, rudeness should be the second to least of your concerns. The least of all should be polite society and what it expects. If you intend to write as truthfully as you can, your days as a member of polite society are numbered, anyway.”
9. Turn off the TV. “Most exercise facilities are now equipped with TVs, but TV—while working out or anywhere else—really is about the last thing an aspiring writer needs. If you feel you must have the news analyst blowhard on CNN while you exercise, or the stock market blowhards on MSNBC, or the sports blowhards on ESPN, it’s time for you to question how serious you really are about becoming a writer. You must be prepared to do some serious turning inward toward the life of the imagination, and that means, I’m afraid, that Geraldo, Keigh Obermann, and Jay Leno must go. Reading takes time, and the glass teat takes too much of it.”
10. You have three months. “The first draft of a book—even a long one—should take no more than three months, the length of a season.”
11. There are two secrets to success. “When I’m asked for ‘the secret of my success’ (an absurd idea, that, but impossible to get away from), I sometimes say there are two: I stayed physically healthy, and I stayed married. It’s a good answer because it makes the question go away, and because there is an element of truth in it. The combination of a healthy body and a stable relationship with a self reliant woman who takes zero shit from me or anyone else has made the continuity of my working life possible. And I believe the converse is also true: that my writing and the pleasure I take in it has contributed to the stability of my health and my home life.”
12. Write one word at a time. “A radio talk-show host asked me how I wrote. My reply—’One word at a time’—seemingly left him without a reply. I think he was trying to decide whether or not I was joking. I wasn’t. In the end, it’s always that simple. Whether it’s a vignette of a single page or an epic trilogy like ‘The Lord Of The Rings,’ the work is always accomplished one word at a time.”
13. Eliminate distraction. “There should be no telephone in your writing room, certainly no TV or videogames for you to fool around with. If there’s a window, draw the curtains or pull down the shades unless it looks out at a blank wall.”
14. Stick to your own style. “One cannot imitate a writer’s approach to a particular genre, no matter how simple what the writer is doing may seem. You can’t aim a book like a cruise missile, in other words. People who decide to make a fortune writing lik John Grisham or Tom Clancy produce nothing but pale imitations, by and large, because vocabulary is not the same thing as feeling and plot is light years from the truth as it is understood by the mind and the heart.”
15. Dig. “When, during the course of an interview for The New Yorker, I told the interviewer (Mark Singer) that I believed stories are found things, like fossils in the ground, he said that he didn’t believe me. I replied that that was fine, as long as he believed that I believe it. And I do. Stories aren’t souvenir tee-shirts or Game Boys. Stories are relics, part of an undiscovered pre-existing world. The writer’s job is to use the tools in his or her toolbox to get as much of each one out of the ground intact as possible. Sometimes the fossil you uncover is small; a seashell. Sometimes it’s enormous, a Tyrannosaurus Rex with all the gigantic ribs and grinning teeth. Either way, short story or thousand page whopper of a novel, the techniques of excavation remain basically the same.”
16. Take a break. “If you’ve never done it before, you’ll find reading your book over after a six-week layoff to be a strange, often exhilarating experience. It’s yours, you’ll recognize it as yours, even be able to remember what tune was on the stereo when you wrote certain lines, and yet it will also be like reading the work of someone else, a soul-twin, perhaps. This is the way it should be, the reason you waited. It’s always easier to kill someone else’s darlings that it is to kill your own.”
17. Leave out the boring parts and kill your darlings. “Mostly when I think of pacing, I go back to Elmore Leonard, who explained it so perfectly by saying he just left out the boring parts. This suggests cutting to speed the pace, and that’s what most of us end up having to do (kill your darlings, kill your darlings, even when it breaks your ecgocentric little scribbler’s heart, kill your darlings.)”
18. The research shouldn’t overshadow the story. “If you do need to do research because parts of your story deal with things about which you know little or nothing, remember that word back. That’s where research belongs: as far in the background and the back story as you can get it. You may be entranced with what you’re learning about the flesh-eating bacteria, the sewer system of New York, or the I.Q. potential of collie pups, but your readers are probably going to care a lot more about your characters and your story.”
19. You become a writer simply by reading and writing. “You don’t need writing classes or seminars any more than you need this or any other book on writing. Faulkner learned his trade while working in the Oxford, Mississippi post office. Other writers have learned the basics while serving in the Navy, working in steel mills or doing time in America’s finer crossbar hotels. I learned the most valuable (and commercial) part of my life’s work while washing motel sheets and restaurant tablecloths at the New Franklin Laundry in Bangor. You learn best by reading a lot and writing a lot, and the most valuable lessons of all are the ones you teach yourself.”
20. Writing is about getting happy. “Writing isn’t about making money, getting famous, getting dates, getting laid, or making friends. In the end, it’s about enriching the lives of those who will read your work, and enriching your own life, as well. It’s about getting up, getting well, and getting over. Getting happy, okay? Writing is magic, as much the water of life as any other creative art. The water is free. So drink.”
Nothing but My Aching Soul 