 It begins the moment that complacency takes over and it becomes unreasonable to be emotionally, mentally, or physically invested in the world that exists beyond the mall doors.

Step 1: Exterminate every single living teenager in the world (for maximum efficiency, substitute the word ‘world’ with ‘universe’). Step 2: Put a stop to female fertility, ending the problem of babies (thus in turn also ending the problem of Teenagers). Step 3: Clone intelligent, healthy adults, thereby continuing the human race ad infinitum at our evolutionary peak and putting an end to the most dangerous threat in mankind’s history.

Granted, I am not (technically) a doctor, so my understanding of the cloning process is limited to what I’ve read on imascientist.com. But in layman’s terms, in order to clone someone all that you need is a Genetic Replicator, a Willing Test Subject, and a little dash of Imagination. 

Once in a while, everything in the world changes at once. This is one of those times.

I hate writing. I don’t mean writing as in the verb form of ‘to write,’ or the specific act of putting words to paper (or to screen, as it is these days). I mean the science that it’s become, the colour-by-numbers formula that we’re told, both by teachers and critics, is necessary to create a worthwhile composition. Well, I’m not buying it. I consistently hear, day in and day out, that structureis necessary; that there’s a specific framework to follow in order to have an acceptably paced story; that I need to follow these rules and take these steps in order to succeed; and that disobeying the guidelines can (and will) only result in catastrophe.


Your main character must be sympathetic. If they’re not “nice”, pile on some undeserved misfortune.

The character’s desire must be clear, compelling, and urgent.  Not to seem rude, and I realize that someone actually paid a ‘professional writer’ a truckload of money for this advice, but I find these utterly stupid, invalid suggestions.

In the stories that I enjoy most, the characters’ motivations are rarely, if ever at all, explained in perfect, pristine detail throughout. I find it leagues more interesting and engaging when the characters’ actions or motivations are morally ambiguous, and while it might (might being the operative word, since it isn’t a requirement even) seem like there’s a quintessential cookie-cutter Good Guy and Evil Guy, their agendas are both shrouded in shades of grey. This sort of mindset goes against everything that the writer of these storybook-protocols stands for.

While we're reading and critiquing other peoples’ manuscripts in the Creative Writing class that I’m taking (taught by author Jody Gehrman), a recurring theme that I notice being brought up by class members is ‘explanation’. The theory that I’ve established is this: simple-minded people need every aspect of a story interpreted for them, each nook and cranny explored and dissected and given clear reason. 