Iosefka DV is in the query mines 🏳️‍⚧️

@seffydv.bsky.social

She/her, Black transfemme writer of colorful dark fantasy with a glimmer of hope. Querying my first novel FIRE TO FLOWERS!

No GenAI, ever. Sometimes 🔞. Ask me about weird PS1 games you've never heard of.

https://iosefkadv.carrd.co/

@seffydv.bsky.social Pinned

🔥FIRE TO FLOWERS🪻
After betraying her late lover, a vampire hiding her curse goes on a journey of penance with a holy knight possessed by her ex’s spirit.

🌹Black-coded elves
🌹Colorful dark fantasy
🌹Explanation, not excuses
🌹Equal platonic & romantic relationships

#QuestPit #Q #DF #H #A #POC #LGBT

Moodboard for my novel Fire to Flowers, depicting a black woman covered in blood and roses, purple hyacinths, baroque architecture, fractal art, and a skinned dog monster. Text describes some of the story's tropes: dual timelines, cosmic fractal horror, healing after trauma, visceral vampires, demons + angels (kinda), annoyances to friends, lush fantasy setting, and glimmers of hope.Comp titles for Fire to Flowers. I Am Made of Death by Kelly Andrew: Vibrant color Visceral horror Fear of oneself Combative MCs Blood Over Bright Haven by M.L. Wang: Flawed characters Political themes Magic as science Social status tensions The Tainted Cup by Robert Jackson Bennett: Strange setting Lush world Queer-normative Analytical MCProse samples from Fire to Flowers: She would claim what she was owed. She would make every loathsome soul see the wages of their disdain. She would rip open the throat of this wretched world and watch paradise drown in its own blood. Perhaps that, at least, would be enough. “Behold, the most important room of the palace,” Tiferet announces, the fabric of her dress sparkling as she twirls in place. “Nowhere in Flaundrys will you find such a locus of staggering innovation and breathtaking beauty! The woman who resides here must surely be the envy of all Tron Daurat!” Casimir glances, briefly, across the study, then rolls his eyes. “And that woman is you,” he drones. Her arms drop, but a smirk still plays across her lips. “Oh, don’t spoil the fun.” The death of an elf, once such a rare thing, still brings with it a small token of beauty. Perhaps it is one last unconscious act of creation performed just before the end, or perhaps it is merely the effect of the Ohr leaving their body. Whatever the cause, if the surroundings allow for it (even, at times, when they should not), a patch of mismatched flowers blooms at the site of their death. Snowflakes fell in the town’s flower-choked streets, stark against the dark hues of dried blood and mangled remains, and Tiferet’s heart hardly stirred. It was a tragedy, yes; just like all the other tragedies that made up the last thirteen years. The dark treeline behind the inn vomits a wave of horrors. No two demons are anything alike. Some are hulking masses, some smaller than an elf. They crawl on teeth like fingers. They fly on feathers of skin. A tongue ends in a head, whose tongue ends in a head, whose tongue ends in a head. A face pockmarked with vacant holes stares at nothing. The tail of one wears the visage of a sleeping child. And each is a vulgar, shrieking paroxysm of color. (Too much text to include)Musical vibes for Fire to Flowers: Witching Hour by In This Moment Alraune - Whisperer of Dementia from Bayonetta 2 Keeping Secrets from Monaco 2 JFK by Azealia Banks Drip by Nova Twins The Dark Below by Tigercub Born a Snake by P.O.S. Way & Means by Snow Patrol God Is a Circle by Yves Tumor Art from Lorelei and the Laser Eyes
@knightlyaffair.bsky.socialReposted by @seffydv.bsky.social

once you learn that most people who go to museums only look at an artwork for no more than 11 seconds and walk away with not many thoughts, you start to realize why short-form content is stupid and brainrotting and why you should let your art breathe and stand on its own, give it that space to exist

@mythjae.bsky.socialReposted by @seffydv.bsky.social

This is the only sale we'll have this year, so make sure to take advantage! 10% off all books and ebooks with the code!👇🏾✨

@othersidespec.bsky.socialReposted by @seffydv.bsky.social

Worried your work isn’t exploration-y enough? Try us anyway! This is a loose theme. We’re interested in explorations of new worlds and strange places. But we’re also interested in explorations of the self, the body, love, science, folklore, family… anything and everything! Seriously, go wild! 🔭 🗺️

@seffydv.bsky.social

That scene might not work for everyone, but it's one I still enjoy, and it's the kind of art I'm trying to create: allowing space to breathe every now and then. It's also after VERY heavily emotional moments, so both Tif and the reader could use a bit of breathing room.

@seffydv.bsky.social

But more importantly, it says a lot about Tiferet's character indirectly: her endurance, her connection to the place she lives, her ideology. And I try to give emotional impressions more than straight descriptions, so it feels like what it's describing and puts the reader in the moment more.

@seffydv.bsky.social

The timing works bc Tiferet is taking a long, solitary walk; it's also the first time the reader gets to see an elven city and the Nightmare itself, and they learn that the nation is mostly in daylight, which sets another visual mood. Also a chance to learn a bit about elven culture.

@seffydv.bsky.social

Yeah! I do sit and watch the scenery sometimes, but I try to loop it around into more than just looking at the scenery: saying something about the character, setting the tone, etc. I'll share a passage that's a very long description, but which I think does a lot of other things too.

Night never truly falls in Tron Daurat. What the elves call “evening” is only the period when the sun approaches the lowest arc in its lazy circling above: when the sky shifts from blue, to fiery orange, to dusky purple. Their celestial watcher still peeks over the distant northern mountains, its light never fully snuffed; merely cooled to a different shade for a few hours. It is enough, at least, for the elves to be gifted a glimpse of the true night the rest of the world endures. Beyond the southern mountain range, the purple sky darkens further to umbral indigo; and if one looks closely, gleams of starlight brighten even that suggestion of darkness. One might think Tiferet wove the fabric of that distant dusk into tonight’s sleek dress. The one-shouldered piece shimmers faintly with the motion of her body as she strides out of the palace’s towering emerald gate. A silvery sparkle glints along the loose slit sleeve down her swinging left arm and the black polish over her claws. She could get a ride directly to her bar of choice without much delay, but the night air cools her lungs, and the road down the hill to Flaundrys is empty of anyone else at this hour. Her thoughts can escape into the open sky, fluttering safely away instead of scrambling and screeching in the cage of her ribs. So she follows the gem-inlaid road, drifting alone beneath the glow of enchanted streetlamps, briefly free from prying eyes.A certain ease falls over Tron Daurat in these sparse hours of dusk; as if the elves are spared the looming presence of a judgmental father for a time, and all collectively agree to indulge in improprieties that would be frowned upon in the day. Clothes loosen, bars pour harder drinks than sweetblood, dance halls perform more intimate steps, and refinement is regarded as more of a suggestion than a rule. Yet, to Tiferet, the city of Flaundrys has always felt particularly special. The air feels a little lighter, the people passing on the streets a little less concerned about perception. There’s a certain joy of living instilled in those who live beneath the ever-present shadow of oblivion. Tiferet looks out over the sprawling city as she walks —and to the north, beyond Flaundrys’s marble walls, beyond rolling hills of plum-hued grasses, beyond Brecheliant Forest’s distant canopy of reds and purples, she has no choice but to see the blight of Neshiyyah. Before the Nightmare, that towering peak was the icon of elven divinity, stretching so impossibly high that they can be seen from any corner of Tron Daurat; and at its pinnacle sat the nation’s capital and the home of their ultimate leader, the Eloah. Now, the Nightmare suffuses that colossal icon in oily fog and flashes of astral lightning, twisting its beauty into an unavoidable condemnation of the elves’ hubris; and above Neshiyyah, the shattered sky bares the astronomical void of a nebular cosmos, an endless expanse of all-consuming anguish.Yet, beneath Neshiyyah’s shadow, Flaundrys shines still. The sun’s fading light gently gleams across the city’s domed emerald rooftops and walls of pastel green; it dances over iridescent walkways elevated by golden columns and embraced by wisteria vines. Between those proud buildings and their rounded walls wind smooth, serpentine streets; and illuminated by warm streetlamps, a rainbow of elves from commoner to nobility hunt for whatever joy their fractured paradise still holds. And the sight soothes Tiferet’s heart, to some small, fleeting degree. In spite of that lurking doom, Flaundrys endures; and so, too, does she. As she ever has, and ever will.
@seffydv.bsky.social

implications and hidden meanings even the speaker didn't?) Directness (do they say what they think, or dance around it?) Mood (do any of these factors change when they're angry, exhausted, excited, grieving?) All of these are influenced by (or influence) social status, education, relationships,

@seffydv.bsky.social

Accent (used VERY carefully; I tend to limit it to "gotta" versus "need to" type changes that an average reader would probably catch) Code switching (many people change how they speak depending on audience and circumstance - but some don't!) Attentiveness ("could you repeat that," or do they catch

@seffydv.bsky.social

more evocative dialogue tags (purred, sighed, mumbled), let the cadence of conversation imply the speaker, or use visual choreography instead) Body language (some people are very physical when speaking, others aren't) Focus (how well do they keep on topic, and how good are they at communicating)

@seffydv.bsky.social

stilted and alien, depending) Swearing (how often? how strong? one person peppers "fuck" in every other sentence, while it's genuinely shocking if another says it) Sentence length (do they go on with flowery or clinical language, or do they get to the point?) Tone (I almost never use "said;" I use

@seffydv.bsky.social

Everyone has given wonderful advice here, but I'll give a list of traits that I always consider when figuring out character dialogue. Volume (are they quiet and hesitant, or loud and confident - or loud and hesitant?) Contractions (not using them makes speech feel more languid and formal, or

@seffydv.bsky.social

That also makes each new setting you get to a chance for discovery in itself, which is great for motivation and inspiration! If it feels boring to you, make it something you find interesting; if you're not excited to get there, figure out how you can be. It's your world, after all.

@seffydv.bsky.social

give myself a vague impression while plotting (cozy village in a forest, crystalline wasteland, fractal hellscape) and get into more details when I write that scene. I think that approach makes every one of my settings feel meaningful and lived in, even if they're mundane and not big setpieces.

@seffydv.bsky.social

sit and describe something from top to bottom: you can describe it piecemeal through the scene or over several scenes, with broad strokes impressions to start and finer details bit by bit. So while I plot most of my work, every time there's a new setting I sit and consider what it's like - or I'll

@seffydv.bsky.social

describe. And you can pause to describe that scenery at so many points: when introducing a scene; when there's a lull in action or conversation; as a warm-up into a character's introspection or development (what do they notice? what's special to them? what reflects them?). You also don't have to

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