I realized in my writings, I've managed to write I multiple times per paragraph, I'm also stuck with white room syndrome where I don't describe anything.
I can't seem to rid of the "I"s and "Me"s, when I re-read my sentences, it's just I everywhere. Even as I write this sentence, I realize I wrote I at least nine times.
How do other First-Person writers deal with the I-dhd.
*Also,
I can't seem to figure out how to increase readership, views seem consistent but readers keep dropping like a brick.
Most readers expect to see “I” used a ton in a first person story, so don’t ever beat yourself up if you see it a few dozen times in a chapter. I’ve realized that readers tend to notice these things far less than we do as writers. But, I’ll show you a few ideas I’ve come up since this repetition also drove me crazy before:
Example 1. Combine the sentences so the subject doesn’t restart every time.
Original from your story: I hit the grass hard, the impact sending a jolt through my frame that felt... different. I didn't land like a guy. I landed with a strange, springy tension.
Revised Version: I hit the grass hard, and the impact sent a jolt through my frame that felt… different. Not like a guy hitting the ground, but with a strange, springy sensation.
Example 2. Remove action phrases and turn them into summaries of the action instead (not sure if it’s called action phrases, but that’s what I’m going with).
Original from your story: I stood motionless for a minute. I needed to think. I remembered Earth. I remembered the long raid and the dim light of my room. I tried to think about my family. I tried to think about what earth was like.
Revised Version: I stood motionless for a moment, trying to think. Memories of my life back on Earth began to surface: the long raid, the dimly lit room, my family, and what Earth had been like.
Example 3. Let the environment or action be the focus of the sentence instead of the character (This one should actually help out on your white room syndrome problem).
Original from your story: I dropped to one knee. The vacuum-sealed suit was so thin I could feel every pebble and blade of grass through the fabric on my shin. I peered through the scope, my cybernetic eye syncing with the rifle’s ballistics.
Revised Version: Dropping to one knee drove a sharp pebble straight through the thin, vacuum sealed fabric of the suit. Inside the scope, the cybernetic eye synced with the rifle’s ballistics, and the sunrise was stripped of any color worth admiring.
Last one required me to actually write instead of stealing your wording, so sorry if it came out a bit clunky.
