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2nd of the 90 days to own your own world… I mean novel

woman wearing striped shirt holding ice cream
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Accordingly to Sarah Domet —90 days to your novel— and I’m quoting:

«Every writer aims to immerse the reader so deeply into the story, to so hypnotize the reader with the details and the writing, that she continues turning the pages. You want your reader to feel like she’s literally present in your fictional world, running right alongside your characters as they get swept up in the action of the story. This is, after all, one of the reasons people read: to lose themselves in a world more interesting than their own


Your reader running along your characters in your own fictional world [ or maybe write an extension of Star Wars, …………….. (fill in over the dotted line)]. Then, let’s play to wrap up readers into details that might not matter to the most common mortal (until they read a novel; a lot of people miss out seeing, listening to, tasting and smelling much of their conscious time[1]) but connects us —all of us— emotionally.

Do you have a fav Tee you won’t trash away despite the small holes and obvious wear cause it is the only one that covers your hips at the right height? Would you remember this kind of character or would you forget them? Would you prefer the girl with a box filled with every jewellery brand’s engagement rings[2]?  
Would you really hate the vanilla smelling cappuccino lover villain? It’s harder hating these kind of bad guys. Do you remember the softness of a Teddy bear? Dressing a Barbie up?


Your nose: go and smell the roses, the intoxicating and indescribable scratch presentation card of the skunk, the nauseating urea smell at the tail of any perfume or aftershave[3].

Your eyes: time to learn more than the primary colours. Mmmm. You can’t use your eyes? You already know you have adjectives the rest of us can’t even dream with understanding. The same way, being asexual is a joke to most people. Nonetheless I exist.

Your tongue: besides salty… Can you taste any other flavours? Yeah, blood ain’t just sweet. It has a metallic flavour and smell of its own!

Fingers, skin: what’s the desk’s surface like? Rough, smooth as a lake or hard and heavy? My drawing table is smooth until you find the scratching of cutter or soil grains.
Your imagination: don’t look. I repeat, don’t look at the purple tentacle climbing your shoulder and don’t, for whatever’s sake, turn around.

Go and have fun with your own nonsense. Pasto kalo.

[1] I’m one of them.

[2] Right, dreaming we own all those pretty bling bling stones…

[3] … What can I say, I don’t smell parfums or fragrances as an uniform whole. I don’t recognize EVERY ingredient but the smells come separately and the fixer is always the last one, in the background.

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