Hey, Random Writing Tip: Instead Of Having Something Be A Ridiculously Unlikely Coincidence, You Can

How to avoid White Room Syndrome

by Writerthreads on Instagram

A common problem writers face is "white room syndrome"—when scenes feel like they’re happening in an empty white room. To avoid this, it's important to describe settings in a way that makes them feel real and alive, without overloading readers with too much detail. Here are a few tips below to help!

Focus on a few key details

You don’t need to describe everything in the scene—just pick a couple of specific, memorable details to bring the setting to life. Maybe it’s the creaky floorboards in an old house, the musty smell of a forgotten attic, or the soft hum of a refrigerator in a small kitchen. These little details help anchor the scene and give readers something to picture, without dragging the action with heaps of descriptions.

Engage the senses

Instead of just focusing on what characters can see, try to incorporate all five senses—what do they hear, smell, feel, or even taste? Describe the smell of fresh bread from a nearby bakery, or the damp chill of a foggy morning. This adds a lot of depth and make the location feel more real and imaginable.

Mix descriptions with actions

Have characters interact with the environment. How do your characters move through the space? Are they brushing their hands over a dusty bookshelf, shuffling through fallen leaves, or squeezing through a crowded subway car? Instead of dumping a paragraph of description, mix it in with the action or dialogue.

Use the setting to reflect a mood or theme

Sometimes, the setting can do more than just provide a backdrop—it can reinforce the mood of a scene or even reflect a theme in the story. A stormy night might enhance tension, while a warm, sunny day might highlight a moment of peace. The environment can add an extra layer to what’s happening symbolically.

Here's an example of writing a description that hopefully feels alive and realistic, without dragging the action:

The bookstore was tucked between two brick buildings, its faded sign creaking with every gust of wind. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of worn paper and dust, mingling with the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee from a corner café down the street. The wooden floorboards groaned as Ella wandered between the shelves, her fingertips brushing the spines of forgotten novels. Somewhere in the back, the soft sound of jazz crackled from an ancient radio.

Hope these tips help in your writing!

The symbolism of flowers

Flowers have a long history of symbolism that you can incorporate into your writing to give subtext.

Symbolism varies between cultures and customs, and these particular examples come from Victorian Era Britain. You'll find examples of this symbolism in many well-known novels of the era!

Amaryllis: Pride

Black-eyed Susan: Justice

Bluebell: Humility

Calla Lily: Beauty

Pink Camellia: Longing

Carnations: Female love

Yellow Carnation: Rejection

Clematis: Mental beauty

Columbine: Foolishness

Cyclamen: Resignation

Daffodil: Unrivalled love

Daisy: Innocence, loyalty

Forget-me-not: True love

Gardenia: Secret love

Geranium: Folly, stupidity

Gladiolus: Integrity, strength

Hibiscus: Delicate beauty

Honeysuckle: Bonds of love

Blue Hyacinth: Constancy

Hydrangea: Frigid, heartless

Iris: Faith, trust, wisdom

White Jasmine: Amiability

Lavender: Distrust

Lilac: Joy of youth

White Lily: Purity

Orange Lily: Hatred

Tiger Lily: Wealth, pride

Lily-of-the-valley: Sweetness, humility

Lotus: Enlightenment, rebirth

Magnolia: Nobility

Marigold: Grief, jealousy

Morning Glory: Affection

Nasturtium: Patriotism, conquest

Pansy: Thoughtfulness

Peony: Bashfulness, shame

Poppy: Consolation

Red Rose: Love

Yellow Rose: Jealously, infidelity

Snapdragon: Deception, grace

Sunflower: Adoration

Sweet Willian: Gallantry

Red Tulip: Passion

Violet: Watchfulness, modesty

Yarrow: Everlasting love

Zinnia: Absent, affection

Emotional Walls Your Character Has Built (And What Might Finally Break Them)

(How your character defends their soft core and what could shatter it) Because protection becomes prison real fast.

✶ Sarcasm as armor. (Break it with someone who laughs gently, not mockingly.) ✶ Hyper-independence. (Break it with someone who shows up even when they’re told not to.) ✶ Stoicism. (Break it with a safe space to fall apart.) ✶ Flirting to avoid intimacy. (Break it with real vulnerability they didn’t see coming.) ✶ Ghosting everyone. (Break it with someone who won’t take silence as an answer.) ✶ Lying for convenience. (Break it with someone who sees through them but stays anyway.) ✶ Avoiding touch. (Break it with accidental, gentle contact that feels like home.) ✶ Oversharing meaningless things to hide real depth. (Break it with someone who asks the second question.) ✶ Overworking. (Break it with forced stillness and the terrifying sound of their own thoughts.) ✶ Pretending not to care. (Break it with a loss they can’t fake their way through.) ✶ Avoiding mirrors. (Break it with a quiet compliment that hits too hard.) ✶ Turning every conversation into a joke. (Break it with someone who doesn’t laugh.) ✶ Being everyone’s helper. (Break it when someone asks what they need, and waits for an answer.) ✶ Constantly saying “I’m fine.” (Break it when they finally scream that they’re not.) ✶ Running. Always running. (Break it with someone who doesn’t chase, but doesn’t leave, either.) ✶ Intellectualizing every feeling. (Break it with raw, messy emotion they can’t logic away.) ✶ Trying to be the strong one. (Break it when someone sees the weight they’re carrying, and offers to help.) ✶ Hiding behind success. (Break it when they succeed and still feel empty.) ✶ Avoiding conflict at all costs. (Break it when silence causes more pain than the truth.) ✶ Focusing on everyone else’s healing but their own. (Break it when they hit emotional burnout.)

How to Write a Character Who Feels Like Throwing Up

When fear, dread, or guilt gets sickening—literally—your character is consumed with a gut-clenching feeling that something is very, very wrong. Here's how to write that emotion using more than the classic "bile rose to the back of their throat".

Start with the Stomach

This isn’t just about discomfort. It’s about a complete rebellion happening inside their body.

Their stomach twists like a knot that keeps pulling tighter

A cold sweat beads on their neck, their palms, their spine

Their insides feel sludgy, like everything they’ve eaten is suddenly unwelcome

They double over, not from pain, but because sitting still feels impossible

Add Sensory Overload

Vomiting isn’t just a stomach reaction—it’s the whole body.

Their mouth goes dry, and then too wet

Their jaw tightens, trying to contain it

A sudden heat blooms in their chest and face, overwhelming

The back of their throat burns—not bile, but the threat of it

Breathing becomes a conscious effort: in, out, shallow, sharp

Emotional Triggers

Nausea doesn’t always need a physical cause. Tie it to emotion for more impact:

Fear: The kind that’s silent and wide-eyed. They’re frozen, too sick to speak.

Guilt: Their hands are cold, but their face is flushed. Every memory plays like a film reel behind their eyes.

Shock: Something just snapped inside. Their body registered it before their brain did.

Ground It in Action

Don’t just describe the nausea—show them reacting to it.

They press a fist to their mouth, pretending it’s a cough

Their knees weaken, and they lean on a wall, pretending it’s just fatigue

They excuse themselves quietly, then collapse in a bathroom stall

They swallow, again and again, like that’ll keep everything down

Let the Consequences Linger

Even if they don’t actually throw up, the aftermath sticks.

A sour taste that won’t leave their mouth.

A pulsing headache

A body that feels hollowed out, shaky, untrustworthy

The shame of nearly losing control in front of someone else

Let Them Be Human

A character feeling like vomiting is vulnerable. It's real. It’s raw. It means they’re overwhelmed in a way they can’t hide. And that makes them relatable. You don’t need melodrama—you need truth. Capture that moment where the world spins, and they don’t know if it’s panic or flu or fear, but all they want is to get out of their own body for a second.

Don't just write the bile. Write the breakdown.

Overused Words in Writing & How to Avoid Them

We’ve all got our comfort words—those trusty adjectives, verbs, or phrases we lean on like a crutch. But when certain words show up too often, they lose their impact, leaving your writing feeling repetitive or uninspired.

1. “Very” and Its Cousins

Why It’s Overused: It’s easy to tack on “very” for emphasis, but it’s vague and doesn’t pull its weight.

Instead of: “She was very tired.” Try: “She was exhausted.” / “She dragged her feet like lead weights.”

💡 Tip: Use precise, vivid descriptions rather than vague intensifiers.

2. “Looked” and “Saw”

Why It’s Overused: It’s functional but flat, and it often tells instead of shows.

Instead of: “He looked at her in disbelief.” Try: “His eyebrows shot up, his lips parting as if words had failed him.”

💡 Tip: Focus on body language or sensory details instead of relying on generic verbs.

3. “Suddenly”

Why It’s Overused: It’s often used to create surprise, but it tells readers how to feel instead of letting the scene deliver the shock.

Instead of: “Suddenly, the door slammed shut.” Try: “The door slammed shut, the sound ricocheting through the empty room.”

💡 Tip: Let the action or pacing create urgency without needing to announce it.

4. “Said” (When Overdone or Misused)

Why It’s Overused: While “said” is often invisible and functional, using it in every dialogue tag can feel robotic.

Instead of: “I can’t believe it,” she said. “Me neither,” he said. Try: Replace with an action: “I can’t believe it.” She ran a hand through her hair, pacing. “Me neither.” He leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

💡 Tip: Don’t ditch “said” entirely; just mix it up with context clues or action beats.

5. “Felt”

Why It’s Overused: It’s a shortcut that tells instead of showing emotions.

Instead of: “She felt nervous.” Try: “Her palms slicked with sweat, and she couldn’t stop her leg from bouncing.”

💡 Tip: Let readers infer emotions through sensory details or behavior.

6. “Really” and “Actually”

Why It’s Overused: They add little to your sentences and can dilute the impact of stronger words.

Instead of: “I really don’t think that’s a good idea.” Try: “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

💡 Tip: If a sentence works without these words, cut them.

7. “Walked” or “Ran”

Why It’s Overused: These are go-to movement words, but they can feel bland when used repeatedly.

Instead of: “He walked into the room.” Try: “He strolled in like he owned the place.” / “He shuffled in, avoiding everyone’s eyes.”

💡 Tip: Use verbs that convey mood, speed, or attitude.

8. “Just”

Why It’s Overused: It sneaks into sentences unnecessarily, weakening your prose.

Instead of: “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” Try: “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

💡 Tip: Delete “just” unless it adds essential nuance.

9. “Thought”

Why It’s Overused: It tells readers what a character is thinking instead of showing it through internal dialogue or action.

Instead of: “She thought he might be lying.” Try: “His story didn’t add up. The timelines didn’t match, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes.”

💡 Tip: Immerse readers in the character’s perspective without announcing their thoughts.

10. “Nice” and Other Vague Adjectives

Why It’s Overused: It’s generic and doesn’t give readers a clear picture.

Instead of: “He was a nice guy.” Try: “He always remembered her coffee order and held the door open, even when his arms were full.”

💡 Tip: Show qualities through actions instead of relying on vague descriptors.

Final Tips for Avoiding Overused Words:

1. Use a thesaurus wisely: Swap overused words for synonyms, but stay true to your character’s voice and the scene’s tone.

2. Read your work aloud: You’ll catch repetitive patterns and clunky phrases more easily.

3. Edit in layers: Focus on eliminating overused words during your second or third pass, not your first draft.

How to Write a Character

↠ Start with the basics, because obviously. Name. Age. Gender. Maybe even a birthday if you’re feeling fancy. This is step one because, well, your character needs to exist before they can be interesting. But nobody cares if they’re 27 or 37 unless it actually matters to the story.

↠ Looks aren’t everything… but also, describe them. Yes, we know their soul is more important than their hair color, but readers still need something to visualize. Do they have the kind of face that makes babies cry? Do they always look like they just rolled out of bed? Give us details, not just “tall with brown hair.

↠ Personality isn’t just “kind but tough.” For the love of storytelling, give them more than two adjectives. Are they kind, or do they just pretend to be because they hate confrontation? Are they actually tough, or are they just too emotionally repressed to cry in public? Dig deeper.

↠ Backstory = Trauma (usually). Something shaped them. Maybe it was a messy divorce, maybe they were the middle child and never got enough attention, or maybe they once got humiliated in a spelling bee and never recovered. Whatever it is, make it matter to who they are today.

↠ Give them a goal. Preferably a messy one. If your character’s only motivation is to “be happy” or “do their best,” they’re boring. They need a real goal, one that conflicts with who they are, what they believe in, or what they think they deserve. Bonus points if it wrecks them emotionally.

↠ Make them suffer. Yes, I said it. A smooth, easy journey is not a story. Give them obstacles. Rip things away from them. Make them work for what they want. Nobody wants to read about a character who just gets everything handed to them (unless it’s satire, then carry on).

↠ Relationships = Depth. Nobody exists in a vacuum. Who do they love? Who annoys the hell out of them? Who do they have that messy, can’t-live-with-you-can’t-live-without-you tension with? People shape us. So, shape your character through the people in their life.

↠ Give them a voice that actually sounds like them. If all your characters talk the same, you’ve got a problem. Some people ramble, some overthink, some are blunt to the point of being offensive. Let their voice show who they are. You should be able to tell who’s talking without dialogue tags.

↠ If they don’t grow, what’s the point? People change. They learn things, make mistakes, get their hearts broken, and (hopefully) become a little wiser. If your character starts and ends the story as the same exact person, you just wasted everyone’s time.

↠ Flaws. Give. Them. Flaws. Nobody likes a perfect character. Give them something to struggle with, maybe they’re selfish, maybe they push people away, maybe they’re addicted to the thrill of self-destruction (fun!). Make them real. Make them human.

↠ Relatability is key. Your character doesn’t have to be likable, but they do have to be understandable. Readers need to get them, even if they don’t agree with them. If your character never struggles, never doubts, and never screws up, I have bad news: they’re not a character, they’re a mannequin.

↠ You’re never actually done. Characters evolve, not just in the story, but as you write them. If something feels off, fix it. If they feel flat, dig deeper. Keep refining, rewriting, and letting them surprise you. That’s how you create someone who feels real.

Now go forth and write characters that actually make people feel something. And if you need a reminder, just ask yourself: Would I care if this person existed in real life? If the answer is meh, start over.

Things Your Character Pretends to Be (But Isn’t, At Least Not Yet)

(Identity masks, coping roles, survival personas.)

The caretaker (but no one’s ever taken care of them).

The brave one (but they’re terrified all the time).

The flirt (because real intimacy is terrifying).

The funny one (because laughter hides the panic).

The overachiever (but they feel like a fraud).

The chill one (but they’re screaming inside).

The leader (but they never wanted the spotlight).

The rebel (but they just want to belong).

The calm one (but their thoughts race nonstop).

The loyal one (even when people don’t deserve it).

The loner (but they’re starving for connection).

The tough one (but they’ve never been allowed to cry).

The problem-solver (but can’t fix their own mess).

The grounded one (but they feel completely lost).

The logical one (because feeling has always gotten them hurt).

The “together” one (but they’re falling apart in secret).

The “nice” one (but they’re boiling with resentment).

The free spirit (but they crave structure).

The peacemaker (but they never say what they need).

The heartbreaker (but they’re terrified of being left first).

sometimes you need dialogue tags and don't want to use the same four

NEED HELP WRITING? (a masterlist)

I have likely not added many that I've reblogged to this list. Please feel free to roam my blog and/or ask/message me to add something you'd like to see on this list!

Synonym Lists

Look by @writers-potion

Descriptors

Voices by @saraswritingtipps

Show, Don't Tell by @lyralit

Tips & Tricks

5 Tips for Creating Intimidating Antagonists by @writingwithfolklore

How To (Realistically) Make a Habit of Writing by @byoldervine

Let's Talk About Misdirection by @deception-united

Tips to Improve Character Voice by @tanaor

Stephen King's Top 20 Rules for Writers posted by @toocoolformedschool

Fun Things to Add to a Fight Scene (Hand to Hand Edition) by @illarian-rambling

Questions I Ask My Beta Readers by @burntoutdaydreamer

Skip Google for Research by @s-n-arly

Breaking Writing Rules Right: Don't Write Direct Dialogue by @septemberercfawkes

Databases/Resources

International Clothing

Advice/Uplifting

Too Ashamed of Writing To Write by @writingquestionsanswered

"Said" is Beautiful by @blue-eyed-author

How to Write a Sick Character

╰ First of all — being sick is boring as hell

Nobody tells you that. You think it’s gonna be poetic and tragic and emotionally moving, maybe a few tears on the windowpane and a soft piano soundtrack? Wrong. It’s pacing in a waiting room for two hours to be told to come back next week. It’s reruns of trash TV because your brain fog is so bad you can't even process a podcast. It's Googling "why do my bones hate me" at 3 a.m. and finding nothing helpful, only vibes. So if you're writing a sick character and every scene is Deep and Heavy and Symbolic, I love you but no. Let them be bored. Let them be over it. Let them fall asleep halfway through someone’s big speech.

╰ Second — sickness is basically a toxic relationship with your own body

And wow, the drama is unmatched. One day your character wakes up and thinks, “Maybe today will be normal.” Their body: “Plot twist, bitch.” Now they’re sweating through a hoodie, canceling plans, and pretending they're “just tired” because explaining the truth is somehow more exhausting than the illness itself. Let your character hate their body sometimes. Let them feel betrayed by it. Let them mourn the version of themselves that used to just do things without needing a three-day nap after. But also—let them fight for their body, too. Advocate. Adapt. Try again. Because it’s not all despair. Sometimes it’s really freaking brave just to get out of bed and put on pants.

╰ Third — it’s not cute

Hollywood loves to write illness like it’s an aesthetic. Clean blankets, sad smiles, a gentle cough. Yeah… no. Sometimes it’s vomit in your hair. It’s medical tape pulling off skin. It’s being too tired to shower but still scrolling through memes like your life depends on it. Give us the gross stuff. The embarrassing stuff. The human stuff.

╰ Fourth — let them be funny

Sick people are hilarious. Mostly because we have to be. You’ve got two choices when your body is a disaster zone: laugh, or fully unravel. So we joke about our failing organs. We flirt with the nurse while on IV fluids. We name our medical devices. We send memes from the ER. Let your character joke. Let them be sharp, sarcastic, absurd. Not because they're “taking it well,” but because that’s their armor. Humor is one of the most honest forms of pain. Use it.

╰ Fifth — sick ≠ broken

Please hear this: your character is not less than. They are not just here to suffer and die and inspire others with their angelic perseverance. They’re a person. Maybe a chaos goblin. Maybe a genius. Maybe a mess. Maybe a lover, a fighter, a giant emotional raccoon with a heating pad. Let them live and have goals. Let them chase things. Let them screw up. Let them be loved and desired and complicated. Their illness is part of them, not all of them.

╰ Lastly — don’t wrap it up too clean

Recovery isn’t linear. Some illnesses don’t “end.” And that’s okay. You don’t need a miracle cure in the third act. Sometimes strength is just learning to exist in a different way. Sometimes it’s re-learning how to hope. Sometimes it’s finding a new rhythm instead of forcing the old one to work. Let your character find peace, not perfection. So yeah—if you’re writing a sick character, you’re doing something important. You’re making space for people whose stories rarely get told with truth and teeth and tenderness. Just promise me you won’t turn them into a symbol. Let them be a person. A funny, scared, strong, exhausted, hopeful person. Like the rest of us.

@katrein05 I Hope This Helps a little... :)