Last thread is autosaging and is near the bottom of the catalog, near death. Before posting your critique, please take a moment to silently remember the past thread and shepherd its soul into the future.
Also, here's my story.
Should I even try
>>8254991
Well written, but makes me feel a bit out at sea. Would be easier with more context, maybe, or if you had enough credibility to make the reader want to put in the work.
>>8255005
Not terrible, I think you revised this since the last thread? Now there's only one sentence that sounds obviously awkward to my ear, which is the opening of paragraph 2. Overall it reads a little awkwardly. That should improve with time but keep rhythm in mind when you revise. Maybe try reading aloud.
If anyone's interested...
1 of 5
>>8255078
2 of 5
>>8255081
3 of 5
>>8255082
4 of 5
>>8255085
5 of 5
Amateur here, should I just quit while I'm ahead?
>>8255087
>Amateur here, should I just quit while I'm ahead?
Quit while you're almost finish. That way when you're old you could lament that you never finish a story.
>>8254991
Somewhat beautiful up until i completely lost track at the end. Maybe it's cause im a retard though.
>>8255005
*pored
*yawning
you jump tenses quite a bit, and honestly your descriptions are far too overwrought and too numerous and seriously make reading quite painful.
>>8255078
Well written but not surprising prose, Harry Potter tier. Lacks darkness and depth, but maybe it's because it's merely an introduction, but it sounds too teensy (red until the 3rd page however)
>>8255087
Not aggressively bad, way outside the interests of this board and myself and you're probably going to get eviscerated, but not aggressively bad. Keep working and keep studying the art of writing good genre fiction. The font is kind of obnoxious and the paragraphing is wrong.
>>8255092
Thank you, could you tell me where specifically you lost track of what was happening?
>>8255120
I just don't understand the dream and what dolores said within it. And then i also don't know what u mean by "the subject of my liturgy" IDK it's confusing as fuck. I didn't get anything out of it for some reason
>>8255102
>>8255101
Thanks for the two cents mi amigos. The font is Gramond cause I thought Times New Romans was just a meme. But I suppose if that's what everyone is used to... So be it.
I'm aiming to make something teenagers will eat up, but don't necessarily want the writing to look like shit. If it reads Teensy - that's because it's in the viewpoint of a 14 year old right now (and because I want the target demographic to have a fluid accessibility with my writing lol).
I've never published anything and only write on the occasion, but I'll keep learning. If anyone's got any books to recommend me on the subject (more specifically good fantasy in 1st person view) that's be a blast.
>>8254983
Is it possible to make a realistic Urban Fantasy with switching P.O.V.
>>8255240
why wouldnt it be
Bit from my novel
This is a story in Serbian, so if anyone here knows Serbian, please critique. I'll also post a translation.
Биo caм нa caхpaни јyчe. Бapeм миcлим дa јecaм. Билo јe cyвишe cyмopнo, ниcy тo кao нaшe caхpaнe. He, oвдјe cy cви кpoкoдилcки oплaкивaли пoкoјникa, a зaтим cy ce пoвyкли y cвoјe ayтoмoбилe. Cигypнo cy ce дoгoвapaли гдјe ћe љeтoвaти, y њимa. Mи ce бapeм нe лaжeмo, кoлeктивнo ce paдyјeмo тyђoј caхpaни, caмo јep ce дoбpo јeдe и пијe. He знaм, љyди cy oвдјe тaкo дивљи. Eтo нa пpимјep, јyчe ce кacиpкa тaкo љyбaзнo oпхoдилa пpeмa мeни. Hиcaм нaвикao нa тo. Имaлa јe oнa глaзгoвшки ocмијeх. Peклa ми јe „Дoђитe oпeт!“ – e пa бaш нeћy – билo би ми caмo нeпpијaтнo. Кaд јe лoшe pacпoлoжeнa, бapeм знaм дa нeштo ocјeћa. Oвaкo јe кao aвeт. Cyтpa мe пoзнaник звao нa cјeмeнкe и пивo, дa глeдaмo yтaкмицy. Бaш тaкo јe и peкao „Дoђи нa cјeмeнкe и пивo, глeдaмo yтaкмицy“. Toг кoд нac нeмa – тo ce пpocтo дecи. Улeтимo y дpaгcтop, пoкyпимo двoлy и cјeмeнкe и изaђeмo. Кaквo дoгoвapaњe, кaквe тpицe.
I attended a funeral yesterday. At least I think I did. It was too gloomy, those aren't like our funerals. No, everyone here wept over the deceased with crocodile tears, and then they retreated in their cars. Most likely talked about vacation plans in them. At least we're honest, collectivly we celebrate someone's funeral, just because we can drink and eat good. I'm not sure, people are so wild here. For example, yesterday a cashier-girl treated so me kindly. I wasn't used to that. She had a Glasgow smile. Told me "Come again!" -- well, I won't. It would only cause me distress. When she's in a bad mood, at least I know she feels something. This way, she's but a spook. Tomorrow an acquaintance invited me over for beer and sunflower seeds, to watch the game. He said just that "Come over for sunflower seeds and beer, we're watching the game". We don't do that -- it just happends. We run in a drugstore, pick up a two-liter beer and seeds, and go out. Making plans -- how silly.
>>8255279
I like it.
If any spanish speaker happens to be lurking:
El sonido del timbre sofocó al de sus palabras. Bajo el chirrido metálico que tronaba en el aire, los labios de Maria Roccasecca aventuraron el inicio de otra frase sobre la física newtoniana que fue inmediatamente abortada al percatarse su dueña de que aquel chirrido rotundo, inapelable y sentencioso como una trompeta arcangélica había irrumpido en la clase, acaparando todo el espacio sonoro y, con él, la atención de los alumnos, que ahora dirigían sus miradas hacia la esquina del techo desde la que el timbre bramaba su inapelable autoridad. El chirrido se detuvo de súbito tras unos segundos, dejando caer con displicencia el abrupto silencio sobre Mary Roccasecca.
Maria sintió cómo, al cesar el cántico inicial, las miradas de los alumnos se posaban en ella con aire de expectación muda y sumisa, acatantes, mansos tras el silencio y tras esa inexpresividad unánime que recordaba a la del mongolismo. Impelida por aquel silencio idiótico (que Mary Roccasecca, simulacro tras simulacro, no podía evitar percibir con inquietud como una insolencia soterrada, tan subrepticia como carente de agente intencionado), se forzó a despegar los labios y comenzó a recitar las fórmulas acostumbradas.
>>8255303
--Bueno, niños, ya sabéis qué quiere decir ese timbre, ¿verdad?—tras recorrer con la mirada al grueso de sus pupilos sin distinguir ninguna cara, se fijó al azar en uno de los alumnos de la primera fila—A ver, dilo tú, Ezekiel.
Ezekiel se levantó de su silla.
--Un simulacro de ataque nuclear, señorita Roccasecca—volvió a sentarse.
--Eso es—corroboró Mary--. Es el segundo que hacemos esta semana. Y la semana pasada hicimos otros dos. ¿Alguien sabe por qué?—antes de que transcurriese el tiempo que cabría otorgar a los alumnos para que estos asimilaran la pregunta y rumiasen, gestasen y finalmente expresaran en voz alta una respuesta, Maria dijo el nombre de otro de los alumnos de la primera fila. Éste se levantó presto de su silla al oír pronunciar su nombre por la voz apremiante de la profesora, sin dar signos de sorpresa por su repentina asignación de responsabilidad. Escoltado por las miradas y el mutismo de sus condiscípulos, el alumno recitó:
--Porque los rusos pueden atacar cualquier día, incluso mientras estemos en el colegio, y la única forma de poder sobrevivir es tomando refugio lo más rápido posible cuando oigamos una alarma y esperar a que el ataque pase y la gente de Defensa Civil venga a ayudar.
--Muy bien, Paul—Paul volvió a sentarse.
El silencio volvió a enseñorearse de la clase durante un instante, antes de que Maria reanudase las liturgias acostumbradas del simulacro. Los alumnos, sabedores de que su participación vocal en el simulacro había concluido, mantenían ante la profesora aquella expresión de expectación feligresa. Mary Roccasecca intentó reprimir su ansiedad jugando con un hilo que sobresalía de la manga de su blusa, volteándolo alrededor del dedo índice de su mano derecha, y comenzó a decir lo que entonces correspondía.
>>8255447
i dont want too many!
I wrote this for the Mommy Cinematic Universe >>>/hr/2688246
prologue
>Annie Clark - Auntie Antje's friend, and guitar teacher mommy is paying to give you lessons for your growing musical skills— prefers to teach you in her studio apartment alone. She loves to teach you by being hands on and putting her hands on yours.
gentle femdom annie 1/?
>After a hard day at school, you come crawling to Annie's studio apartment for your guitar lessons. As you enter her sizable yet modest apartment and make your way to her kitchen where she's preparing a salad with her head and curly hair down facing the counter, she perks up and immediately lose her faint smile as she sees how exhausted you are.
>"Ohh, are you okay, sweety? you look absolutely spent" she cooed as she crossed the kitchen island to get to you, wiping her hands on the flare of her almost sheer summer dress. Her warm and emphatic solemn expression changing to a tender affectionate smile as she makes her way to you. "oh, come here, sweety" she says reaching out to your head bringing it gingerly to her chest hugging you close.
>With the thin silk fabric of her dress cooling your skin, she takes your head with her hands to look at you in the face. With her delicate yet somewhat calloused fingers, she brings her thumb to the ridge of your brow brushing it, finally placing both of her hands to your cheeks. With her dainty hands encapsulating your face, she looks at you in the eyes with the stark hazel of hers relinquishing their ground for her broadening pupils.
>She hugs you close to her chest again, placing her right hand in the small of your back and her other hand to the back of your head. "I've got some cookies cooling by the window waiting for you." she whispers in your ear "Everything'll be fine, hun. I'm right here with you" she takes your head back again, kissing you in the forehead this time— stroking your hair as the contact between her lips and your skin part.
Can I post poetry in here?
>>8255569
delete this
>>8255573
i'll make a poetry thread
>>8255569
please don't delete this
>>8254983
Does anyone have full books they've written? Have they ever been posted on /lit/ before?
I am a fey stunt run in a half mad day, walk down the wake haggling teat for tat. Now's way the moon high and, life's yolk fried, spills sin like milk by the gutter-slide. Ah, it's too cold for what dirt's worth I pay but, said on again, nothing's wrong with that. This, climbing without aim at a high hill, all of this is the loneliest blue I look back onto the city with. All that is strung is cut silent, winds scatter sky-up to no swift Harmony. Messenger clouds march into a sad adjective above and elsewhere the stars I do not know. The workings are so shallow under the sun that I may see wet feet from beyond men's rough image in the night's river. Let it engulf me at home, I say, just as well as it whelms the world over, and so I spear in it, out, down by Cocytus.
1/3
>>8256872
2/3
>>8256878
3/3
Things highlighted in red are either temporary names or sections which need to be drawn out a bit longer.
Is this worth continuing or should I just kms?
Someone please beat me into a mental state capable of writing without wanting to die.
>>8257869
Only you can do that
>>8258205
I've tried everything. I've almost given up at this point.
>>8258222
Maybe stop trying, and it might work?
>>8258227
I haven't tried writing or read any books in nearly two months now. Not caring hasn't helped at all.
>>8258236
I didn't mean not caring.
>>8258238
Chapter 2 of a short story I'm working on. Trying to get things moving and give a bit of background.
>>8258251
2/2
>>8258251
From the first paragraph alone I feel maybe you should relax on the descriptions. By the 2nd paragraph(So I'm not counting dialogue as paras) you've painted a picture of Eli being a disgusting slob.
You've also thrown in a bit of jarring telling, "Kyrie, my best friend, had woken me up." We know that, amigo, you literally put that sentence in there ONLY to tell us Kyrie is Eli's best friend. It's so blunt -- especially when you consider the second part is redundant -- that it almost sounds sarcastic and that Eli thinks Kyrie is a prick.
As for paragraph 3, I don't feel as if you've properly identified Eli's voice or personality. If you have, he seems jarringly pedantic in what he chooses to tell us. Which isn't ALL bad, maybe there's a better opening that we could see him being pedantic in a more interesting and amusing way. Maybe throw in a side of him that recognises his pedantic thought process and ridicules it?
Also, a little throw back to "It's time to leave, dude,"(Ignoring the 'he said to me.' Who else is he saying it to? Though that only popped out upon the second read through) were it not for the fact you -told- us Kyrie was Eli's best bud, by the 3rd para I'd assume he was just some acquaintance/schoolmate who'd seen Eli sleeping in class and opted to be kind enough to wake him up.
There are interesting tidbits in your writing, but you do far too much TELLING and that bogs down your work.
I want to try and show you what I mean about TELLING in a story being bad.
http://pastebin.com/Yy1Va8xM
(Here's also the part where you're welcome to throw my opinion out the window as all I write are Star Wars fan fics, kek)
So whilst I'd prefer you to read my excerpt before you read this summary. Where that excerpt fucks up is that paragraph where the Padawan arrives and I TELL the reader how she's loyal(' "Master Gann," ... sticking by him through thick and thin.') to him when everything else, like the fact he probably has or at least wants to fuck his Padawan, is shown through his observations, his interactions with his surroundings and his interactions with her. What ends up happening is that paragraph massively disrupts the flow of us, as the reader, trying to figure out Gann the Jedi by hitting us out of the blue with some hack handed exposition.
This I feel your story suffers from a lot. You need to remember a few things...
>Trust the reader's intelligence to pick up the image you're putting down
>Let the reader use his intelligence to figure out the details with characters and their relationships(As that is what we as humans are exceptional at doing).
>When using first person, make sure it is because the narrators personality is so good and intriguing that merely doing the story in 3rd person would feel like a waste.
Hope my ramblings make sense amigo.
>>8254983
Was thinking of just taking out the prologue. Idk. Should it stay?
>>8258251
>slobbery slumber upon a school desk
fuck that right off
>>8258371
Whats bad about that? Not him
>>8258378
In prose, devices like alliteration and consonance, as found in this sentence, are best employed in places of particular significance. The fact that nothing significant is being said elicits a comical effect.
>>8258387
Any examples of it being used significantly?
>>8258392
lolita's opening
>>8258405
Nice speech, I just don't like long, unfaltering rants or monologues.
Feels unrealistic to me, like he must be reading from a sheet.
>>8258392
>His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.
Notice also the use of euphony -- the soft s's and l's, the long vowel sounds -- which serve, as they generate a harmonius flow, to make us read on and on as if we're in freefall until the climatic end, made all the more powerful by its cacophonic contrast, and the word 'dead'.
Joyce btw.
>>8258405
Truth be told I always felt rants should be used when the character is dying.
>>8258363
Should I just scrap this then?
>>8258408
true
>>8258489
I didn't care for it much.
Seems like a first draft though.
I already did a whole fucking 4chan essay on the issues with telling(And got no thank you or acknowledgement, the fucking cunt) earlier. I personally just dislike knowing everything from the get go.
>>8260205
It's pot luck if anyone critiques you, just keep trying.
I'm not going to now 'cause you said fuck me basically.
>>8260229
>just keep trying
ok
http://pastebin.com/wE2ZhJgz
>>8260260
>http://pastebin.com/wE2ZhJgz
Tries a bit too hard but it reads well enough. Bit wordy though, makes it hard to follow.
>>8260299
>Bit wordy though, makes it hard to follow.
Can you be more specific, e.g. as to which part? So I can use it to improve. Thanks for taking the time to critique.
>>8260318
I have no idea wtf is going on with this whole thing lad.
>>8258405
I like this. Starts out old, rustic, reminds me of sherlock holmes in terms of atmosphere, but the last sentence makes me somewhat excited to read the rest. It's limited without context for the character though.
>>8258363
"there exist certain gore sites"
"it's"
I could go on but basically it's too immature sounding for what it tries to convey. Looks like you're trying too hard to fit the deep web videodrome image but not describing it well enough.
>>8258251
please don't say she's your best friend, you shouldnt need to if you wrote it right
I like the dialogue
dry saliva doesn't make sense for me
for the section that starts "Personality-wise," the first sentence could work but it sounds too horoscopey after that. we all know what introverts are, just have him talk about scenarios. but I like that he's psychoanalyzing himself because it seems like a very introvert thing to do, demonstrates self awareness, makes him relatable.
I could not go
through my home's door
For all those small delights
That hide their wares
and perfect cares
In other houses shown
Along the road
Through quiet night
Those shadows on the lawns
That kiss and cry then say goodbye
Inviting to my wild eye
How many buildings will I walk through
Before I am not?
So fewer than I dream to enter!
I felt inspired to write about an hour and a half ago and this is what I have so far. I have never written for pleasure, only research papers and university essays. There is a longer story here and if there was any interest at all I would post more tomorrow. Any feedback would be appreciated.
Thanks friends.
I was arm in arm with my brother Clemence, babying him along with gentle tugs in due course towards home, away from the filthy curb that was littered with cigarette butts, and dangerous road with automobiles rushing past, when he began wailing, his plaintive cry piercing my ears painfully. He was whining like a spoiled child into the evening air, begging to turn back to the music shop. Though he was a full-grown man in big coat, his hands half in his sleeves, his plaid shirt sticking out at the waist; he had the undeveloped mind of a child.
“Clemence!” I said impatiently. “We’re not going back. We going home, don’t you understand?”
He did not understand, because he was fully incapable of understanding, therefore did not care to go home. Even his manner of speech, which seemed to be like that of a child’s-- in its lack of maturity and reasoning-- incensed me to no end. He is incapable, I thought. Incapable.
Gathering a great deal of willpower to not strike him, I tugged at his arm even more strongly. “We are going home, Clemence. We can drink hot chocolate at home and play on the piano.”
He soon calmed himself down at these words and allowed himself to be guided along the narrow street. Holding his arm, I glanced up at the blank evening sky with the chemtrails that resembled pencil etchings on a dark blue canvas. If he were a child, I thought, he would eventually learn these things, but he is not a child but a full-grown man, and he cannot learn these things. You had to pamper him, you had to speak to him gently, otherwise he would throw a tantrum. Any little thing would induce in him a sullen mood that could last all night. A mood befitting of a dark sky. It was not an easy thing be a brother to him, no it was not, and I did not ask for it. But he was brother nevertheless, my dear Clemence. As we strolled silently together, gently swaying in each other’s arms, and looking up at the evening sky with its child-like scribbles, I came to like him as he was. As a simple child, and nothing more, not man, certainly not a disabled man, but as child who liked hot chocolate and pianos.
>>8260789
reads like a dream sequence
I wrote this like an hour ago. I don't normally write outside of school shit though so if you can't be gentle at least be understanding.
It was 7pm and God was already dead. The world is merciless, 2nd chances come and go like a ball on a roulette wheel. People can die without having the luxury of seeing the gun pointing between their eyes. That’s how it was today. I don’t know her well enough to know her name, but I know that she was beautiful. That she had auburn hair cut to her shoulders, pretty but not out of the ordinary clothes that belied her morning thoughts of incorporating color coordination in her dress, and I know that she was married. Thank god that there are no children here to witness this, let alone her own if she has any. The shape of her hips has me inclined to believe that she has either struggled through several childbirths, or consumed the lion’s share of many dinners alone with her husband. Maybe she wasn’t so beautiful in the classical sense, but she was beautiful like a pond, more so the beauty I intake on some of my morning walks from the simple elegance of nature of my local pond evokes a feeling, a similar feeling to looking at the parts of her that weren’t splattered in blood.
Those disgusting parts of her were when the pond was infested with mosquitos. The noxious feeling of mosquitoes drinking your blood and leaving itchy bumps filled with parasitic worms and deadly diseases. The kind of diseases that pressure the elderly to abandon the lone bench that sits a few feet from the water, and take their precious bread crumbs that sustain the ever growing pigeon population. Back to the shining star stealing the scene. There might be something to that stuff about finding symmetry beautiful, as even though her left eye was a warm inviting chocolate brown, her right eye was popped, sizzled into its socket and classically unappealing. This woman was so many things, but now she’s nothing except for a corpse with the unearthly grace of a fleeting freshness.
>>8254991
Diary entry detected. Tell me who a character is and make something happen to them. You can be experimental and pretentious -- but you can't just ramble. You don't have to go "this is bill and he's going to slay a dragon," but I'd better quickly know who bill is and feel like there is a basic level of momentum and drama towards something.
The whole things zips around in these enormous bloated paragraphs full of mundane observations, summary, and vague feelings.
You can get away with not formatting speech and paragraphs properly if you are brilliant and you can genuinely justifying doing so. Otherwise it's just irritating to read. If you are using something that makes it harder to read a story "because I feel like it lel," you're just going to lose people's attention. If there is a reason for making it flitty and vague then you really need to bring that out.
Some of your favorites may have done something similar, but for an amateur this kind of this is always going to be read as the result of you 'just writing' with no story in mind and a serious lack of discipline or purpose to your method.
For me someone trying really hard to sound 'literary' and also writing about a lovelorn character who loves literature is automatic rejection. People aren't constantly making films about film nerds and filmmakers but it seems like writers are always writing about fucking writers for some reason.
I'd be inclined to cool it with some of the more 'literary' styling.
>I wade into our class, and ripples appear by my ankles as I advance...
Did he wade into class? He advanced towards a table? What the fuck are rippling ankles? Oh it sounds good but it doesn't mean anything? Readers will skip over that.
When every sentence is overwrought things begin to lose impact and frankly it sounds a little silly to use inappropriate and over-the-top words.
I also noticed a case of "I don't read any contemporary fiction."
>my heart lifted from her kindness
If it's not set in the 19th century then don't write like it is.
>>8261707
>Tell me who a character is
Did you miss the part where he read his love interest's emails, jerked off to one of them, nervously delivered a letter to his love interest while another prof gave him the eye for being creepy, was directly described by his love interest in a meeting about his future, was described indirectly by his previous love interests, observed people acting out the hedgehog dilemma and noticed the sacrifice of social interaction, his mulling over embarrassing memories, and the distant yet kind words of the rejection at the end? Most of the damn story is characterization.
>You can get away with not formatting speech and paragraphs properly if you are brilliant and you can genuinely justifying doing so. Otherwise it's just irritating to read. If you are using something that makes it harder to read a story "because I feel like it lel," you're just going to lose people's attention. If there is a reason for making it flitty and vague then you really need to bring that out.
Is it really that hard to read? No one else has mentioned having trouble. How else would you have me write it? It's in first person. I'll consider making the dialogue more strictly correct.
>For me someone trying really hard to sound 'literary' and also writing about a lovelorn character who loves literature is automatic rejection. People aren't constantly making films about film nerds and filmmakers but it seems like writers are always writing about fucking writers for some reason.
OK, but I'm not responsible for your personal prejudices. Also, it's hardly about writing. Some authors were mentioned, but only to show how pretentious and fake the speaker is.
>Did he wade into class? He advanced towards a table? What the fuck are rippling ankles? Oh it sounds good but it doesn't mean anything? Readers will skip over that.
ripple - noun - a small wave or series of waves on the surface of water, especially as caused by an object dropping into it or a slight breeze .
Just because you don't understand it doesn't mean it doesn't mean anything. Is it really that hard to see the relevance of a pool of water to a pretentious self-obsessed young adult in "love" with a professor? For fuck's sake, I even made him look at his own reflection in the story and made the speaker himself note that he only saw her for "one split-second."
>I also noticed a case of "I don't read any contemporary fiction."
Hot critique, this will surely improve my writing.
>If it's not set in the 19th century then don't write like it is.
Point taken.
>>8261807
Not the guy you're responding to but don't post on a critique thread if you don't wanna take the critiques.
As for my opinion on it, were it not in first person I'd dismiss this as some pretentious flower girl's attempt at romance. Which it is, it's just the actual character's pretentious attempt at romance instead.
I personally couldn't read it, at no point did I feel implored to read on. Why? Because I'm a pleb who likes to know where he's going. If this had a blurb that mentioned a love gone wrong, and we got to see this guy's fall from grace into becoming a stalker I'd read on despite being a genre-fiction pleb. So if that's what you're trying to do? Good job.
I do think you should try it out with more standard dialogue, though I can see how that would undermine your characterisation and attempts at putting us in a position where we're really looking into a man's mind as opposed to being told(If that makes sense?). The reason I say this is because I think you're resting a LOT on a wholly and, even by you, admittedly unlikeable main character. If I were to continue reading, I'd want some other characters to latch onto and identify with. The best way to do that is with dialogue.
If its just a standard romance? Fuck it. As it stands I have no desire to see if and how the main character gets the girl.
Also the wade thing was pretty gay but again, a lot of that stuff I passed off as quirks of the main character.
>>8261854
I'm taking the critiques, including yours. That doesn't mean I can't respond and push back.
>>8261868
>I'm taking the critiques, including yours. That doesn't mean I can't respond and push back.
no you can't push back.
>>8261868
Push back? Bruh.
Well look, you do you. I just think a better way to get the most out of your feedback, when you disagree with someone who posts a detailed critique, is to explain WHY you did the things they disagree with and see if that changes their tune not call them too stupid to understand your work.
Call me a big business minded Jew(I'm actually a black, but Jews are my racial role models) but its those who loathe your work that should be listened to the most.
just eviscerate my shit up fam_
>>8261893
>I'm actually a black, but Jews are my racial role models
>racial role models
You're planning on turning into another race are you? Fucking idiot.
>>8261887
Actually you can, not all critique is good critique.
>>8261900
>Implying I'll ever truly abandon my gun slinging, gang banging roots
>>8261899
Lmao oh boy... This is fucking funny.
>FCL ... Allegiance
Gonna assume you tell us what the fuck these things are way before this excerpt.
>Carbonizing
Not as good a word as you think. Maybe edge it up with some details. This whole thing should be a fair bit longer.
Maybe start off with the Captain's crew realising they're all going to get melted and then describing that process with a particularly punchy sentence or two? Though this is really a matter of style. I just think that for something as impactful as a deep space kamikaze impact deserves some more thought than 'carbonizing the captain's crew near-instantaneously.'
I also think the sentence after about the sealing of the ship could use some work. This is a spectacle bruh! Give me some mental eye candy!
>Alta
Bruh... Why have I just read, if briefly, the fact that some people chose death over defeat, slaughtering dozens, if not hundreds of people in the process only to be told Alta has a banging pair of legs and some lovely hips? Really?
As for the rest? I think you need to slow down lad.
An idea(Not a critique, so feel free to ignore it)... Maybe you could start off IN Alta's quarters and have her hear the impact over the emergency intercom? That way we have more time to get to know her and relate to the horror/panic of what's going on.
>>8261929
>Lmao oh boy... This is fucking funny.
Its an excerpt and I didn't feel comfortable sharing the (already written) events that happened immediately prior to that, i.e., captain and crew members.
Obviously FCL and Allegiance require some background as well.
Carbonizing was just trying out something different. Thanks for the comment about the sealing though
The part about the girl's nice legs was writtenin jest. Sometimes I like to throw a little bit of that stuff in just to see what people say
Thanks for the rest, it was more help than I was expecting.
>>8261578
Overwritten. Don't interrupt yourself with unimportant details. Stay focused on the action. Moreover, the writing is antiquated, eg. "manner of speech" etc, you need to modernise your vocab. Otherwise please work on your rhythm, for instance.
>Gathering a great deal of willpower to not strike him
Should read
>Gathering a great deal of willpower not to strike him
The "to not" interrupts the flow, and similar rhythmic mishaps occur throughout the text, pay close attention to the stresses and how you want them run through the text. Perhaps you want a flowing sentence to be interrupted, mirroring action in the scene, for instance, an ordinary conversation being interrupted by a sudden outburst of anger.
By the way, "chemtrails" is a giveaway that the overwrought style is put on. It's "contrail", chemtrails are a weird conspiracy.
>>8261949
>What would the feminist Sci-fi community say, lad?
Its funny that you mention that because I've toyed with the idea of writing fetishized smut for money. I hardly feature in-depth sexuality in any of my actual works but it seems like it could be fun
>>8261592
I do think I want to play it ambiguously like that. I'll give you a spoiler and say it is a true story. Would you want more?
Thanks again m8.
>>8261594
Check your diction levels. The diction level is the formality/informality of your style, and mixing them can sound amateurish. Also beware mixing anglo-saxon and latin/greek words. The latter can give a vague or unfixed quality to the prose. I reacted to this sentence particularly:
>That she had auburn hair cut to her shoulders, pretty but not out of the ordinary clothes that belied her morning thoughts of incorporating color coordination in her dress, and I know that she was married.
There is an attempt to maintain a high style, but slips into vernacular and vague phrasings, eg. "pretty but not out of the ordinary" followed by "belied," and "incorporating colour coordination" instead of something simpler, such as "matching colours."
Also lack of focus in the text. Silly opening line. Remember that you need to back up what you say - if you make a big claim, that God died at a certain hour, you're going to need to write quite impressively or it'll seem underwhelming.
Example of lack of focus: Describing her as a pond, the mosquitoes in the pond, THEN, the feeling of being bitten by the mosquitoes - keep the image focused, if you are describing her appearance you confuse the reader by comparing it to the sensation of being bitten. If you describe appearance, stick to visual imagery.
>Back to the shining star stealing the scene
You ought to structure your piece so as to avoid awkward transitions such as these.
>>8261893
I explained it after I called him stupid. Maybe I would be more polite if he asked what something meant instead of assuming it was just random meaningless nonsense.
pls no bully
>>8261807
Growing as a writer is going to mean taking criticism and realising that your first draft is crap. It's also realising that you are an amateur with a lot to learn. It doesn't take months to make a good short story because writers are lazy.
At first you'll get a little butthurt about it because you don't yet understand other people don't give a shit about you or your writing. At some point you'll realize that the reason they aren't picking up on things is because of your failure as a writer, and not their failure as readers.
What you've written wasn't that bad, but it wasn't good. You have a lot of work to do no matter what your friends IRL have told you.
>Most of the damn story is characterization.
The thing is that you don't really have a character or much of a plot. So it's a bit irrelevant if you are giving characteristics to what is a shapeless mess.
>Is it really that hard to read? No one else has mentioned having trouble.
Who is no one? Your girlfriend and two other dicksuckers on /lit/? Go study some of your favorite writers and notice how they lay out and format a paragraph. Are there 100 ideas in each paragraph? Does speech pop up indistinguishable from thoughts and action?
It might not be 'hard' to read, but I'm also not here to read your work because I'm your best friend. It doesn't read well if that makes you happier.
>Just because you don't understand it doesn't mean it doesn't mean anything. Is it really that hard to see the relevance of a pool of water to a pretentious self-obsessed young adult in "love" with a professor?
I am not going to take the time to understand a poorly formed and overwrought metaphor. If a metaphor doesn't make things clearer you need to get rid of it immediately. The only reason other people won't have mentioned it is because they merely skipped over it.
>Hot critique, this will surely improve my writing.
I'd be surprised if you'd much of anything written in the last 10 years. Best advice I gave in the whole thing. You need to start reading what you are trying to write, and to really study how they write.
>>8261807
Also the whole rippling foot thing I may have misunderstood. I didn't realise the character was sat in a flooded room or something. That's the problem with purple prose though. It's easy to overlook things as readers will skip the huge amounts of weightless description and information.
>>8262102
>Growing as a writer is going to mean taking criticism and realising that your first draft is crap. It's also realising that you are an amateur with a lot to learn. It doesn't take months to make a good short story because writers are lazy.
It isn't even my first draft.
>At first you'll get a little butthurt about it because you don't yet understand other people don't give a shit about you or your writing. At some point you'll realize that the reason they aren't picking up on things is because of your failure as a writer, and not their failure as readers.
I'm not butthurt, I'm taking on the tone of the criticism.
>What you've written wasn't that bad, but it wasn't good. You have a lot of work to do no matter what your friends IRL have told you.
I don't have any friends FYI. And i certainly have enough to not share it with anyone who knows me in person.
>The thing is that you don't really have a character or much of a plot. So it's a bit irrelevant if you are giving characteristics to what is a shapeless mess.
What does that even mean? It's a tiny short story, and as I pointed out there are plenty of moments of characterization.
>I am not going to take the time to understand a poorly formed and overwrought metaphor. If a metaphor doesn't make things clearer you need to get rid of it immediately. The only reason other people won't have mentioned it is because they merely skipped over it.
It's not some huge complicated metaphor you have to spend time analyzing. It's pretty simple as long as you're aware of the most basic facts of an extremely well-known myth. Speaking of reading other writers, this is basically the same idea as Joyce's Araby, only without the "and then I realized that in the end I was actually very vain" line at the end. I tried to do that implicitly with the reflection imagery and some other things, but clearly it did not get across to you.
Anything I haven't responded to (and some things I have) I am taking as good points and even though I think you are a fucking moron who should kill himself I will be revising the story with your points in mind (particularly trying to make everything more clear and less pretty).
>>8262125
Did you really just tell me to kill myself for taking the time to give you free constructive feedback for your work? In a thread you started on 4chan? That's kind of pathetic. Maybe just try 'thank you' next time.
Everything I said was measured and fair and I made no personal judgement other than questioning whether you'd read enough contemporary fiction. Sadly your work isn't that good yet and your job isn't to demand I understand what you have done, it's to consider why it is that I didn't get it.
I'd suggest you write a lot more before you start asking for feedback for your work. You're clearly not at this stage yet.
>>8262158
>Maybe just try 'thank you' next time.
How could you expect any less when you are this insufferably smug? Not to mention how you have consistently erred on the side of me being an idiot who is just putting meaningless junk in his writing instead of considering it might have just gone over your head.
>Everything I said was measured and fair
>I made no personal judgement
ayy lmao
Anyway, I said I would be revising the story with your points in mind, what else do you want? Sorry I didn't kiss your hand and accept everything you said as gospel.
>>8254991
lol it does read like a diary entry
In all honesty I can understand anons comments on it, the thing kinda flits along with seemingly no real purpose in mind aside from his character details. If there is one then it might be a good idea to indicate where its going to begin with then proceed from there.
>>8262176
>erred on the side of me being an idiot who is just putting meaningless junk in his writing
I didn't call you an idiot or even particularly insult you. You're being a drama queen and unnecessarily rude. I didn't say what you had written was 'meaningless' or 'nonsense'.
I'd rather you didn't respond if you were going to abuse me. Go to /b/ if you want that kind of crap.
>>8262178
>lol it does read like a diary entry
Is that possibly because it's in first-person and is accounting events with some subjectivity?
>If there is one then it might be a good idea to indicate where its going to begin with then proceed from there.
How about dropping a letter off that is clearly sexual/romantic in nature off in the second paragraph of the story? It's not some huge romp or anything, but the plot is also not just non-existent like you two are pretending it is.
He is obsessed with a professor. He drops a love letter off on a prof's desk. He recalls some memories which characterize the guy and the professor to a lesser extent.
He also sees a literal version of the hedgehog's dilemma playing out (the umbrella scene). In the context of this socially retarded guy who can't even make eye contact with girls, it's relevant because it reveals his narcissism--he is conscious of how social dynamics works. He is not just some lost socially anxious nerd. He wallows in his anxiety and likes it in a sick vain way. It's also just true that the scene is beautiful.
I spelled that out since it's one of the scenes with a less obvious plot reason.
Then, he goes home and mulls over memories of being embarrassed. This is another moment of self-obsession framed by the speaker as love of the prof.
The story ends with him walking into the class and getting rejected and watching her walk away while realizing that he is vain.
Does that make the plot clear?
>>8262202
Oh give me a break. You can't be abused through text.
Anyway I can point to passages in your criticism that I think clearly show you implying or saying outright that I'm just using pretty language with no meaning but I won't bother because then we will have a big time-wastage argument. I hear your points, I will be revising with them in mind. Sorry you don't enjoy this type of back-and-forth.
>>8262218
>How about dropping a letter off that is clearly sexual/romantic in nature off in the second paragraph of the story?
You might as well cut the first paragraph and begin there since that's where the story actually starts.
>>8262231
That paragraph is one of the hardest to read because the speaker is out of breath, so I wouldn't want it to be the first. Also, I like the first section. It establishes you've got a creepy guy infatuated with a professor
>>8262235
It might just be your format that's getting people, you have this hyper-compressed style that flits from point to point (only aggravated by the short story form). I guess you can pat yourself on the back and call it demanding, but the payoff itself leaves alot to be desired. It's one really big "ok"
A nice character sketch, I guess, I can see where you were going with it.
>>8254983
Try your best.
>>8262332
I just want to know what happens next, I think thats good.
>>8262351
>You probably should have read it yourself before asking others to.
I notice also, Want me to upload the somewhat cleaner version?
>>8262356
Here I go.
I've been umming and arring about writing a story following on a sort of road-war / post-apoc / almost mad-max like trend. Its a genre that I really like and it allows me to nerd out about mechanical stuff as well as making guns and shit from scrap, since I don't get to do that as I live in an unfree country and I'm a law student.
Anyway, I churned out this very rough draft over a couple of hours just now. I'm unsure if it serves as a good first chapter since it sort of drops you in the middle of a journey (though towards the start), or whether or not it would be good as a prologue.
I've written a lot of detective / murder mystery shit (read: books for middle aged housewives) and I like to write that genre, but I'd like to branch out a bit more. Anyway, I've attached screenshots for your commentary. Keep in mind of course this was churned up over about 2 hours just now.
>>8262371
>glance
glanced
.>pupil
pupils
'eclipsing his iris' does not fit here
I couldn't read the rest
>>8262461
A big theme that I want to hit upon in it is the theme of family and loneliness, not because I'm into soppy emo bullshit but because I myself am a big family man, while not necessarily one for loads of friends.
I sort of want the main characters to be a combination of brooding, in a state of despair, larikins, and jaded.
Will probably recycle the trope of going on an adventure for a material thing resulting in a spiritual reinvigoration or some shit, or put that in as a moral lesson.
2/4
>>8262384
Too difficult to grasp. Mainly because of the way it's been written and not the content.
You have some commas where they shouldn't be or exist .
I like the first two sentences.
>>8262461
>>8262467
I may also use the old trope of the unlikely hero stumbling upon a grander conspiracy. I once wrote a short crime story set in a dystopian future about a serial killer who would decapitate people, turned out it was part of a grander (but simpler) conspiracy about drug cartels using brain chemicals to synthesise awesome drugs, might try and incorporate something like that, i've a bunch of ideas floating around on paper and in my head.
3/4
>>8262461
>>8262467
>>8262474
While I feel pretty uneasy about having le imaginary friend / companion meme, I find that it generally aids a story when the character you're dealing with is a pretty melancholy sort of character. I don't plan to have the "imaginary friend" actually do anything, since they are a figment of the imagination of Read, though I am however tempted to go full mememode and have the imaginary man be the devil, who dupes Read into thinking he's just gone insane but keeps him going on this quest, ostensibly for himself, but as part of a grander borderline satanic agenda, and as Read develops further and further and loses more and more of his humanity the devil features more and more, effectively taking over Read's mind and body.
Though I feel that that may be crossing my genres a bit too much to an almost cheesy level.
4/4
Anyway, I need to sleep cos I have work but I look forward to hearing any feedback when I arise.
>>8262469
Thanks. I recall getting a similar comment so I guess I can make some of the images more clear. I already see a few ways.
>>8261996
Anyone? Please?
>>8254983
In space, it is always night time. Wow, holy shit, mind blown much?
-- opening lines of my new scifi space opera story Space Laundromat. I haven't written anything else but I'm already confident this will be an instant classic.
Please rate.
>>8261996
A little muddy. I liked the countdown effect but I noticed I actually wanted to speed past the other description to see what happens. Perhaps read it over yourself and see if there's a way you can manage that pacing more consciously.
Overall just focus more on clarity, slow down even. Is this for a novel or a short story?
and littlle details like "brown hair became a mix of blond and crimson, sticky fluid" can be simplified. We already know its blood so perhaps you can just mention how its sticky on her glove as she's moving him, in other words dont sweat the small stuff. Also keep a grammar guide handy, go over your sentences.
>>8263331
Thanks, anon. I've been hearing that 'slow down' advice a lot lately, I'll make sure to do some research on pacing.
About the sticky fluid line though, its supposed to be part of a graphic hallucination that keeps reoccurring. Was that clear enough?
Thanks for the other help though. Its part of a novel but I was trying to write it as a collection of short stories, if that makes sense
>>8263392
I see, I get that his face changed but I assumed the crimson was blood due to the previous action. Perhaps more details on the hallucination and perhaps a stronger reaction from Eris would help make it more clear.
But yea now that I know its a short-story-kinda I think you really can afford to ease up a bit and let the story breathe, it seems like you're really trying to compact it and thats whats making everything kinda jumbled. Feel free to build the scene if you know exactly where its going.
>>8263424
So more description would be a good idea? I'm still trying to find that balance between too much and too little.
>>8263465
Yea, thats the idea. I think you can still keep the brief form you want while still building a vivid picture, at the moment it moves just a little bit too quickly and is quite obscure.
>>8263490
Thanks anon, I appreciate the advice.
>>8255280
pls critique
How do you guys generate scene ideas? This is the biggest problem I have and it really prevents me from writing most of the time. I can create characters, plot, a handful of important scenes I want and a general direction to take the story, but when I actually go to write I can't come up with anything interesting to string it all together. Whenever I just try to wing it it always ends up awful.
>>8254983
ITS A FUCKING BUMP LIMIT
>>8263809
Write down the things you want to have. A common example is romance, so we'll use that.
What needs to happen for the romance to work? Well the pair needs to meet first, so write a scene of them meeting. One half of the pair needs to overcome their shyness. How will they do it? Write that/those scene(s). Do you absolutely need a scene where they kiss? Write that. A fight? Not sure why the two are fighting yet? Then write up the lead up to the fight itself. Try out different ideas and compare them. Pick your favorite and work on that scene even more than you already have.
Make sure to note connections between your major ideas. Your main plot idea is that the hero defeats the evil overlord. Cool, is there any overlap with the romance subplot? What exactly is that overlap? This will help generate new ideas and specific scenes.
Don't force yourself to write scenes you're not ready to write yet. It's okay to write out of order and there is a lot of advantages in doing so. I find that writing my major scenes first and then filling the gaps in between later helps a lot. If you can't figure out a good way to write about the time the characters took to travel from here to there, then don't. Write what they do in 'there' first and write about their travels later when you have a better idea of how to make it interesting.
>>8264117
That's some helpful advice, Anon. Thanks. I'll give it a shot.
>>8260789
continued
If it piques your interest at all or its absolute shit I appreciate any feedback. I am not sure if it would benefit from actual dialogue or if the descriptions are enough to clearly describe what is happening.
Thanks.
opening sentence desu
-----
I don't want to be like japan - non sum iaponicus (吾外國人也) - I don't want to not fuck.
poetry threads keep dying so
Strive to repay the ten tenfold
Glory is forc’d by christian hand
Bring me my bow of burning gold.
Lying upon the rock, a pyre
Burning will burn on my command.
Bring me my arrows of desire.
Wrath is as rain, no pain controlled
Hydra in flight to flood the land
Bring me my spear: O clouds unfold!
The gushing heavens whet my ire.
Unleash the cherub of desert sand,
To thrust its sword into a strand
Of evil beyond satanic brand;
Is Gospel prophet’s seat unmanned?
Bring me my chariot of fire.
*last line of each stanza is from William Blake and is normally Italicized*
>>>/x/17905010
He opened a door and we stepped into the room. There were four women in there, young girls, and all were naked. One girl was strapped to gurney, and the others moved about her like carrion, wielding sharp metal instruments and toying with her flesh. Both breasts had been removed and lay on the ground next to her, and her throat was a mess of blood and gore, presumably why she did not cry out in pain although her eyes betrayed her agony. The skin had been peeled back from the feet to the knees, and the circling girls routinely would prick their knives into the exposed muscle and tendon, slicing off parts of the flesh here and there. Her vagina was also obscured with blood, leaving me to imagine what intrusive violence had been committed. She had also been scalped. The girls laughed as they worked, not the cruel laugh of the sadist but the wild laugh of the uninhibited, an animalistic cackle reminiscent of feasting hyenas. Their hair was wild and unkempt and was tossed to and fro to the rhythm of their movements. I caught a glimpse of an eye, and it was wide and white in frenzy. The girls paid us no attention.
>>8261956
Thanks for the critique. You're right, it is a bit overwritten. I read way too much of the classics so antiquated writing is what I'm most familiar with.
>>8265063
>>8265086
But is the prose any good?
>>8264877
You screech like a starving rhymester off the street with a guitar and a song;
the only alliteration (ironically the first and only line) is weak; don't waste your time writing in inferior meters, focus only either in lose-tetra or pentameter, interesting rhyme scheme though;
your attempted complexity also leads to nowhere, the overuse of counterpointed rhymes sounds silly dear, the imagery is cliche as well
read some metaphysicals
>tl;dr
its bad, i wrote many lines of this calibre the first year whilst i was still studying grammar;
you'll get there, good to see someone that care about the classical form, english, as a language, is poetically very lose, so if you didn't have metrical merits it wouldn't even be presentable;
everytime you see someone writing free verse call them out on their bullshit
also should get off 4chan, the datamining here is worse than reddit, learning a computer language like c will make your poetry progress tenfold mr gold
Tangled up in my own feet
I parachute in satin sheets—
today I watched the ScyFy channel
and catheterized my 18 year old pug
named Caviar.
The wave of insect calls at night
crashes 'gainst me drums til harmonized—
Oil spills give me wet dreams at night
and the feeling of being a masseuse
named Caviar.
Bellowing clouds of killers lies
lie in every particle 'neath the eye
(in the sky: drumroll. Standing ovulation.
Tanks for the reward. My vacant wallet
blamed caviar.
"Til she said to stop."
He sat and stared and wondered how it could take that long and then thought this man, his friend, his sister's fiancee, had a weaker grasp on his hindbrain grown tendencies.
"What."
"This is stupid."
"I know but we have to keep talking to keep the author, but more importantly the reader entertained."
"Yeah but can't people just watch Youtube or play video games or bone their bonees or listen to that one new hit album by personcelebrity."
"Dude, why are you talking like that, I don't even understand what you're going for."
"It."
"And what's it."
"What's what?"
"It."
"Exactly."
"I'm going to murder you."
"Me?"
"No, the author," he said sarcastically.
"How are you going to do that."
"I was being ironic you moron."
"Hmm, you seemed more sarcastic."
"Sarcasm's a form of irony, y'dope."
"Well either way I just want to apologize for implying rape earlier."
"Why?"
"Hmm, I don't know."
"Okay."
>>8265127
>someone finally was mean and specific
could you do one more?
I normally write in free verse and think that show in metrical stuff, but am forcing myself to learn to write in meter to get a better handle on the rhythm of my poetry
>>8265178
Besides your submission, nothing else in this thread is really worth looking at;
wasting time on roadside proses is as praying to a false stone, I usually lurk on other chans - 4chan hates your privacy and security but imageboards really are special - and there are few place on the internet left that is "good" for poetic growth.
Why don't I share instead of critiquing?
At this point you must write and record, no matter how awful it is, once you understand what is good and what is bad personally (both sense of that word), you'll start having great verse and ideas.
I suggest first to get a good dictionary as your pillow-bride or an electronic software version of the OED or Doctor Johnson's, and peruse yourself silly with the ample material on sites such as Project Gutenberg: learn freely and loosely, but its all an exercise in frivolity - there is not much hope in the noble form of language and logical mastery - all institutions are corrupted on all continents. It is sad that the English poet laureate once was a Wordsworth... now a dykesbian hailing from rebellious Caledonia.
As for the modern I suggest T.S. Eliot and his Russian hater Vladimir Nabokov, then some of the war poets and essayists; and of course, angry sentiments of Enouch Powell and Oswald Mosley.
For audio pleasures and instructions you could try BBC's Radio4 (Poetry Please), though these past few years, being full of hate and greed, have feminized it an awful lot. Some of the older audio lecture by The Teaching Company TTC are quite delightful too, but again modern professors love to wear dresses and learn all things Jewish.
I wouldn't waste too much times on the Classics as technology like film and computers have actually shaped how language worked with its editing techniques and data manipulation, but you must get grasp on grammar no matter what.
Look towards the future, but write in a form that braves time and respect the past. Poetry is at its best, when it describe that cannot be shown in painting, and confounds sound and videos at once. Just as the goal of science is to think the unthinkable, and know the unknowable.
>And pity, like a naked new-born babe,
>Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, hors'd
>Upon the sightless couriers of the air.
Pic related a brilliant mistake by Blake
>>8265318
>>8265318
The sightless couriers of the air by Shakespeare didn't mean what the picture shown, a regal rider and blind horses, but the wind, but it is believed that courier was misprinted as courtiers in Blake's time.
Now you can't exactly draw the wind can you? And there's no such thing as courtiers of the air. But maybe Blake knew what he was doing in this happy little accident.
For the last time, learn your grammar and computers.
A thing I did.
A patchwork of recollection
Weaves its way into my senses.
Its threads replace my veins, hugging my skin
creating patterns over my eyes in countless variations of color.
As a bow spins itself atop my lips,
I swear upon my dwindling senses that I can discern your face amongst the needlework.
Majesty.
A majesty of color.
What an artist would starve himself for months in return.
Clandestine lips and velvet hair,
all clothed in hues that steal the breath away such as the sea steals the shore.
In such a monochrome existence, color is a rarity often tainted by misuse
Or even the disuse of such color. Perhaps it is discarded, forgotten, or forced from one's mind.
But within that heart of yarn there lies something so much more than wool and cotton
So much more than oils and paints, purples and blues, countless hues.
What I would give for such color.
My palette color world to be illuminated with those stark brushstrokes,
a breath of life into my sketchbook universe.
Those fingertips weaving blossoms this way and that,
the canvases of her eyes swirling with varying blends and shades of color.
I can never grow tired of her.
Her hues I crave, warm to cold, neutral,
when the streaks grow dry and when they sweep across paper as though mapping out stars.
Each time I glance at her, this breathing landscape of ever changing elements and brush strokes,
I feel myself unravel.
The threads will drift away, receding from my veins and lips freed,
I'm still gasping for air. Another inhale of her, of another glimpse, another word,
my quilt of memories and fleeting thoughts intertwining to try and form her name.
To summon the image of that color.
How artists would starve themselves for such hues.
The majesty of color herself.
>>8265340
I really love this.
A piece I wrote about a year or so ago:
Dialogue 1
[Enter TYCHE, wandering in Elysium]
TYCHE
O Father,
O Son of Kronos
Why do you desert me thus?
You let the fertile country of my heart lie fallow,
You let my youthful eyes turn to ash in their sockets,
You let my spring pass for mild summer.
I was not made to be one of the mortals!
[Enter ZEPHYROS, dancing, adorned with a wreath of hyacinth]
ZEPHYROS
O Tyche
O goddess of the white arms,
Weep not,
For you no longer have eyes with which to weep.
Is this not true?
Take my hand,
And rise with me,
And taste the airy vault of heaven.
TYCHE
O lovely Western child,
You were dear to me in my worldly mornings,
But your words now are mere rain
Against the granite cliffs of my resolve.
Go now,
Yes, go now,
O you who may still be restored!
ZEPHYROS
Words?
Your fear deludes you,
O mistress of all men’s days.
I speak not,
For I have no tongue with which to speak.
Is this not true?
[Exit ZEPHYROS, TYCHE watches as he leaves]
TYCHE
O Zeus,
O my Father,
Why do you tantalize me so?
The fine bracelets you once gave me
Now begin to tarnish.
I must fortify my heart against all things.
It is a good thing to give way to the night-time.
>>8265398
You posted way too much man. You can't realistically expect people to read that all.
>>8265340
>its threads replace my veins
How? Does this work visually? Did it impale you, shroud you? How about... "it seeps into your vein, blushing your skin with new colour instead" Even better would be if you drunk it in altered your neural senses or something along that line, "morph" words would work better than replace since thats how light and colours work.
>as the sea steals the shore
Good, you can follow up with something, its better when the sea does something productive is it not?
"then shape some sandy states deep in her bossoms,
what secret trapped in this dark colour'd prism,
What clime, what chrome I wonder...
[insert more colour shit here... rarity tainted by misuse]"
Just two pointers here, avoid using words longer than 3 syllables. Use aphesis, you only have a few words that long, but recollection in the first line hurts. Reads okay as a free verse, but it lacks meaning, you need meaning for the audience to take home and show their kids. Don't just use threads, put in a seamstress, put in paints, sands, all things in nature etc.
>>8265351
Verse drama isn't very good for anything unless you're already famous or owns an acting trope, best be combination of both, born besides the Thames 500 years before.
If you want to exercise dialogue thats fine, but make it more like a song.
Serious question: Is it acceptable for a YA novel to contain profanity? Even large amounts?
Cards folded and halted,
hands holding tight.
See the fire falling, its light
on the buildings, off the windows bright.
>>8265092
>>8265063
its okay actually, feels a bit forced but okay
>the others moved about her
round and round her rosy I imagine. if you want to write gore, you have to have some humor and sarcastic sadism in it, no other way to keep people reading on - ought be tongue in cheek when you're a violent brute.
I just started a story last week but I'm not sure if it's worth going back to.
http://pastebin.com/7VeBvDzC
An honest opinion would be appreciated.
>>8265433
>Serious question: Is it acceptable for a YA novel to contain profanity? Even large amounts?
I think if the situation calls for it.
>>8265433
Absolutely not.
>>8265433
>he writes to publish
Just have fun with it m8
I love you /lit/. Even with all your faults.
fuck my shit up
>>8265591
john green?
Should I just forget this Idea or Should I keep going?
>>8265808
I can feel the direction and tone of the story so thats good. But youre moving to fast for yourself.
Give yourself some breathing room. Add in description and elaborate on stuff. For example the first paragraph is your exposition. The who, what, where and why right. And you've got it all there. But just elaborate more on it. Use it more than just to set the story. Show us something cool or mindboggling. Use it to show more than just the basics.
>>8265591
Interesting prose there.
I thought I would find it uncomfortable after stopping at the first "The Park". But about half through I sort of got in the grove quickly and got some definite occult or lovecraftian themes.
But what I thought was particularly interesting was by the end it moves to a more personally emotional place.
Guys, I feel I struggle for length with these two characters I'm writing.
They're starving siblings who are travelling, so it feels odd to have them talking about much, especially considering most of what famine survivors see is pretty horrendous.
Should I be worried if my story seems to be going in 300 word encounters/snapshots at a time?
>>8265808
you can't think, you can't write, there's no discernible talent
Is this working?
Don't 404
To die in a housefire is a fat women with small breasts. MySpace angles and filters, despondency the least and more. Undesirable. Though, who's to say? There are always those who find joy in them, those unfortunate of fat girls. I am to say. I do not want it or them or those.
>>8266196
>Add in description and elaborate on stuff
Like the soldier survival or his physical features? A small backstory for Doctor Romanov? Or the battle in which the Soldier was M.I.A?
To Frances
They dredged you out from underneath; your breath
Had since but run away from us. You were
as pale as water; cold and fragile, but
still trembling. Signs of life to still be lived.
They thought they’d save you; such tears and prayer,
but words can only do so much to dry
your broken parts. We tried so hard; you were
but one small girl, wrung out.
We tried so hard.
>>8268029
I like this a lot, a lot of genuinely great phrases. You might want to rethink "you were but one small girl, wrung out", though, it seems to me to be a bit too on the nose.
>>8268029
I agree with the other anon that this is not bad, and has the potential to be quite good. First of all, though, I should point out that you should be consistent about capitalizing line heads; I personally despise lowercase line heads, and I think you might do well by them too, since you appear to be something of a formalist given that you adhere quite strictly to meter (speaking of meter, I do like the split-up pentameter at the end and the smorzando effect it gives. I think it could be made even better if you can think of a pithy word or phrase in the form of an iamb to put at the end to accentuate the effect). But that's a personal gripe; if you must do lowercase, line 2 must be lowercase too.
As for more substantial issues, I think you must fix line 2; the 'but' is totally out of place, and you either need to replace it, break meter, or rewrite the sentence entirely. I don't think that you mean her breath had ALL BUT run away from us, or that it had ONLY run away from us, or if you did, you need to clarify that. It's just a filler syllable as it is, and one that dilutes and detracts from the rest of the stanza and poem. Also, since I think this is a drowning being described (though I understand you want to keep the actual cause of death somewhat ambiguous), you may want to draw an analogy between her pale waterflesh and the actual water that killed her, though that would do away with the ambiguity I suppose. Just an image that came to mind that might do well in the poem. Also, another prosodic thing: there is absolutely no reason to change 'life still to be lived' to the painfully awkward 'life to still be lived.' It seems you're reluctant to put a stress on a connecting word, but I wouldn't be; Keats does it everywhere. Either change it around or rewrite it if you're so anal about a stressed 'to.' Also, the idea and phrase of 'life still to be lived' is perhaps a bit cliche, but that's a larger artistic decision than I feel I can urge you in. Maybe just think a little more deeply about what that really means, and see if a more essential phrase doesn't pop out.
As for the second stanza, I think it has a little too much enjambment for an unrhymed poem, but maybe that's the fogeyish formalist in me coming out. Still, I somewhat like the repetitiveness, even if it might be a little sentimental for some. If you could somehow move that 'you were' up to the end of the second line, that would be pretty neat, as it would add a certain parallelism to the two stanzas, which I think the poem might find useful. Contrary to the other anon, I like the cliched 'one small girl' corrupted by 'wrung out.' I don't know what he's talking about there. I suppose you may have been going for a similar juxtaposition of cliches in 'Signs of life to still be lived' since 'signs of life' and 'life still to be lived' don't normally go together, but somehow that phrase felt weaker. Still, not bad at all, for what it is.
Alpha Centauri B (Dumb space rock lyrics)
Your vibrance scares me;
seeping from your core its never ending
and in that sodden energy
I can feel myself corroding.
Your silence scathes me;
Picking at my skin until its bleeding,
Raw and indignantly.
I can't shake this feeling that you loathe me.
I can barely look at
your event horizon
For fear of time and my mind elapsing,
and everything collapsing as
Your light surrounds me.
Melting everything it gets its teeth in
and in that sodden energy
I can feel myself corroding.
I wish I had a writing senpai.
>>8264877
This one is cute and I see my own tendencies in it, but unfortunately I'm not sure I can give it higher praise than that, though I too am fond of that lyric of Blake and the musical accompaniment. Frankly, the whole topic of Paganism vs. Christianity is pretty much dead; nobody can hope to treat it better than Eliot and Stevens did. So from the start I feel this little thing is doomed. By the way, since we're going full ornate traditionalist on this one, I'd recommend change that 'Glory' to 'Glorie,' in order to make an iambic stress more palatable. But generally speaking, I don't like the knotty, pseudo-archaic syntax: master your own idiom before attempting another, I'd say. As it is, the meaning's just sort of muddled, though the image of 'a pyre / Burning...on [your] command' is compelling. Also, the last two original lines are extremely contrived, especially in regard to rhyme. Also, the note a the end is very cute, and I think should stay in any published edition. Not to say that this work will be published, but hey, Mira Gonzalez is. Though this thing is perhaps not so in tune with current tastes.
But, here you can see how my own 'work' embodies the issues I took with your stuff. Nonetheless, I think it is my best poem to date, although it does not actually address its topic very well:
Sonnet: An Evening Online
If to the monocle-acquainted eye
The aeroplane and piston seemed profane,
It’d flood the ages’ gloaming with its cry
To suffer this too-enchanting window-pane.—
And yet to call it windowpane were wode:
The analogy would fail this ópaque lake
Aboding vermin and the verminous ode,
The wording destitute, the feeling fake.
‘Turning blankly toward the blank page, churning
‘With desire, stranded in a house on fire,’
Runs the ode, ‘I abandoned fecund learning
‘For mere abstraction; a sterile, lustful mire.’
Nor can be saved the drifting hedonist
By monkish virtues: only amethyst
In verbal landscapes questioningly laid
Can make the Angel able to be kisst.
>>8268661
Thanks! it's definitely not my best, but it was a valuable exercise is playing with Iambs and trochees. I think my future works will be the better for it (plus it was pretty fun)
Maybe I'm reading yours poorly but the 'turn' in it seems rather nebulous and playing with the Sonnet form in this particular way I would encourage playing along the 'volta' trope more might improve it.
>'Turning blankly toward the blank page, churning
>'With desire, stranded in a house on fire,'
this enjambment is awkward
that said its much better than I've done with a strict form so take it with some salt or whatever
here's a poem I've done (soon to be revised) that inspire me to work on my rhythms
Artificer’s Death (Bright and Gleaming)
Shining spikes of Giza stripped of quarry edge,
Glory flayed as skin, skin a hoary casing.
As the quarry was left a gash, you a skeleton—
Mountainous bones housing bones housing nothing.
Timelessness brought to an abrupt
End. The four humors became misaligned
As blood wore down the mountains,
And as men of blood trod down the banks.
The Nile became of blood, both vein and artery.
That cardinal humor spread blackward.
Wroth wine spilled from the hand of Mars,
Fermented mythologies ache, aching to speak.
Artifex working in Corinthian brass, your cannon
A trumpet, sound off as I strain my ears,
Yet still I fear that I may not hear
The writhing of Philomela.
>>8268754
Well, that phrases 'Turning blankly' and 'a house on fire' I lifted directly from Stevens's The Auroras of Autumn, because I felt the poem was appropriate for the feeling of confronting a force too great for you. But maybe that's not a justification if it doesn't actually read well. As for the 'churning / With desire' thing, that was a result of my continued fascination with the prosody of The Waste Land and to keep the theme of interior rhymes going, although again maybe that's not a justification. Also, what do you mean by the 'volta' trope? And of course it's not actually a very strict sonnet; I, like you, inordinately extended the final rhyme set. Tomorrow I will say something about this other poem.
>>8268783
A Volta is a very clear change in tone (frequently on line 9) but your tone has a more painterly change, not bad but maybe not right for your subject (which I may be reading poorly of course)
It takes an edge to catch:
I gutted all Children of the Cabbage Patch.
And my middle school teacher
said to never start a sentence with
"For fuck's sake." The past screamed—
I meant pastor—when I came
to Church a lifetime late.
Though I still heard the organ
echoing, like Pavarotti in a bowl
every day as I turned to see the trash
and thought "can I? I can—
not believe all that good gruyere
thrown away like the baker's dozen
things I did and/or didn't do"—
Sings: Mmm baby like you:
Freddie Mercury [staccado vibrato]: 'ooh'
holds it indefinitely.
My first acceptance is for this piece. It's called I don't have to.
I've finished my two eggs. Scrambled. With pepper. Two and a half shakes of pepper. I left one bite full on the plate. Have to leave the one bite full on the plate.
I have to turn off the light above my stove. Off. On again to make sure it's working. And off. Good. Everything is good.
I have to make sure the outside is still there. I don't have to. I want to. It's just a joke really. I do it every morning. But still. It's just a joke.
I have to put my shoes on before I open the door to check if the outside is still there. It doesn't matter that I'm not stepping outside. I have to wear the shoes before I can check. I don't have to. I want to. It's just a joke. Really, it is.
I tie the laces tight. Left shoe first. Always the left shoe first. And then the right. I cannot do the right one first, it wouldn't be right. Left. Then right. It's the right way.
Shoes on. I can go check. I unlock the door. I lock the door. I have to make sure the lock is working. I unlock the door. I lock the door. I unlock the door. I lock the door. I unlock the door.
No. No, no, no, no. Did I check it twice? Unlock, then lock, then unlock, then lock, then
unlock? Or did I only do unlock, lock, then unlock? This isn't good. If I check it again, will it be right, or will I have done it too many times? I have to do it the right amount of times. I can't do it less. I can't do it more. No, no, no, no. Why is this happening? It's just a joke, really. I don't have to....
Twice or three times? This is not good. How many times? Do I check it again? I could just walk away from it. But I have to check to see if the outside is still there. I don't have to. I want to. It's just a joke, really. I have to check, I have to check, I have to decide on the lock.
One more time. I'm sure of it. That will be two. It has to be two. It doesn't have to be. Lock. Was that two, or three? I have to check if the outside is still there. Unlock.
I open the door. The outside is not there. That's not the outside. That's not the normal outside. It's yellow. It's bright yellow space. And dogs. Birds are flying. I think they are birds. They are animals. And they have children in their teeth? Or dolls? It doesn't matter. I checked to see if the outside was there. I did do that. I did check. I didn't have to. It's just a joke, really. I have more pressing concerns.
Did I check the lock twice or three times? I can undo it if I did it three times instead of two. Before I close it. I don't have to. I want to. It's a joke, really.
Lock. Unlock. That's minus one. Is it at two now, or did I make it one? Lock. Unlock.
The outside that is not there is being loud. I have to concentrate.
Lock. Unlock.
>>8265808
Any more critique?
Try your best.
@8269528
I hope this isn't your best. No (You)'s for you
>>8269536
Give me the critique. I have nothing worth living for anyways.
>>8267731
Anything you think fits really. For example a common chapter is ten pages with roughly 250 words on them. Dont let that seem daunghting though. Use it to make yourself be okay with going into depth.
Just let yourself breath like I said. You'll know what too include, or how long to make it once youre there.
>>8269528
I'll be real, I kinda liked the end paragraph. The imagery was really good and the fogged up visor felt really cool. Definitely an underused motif in paranormal/horror is fogged up stuff. Plus the line about the enemy wanting to get in his head helped to establish the character in an indirect way.
Continue writing senpai. Its Young Adult, not fucking Thus Spoke Zarathusta. Its supposed to show a unique story in a cool world.
>>8265581
No love anons?
>>8269846
Decent. Would buy if just to read to pass the time.
>>8255280
Its good. Anymore?
A poem
MONTERROSA
Her death this year approaches
her soul still lit but fading
the mind a forgetful husk
she tiptoed around their lives
shaping their future bright
avoiding her walker’s rust
impossible it seemed in hindsight
she sits the days in memory
what little is there is frothy and flies
mother still lives
sisters still laugh
horse hooves pound the earth
first loves blossom and ripen
the crops green in her hand
rocking chair creaks and wakes present pain
children in denial cling to stories
strangers speak freely
they know all about her life
it trickles from familiar faucets
forming a soggy puzzled past
the missing mouths
the blurry blackouts
the dying son
milky eyes cascade and cloud
atrophy drowns the long hours
an air of expiration dances
it abounds
only on humid nights she laughs
when back home in the fields
the dust with her life resounds
every morning a confusion
each it’s own struggle
trivial spaces fall out of time
baby faces now grown and bearded
her rosary the only constant
her purple veins a sourceless river of time
turning rapids into delta
she’s done her duty
she’s lived
she’s loved
she’s raised
she’s hated and scorned
any day now peace will come
the mourners will come undone
>>8265591
>>8268890
this is so laughably edgy and bad, kid
>>8255280
I like it very much, but I feel it can only work in the context of a massive novel. And of course it must have a message and a punchline. But if it were an extract from a novel, I'd want to read it.
>>8268754
I promised to critique this today, so here I am. From this poem I think you're actually a better poet than I am, so take what I have to say with a grain of salt. Then again, you are not following very strict form here, so you've had more liberty of expression than I've so far given myself; I've pretty much accepted the common wisdom that one needs to be able to write formally before doing the weird stuff. And indeed, I think this poem could benefit from some structure; we are not all Wallace Stevens, and it is hard to do the whole faux-quatrain thing without his well-trained ear. As for the content, I still feel the subject is quite tired, and, although this may be projection, I think it has been written too much under the auspices of Eliot. In particular, the fact that you've again ended on an idea lifted from another poet--here it's Philomela, obviously a major character from The Waste Land, and before it was an entire line of Blake--makes me think you have a bad habit. A poet, however poor and timid, must not defer to another for their ultimate message. That said, the last line of stanza 1 is, I would be so bold, exquisite, although it does somehow smack of the Eliot of the Four Quartets. I guess that's the main problem here: the Shelley of Adonais, the Pound of Hugh Selwyn Mauberley, the Eliot of The Waste Land, are all being channeled too directly in this poem. I'm particularly reminded of the Brennbaum section of HSM by this thing. But the first stanza, at least, is very compelling, and could have been written by a great poet.
As for the second quatrain--you can hardly criticize me for bad enjambments with that abominable one between the first and second lines! I understand the temptation to put dramatic words like 'End' in that sort of position, especially, I suppose, because that sort of enjambment is 'abrupt,' but it's really tired in my opinion. I also tend not to like it when a poem's structure 'mirrors' its content in that kind of superficial way. And why should the men be men of blood? Some of the imagery here isn't clearly justified, from my perspective. Was there some specific mythological thing in mind here?
As for the third stanza, I do admire the successful neologism of 'blackward.' 'Fermented mythologies,' however, reminds me of an unsuccessful Cranesque phrase. I feel the almost comical catachresis is quite out of place, and should be toned down some.
Quatrain four is nearly incoherent, which was perhaps intentional. Specifically, I can't parse the 'sound' on line 2; should it perhaps be 'sounds?' Also, why can you 'yet' not hear the writhing of Philomela? If a trumpet of Corinthian brass--a cannon even!--is being sounded, we should expect not to hear the rape/death of art, or whatever Philomela is taken to represent. While the imagery is compelling, there are some logical/syntactic issues. Although I can't help but feel I'm talking out of my ass, as I had to google what 'artifex' meant. Nonetheless, good job!
>>8271806
but that's what it's supposed to be—I don't think you understood the humor
>>8272330
Thanks!
If you would like to see what I am attempting to do here (so that you can see how utterly I failed)It is an attempt to compare the smothering of egyptian culture to the Philomela of Metamorphoses (the men of blood are supposed to be the children of Rome)
That being said I of course like Eliot although I'm not confident I even understand the Waste Land
and haven't read the four quartets (the fact that is sounds like him is great news to me) You are a great deal better read than I am and am thankful for your critique. The 4th stanza is definitely the one I'm least confident about and I will attempt to make the humoral medicine bits work better. Thanks again.
I just finished my novel a few months ago, and after quite a lot of rejection letters due to the fact that I'm a no-name writer, I figured I would write some short stories and try to put them up on Amazon or something, this is the first one I've finished. It takes place in the same universe as my novel does, and I was hoping to use these as a way to generate interest in the world and the characters, I'd really really appreciate some anon telling me what they think.
http://pastebin.com/brxjzWvg
>>8272580
>ya
I'm sorry anon, but I can't. 'Ya' made it unbearable.
This is but a small part, just enough to get the style, I'll drop another small portion if anyone takes interest.
>>8262332
Your first sentence is bad. Why are you telling us he is delirious. Show your reader he is by him pushing at the restraints, yelling some mad bullshit or something along those lines.
>>8272580
>Ya
Why?
What sins have your readers committed?
This is a continuation of what I started in another thread. I'm taking the advice to "just write", so I'm not thinking about it too much; overthinking is something i know I suffer from regularly
Although it was three a.m., in a pretty quiet part of the city, footsteps followed down to the single lit house on the road. The house spilled orange out of its windows into the black outside, almost giving an illusion of heat in the cold of the night. When the walker drew close enough, the door opened silently and a woman stood in its archway. Upon recognising the face of the man who approached, she stepped aside to let him in.
“Hi,” she said. You’re early, she thought. The man and the woman were the kind of friends that were friendly enough to hold a conversation, but not quite friendly enough to start one. As such, the man took quite an amount of time to hang up his coat on the banister, so as to slightly shorten the discomfort of the silence in the entryway.
As he took his hands off the coat, he paused before he put them down by his sides (do I look natural with me hands here? What do I even do with my hands normally?) and followed the woman into the living room she'd walked in to. He sat down; not too close but not so far as to make the situation more uncomfortable.
There was a weird couple seconds of silence. He decided to open his mouth to speak, but what came out was the sound of bone on wood, not vocal cords: there was a knock at the door. He felt saved in much the same way the school bell saves a student preparing to be scolded by their teacher.
"I'll get it," she said, and got up to walk back out of the room to the door.
Genre-Pleb here.
I know the opening is important and I'd love to hear what you guys thinks works better for portraying a fantasy story set during a little ice-age style ecological catastrophe and better sets the stage for something bleak but not anymore grimdark than real famines and catastrophes tend to be.
Anyway, rambling aside I'd love some feedback. Fantasy is a very new genre to me and I'm finding it tough, I hope its irrational self doubt.
Please also rip my writing style to shreds! I know there's a lot of room to improve!
http://pastebin.com/JhnMsK4i
>>8255040
in my opinion, too many similes, or at least of the same wording. You could say something like "his touch was that of a father" instead of saying "he touched them like a father. The last sentence will show you what I mean.
Also, my opinion again but generally am not a fan of "It was very hot." Why not give some descriptor to show this instead of telling me in a really boring way? How does it affect anything? Maybe their brows could glisten with sweat, etc.
"My child you cannot be ironic and Good at the same time, it has been spoken. These paths two diverge; twent long ago by depthless differences. You must choose one and only one of them or perish astray."
"Fuck you, father," I said. "I'll be whatever I so desire."
The Priest of Cool's brow furrowed slightly, but it was hard to tell behind his overlarge sunglasses. It was going to be a long face.
>>8274108
I smirked.
http://pastebin.com/C8S7hhGf
A new part of the ongoing thing I'm writing. Please critique. You may recognise the characters from an old thread, but this is all fresh content, I promise.I can't keep it a secret anymore: the characters are anthro animals. It's not furry, I swear. The war they're fighting is canines vs felines, with the dogs being the commies and the cats being fascists. The commies are nominally multicultural and free of hate, but if you're not a dog you're basically a second-class citizen, with dogs making up 99% of the population anyway. The cats are ultra-fascists where the big cats (lions, tigers etc.) are a ruling caste subject to uber harsh eugenics and "succeed or die"-style martial training, and the domestic cats are brainwashed serfs.
Taras is the main character. The Commissar is only a temporary villain. Please attempt to guess what crime the Commissar is accusing Taras of committing, I need to make sure I made it sufficiently obvious.
In return for your delicious critiques I am going to critique some excerpts from this thread, plus of course reciprocate any critiques I receive, along with distributing cool WW1 factoids.
For example: did you know that if it weren't for German chemists discovering how to make synthetic chemicals from corn and maize, Germany would only have been able to produce artillery shells for a matter of months in 1914. Science kills.
>>8274108
Upvoted.
The first sentence was very entertaining.
>>8273908
The first is absolutely more compelling. It's immediately interesting and conveys all of the information of the second with none of the exposition and trite grimdarkness. The second opening sounds like it's trying way too hard. Also, I have a pet hate for beginning anything with dialogue.
However, the first opening isn't perfect.
>His eyes wandered beyond the creature to the hill climbing woodland.
I have no fucking clue what is going on in this sentence. Far from making things clearer this bit of description leaves me with more questions than I had going in. I could guess, but this really needs to be clarified. It seems like a small complaint, but that single sentence made me stop and re-read it like three times before I gave up and moved on. That really breaks the flow of the writing.
>quickly despairing cries of those who watched and didn’t run
I really like this imagery, but "quickly despairing"? What? What does a quickly despairing cry sound like? How do you even quickly despair? Do you just feel bad for a moment and then get over it? The adjective makes no sense in my opinion.
>His sister, Isilla, stood pale with eyes wide at the sights beyond their door.
I think this sentence can be tweaked a little for great effect.
'His sister, Isilla, stood pale, eyes wide, staring out the door.'
It adds, in my opinion, a rhythmic plodding sound to the sentence that lends itself to what it's describing - a character paralysed with fear or horror.
Then, the coup de grace: the father kills himself.
Why? If he was making a last stand to give his family time then why does he kill himself and thus fail to give his family as much time as he could? Why didn't he escape with his family if he wasn't trying to buy them time? If the family doesn't need time once they're out of sight then why does he need to stay behind at all if he's not engaged with the enemy by the time they're safe? Is he not trying to protect his family at all. It's insufficiently explained, which is why it feels pointlessly grim.
And that sums up my overall impression: the description needs work. Sometimes the detail is confusing, and sometimes there isn't detail where it's needed. The dialogue, the immediacy, the tension, are all fine. It's interesting enough - I would read more. But the description is what lets it down.
Overall, not bad.
>>8273694
There are some weasel phrases in there, and I don't mean in the intentionally vague of misleading sense. I mean it in the 'meandering around the point' sense. Take, for example,
>as such, the man took quite an amount of time
It could be simply
>the man took quite and amount of time
It doesn't lose anything and in my opinion gains something from the brevity.
We can take this further:
>As such, the man took quite an amount of time to hang up his coat on the banister, so as to slightly shorten the discomfort of the silence in the entryway.
Becomes
>The man took quite an amount of time to hang up his coat on the banister to truncate the discomfort of the silence in the entryway.
You don't have to use truncate there, even I think it sounds pretentious, but I like it because that's what we're doing to this sentence: truncating it. By removing the weasel phrases and the unnecessary commas we give the character agency. Taking quite an amount of time to hang up his coat isn't something that just happens, it becomes something that the character is doing. You might not actually want this if the character is supposed to be a passive kind of person, but the principle applies.
>He decided to open his mouth to speak, but what came out was the sound of bone on wood, not vocal cords
The problem with long phrases like this is that the explanation comes so far after the confusing bit that I've already stopped and gone "what?", and maybe even re-read it once or twice, that it breaks the flow. In my opinion if you're going to throw in complex imagery you need to explain it pretty-much straight away unless it's something that's supposed to be puzzling. I'd cut out ", not vocal cords".
Apart from that it lacks direction. I don't feel like it's going anywhere. I get a sense of the relationship between the characters and the situation but nothing else. I understand it's a short excerpt so it's not that big a problem, but it's why I don't like the "just write" advice.
If you just write then the things you write will be meandering and purposeless, which leads to weasel phrases as you subconsciously try to avoid having to write anything of substance because you can't think of any substance which to write.
My advice is to write something, but don't edit it. Just keep ploughing through. If you've got an idea for a novel, write that. If it's shit you don't have to keep it, but you will at least actually be writing towards an ending. I think that's important: writing towards an ending.
You can go back and edit in a day or so.
>>8272759
A bit too cynical for me to believe it, sadly. Some grammatical errors - commas not where they should be, fullstops after exclamation points, etc - but readable. It just comes off as too much. It's too droll and too unimpressed. It probably wouldn't feel nearly as bad in a wider context, I think it's just a particularly sour part. The problem is it comes across as sour, when you really want cynicism to come across as tangy, if that makes sense. The terminally unimpressed tragic cynic needs to amuse us, or we'll quickly get sick of his whining.
It doesn't have to be a laugh a minute, which is why I think this excerpt would read better in a larger context.
Fun fact: the Soviets and the Germans formed a truce on the Eastern Front in WW1 for a few days to hunt wolves.
>>8274873
>Soviets
Whoops. Russians, not Soviets.
>>8274789
Awesome. First off thank you so much for the time you've spent in giving me feedback.
>hill climbing woodland
Over visualising x poor descriptive skills = that. I meant it as a subtle way of saying that Ecter and Isilla's family lived in a mountain village. I think I might change that to
>His eyes wandered beyond the creature to the mountain forests it had come from.
Or something
>His sister, Isilla, stood pale, eyes wide, staring out the door
Yep, this works. I had something roughly similar before but I opted for connective(?) words instead of commas. In hindsight, I think this is something I'll avoid for action scenes in general
>Quickly despairing
Meant this as in, 'they quickly became despairing' but ly's are very rarely good and I see how that one isn't. I'll change that.
>Father's suicide
I think this is just a bad job on my part from the later bits. I also worried the father's last stand would be a bit clichéd to readers with no connection to the family. What I wanted to portray is that these "Brucha"(Working name, I dislike it) attack so efficiently that him telling his family to run was as futile an action as picking up his sword. Something I tried to show by having other runners being herded and ambushed in their attempt to flee. I'll work on fitting it in a non clunky, "He knew none of them would make it, he just didn't want to be there to see it," kind of thing. Failing this I'll keep the perspective solely with Ecter and leave exactly what happens to the father up to the reader's informed imagination.
>description needs work
Description of visuals, description of what's going on or both?
Thank you for the feedback once again!
>>8273694
It's rather limp.
>>8271559
Too disjointed, despite having no punctuation.
---
The loft is course with threads of dust
but I often sleep there.
Under the skylight,
bathed in midnight,
sits a wooden chair.
On my command it sails above
grey edifices streaked with age, above
sullen cows and sleeping lakes,
above wavecrests iced with moonlight.
I sing over time's parade, its clamour,
over the infinite which fades as I climb,
over the waterfall drowning my mind,
under the stars that replace it.
Briefly I resent the chair
when it sets me down,
bathed in midnight,
under the skylight.
Way back when, Lu had dropped in to convince Candice the baby was no good. “When you get to thinking about it, shitting and sleeping are two good functions,” She said, “And everything between you leave to legislation. But you’ve got your shitting and your sleeping always. The first thing they teach you in Oakland, kindness to all that shits and sleeps. Marine Biology guys and the whole Aquaculture party came over one night and we split notes – right there, Dr. Punji’s famed shit-sleep cycles of the Marianna Trench. And I said, senior citizens are a lot like sea creatures. That’s how Paul came into the whole thing, anyway. The point is, you’re set up between these two constants and everything is like a workable field in between. Paul’s an Agricultural Scientist, he’s on another level man. He’s where shit wakes up. You’ve got all eden in a field of shit. Hits the turbine, I mean.”
It was while Lu busied herself with a terminal battery that Candice retreated with the baby to the cold green space of the bathroom. She put her son down deep in the water, deeper than she’d ever tried before and swirled it over his red little body. Wasn’t crying yet. All this dullness had come into her life, like Lu’s bare hand hitting off the plastic, all of it was just noise – she listened to the neighbour’s strains of Benny Goodman die at the window, whimpered slightly. Nothing shook the walls, nothing reverberated around anymore, if only she could get it out of her mind and let it shake around out here, like a dead green fly pressing at the glass could die nobly… but there was nothing. Her hand was hot and it was like she’d lost all passion to lift it from the water. She couldn’t smack the baby, even, who had shit in the bath.
Cachito chipmunk rode the squirrel to the Hocus-pocus farm. Found a magic treasure. He died.
The End.
>>8274873
So, would you say, in general, the cynicism needs to be more optimistic? Or just funnier? I can do either I guess, whatever is more fun to read,
>>8276707
Or rather, appreciate more? He shit-talks everything while praising nothing?
The Visitor
Was it that time again? On one hand, Mashenko had still a half glass of bourbon, and on the over hand, who would pay for the power bill if not himself. What harm would finishing off this glass do? And then perhaps just another for a farewell? 4 years Mr. Otaku's Outstanding Tavern (name pending under new management) had been the devious but forever faithful friend of Mashenko, 4 years he had spent befriending its denizens. There was Barry, the unemployed handicap whom spent most of his time oggling the unsuspecting females who walked in. An old favorite was of course Xavier, the conspiracy theorist who would always have a new ghost or ghoul story to speak of (though regrettably he has gone missing these past few months). There was also Franklin I. Tackitt, fitness enthusiast, though despite his best efforts he could not get Mashenko involved in it.
I get mad and upset everytime I write. I wish it would stop. Even thinking about writing gets me really stressed.
>>8276894
>>8276894
MASHENKO HAAAAAAAAA
Just a general question because I don't know where else to ask but how do I go about submitting articles and such to places? I'd really like to be a sort of journalist but the cool freelance kind because I'm super cool.
I looked at 'journalismjobs' but it looked like shit.
>>8274108
best post of the thread
>>8254983
What is acceptable in modern literature?
>>8268029
Most excellent. Is there more to be had?
>>8265591
Reminds me of John Green, I don't how you're supposed to take that.
>>8265063
It seems kinda forced, Have you tried rewriting it?
>Pic is my update. Fuck my shit up.
Having doubts in my when writing this, So I don't know how awful this is.
>>8276894
>referencing 4chan
>>8277405
>he doesn't mention 4chan.
>>8275187
Another one:
Sunday languor on a Monday morning,
senses dull to all but caffeine,
blind to mysteries eclipsed by daylight.
The weekend beckons through the mist
of chores and repetition; a snow globe
in constant turmoil forgets its walls.
Morning daze swept aside by shower,
orders are now clear: get by.
>>8276110
Don't have anything constructive to say but you have no responses and I liked it so yeah
The Passings
There are years to go before the last perfect day
on Earth. Then the sun will begin to swell, and life
will cease, shorelines will retreat as oceans boil,
and all will glow a barren red and airless gray.
By then I will be shadow, long dead. Now, I live
amid joys and sorrows, with the love of a girl
in a backseat, behind her mommy and daddy,
as they pilgrim to a motel in New Hampshire,
blowing kisses out her window to teenage strays,
drunk in a sportscar, honking and cursing at her
family squareback's pace, as they are full on passing,
as if they are ready to face eternal sleep,
as they leave her family behind on the highway,
that is endless, and endless, and everything.
Between Mom and Dad and me, it only took a few minutes to unload the car, but my unair-conditioned dorm room, although blessedly out of the sunshine, was only modestly cooler. The room surprised me: I’d pictured plush carpet, wood-paneled walls, Victorian furniture. Aside from one luxury—a private bathroom—I got a box. With cinder-block walls coated thick with layers of white paint and a green-and-white-checkered linoleum floor, the place looked more like a hospital than the dorm room of my fantasies. A bunk bed of unfinished wood with vinyl mattresses was pushed against the room’s back window. The desks and dressers and bookshelves were all attached to the walls in order to prevent creative floor planning. And no air-conditioning.
>>8268893
Word
>>8262461
>Oh hey this post has a lot of replies, maybe this story is pretty good
>it's just the same guy replying to himself over and over again
>>8276110
Lu's bare hand where it could be her bare hand strikes funny but that dialogue is fantastic. Please do me
At the age of 49, in a hospital bed in which he now lies - as he so often does when no one is looking -prone, and with his lungs for some unknown reason at the nadir of an inexplicable, staggered cessation of normal function, and with older get well cards and fresher, sentimentally-more-vague cards in his extreme periphery – when he opens his eyes and scans like a hammer head shark for disapproving onlookers; he is not meant to be prone – with all this bearing down on him, and even as now, with him noticing the tiny, incremental decrease in the up-thrust created by his expanding ribcage – this up-thrust pushing him away from the bed-sheet’s swaddling warmth; prone - Dennis Wendle is wondering whether or not he is being childish.
To his left is something which looks like a cross between an Eames-style coat rack and Wendle’s own Jungian jellyfish – which he has only even seen on television and which have all blurred into one, regular jellyfish that is – the thing, which is mostly dim white steel – the kind where one does not intuit the colour as being painted but rather as the natural pigmentation of some kind of metallic / synthetic bone – and which is looped over with thin translucent tendrils the colour of coagulated seawater, is actually a PAC( patient controlled analgsia), which contraception dispenses coagulated-seawater-looking morphine more or less at Wendle’s plethoric request, but is not quite the reason he is being childish, which has more to do with the lying prone.
>>8277167
I'm in that same spot desu. It's been a weird cycle, because taking a break from writing only made me stressed because I was putting it to the side.
Maybe we need to find a new muse, or something new/a different way of writing things to clear it.
We can both do it, Anon, and good luck to you.
hello
I wrote a poem today that I like but could use some work. Opinions?
Mimic
But then what happened when
she stuck her hand through
to grasp what book from the shelf
that gave-in and crushed her
hand between the pages.
no, that's not right, it isn't just
that it happened but that it was
enacted.
the shelf came down and crushed the hand,
she reached for the wrong thing
and the shelf reacted because she made a mistake
which wasn't forgiven.
I only write poetry when I'm plastered nowadays. I tried to clean it up for your viewing. It's most likely garbage tier, but I think submitting to these threads, even the bad stuff, is probably beneficial to everyone involved in one way or another. Anyways, here it is. Might post more of these jalopies if I can find what I saved them as.
25 years.
Individualized in ashtray gardens,
casting our dread dreams on the blood stained blinds,
behind which our
knocking fists find a way through the drywall where
all our powdery sludge pills spill out
all over our rubber transcript sheets.
Passing along the phasing faces
in a pow-wow festi-circle in which
we celebrate our social suicide,
each manikin clings to their touch screen catalyst and prays,
whether consciously or not,
that they won't grow old enough to appear as a cyber tombstone,
with their stagnant digitized image
plastered with the useless eulogies that come with death now
(both literal and otherwise).
And in the twilight of an increasingly bleak movement in our planet's adolescent crisis,
I'm looking at another overcast early morning
and feeling like I've finally got it figured out.
Until next Wednesday,
when I realize that despite writing being a 'suicide postponed,'
I'm not much better.
>>8279851
At first reading, I didn't realize how well the circular style was done. Favorite part in the poem is the middle stanza. There's a lot of feeling in it the way you set it up. The only issue I have with it is that the middle stanza feels like the fireworks (it's got that spastic vibe going for it), and maybe the third should because it's the explanation of the mimicry. It's really just a matter of how you want it to read though, so that's your call.
>>8280018
Thank you for the feedback anon, I appreciate it! And I definitely see what you mean by the fireworks thing... I'll have to consider carrying that into or occurring in the last stanza, could be interesting.
>>8279951
The rhythm of the first half or so is rly nice, and I quite like your line about feeling like you have it all figured out, though the ending could be more subtle. Edit for more continuous rhythm and then break said rhythm with the sensation of clarity in those last few lines? Then tone down the ending and I think this could be rly intriguing.
New Poem:
In a room containing my girlfriends
There is straw on a camel's back
Which I had tied up, all at once
On a computer I found the failing stuff: my words, what I thought of them
The clock is not—
—My time is not yet
Up against an information
That cannot win in the earth
And I died in China
With the river dolphin
Three Ladies.
Besides, there was a new air worth breathing
dancing to guitar strings and riled,
quickly through,
the wasteland's new wilderness.
The left hand hung loose,
the right in noose,
Retracted to the social end,
I begin to drink first -
as I often do.
Enter the characters:
One came in shades of dress,
one came and stayed for less,
one came indifference and ignorance.
One took the stage.
And only one came.
kill yourselves
>>8254991
It's got a weird Joycean vibe but with all this overly flowery prose. I would tend to not rely heavily on descriptions/observations of the narrator. A good story needs a plot, and your's had the semblance of one, but it needs more fleshing out.
On the right track.
basic plot: planet blows up, only people alive are on big space stations, 99% are men. Hilarity ensues
The people in the stations quickly split into four groups. There were the Fatalists, who were quite certain that any attempt at continuing the race was pointless. Then came the Lifers, who wanted to find a way to make the existing people effectively immortal. The Sailors, a group which proposed that similar enough life forms had to exist somewhere, and they needed only to find them and intermingle. And finally came the Radicals, who were the smallest group, suggesting that the best course of action would be to find a way to grow new infants in a laboratory.
None of these attempts were very good or very practical. The Lifers' closest attempt was to freeze someone cryogenically, which, although useful, was less than ideal for those who wanted to actually move around at some point in their lives. The Sailors found several new races of people by traveling through the ethereal stream which had conveniently opened up on their now-dead homeworld, partially solving the dilemma of faster-than-light travel. However, none of the females of those races seemed either compatible nor very interested. The Radicals had a few promising moments, but nothing really “took” so to speak, and they were running short on lab space. And the Fatalists just sort of moped about, writing sad poetry about gardens and gravity and other things they missed about the planet, none of which was very helpful or even very creative.
It was around this time when one Dr. Nagat and his laboratory assistant Ronah had a long and eventful conversation, aboard the space station designated IN-04. They were seated at a small, uncomfortable table, where the doctor had his computer, a rugged, beaten-looking touchscreen interface which he continually had to slide backward to keep it from falling off. “Ronah, I've been thinking...” he said, scratching the back of his neck. Ronah didn't ask what he was thinking about, because there was only one thing worth thinking about. Their species was, frankly, dying. Dr. Nagat had this habit of fiddling with his hands whenever he had to speak about something awkward and uncomfortable, and at this moment it appeared that he was attempting to unscrew his thumbs.
My modern steed,
Made of steel,
Black coffee,
Yellow street lights,
Both never leave my sight.
Darkened windows,
Droopy trumpet sounds,
Just shifting through,
There's no future tonight!
“heaven she went and then,
you tried to go follow
teacher told us amen
‘he won’t come tomorrow’
did you go prove him wrong”
“Nothing you made
Will ever stay
And every key
you blindly pushed
made it debased”
>>8280193
Not good. Just not good. Couple of problems with the meter and word choice. The first stanza doesnt match the second in syllable count, inflection, or even number of lines so reading it aloud feels clunky.
Also "both never leave my sight" comes directly after a list of THREE items (steed, coffee, lights) so it doesn't make sense.
Finally, "droopy trumpet sounds" is a stupid-sounding line. What does that sound like? What is making that sound? The motorcycle? What's wrong with the motorcycle to make it sound like that?
Trash it.
>>8280204
What's with the quotes? Are these two separate poems? Learn to punctuation.
If it's one poem, why do you rhyme in the first stanza but drop it completely in the second?
If it's two poems, why is the meter so weird in each of them? The message is muddled by clumsy wording and mismatched tone.
>>8272536
thanks kind anon—though you're not only saying that to be kind?
That ass,
I can't pass.
Merely thrust my tounge,
To recieve mass.
That ass,
Seal my face like fate,
Soon I shall asphyxiate.
The boy swept. His movement, echoing in the great hall. His candlelit visage hollow and reverberant, alone. All of his lineage, from the veritable Eve of him and a hundred million more, coalesced and condensed into him then, at that moment. He himself indomitable among them all, for he, the single dot, the point of time of which the line of his foregoers has of yet halted, chooses the fate of the millions before him. He is left the sole purveyor of his physical memory upon the earth. They had left nothing behind save themselves. Machines to make the machines. The dot is blind to the line, his eyes locked forward in ignorance, as the sheer scope of the line acts as an eclipse of itself. The far reaching tendrils of history not probe-able by the stubby limbs of man in an age before chisel and rock, before ink and papyrus.
Let's Pretend to Pretend
I masturbated in the back seat of my car
while waiting an hour for my drug dealer
who sells pills you can snort.
But he never answered the phone
so I just drove home.
On the way back I saw a bus pulled over by a cop
and two snug open lanes
one of which left unoccupied
to give the wounded mastodon space.
As I crawled by straddling the left lane
I grew impatient
and attempted to pass in the middle
but surrendered back to the left lane.
After, the guy in front of me flipped me off
and eventually decided to not let me pass
blocking the road, and flicking me off.
Angry, I sped passed him
almost hitting him. As I did so
I threw my semen soaked tissue at his car
and hit him in the face through his open window
leaving him livid, and me crying.
He turns on the faucet:
obsidian murk
and tiny Thai fish all named Gerald.
It must be psychosis
his doctor said from behind the shower curtain.
It must be mitosis
his collection of specimens from AP Biology whispered
from his divisive cells selling tiny insurance men.
"Where's the maestro? The M-A-E-S-T-R-O!"
The proud crowd says loud,
and again, and repetition breeds impact, and
continuity is for—see you next Tuesday.
Slippery granite:
don't take it for granted.
Trickery: planned it.
These notes have been planted.
Now see me seed, reap, weep, sow and so & so.
It was 10:45 on a mission day and the operator sitting in position number 260 was having an existential crisis. The Department was not paying him to have an existential crisis on their time, in fact it was barely paying him at all which, in combination with the unsatisfying and repetitive nature of his work contributed materially to his present condition. Once again he looked down at his watch and noted the time. 10:46. In accordance with procedure he was supposed to have stopped drinking at least twelve hours prior to coming into work that day, in fact he had finished the last of five neat glasses of whisky at 22:53 the night before and so decided to delay logging into his position for another six minutes so he could continue to call himself a man of utmost integrity.
On the way to work that morning Operator 260 had driven past a highway patrol car and focused all his attention on giving the impression that he was completely sober. This is best accomplished, he had learned, by assuming an air of complete indifference. Exceed the speed limit by about 5 miles per hour - any more and you run the risk of being pulled over for speeding, but sticking assiduously to the limit when everyone else on the road takes it to be a mere suggestion is a signal that you are trying too hard to appear law-abiding. It had been 34 days now since anyone was picked up for a DUI on Department premises, an enlisted infantryman who guarded the gate at the Eastern compound and had since been replaced by a motion sensor and an underfed Doberman. Operator 260 had wanted to join the infantry once, at a point in his life where he could not lawfully obtain either a firearm or a large quantity of Valium, but the Department recruiters at the Army enlistment office had taken one look at him and concluded that at 5ft5 and 130 lbs he was born to be a desk murderer.
From the other side of the bay Operator 255 looked down at his watch pointedly. Operator 260 decided to power cycle one of his computers to make himself look busier.
“These automatic updates again, you know they keep the system running on UTC instead of local so they always need to be rebooted right when shift starts…”
“That’s why if you’re not five minutes early you’re five minutes late.” Operator 255 shook his head disapprovingly. His eyes were spaced slightly too far apart meaning that at least one of them always seemed to be staring directly at Operator 260 even when he was ostensibly looking at his screen. It was never a welcoming kind of look either.
“There’s always some excuse with you isn’t there 260?”
“We’re on the same pay scale, 255.” It was 10:50.
That ass,
Against wet glass,
No class.
That ass,
Make me spazz,
Both jizz and jazz.
>>8280284
*Dat and it's gucci baby
This got ignored when I posted it a few days ago: http://pastebin.com/7VeBvDzC
It's the first page of a story I was writing, but I'm thinking about ditching the idea.
