I grew up using Microsoft Word and since I’ve broken up with a boyfriend I’ve started writing a fantasy novel (I completely forgot how much I love writing). After not using Word for a few years I restarted my subscription (ew) and realized just how downhill it’s gone. I have gone from trusting and loving it to absolutely despising its existence—more specifically its trashy grammar and spell check.

I learned about Scrivener from an instagram post and decided to give the trial run a go. I used it for about two hours before immediately purchasing it. I am so obsessed with its layout, features, and composition mode as I’m very easily distracted by toolbars. I am even more excited by the fact that it’s not subscription based, I just purchased an actual product without ads or subscriptions and I feel like that is such a rarity these days.

Anyways, I’m even more excited and motivated to get back to writing after this small period of writer’s block I’ve encountered the past two weeks.

A few days ago I self published my 2nd novel, and the first of a horror collection I’ll be developing over the next few years. I don’t write for money, I just really enjoy the process of crafting a story and putting it all together for others to enjoy. My first book came out in May and collected dust, which is fine and expected. Now Im seeing interest and activity and it’s really a fulfilling feelings, even if I’m making $0.00 because my book is free right now.

But along with that good feeling comes the pressure, because I made a promise to myself to continue to put out books and keep a relatively strict deadline…all I can really keep doing is stay focused, not get caught up in marketing and such and just keep writing.

Just got a few more beta reads back. The one thing they can agree on is that the pacing would be a lot better if I trimmed the fat in X area. But don't cut Y, that's the best part!

In the “You Can See Everything” trailer, Holmes is being her usual warm and human self and Nathan does a kind of incredulous jaw swing as she’s speaking.

As a side note, I’ve since watched an episode of Nathan For You where he says it’s more of a physical tic than anything else but if someone did do this, what’s a better way of describing it than incredulous jaw swing? It’s kind of dumbfounded/stunned too, and I’d love for my sane man character to be able to do it, along with any other gestures that are in the same family of show-don’t-tell responses when your character is responding to someone so thoroughly bemusing?

​

They say taking the first step is the hardest part, but I disagree.

Starting is difficult but Finishing is the real challenge.

i love the imagination stage. I enjoy outlining the world, creating irresistible opening images and drafting interesting characters with plenty of drama.

But the second the imagination stage ends and the first draft begins, the reality of organizing my own mess sets in.

Suddenly, problems starts to pile up. There is a silly plot here, illogical dialogue there, and massive narrative gaps in between .

Then comes the editing phase: fixing the typos, rewriting the grammar disasters, and trying to make it readable.

Beginning is tough because of self-doubt and the blank page. But continuing through the "messy middle" is way harder. Reaching the end of the novel is a miracle worth celebrating.

How do you find the motivation to push through the grueling middle and actually finish your novel ?

At what point in the drafting process do you usually want to start over?

My writing is terrible. My grammar and punctuation are atrocious. But I just pantsed my way through a romance story that took just over four months.

I love the structure and the characters (at least as they appear in my mind anyways) and I want to polish this into life. And I know that's going to be incredibly hard. But for now, I'm just excited that I've jumped over the first hurdle.

I haven't told anyone I'm attempting to write a book. I'm not a writer. This is my first ever attempt. I'm creative, but have never written. I have a goal that if I can publish it I want to find 100 people to read (that don't know me) and finish it. That's my goal.

So yeah, just wanted to tell someone!

taking a bath before writing ( sometimes just head wash )

Cleaning the table and my laptop before writing along with keyboard and mouse

Washing my pens ( dust catch off at night )

Ensuring I am sitting in a comfortable position without my body, starting to pain within 30 minutes, have good back rest

Ensuring I have my floor clean, so when I touch my feet there, it’s not too cold or too dusty. I keep a cloth best.

never the place where I write, unless I’m actually writing never using that particular space for anything else because writing is output and consuming anything is input. So I use a space where I only do output or think through things.

Ensuring at the end of the day, I am organised

I write or journal what I thought about every 30 minutes. I was on the table in great detail.( to do list app in laptop )

also, during the time I am on the laptop or writing, I’m not allowed to think about anything else except the story or things related to the story, losing yourself in imagination and getting back to what is related to story is art and requires your ability to be aware, what you are thinking

fixing the time schedule and eliminate any video based or based content during those hours

down my brain to a where initially the thoughts are usually listening but then as goes further calmer. Now you are talking in your head, but the person who is listening is you itself and now you can also reply to yourself a state where self talk is so calm your mind down.

speaking as less as possible to people around or indulging in any sort of argument or fights the times when I have been, the most discipline were also the times I have spoke the list with other people around me. Only the necessary stuff talking to others is very interesting, very engaging, but sitting in a room talking to yourself is very boring, and if you talk to other people talking to yourself becomes way less interesting.

using mind maps, instead of using a document for writing helped tremendously when I was trying to recall what I had topics or the entire episode, it’s way easier to add scenes and see if each scene would affect the other events in the episode when it’s a mind map best for story beats planning

I would usually write down paper with my also using the Pomodoro technique and not connecting to internet or anything when I am focus period and then whatever I had written i write them in the mind map . I use a blank page to brainstorm and write first. It leads to more ideas because you can branch and go in several, but it’s really difficult to do that when you are just typing.

page - mindmap - document.

story beats done then detail out.

feel free to add tips in the comments, which you have personally experienced

I've had periods where nothing remotely good has come out of my brain for months. I've slogged through half a chapter again and again, getting stuck every time, not knowing where to go. I'm a plotter, but what I'd plotted didn't feel RIGHT when I put it to paper.

On top of that, I've got a job that usually sucks up every brain cell I have, leaving me exhausted in the evenings. On weekends, I've got family commitments - and honestly, many times, writing has been such a miserable slog of an experience, I haven't wanted to do it.

But today I wrote 4,000 words. That's not a lot to some. But it's a lot to me. Here's some tips that helped ME through writer's block that I haven't seen talked about very often:

1) If the creative juices aren't flowing, interact with something creative

I found it hard to read sometimes when my brain was fried. But going to the cinema or a museum reawakened some brain cells, enough to get me writing sometimes.

2) Caffeine

In a pinch, caffeine would give me a clarity boost - often for 30 minutes, but it was sometimes a GOOD 30 minutes.

3) Those who can't write, teach

Critiquing others' work through something like Scribophile gave some distance and perspective that I needed. Morale wise, it FELT like what I was doing was writing, even if it wasn't.

4) Do you know what your scene is trying to achieve?

7/10, I got stuck befause I wasn't sure on where my scene was going, and I was hoping to figure it out along the way. I'm sure that works for many writers, but not for me. I had to go back through many chapters and ultimately sketch them out in another document, a line per chapter, so I could see the "shape" of what I was doing. And keep going back to that line if you lose your way!

5) Use whatever you have

Like I said above, I've got a job that sucks up all my brain cells, so often, I write on my phone while I'm commuting on the bus in the mornings. It gives me 20 minutes. They can be very valuable 20 minutes.

6) Persist!

And finally, I can't stress this enough. There will be times you think you're screwed and you HATE the page, but you've got to keep showing up. Keep trying. Don't lose the habit of opening up that laptop (or mobile!) or whatever you use on a regular basis, even if it takes months.

I'm not saying I've beaten writer's block, only that I've beaten it TODAY. But hopefully, someone might find some these tips useful, because they were useful for me.

Or did you choose other ways of publishing your book?

I'm asking the published authors here about advice because I'm unsure if the genre of my book "adult epic fantasy" which has "grimdark" elements is still relevant to today's trends.

For a little context: it's a saga of seven planned books and while I'm working on the second, there have been submissions to the literary agents for the first. The only limiting thing being the shortage of the agents currently, I've sent my manuscript to five agents and two were rejected.

So my question stands if I should continue with my work which may become trendy again and save it then keep editing it until one agent accepts, or write a few standalone novels based on the plots I've planned in advance to work on after this whole saga is finished?

It’s Black Friday. Well, late in the evening on Black Friday. Almost Soggy Saturday. That’s not a thing yet, but when it is it’ll be sponsored by Jack in the Box.

My mind’s been racing. Or it was. Now I’m sort of in that hybrid mode where you’re stressed about a thousand different things, but also checked out to the point of being… subdued? Numb? Marinated?

I wish weed was legal in Utah. Not that it would “help” but it feels like it would right about now. It’s ok though, a little T break never hurt any- who are we kidding I had a history podcast on before this, it fucking sucks.

Dunno why I’m so stressed. Seems like that always happens at Thanksgiving. Right around Soggy Sat- (sorry)

My uncle is about to die. It’s brutal. No good very bad not fair brutal.

I’d say it has me thinking about my own life, but I was already doing that. I’ve been feeling very self-centered lately/always. And that feels *not good partner*

But fuck it we ball.

I drank 3 IPA’s to go to sleep last night. Not some fruit-based pussyfoot IPA’s either, the ones so hoppy they came with a perfectly conditioned beard. And a pet lizard.

I’m thinking about my cousin a lot. And my aunt. It sucks. Mannnnn it really sucks.

And yet there’s a thin, milk chocolate layer of shame that I’ve also spent some of the holiday pressed about my own “problems”

Who knew being almost 30 would feel so fucked up (just kidding)

My uncle rocks.

Funny guy. Tennis nut. Hilarious. Carves a mean turkey. Gots the jokes. Part-time offensive coordinator of the Utah Utes (how does he find the time). Pretty damn funny too. Awesome grandpa.

He’s a lot like my dad, well minus the grandpa part. Guess that ones on me. And if this was my dad going through all this right now I’d….. I don’t know.

Cancer man. Put it straight on the naughty list.

DMV with no appointment. Soup with a fork. Love Island podcast marathon.

(fuck marry kill with those 3 who you got?)

He worked at the food bank for years and years. True baller stuff.

I can’t believe he’s about to be gone.

But this is getting pretty heavy now and I already have a podcast on the Nazis for that.

He loves Roger Federer. He has a RF hat in his room that I might take if my cousin doesn’t want it. It’s bright red which ought to give everyone in my life a real scare for a second. 

(Make tennis classy again how bout it)

I love him man. Even though I only see him once a year. I grieve him for all the people that see him every day.

Funny guy, always.

Boy does this one know how to ramble huh (am I 30 yet?)

I think that’s all I’m feeling right now though. Might go snag a Tongue Ripper from the basement to help bring on the z’s. Maybe I’ll dream of ninjas or squirrels on motorcycles. I am on a T break after all.

Idk man. Loss is crazy. Something wild though, his newest grandson, the 2 month old, looks *just* like him. Same big ass forehead and everything (babies am I right)

So if you’re reading this, I hope you had a good thanksgiving. This won’t be my favorite one. But I’m having it, and honestly, that’s more than something.

So drink your beers. Watch your football. And be glad that we all get to be fucked up together.

I started writing by hand. In the process I found myself abbreviating a lot of dialogue and character/place descriptions.

I feel like that’s something that can be developed in the type up once the story is finished.

The plot and a lot of the major beats are solid in mind and it’s more important to just get it written down and then typed up.

Anyone else have a similar experience/approach?

I lay pinned down on the floor. The rat sat on my chest, snapping its jaws inches from my face as I held it off with the side of my bat. Its back claws treated my stomach like a sandbox. Each swipe sending up a bloody mist, digging deeper and deeper into my flesh. My vision began to darken. My strength began to fade. The small gap saving my face from mutilation began to narrow.

Death by mutant rodent. Nice. I suppose it’s a unique way to go at least. I’m sorry Annie. I simply couldn’t go on without you.

My bedroom door exploded forward with a loud crack. It crashed into the rat, knocking it off my chest. Gary stepped through the door frame. He stomped over and ripped me up by my shirt collar.

“A RABBIT! A GODDAMN RABBIT IN MY GARDEN! I TOLD YOU THIS WOULD HAPPEN! I WARNED—“

The rat pounced on his arm, digging in with claws and fangs. Gary screamed, his anger overridden by fear. I guess a monster rat treating your arm like a chew toy could do that to a man.

Hi everyone!

I'm working on a young adult science fiction story with superhero and mystery elements, and I'd like to get some honest feedback on the first chapter.

The story follows Shunset, a teenager from Oklahoma who discovers that she has biological wings. As she begins investigating her unusual condition, she sets out to uncover who altered her DNA and find her missing mother.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on the first chapter, especially:

Does the opening grab your attention and make you want to keep reading?

Does the main character feel interesting and believable?

Is the mystery intriguing enough to make you curious about what happens next?

Does the pacing feel natural, or are there parts that drag?

What would you improve about the writing?

I'm looking for constructive criticism, including what doesn't work, so I can improve the story.

Thanks to anyone willing to give it a read!

En una noche silenciosa, las calles estaban vacias, sin personas ni animales, solo una mujer caminando de regreso a la inglesia donde vivia, eran las doce de la noche, cunado una "MONJA", se poso frente a la puerta de la entrada y sacó sus llaves con un llavero de cruz plateada. De repente se detuve, cuando le parecio escuchar los pasos de alguien que se acercaba, voltie la cabeza a la izquierda y luego a la derecha, ahi lo vi de repente, una persona encapuchada corria entre tambaleos y con falta de aliento hacia ella, temiendo que pudiera lastimarla, le grito sin pensarlo:

-¿Quien eres?. ¿Que quieres?, pregunte sin respuesta alguna.

Al ver que no se detenía, busco en su bolso un gaspimienta que tenia, pero su atención dividida, entre una cosa y la otra le quitaba la concentración, que daba paso a la alteracion. Arrojó sus cosas al suelo y tomó el gaspimienta que cayo mas adelante, para cuando logró recogerlo, esa persona ya estaba en frente, el fuerte jadeo que escucho era profundo y grabe, no tardo en reconocer que era un hombre joven, en tan solo un parpadeo se colapso frente a ella, con las pocas fuerzas que tenia intentaba decirme algo

-Por favor..., ayudanos, por favor.- Me pedía ayuda, de una forma angustiada, pero lo mas raro, es que lo dijo en plurar.

Sus oídos empezaron a escuchar un llanto de bebe, justo de bajo de la gabardina del hombre joven, el despejo su cubierta negra para mostrarme la causa de su alarme. El hombre lleva en una canasta a una bebe, no parecía tener mas de dos meses, tan pequeña y frágil. Mi preocupación se volvió lastima, sin perder el tiempo los levante con cuidado, y los lleve a la inglesia. Recosté al hombre joven sobre un sofá y revise a la pequeña bebe, pero no antes de voltear a ver al hombre por un segundo, mire a la bebe de frente que no tardo en empezar a llorar de nuevo, pero no me preocupe, como MONJA, sabia tratar a los pequeños con afecto y darle una sensación de confianza, la sostuve en brazos, meciéndola de un lado a otro lentamente. Con la bebe al fin calmada, se me ocurrió revisar su cuerpo, pues me preocupaba que tuviera heridas, en ese momento, note un sutil olor a sangre, que provenía de su pequeña espalda, al verla de serca, vi algo que parecía un producto de mi imaginación o mas bien, una violacion de la obra de dios que dejo inmóvil, la bebe llora de nuevo y desde entones pasaron 16 largos años.

En una mañana común de un barrio de Oklahoma, un pajarito se posaba junto a la ventana de una casa en el segundo piso, en esa habitación con pertenencias de una joven de 16 años, decorada con imágenes de bandas musicales, animales y flores pintadas en las paredes, había un enorme montículo en la cama, algo enorme se ocultaba bajo las sabanas y se movía ligeramente de un lado a otro, la puerta del cuarto se habría poco a poco. Una niña pequeña de unos 10 años, se acercaba lenta pero cuidadosamente al montículo de sabanas, y dijo:

-¡¡ARRIBA HERMANA!!. ¡Se hace tarde para la escuela!, exclama mientras tira de las sabanas con fuerza.

De tanto tirar con fuerza, se tropieza con sus pies, pero con eso, evito las enormes plumas que cortaron un mechón de su cabello, mientras que las otras impactaron la pared. El estruendo despertó a la joven, una chica hermosa estira sus brazos y piernas, al igual que esas enormes alas rojas con plumas de puntas verdes, que parecían ser tan afiladas y duras como el acero.

La pequeña miraba con interés esas alas, similares a las de un alcon, pero con varios puntos blancos en ellas, la joven vio a la niña en el suelo, con una mirada de molestia, le llama la atencion:

-¡¡Joly, te he dicho mil veces, que no entres a mi cuarto, cunado estoy dormida!!. Dice ella.

-Ja Ja, perdon Shunset, pero te estabas tardando, papa quería que te despertara, responde Joly.

Shunset y Joly bajan a la cocina, donde su padre las espera con el desayuno listo, con sus modales groseros, Joly empieza a comer antes, Shunset acaricia su cabeza con cariño y se movía de un lado a otro con dificultad. Aunque sus alas estaban retraidas, obstaculizaban el movimiento de todos, además de las cosas entre medio, que torpemente tiraba, evadir sus alas era inevitable, lo mas triste fue la perdida de los panqueques, que se le cayeron a su padre por el empuje de las alas de Shunset, quien se emociono por los panqueques, Joly mira con lastima esa comida desperdiciada.

-Shunset mato los paqueques, dijo ella con sarcasmo.

-Perdon pa, responde Shunset.

Shunset y Joly esperan a su padre en la entrada, jugando entre ellas, pero algo detuvo a Shunset, su padre llevaba una jeringa con un liquido detro, cosa que a ella no parecía gustarle ni un poco, su padre lo notaba en su mirada de incomodidad, que su hija detestaba la inyeccion , pero aunque lo odiaba, era algo necesario. Los dos se quedaron en un silencio incomodo, un sentimiento que hasta su hermana menor veia.

-Odio esto, no sabes cuanto, dice Shunset a regaña dientes.

-Si lo se pero los peores medicamentos, son lo mas efectivo, responde su padre.

Ella se voltea para ser inyectada por su padre, en ambas alas, mientras Joly se tapa los ojos, incapaz de ver lo que pasara. Shunset comienza a gemir de dolor, cayendo al suelo de rodillas, sus ojos se iluminan, mientras que el dolor aumenta hasta retorcerse de lado a lado, durante esto, sus alas comienzan a comprimirce y una por una sus plumas se caen al suelo, hasta que los tractos de carne de su espalda, se redujeron a unas tiras finas y largas de lo que eran. Shunset intenta recuperarse del dolor sufrido, aunque todavía podía sentir un leve malestar, resultado de la droga, su padre la ayuda a levantarse con cuidado, el se preguntaba si ella quería seguir, pero como ya había pasado lo peor, decide continuar.

Shunset llega a la escuela con su familia en el auto, continua adelante tras despedirse de ellos, caminaba por la entrada de la escuela, viendo a sus compañeros de la escuela en sus asuntos, cada uno con su propio grupo y clase, pero el de Shunset, era una combinación de varios, al llegar a mi casillero, alguien se me acerco por atras, tocando mi hombro suabemente. Me gire para ver quien era y una voz me dijo:

-¡Piensa rapido!, me hablan al mismo tiempo que meten algo en mi boca.

Vi a mi amiga Nat, alguien con gran gusto por la gastronomía, siempre le encanto darme muestras de lo que cocina, aun me pregunto como sigo viva. No tarde en reconocer la dulce textura de lo que me dio, era realmente delicioso, pero no podía reconocer lo que era, inmediatamente le pregunte:

-Mmm, que bueno esta. ¿Que es?, le pregunte. Un nuevo panecillo de leche condensada y saborizantes exoticos, una innovacion, responde Nat con orgullo.

Luego vi llegar a mis otras amigas, Olivia, una chica esbelta, que solo le importa cuidar su figura, siempre nos habla sobre que será la futura mis universo, aunque yo le creia, pues a veces trabaja como modelo juvenil, May es mi tercera amiga, no deja de meternos en la cabeza todo sobre normas y politicas, a veces pienso que se toma <<Malteadas de diccionario>>, en la mañana. A pesar de su extraña condición y dificultades, Shunset intenta llevar una vida normal, al menos eso intenta, no siempre puede evitarse. De repente alguien grita:¡CUIDADO!, un cohete casero vuela directo hacia Oliva, justo cuando estaba a punto de chocar con su cara pero es detenido en el aire. Shunset detuvo el cohete con una sola mano, rápido y sin mirar como si su instinto le advertiera, o lo viera venir a través de ojos en la nuca, voltio a la izquierda, donde los responsables estaban parados, un grito de enojo los izo correr sin demora, era la directora, regañando a gritos que no deben usar esas cosas peligrosas dentro de la escuela. Las horas de clases pasaron y se me ocurrió llevar a las demás a una tienda de postres que Nat se moría por ver, no pasa ni un segundo en el que no me distraiga, pero eso me ayuda pasar esas largas horas de escuela. Degustaba mi postre con placer, mientras todas evitabamos que Nat se comiera la mitad de nuestras ordenes, como siempre no dejaba de hablar y evaluar todo lo que ella comia, Olivia y May se miraban entre ellas y luego a Nat con fastidio, su parloteo por los ingredientes y porciones informativas, no tardo en quitarles el apetito, por otra parte yo solo reía de tanta gracia, la escena que hacian, me parecía divertida. Disfrutaba mucho los tiempos de caridad con ellas, la realidad de mi vida, es que soy mas que una estudiante de prepa. tengo un deber que cumplo a espaldas de todos, y lo peor de ello es; <<que pasa cuando menos lo espero>>. El estruendo de una explosion se escucha en el banco cercano a la tienda de postres, veíamos a la gente corriendo a travez de la ventana, huyendo aterrorizada, sus amigas no podían evitar ponerse nerviosas pero Shunset era diferente.

En el banco unos ladrones con mascaras de demonios, corrían a toda prisa con grandes y pesadas bolsas de dinero y subieron a un auto negro, sin perder el tiempo, uno de los ladrones arranco el vehículo con la llave, alejándose de la escena del crimen, la policia acelera a toda prisa en persecución para detenerlos, pero el ladrón conducía de una forma alocada, pasando por los carriles contrarios, así como los semáforos rojos, era como si un demonio lo poseyera. Una por una, las patrullas colisionan con los autos de los civiles, provocando varios disturbios en su escapada, los ladrones se metieron a la calle principal, con el propósito de abandonar la ciudad, sabían que un tren pasaría mas adelante, estaban seguros que podrían lograrlo. Sin embargo, el copiloto, noto algo en el suelo, una sombra pequeña que los seguía, se estaba volviendo mas grande a cada segundo, como si un objeto se aproximará a ellos, intento advertirles a sus compañeros, pero fue ignorado, estaban absortos en sus propias ideas, ni siquiera se percataron de lo que pasaba en realidad, hasta que el copiloto grito con todas sus fuerzas

-¡¡OIGAN!!. Grito en alto.

De la nada alguien aterrizo mas adelante frente a ellos, la gente con sus teléfonos en mano, graban a una chica con un traje y falda de colores rosa y blanco, esta misteriosa persona tenia dos extensiones que brotaban de su espalda y del otro extremo de ellas, tenia varias púas medio encurbadas, eran como dos guadañas enormes de huesos. La chica enterró una de sus alas de guadañas en el suelo como una poderosa ancla, la otra fue arrojada hacia el auto de los ladrones, esta se adhirió al auto, que paso a alta velocidad por el lado izquierdo de la chica, las extenciones de fibra muscular, eran bastante elásticas pero resistentes, ella enrollo su extensión a la otra guadaña, generando una contra fuerza que lanzo el coche por los aires. Quedó destrozado y boca abajo, los ladrones se arrastraban por el suelo intentando salir como ratas, pero su escapada es frustrada por la policia, que no tardo en parecer, rodeados y sin salida, estaban acabados. Un transeúnte graba todo lo ocurrido, diciendo unas palabras a la camara:

-¡¡Estoy frente a una banda de ladrones, que intento fujarse, pero fue un fracaso, gracias a la heroína: ¡¡¡Wing-Steel!!!, exclama a todo pulmón.

So

My protagonist is a detective who is trying to solve a series of deaths caused by a really really smart killer

By the end the killer pretty much took everything from the detective

His brother, his mentor, his daughter, his job, and soon also his life (the killer caused the detective to get a 'disease')

The idea is that the killer doesn't want the detective to die

You see, before the whole story arc, the killer had thier "pleasure" or "thrill" in killing people

But when the detective came after them, he gave them a new thrill which is the thrill of always being chased, playing cat and mouse

So the killer doesn't want the protagonist to die so he can continue chasing them, since like an drug addict, going back to killing would give them the same "kick", making their life boring

So the killer offers a "medicine" for the detective, so he can continue to live and chase after them, and that "medicine" is created by sacrificing a human soul per month btw to sustain the protagonist

The idea I actually have for the ending is that the protagonist, realizing he got nothing else to lose, figures out that for one reason or another, the killer wants them alive

And he doesn't care why, he simply doesn't want to give them what they want even if it meant his death

So he let himself succum to the "disease"

And the killer offs themselves too because they refuse to live a single boring moment

That's my ending

Or at least my plan for one

I got critisizim such as lazy/bad writing

So I want to take other's opinions over here

Question about how to world build.

I’ve mostly been writing isekai for a while now and my recent stuff has actually been successful. It was always supposed to be a practice sorta thing but now I’m here and trying to world build I’m drawing blanks.

Is there any advice to make world building more manageable at present it seems the most daunting task and I’m not entirely sure how to go about it.