#PennedPossibilities 1035 — How does your antagonist behave when they’re sick or injured?

Pigeon the Pilferer is a punk bully kid who never grew up even as he entered his 20s. He's alienated his family and has zero friends. The only reason he still has a job (with the mob) is that despite his bad attitude, he's still good for small jobs where a bad attitude (and body odor) is a positive. Sick or injured, he'd have no one to turn to (until the middle of the novel) and he wouldn't admit to being scared. He'd hide away, paranoid somebody would hurt him when he's weak; he'd definitely take advantage were the situation reversed! He does have a Health Services ID. Unlike Bolt (the MC), he'd use it for free care if he thought he might die or be too feverish to protect himself.

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#PennedPossibilities 1033 — Would you or have ever considered writing a MC with mental illness? How would or did you approach the subject?

The MC is maybe psychotic, but definitely not a sociopath. After horrible illness and fever, she started seeing a black leopard nobody else sees, then speaking to it and petting it when it helps her deal with life. Later, when a friend's bodyguard was killed, his ghost appears and follows her around. When she speaks with him, he becomes the friend she remembered while alive and starts advising her and helping her figure things out, sometimes nagging her when she disagrees with his difficult truths, sometimes comforting her. Later, a slain alien joins her "spirit" menagerie, adding another uncomfortable agenda she needs to consider. She becomes a shaman, but is never "practicing" her religion per se; she has bigger fish to fry. She considers it a nuisance and appreciates it for a span of years (between novels) when menagerie abandons her and she can live normally.

It's an SF world where shamanism is one of the religions, so when she accidentally revives the talking control system running the generation ship (a rotating asteroid) everybody lives in (including aliens that had invaded centuries ago), she takes it in stride that it considers it her the captain. It's obviously another world spirit! Right?

How did I handle the mental illness implications?

Completely on the level.

While she works problems out with the help of her guardian spirits, they never give her information she could not have gotten by other means or by pure chance.

So... is she crazy mentally ill? A delusional schizophrenic? Or does the supernatural exist? The story challenges the concept of religious belief and, rigorously, does it completely on the level. Inquiring minds would have to read the story and decide for themselves.

The gimmick, should you want to call it that, is in sync with how the series Joan of Arcadia is presented. (Not sure if I wrote the story first or saw the series first). The fabulous highly-recommended cancelled-too-soon series also never clarifies whether the protagonist is crazy or is counseled by a deity—by the stories never giving Joan information she might otherwise guess or glean from living in the moment. The story challenges the audience to question belief, faith, and how mental illness affects people.

EDITED: Added info about whether Joan of Arcadia inspired the story or whether it uses the same gimmick to make the story resonate and make points about faith. And, yes, I am not religious. So faith fascinates me.

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#PennedPossibilities 1034 — If one of your characters could visit any time period in the history of their world, which would they choose? Why is that?

It would be a toss up for Rainy Days, the main series antagonist sometimes MC. She was born in year 91 after what we'd call "the singularity."

She wonders why, when it was considered "an age of new beginnings," that her society effectively kept women as chattel—something she would violently put an end to, horribly maiming the world in the process. She'd want to go back in time before the event to see what caused the abomination, maybe preventing what she saw as a perversion of human behavior. (She'd be disgusted seeing our civilization; she'd let it burn.)

The other time she'd go back to? To her teenage years before she was forcefully taught she was subhuman chattel as far as the men in power were concerned. She had a twin brother named Harvest Days. That was so long ago, she only remembers he existed, was autistic, and that her intense love for him was what led her to fix the world that so badly mistreated him. She misses him.

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#WritersCoffeeClub #WCC 2026.06.01 What sense is easiest for you to describe?

Let's chalk up me writing about the hardest sense (smell) to my dyslexia! Visual is the easiest for me, but like all the rest of the senses, it's usually in revision that I tease out the metaphors that go beyond simple color and geometry, and relate what seen to the character's context and relate it to their concerns.

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#WritersCoffeeClub #WCC 2026.06.01 What sense is easiest for you to describe?

All of the senses present their challenges, but smell, which is an extremely important sense to my 1st person narrator MC, Bolt, is particularly challenging. She not only talks about intimate human scents, but the ambient scents—food, plants, buildings, magic—in her overheated sweaty world.

I want this quote to apply for the reader: "Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas any more."

There are a limited set of adjectives that aren't analogies to choose from, without repetition. For example acrid or fetid as compared to vinegary or like camembert. If I write vanilla, I have to think whether such a thing as vanilla could exist in her climate-disaster world. It can quickly become a show don't tell disaster! As for something cheesy, do they even have dairy? Sometimes I settle for a word to mislead so that I can surprise the reader later to demonstrate how alien the environment is. For example, horses are mentioned and we later learn that the animal has a row of stegosaur plates for cooling purposes down its spine, which renders it rather difficult to saddle. Some things totally don't exist as when Bolt describes them; the reader will have absolutely no reference other than the narrator liking them or being disgusted.

Don't get me started about the difference between what I rush to paper in the first draft, and the metaphorical stuff that arrives during revision!

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#WordWeavers 2026.06.01 — Let your MC introduce themselves.

A day angel woman affixes you with a glare that could melt iron. She points at her glued spiked up hair obviously dyed black staining her scalp, at her tarnished silver facial piercings, at lines of black face and body paint, at her black leather wear and chains—with her blue and white feathered wings flared up and out in an effort to make her look bigger than you, in an effort to make her look dangerous. Succeeding. In spades.

You decide to forgive Bolt for not answering the question and move on to the next MC, who hopefully isn't punked out.

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#ScribesAndMakers 2026.06.01 §Choose an adjective to describe how you're feeling about your creativity this month.

POSITIVE.

Case in point, this report, a breakthrough in my confidence level: https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/116673418741765097

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RS, Author, Novelist, Prosaist (@[email protected])

Wondering why RS hasn't been answering prompts much the last few days? Well, I've now rewritten the first chapter of *Reluctant Courier (for the Mob)* for the fourth time. OMFG! Now I *believe* Bolt is a talented photographer who lives only for the street photos she takes, and flying. She's damaged, apathetic, with a lousy job we don't what it is yet, her memory metaphoric Swiss cheese— discriminated against to boot. She's now met the trans reporter who'll be her foil, and is facing a presumably dangerous miracle cast by a daemon with the previously cited reporter. This is a good result. :blob_sweat: #AmWriting #writing #writer #author #writingCommunity #writersOfMastodon

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#ScribesAndMakers 2026.05 № 30 ('26 May) Our #TTMD featured creator is Quasi @QuasiTemporal

As an SF author, I've tried penning a few time travel stories. So hard. Each time, the logic of traveling in time ends up pretzeling the "timeline" into destroying the protagonist's past and creating a new past and future that could make the protagonist not exist at all. The story ceases to be time travel at all, or becomes unworkable. So, @QuasiTemporal, how do you approach the plot logic to allow time travel without imploding reality? Or, asked another way, how do you hide the paradoxes and get away with it? Tips and tricks, please!

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#ScribesAndMakers 2026.05.19 — № 29 ('26 May) Our next featured creator has done creative work with math(s). Does math(s) ever feature in any way in your creative work?

[I'm going to call it a magic system to simplify terms; the story is SF. —RS]

Yes. The "magic" system in the Reluctance Series is calculative. Equations describe both reality and how to modify it. Understanding of math (calculus, geometry, statistics, etc.) is necessary for anything complex. I'd love to consult with a mathematician to make my presentation sound better! Half way through the tootfic I posted to ereyesterday's #PennedPossibilities post (https://eldritch.cafe/@sfwrtr/116655691934994361) is an example of a character working a miracle from the thaumaturge's POV, with Maths™! Check it out.

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RS, Author, Novelist, Prosaist (@[email protected])

## #PennedPossibilities 1027 — SC POV: If you could master any skill, what would it be? How would you use it? Note: #tootfic. [Devil-girl, currently a mob enforcer, autist, SC POV:] I looked at Bolt [the MC] squarely. "*That's* a weird question." "I? Well. You went to *huge* trouble to attend the Directorate's school of thaumaturgy. Since we're working together, I thought it might be good to know…" I wasn't the type to have personal goals, simply work goals. I made a point of studying *everything—* "But maybe that's the problem." "I didn't mean to be nosey—" I hugged her tightly, wings and shoulders, with my cheek against hers, before she could pout. Unlike me, being forced to work for criminal organizations had damaged my day angel coworker badly. All jock and often faulty unschooled intuition, she couldn't find the advantage even in the *best* of the worst situations, to turn a lose to a win, and tended to fold into fears. I tried to be as friendly as she, so it made logical sense to reciprocate, to see if it would help. "Silly girl," I whispered into her ear. She was keenly aware of being a decade older than me, so I felt her react to the *girl* diminutive I'd used to take her out of fear mode. I chuckled, releasing her. "I know about your reporter friend. Learning from him the craft of interviewing is good." "Don't tell anyone about him." "I won't. So… is there a skill I could learn? Ah! I'd defo be mastering working simple miracles well." "Simple?" Bolt clearly wanted to laugh but with me was always circumspect. "I've seen you go from here"—she popped out a wing, pointing—"to there. *Pop! Blam!*" "That takes singularity maths, and I'm still working on getting that miracle right. Since I got scared into making it work the first time, I'm never sure the next time will work. You wanna example? How about turning a wheel on a cart, or better yet, creating a simple sprite." "In your apartment building, you made so many—" "Sprites? Simple ones?" I fear I scoffed. I took a deep breath, found a standing mnemonic drifting in my mind, felt recollections of numerical matrix fragments melting into proper predicates, then with a sense of the random, and a feel for the impatient breeze cooling my skin and buffeting her wing feathers in the morning twilight, I made a snap-judgement codicil to take the place of targeting. Balancing happened instantly, congesting my horns. With a wish, I released an avalanche of bright digits crackling and shooting like burning embers across my arithmocosm, filling my halo. I worked a miracle. An apparition of rainbow light—a palm-sized spherical aquarium, filled with luminous colored oils circulating in frothy plumes—snapped into existence. The polychrome sprite drifted from between us and quickly away. Bolt fluttered back with a squee, mouth agape, the eldritch light illuminating her face, her fuzzy blue eyebrows becoming caterpillars trying to kiss. The sprite made like a butterfly, dancing back and around and askance on the wind, toward the nearest building as the escapement ran down, plumes slowing, and the precious few splendors I allowed it burnt away. Pretty good for a dozen-dozen sloppy quick draw approximations. I'd be hard pressed to duplicate it exactly. Not exactly? That was easy. "Wow…" Bolt's voice was like smoke drifting from her mouth. I asked, "Do you have any idea of how complex that was?" "Pretty easy, knowing you." "Dozens of open irises arranged parallel to the sphere surface, unrelated maths for the colors, a recollection for the target to provide multi-axial oscillations to simulate the butterfly movement. I could go on. It all came to me in a hot mess. But, a simple colorless monochromatic sprite afixed 45° above my forehead that will turn as my head turns, what most 4-year olds master?" I made a very wet raspberry sound. "You *did that* going up the stair to your apartment!" "Did I?" "Um." She frowned, looking askance as she thought, her tongue blipping out for an instant. "Well, it *was* yellow, and it orbited around your head—" "Yeah, that." "You gave it to me, and *it followed me to the squats!*" "Exactly. Turning a wagon wheel to make a cart roll is a thing daemons do to make coin. Can't. Do it. For trying!" I growled. "Once, I had a so-called friend who helped me figure out how to make complex things work, when *Simple* failed. Had to nearly die to learn my best trick. Not sustainable." "The dying bit?" I nodded. "Simple is Hard." "Which is why you're going to a thaumaturgy high school at your age?" I narrowed my eyes at her, grinning nevertheless. "How old do you think I am?" My grin was strategic. I didn't accidentally confirm she'd guessed right. [Author retains copyright (c)2026 R.S.] #BoostingIsSharing #gender #fiction #writer #author #cozy #mystery #sf #sff #sciencefiction #writing #writingcommunity #writersOfMastodon #writers #RSdiscussion #RSstory #RSReluctanceStory #microfiction #flashfiction #smallstory

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#WritersCoffeeClub #WCC 2026.05.21 — What targets do you set for yourself? To what frequency?

None. Maybe I should consider it…?

No! When I did that crap, imposing goals, writing daily do or die, setting quotas I could never meet, I burnt out.

For over a decade.

Better I should think about writing, think about stories, even happily daydream… but write when the story wants out.

YMMV 😓

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