Let's get it rolling, overdose and choke on our vomit.
I'll look over anything in pastebin.
LORD OF RHYTHM
LOGO WRITTEN
FOUR DOOR HISSING
IT CAN GO MISSING
THIS THREAD MEANS
AS MUCH AS EXISTENCE
SUCKING DICK FOR BREAD
IT'S GAY TO BE CHRISTIAN
>>7840767
The last one hasn't even reached bump limit yet.
>>7840810
thats the redditor thread
Found this on an old flash drive, I wrote in in high school after I read Slaughterhouse Five. Thoughts?
>>7841156
literally fedora the post
cringed harder than i even thought possible
Here's a passage of the story I'm working on. Tell me what you think!
One day I had a puppy
Then the puppy died
God took him away
Fuck you, GodAnd please don't kill me, amen. I love you, God.
>>7841156
Oh man I hope that was designed to make my eyes roll and my face palm. So, in that regard, well done. It's too bad to be earnest. I remember challenging a friend to improvise some atonal music. He couldn't—it's not as easy as you'd think.
>>7841236
I think you shud putit in pastebin you utter, utter maniac
>>7841156
kek
>>7841236
At least use a segment that doesn't have part of the original's full title in it.
b-be gentle
>>7841347
>>I wake up
Plsno
Something I wrote when I was autistic
http://pastebin.com/rHQfhyhB
>>7841379
link doesn't work for some reason, but if you copy and paste it to your browser it should work
I wrote this today, so very rough. But the story follows the narrator and gets wacky, but things are supposed to seem off. I feel that needs to be said.
The War
I couldn't remember the last time I had felt as small as when I was isolated in the main chapel of The St. Mary Cathedral in Florence. The grandiosity of the apse commanded the vast, vibrant reign of the stain-glass illuminated pews. The sensation dumbfounded me for the moment, making it hard to forget. Though many tourists and fellow travellers were surrounding me, isolation was difficult not to feel. I've really earned some respect for Brunelleschi since that day, let me tell you. It is not by accident that the chapel is so renowned and iconic.
Even so, at this moment, with my life-long doctor resiliently holding my gaze while I read his lips tell me I have late-stage, terminal cancer.. I've become infinitely smaller. It wasn't a feeling this time.
And I can hear just fine. But the words didn't register. *..register? .. .. click ..haha.. damn..*
Again, I see him tell me something I can't understand, but I'm sure was along the lines of; ... you're married, so... there's your silver lining, followed by a forced chuckle.
He reaches his hand out to give me emotional support through my shoulder blade. I can't help but stare at the indentation around his finger. All these years and he's never changed. *bastard*
Im unable to focus on him. I can't believe I'm back in Florence on that day..
'Hello?'
..Maria? Is that you? Maria! I can see her standing over in the fourth row of pews with her mother. Just like she was.. ...
'Hello, Niko? Should I leave you be, buddy, are you going to be okay?'
'Oh!.. I'm sorry, I'm.. I'm going to be ok. I was, just thinking about something. That's all.'
I stared past him and into his cabinet supply cabinets. They were a brilliant new coat of white. Or wait, are they black? I can't tell for some... He continued looking at me with the kind of eyes you give an angsty teen you know is hiding something but don't know if you really should be concerned. *seriously?* I couldn't ignore it.
'So.. I'm dying.. There. I'm dying. I'm going to die. Is this what's supposed to happen? I've got to say it to make it better? I'M DYING! HOW'S THAT! IS THIS RIGHT! Tell me!'
The quiet following was paliple. McCormick was looking through me. Or more like looking away from me while looking right at me. As if I couldn't feel any smaller.. Now I'm both quantum and theoretical. *nice*
'Look, Ron, I really am sorry. I, you know, I've thought about death so much of my life. I've thought about it with an iron fist and absolute abstraction.' *fucking Brunelleschi* 'I've joked about it with myself as much as with my friends: hundreds of times. But.. I'm learning that it can't be solidified. No matter how much you try to build it up, death, death is just something that's always one step beyond your best comprehension. It is...' *haha*
>continued
>>7841406
McCormick lets out a light laugh, leans towards me and says, 'Listen. I know this is serious Niko, and I'm going be here for you every step of the way fighting this. I promise.' He leans back and a small grin cracks his face. His eyes seem glassy. I wonder is he's thinking about his son and wife.. Oh that night in Florence. If I had never seen you.. What a beautiful chapel roof. You were the only person who's radiance was greater. I had always known it was you ever since.
Ico...
"I don't want to die. I'm... I'm not ready. I can't die yet." *haha*
Ron then stands up slowly out of his office chair and walks over towards the edge of the medical table. He reaches into the black cabinets and pulls out a white notebook and a Sharpie pen. For a few moments he hunches over the paper scribbling in doctoral graduate chicken scratch, and then tears off a sheet and reliqueshes it to me. As I grab and begin to read the page, surprised by its legibility, McCormick begins praising, 'This is a little, well, riddle, I suppose, I give to my terminally diagnosed patients. Before I let them read it though, I tell them that there is so much going on around you in space, and in your mind, that operates outside your understanding, son. And the illusion of the living is the dream of outer space...'
At that, I look at him skeptically, but intensely. Here's another person telling me they know what I should feel. Their interpretation of god.. I miss first home, that's how I feel. I miss my old... my old... airplane ticket? No. My mothers... church? *what the hell is going on*
'Florence was certainly beautiful that summer's eve, Niko.', the doctor calmly says. As if he knew it. But I never told him, did I? He was barely my doctor, having only just met him to get tested two weeks ago. What's going on..
*fucking Brunelleschi*
'Fucking Brunelleschi, am I right?' jests McCormick.
'What the fuck is going on?!' I shout as I begin to panic. He said just what I was thinking. Or wait.. Did I think that? Brunell-who? What name did he's a say?
'Take a deep breath, Niko. Slowly now. There you go. Let it out. Good. Florence is beautiful tonight, isn't it?' As I looked, the black cabinets slowly shifted into the sparsely clouded night sky. The desk lamp, now a glistening moon, as new as they come. The medical desk, topped by beakers and containers, melded fluidly into the the garnished Florence skyline. As I look down, I see the ground pull away from me and I slide from sitting to perched upon a roof, the night time stone cool to the touch. A soft, salty breeze tenderly plays with my hair and pants as it replaces the hum of the central air conditioning. It whispers to me, "Light shows what you are; sound tells you. Together, they helped you create something they will never see or hear. Read the note now, I think it will help you with being afraid.' *where am I standing?*
I look down and written in black ink on lined paper, the note reads:
>continued
>>7841419
How many lines do you need?
How many lines do you want?
And how many lines
lie just outside,
and right between?
The arm moves the marker,
flexible fingers guide.
But what pushes it farther,
leaving clues to find?
Theres something else scribbled out on the bottom.
I look out to the stars and retort, 'Clues can't be right. That scribble is clear, just beneath my light! That story was told with black on white... I mean, in black and white, of course. There couldn't possibly be anymore.' Silence.
I'm absolutely lost. I've lost my mind, I mean is this is happening right now? I look back down to the note for any more help. But as I look down I see something that catches my eye, through the stained glass.. Is that... *Maria, hehe. it's her* 'No, it can't be..' But it looks so much like her... That Sunkist brown hair, the way she moves her arms when talking to her.. son. Her smile.. I know it's not her, it can't be... She's so beautiful. Just like Florence on summer nights such as these. I knew this trip was going to be worth saving for. I can't remember why I came up here though, regardless of how nice it is. I think I'll go inside now. Maybe if I'm quick enough, I can find her.
---
As Niko finds the roof access to return to the chaple, the small note lightly tucked in his pocket is lifted carefully by the wind. Swinging away in the breeze, the note lands carefully at the foot of a young mother walking just outside the cathedral, who picks it up. Looking down at the note, the woman reads:
How many lines do you need?
How many lines do you want?
And how many lines
lie just outside,
and right between?
The arm moves the marker,
flexible fingers guide.
But what pushes it farther,
leaving clues to find?
'I WANT TO DIE' is written poorly below the two phrases. Dr. McCormick, N. is printed in the bottom corner.
She looks up from the paper for a moment, clearly confused. Seeing nothing immeduately, she looks back and flips the page over. Seeing additional text written on the back, she begins to read:
Clues can't be right.
That scribble is clear,
just beneath my light!
That story was told with black on white-
I mean, in black and white, of course.
There couldn't possibly be anymore.
At that moment, a young man accidentally bumps into her, knocking the page free from her hand and back to the wind.
Again, this is very rough and a lot will be touched up, taken/added, etc. That's why I'm getting it critiqued here.
I'm writing a novel set on a dystopian SJW-ruled future. Our Hero, Max Dunkelheit is an elite marine combat vet who becomes 'redpilled' through an anonymous web forum. Unfortunately the thought police is tracking his every move. After barely escaping an IDF drone strike, Max Dunkelheit executes a daring escape across a totalitarian America, on to muslim-occupied Europe finally arriving in the mountains of Norway, where he meets this character who is some sort of redpilled black metal Yoda. This mentor helps Max get in touch with the Spirit of Europa and discover his true identity as the latest incarnation of the Volkisch World Hero, destined to save his race from oblivion.
>>7841347
>>7841368
This really is a cliche, huh? Fucking christ our lourde amen.
Replace all occurrences of 'I wake up' with 'a screaming comes across the sky' or 'stately plump buck mulligan'.
>>7841443
But we live in a dystopian sjw ruled present...
>>7841606
yeah, but it will get worse. I hope my novel becomes a rallying cry for the next generation of european children
Mind Over Matter
/lit/, I've just been thinking (inb4 "there's your problem, OP) about death and mortality, which has brought me to some really amazing thoughts about the self and how truly gifted we are to be granted the capacity for reason and seeming self-agency, regardless of whether its actuation is through omnipotent design or merely an illusion of our biological manifold. I've come to the conclusion that even people who otherwise give no time to ethical, spiritual, literary, or other metaphysical considerations still possess at least some rudimentary estimation of the awesomeness of our mental faculties and the status of their ascendancy over our more corporeal ones.
Think of the way people describe the pain of loved ones suffering with Alzheimer's or similar neurally degenerative conditions. It's almost guaranteed you will hear a statement that remains unprovoked by any other method of expiration:
>"It's like they aren't there anymore."
This comes from the impermeable mystery of the event. While a gory wound or a growing state of emaciation offer us observable phenomenon with which to empathize, a mind dies invisibly. A man choking on his own blood can find ways to die with purpose, heroically leading a hopeless cavalry charge or sacrificing themselves to save another. Someone could waste away with poignancy, creating with their quiet dignity a bittersweet portrait of the endurance of the human spirit despite the transience of life. But that absolute ignorance stultifies any attempt to insulate us from our own mortality with morals or sappy theatrical silver linings. Though it's happening right before our eyes, it doesn't allow for comprehension, rationalization, or really even bare approximation of what the decay might be like for the individual experiencing it. We cannot imagine a better fate for ourselves in a similar situation because the very situation requires the degradation and termination of self.
And the absence of self prohibits the exercise of courage, or compassion, or dignity, or stoicism because these are capacities of human intellect no longer possible. That is why, more than the outbursts of boisterous sorrow that might follow a sudden violent death or the intractable and mounting despair of a terminal physical ailment, cognizance of the mind's fallibility evokes a deeper, more existential terror in the observer.
I do not consider the preceding ruminations to be dark or melancholy, though they certainly seem it. Rather, it fills me with joy to think that, even should it be subconscious, essentially every person must hold some recognition of the value of human reason, intellect, and the gift of self.
>>7841642
Conversely, I have another and shorter thought celebrating mind and self to share. I find it incredibly uplifting that, in spite of the involution promised for each biological organ and component, that the faculties of human intellect are possible to preserve into old age, even straight to the threshold of death (obviously precluding the conditions I already mentioned.) The mind can endure and be exercised throughout life, though skin withers, muscles weaken, and pulse fades.
Essentially, what it boils down to is this: regardless of anything that may be wrong with the details of our lives, it's incredibly fortunate for us that we have the capacity to find solace in the mind and improve our abilities to perceive and understand through intellectual pursuits. Also, I forced myself to practice the piano, do the dishes, read a bit, then write this while super stoned this evening, keeping to my daily goals (including eating under 2,000 calories) instead of masturbating like I really wanted to. I done stuck to my daily goals. And whether this post was a waste of your time and you think it's shit, writing anything is an important practice if you hope to someday write SOMETHING of value. And I thank /lit/ for helping me arrive at that conclusion, pointing me towards worthwhile literature, and providing impetus for self-improvement in general.
And without further ado, pic related.
>>7841606
my brain tells me asses shouldn't turn me on but they do anyway
>>7841600
>Replace all occurrences of 'I wake up' with 'a screaming comes across the sky' or 'stately plump buck mulligan'
you're making a joke but /lit/ should note closely those excerpts. each word is placed by joyce, pynchon to a certain effect, impressing to the reader more than idle description. there's a tendency toward a quite ghastly expulsion of verbosity, giving way to uncomfortably lengthy sentences. you start to think it's just to show off their shiny words. this whole thread should consider that words can actually do amazing things when placed adeptly, not constipating their prose.
>>7841606
The alternative is a society in which asses like that must be covered up in a burqa or Puritan long-skirt
>>7841653
why would your brain tell you something so silly
asses are objectively the best
>>7841787
Why can't we go back to 50s America? Objectively the best era in human history, booming economy, peace and traditional values. That is, until SJWs happened. Just see how happy these people where. Paradise!
>>7841801
But the 50s were only good for white straight men with money. Anybody who didn't fit that bill was screwed.
Even Catholics and Jews faced some prejudice back then. JFK becoming president was a huge deal.
>>7841805
Today everyone is screwed, specially straight white men. The happy traditional families have become the enemy, a symbol of 'oppression' and 'hate', instead we get a 'diverse' and 'vibrant' collection of unhappy degenerates available in every possible color, size and gender. Look at this picture, even the dog is happy for chrissakes!
>>7841825
>posts pictures of advertising to prove point
Yeah sure, those aren't tailored in any way m80
>>7841825
That's false, though. Straight white men still have it better than the rest, it's just that the gap is less wide.
>>7841825
>Look at this picture, even the dog is happy for chrissakes!
It's advertising, dumbass. Of course everyone's happy in the add. That's how you sell shit.
>>7841827
Just imagine it, coming home from work, to your beautiful ethnically homogenous neighborhood, a kiss on the cheek from your wife, being greeted by your beloved progeny, cheerful, numerous and above all obedient. An Apple Pie waiting in the oven... Paradise!
>>7841801
It wasn't traditional values though. Before the 1950s fewer people married, people married later, and had less children. Women worked, and people lived in the cities and took public transit instead of living in the suburbs and owning cars. Fewer people attended church.
The "traditional values" of the 1950s in America were a bizarre parody of the prewar years, an overreaction of a people stressed by decades of poverty and war. And arguably they fucked us up a little bit, making us over reliant on petroleum and spawning the baby boomers.
I'm sympathetic to your views, but the social experiment of the 1950s set us up for the disasters of the 1960s and everything subsequent.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Simon_of_Trent
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Werner_of_Oberwesel
Can't say anything about the validity of the claims surrounding their deaths, but I found their removal from the calendars of saints morbid.
>>7841368
I hate all—no
I hate THIS woman
>>7841379
>This acerbic-lipped woman
YOU WEREN'T JOKIN, HOSS!
>>7841406
>The grandiosity of the apse commanded the vast, vibrant reign of the stain-glass illuminated pews.
this is wrong
>>7841440
is this written in iambs?? I don't know much about literature but this seems very mature... cool stuff. It really feels like I'm there, you know? The various terms are very impressive to me. High point of thread so far at least to me. Good stuff
>>7841606
>>7841844
Ya dude, I get it, you're pulling an epic satire. Have fun fucking your mixed girlfriend on benzos or whatever
>>7841440
A minor typo on the third row -- it should be seaman in the singular.
That's inconsequential, of course. This is very good. I've read the page twice and I wish there was more.
As the boy stepped out into the light, homewards bound, the park up ahead, where dogs chased and other children gathered, he walked through the school gate, nostalgically looking into a future that did not yet exist. The melancholic walk, marking the end of another painful day, he would face alone. The day was filled with regrets.
The shade of a tree sheltered him coolly for a moment from the summer heat and the smell of the flowers almost filled him with a calming peace. But he could hardly be at peace after a day like the one he had just had. Why did it have to be like this? His face flushed with red hot shame and embarrassment. He thought he would get home as quickly as he could and try to forget about what had happened, but he knew he would face the same thing the next day; embarrassment in front of all his classmates, dejection and shame over and over and over....How he wished he could wash those jeering laughs out of his mind! And worse, much worse, ----imaginary character looking on, not laughing, but looking at him with pity! With pity! And how she looked away when he saw her. He would bury himself in the flowerbed that lay in front of him, if it would clear him of the shame, the shame, the-
He tripped heavily on the pavement, clumsy, clumsy! Now red sun on asphalt, illuminated the graffitied concrete tower blocks, and the small concrete huts with weeds branching out of the cracks and windows, grey and dusty (what went on inside he did not know), and the cityscape, ugly and vast and domineering took a hellish bend and he was amidst all of it, the schoolkids chasing, playing, laughing (at him, perhaps?), the dogs, horrible and wolf-like, growling, maybe, and barking, vehicles - towering giants, machinery that pumped black fumes and that hummed, a whole orchestra, fierce and monotonous and...
If only he was an adult now - how easy it would be for him! People would recognize the talents he had; the superior intelligence, all those good qualities which his school mates ignored, or even turned their noses up at, would bear fruit and he would rise above the rest; his cleverness finally recognized and appreciated, no longer mocked, no longer laughed, despite his -----, Lily would love him, with reverence, with loyalty and piety, and he would be happy.
>>7842346
Little did he know, he would not be, would never be, at peace. These pains of childhood: dejection, hostility, ----, would only be maximised in adulthood; he would only become more lonely, more apart, distant from the rest, further; a drunk, a failure, appreciated by no-one, pitied, even, by no-one.
A black cat winked at him, again and again, and he felt a little warmth and happiness rise up in him. Not too long in the future, ten years maybe, nothing but drink would bring him such warmth and peace. It never occurred to the child, what the future really held in store. Mere fantasy kept him going; little did he know the perseverance of the hatred of his peers, little did he know that even at twenty five, he would still entertain fantasies of his girl Lily, aged nine and still aged nine in his fantasies, unable to find any interest in women any older than that (save a few years); never did he envision years and years of dejection during adolescence, then his first cannabis joint, his weekly, daily joint, then his cocaine evenings, regretted in the morning, the musty sweat of liquor and cocaine clinging parasitically to his ugly and exhausted and useless body (at the age of twenty) all to fill, to cover up that fundamental difference from everyone, that distance, that deep longingness, and the hopeless knowledge that what was inside was undisguisable, was integral to him, and was there to stay.
One time he walked down this same route, ten years older and the haziness of his childhood was behind him; he didn't remember that day, nor any of the other days - it was all a blur, as the rest of his life would become a blur, fading with memory and finally dying with him, in death, for ever and ever, never to be remembered again. He did, however, remember the sense of feeling this was an ugly place, frightening, even, the people were strange and he would leave when he was older, but now he had come to realize that the ugliness of the place was perfectly fitting for somebody like him; ugly on the inside and on the out, and even more: selfish, hateful, hated.
But the boy, not yet aware of all this, turned a corner that lead onto the canal path, the shined down on the murky water and the dizzying something or other forced him to quicken his pace. What idiot notions he entertained then, of superiority, of book reading, while aimlessly plodding along through life, heading nowhere, hoping that those things he longed for would become true, yet not making the slightest move to make them happen and always feeling that, for some reason known only to himself, that those things he deserved, and it was a failure (yes, a failure!) on the worlds part for not providing him with the goods. And then he realised: Life is an unsteady descent into death and hell, through rejection, drink, and guilt, and ruining everything and failing.
Go in to thread, OP says he'll read any thing in pastebin
>no pastebin
>no critique
OP=FAG or anons just dumb? anyhow, do your worst
http://pastebin.com/is4nzifw
>>7842358
Fails to be even funny. Why post that? Or write it, even?
CREATIVE WRITING CLASS
Ok kids, said Ms Huntley, today I want you to try and describe the situation you see before you. She grabbed a claw hammer and smashed it into her face, again and again and again, skin breaking, bones shattering. She thrust two hands into the pulverized flesh of her face and pulled her skull open, brains spilling out onto the desk. DESCRIBE IT KIDS she screamed, until she broke her jaw and could only scream incoherently, the bottom half of her face flapping uselessly. Turns out it was a student free day! What a fucking retard.
>>7842369
thanks for the constructive criticism.
>>7842426
How can someone give constructive criticism to a joke?
>>7842440
With words?
>>7842442
Okay: Write better jokes. Funny ones.
>>7841347
Cut one of the "probably"s
>>7842222
How so?
>>7841897
delete this
>>7842220
Am I missing a reference here? Or are you just calling me autistic? ( I don't blame you)
>>7841440
fantastic, absolutely great writing. very Joycian.
I hope you're doing plenty of research.
>>7841440
sexy
-
Alright,
See you soon.
Oh, wait!
Bring an hdmi cable haha.
Haha.
So what do you want to see?
Haha, okay, sounds good.
Haha.
It’s not like it matters,
We’re not going to watch it anyway.
Yeah, nice to meet you.
(It wasn’t)
I’ll call you.
(I won’t)
Yeah you too, haha!
Haha!
I'm shit.
-
>>7841653
>>7841798
http://www.nature.com/ijo/journal/v34/n6/full/ijo2009286a.html
Dat ass = Smart offspring
>>7844302
/lit/ - Literature
>>7841440
Consider changing in the tenth line of the second paragraph's "to be not" with "not to be"
The cognisci of iamdem .. Do not forget, manifest ultra-redemption-nada. Destroy the religious folk against-from any red red retard stop trying to actualize my thoughts, please leave me free and only alone forever and actually one day only, that's fine thank you -edit.
Demonstrate the intellectual superiority of yet another android made of bits and beasts after all a beast of man destroys eats man reduces thinking to a metaphor about good and bad without in any way responding to any kind of critical view.
Again. Destruction has come again, in its more meager way, I run away. Stop, stop again from running funnily and telling jokes while taking steps but no one is tricked and they act like complete predators without thought for social order - such a shame. I relapse.
It just reached the twelfth hour of the day, and Napoleon's dogs must be fast approaching. The who's, what's and when's are above my rank, and so I'm left scrambling for rumors about what's really going on; a less than ideal situation. Bagration has placed me in the front lines, and Andrei will be with me. I have utmost confidence in Bagration; when all is said and done I expect that Borodino will be French free.
>>7844472
I don't get it, but the words are pretty
>>7844516
>a steady, nebulous drone.
>>7844309
LIGHT
OF MY
LIFE
#fireofmyloins
>>7844524
Is it hackneyed, or just not adequate wording?
>>7844584
Bad writing w/bad vocab, bad usage.
It's not even an eye-roller, it just makes Author look limp.
>>7844583
lolita
>>7844611
That's not a loli ass.
t. loli-expert
>>7841156
I really hope that you high school teacher called you out on this.
it could be refined juuuust a little bit (and I barely got halfway through the second paragraph). I'm sure that you know this, but terms like "masturbatory" and "tralfamagorianism" do not make you sound smart. There are some ok ideas here, they just need to be refined more than what a 16 year old with a decent vocabulary can do (and that does not mean using bigger words)
>>7841347
I really liked the opening sentences. After that it kind of droops off. Reading about reading is boring. Reading about the author's feels is exciting. Leave us wondering. "Can I finish IT in time"? turn IT into some obscure take on life and you have yourself a (maybe) publishable idea.
>>7841379
Preposition Ratio: 8.9 % ← Dynamic!
Zombie Nouns:
explanation
solution
frustration
question
occasion
optimism
Lexical Diversity: 37.49 %
Content Carrying Words: 57.57 %
Personal Vocab Diversity: 54.81 %
Longest Word: contributing
▲ 'Going mental' ← Is this phrase making a comeback? Or yr a Britbong?
▲ 'This acerbic-lipped woman is the person I am living with in this currently empty one room apartment.' → 'This is the woman I am living with in this empty apartment.'
▲ 'and stares at me with eager eyes expecting an explanation.' → 'and stares at me expecting an explanation.'
▲ MU!
▲ 'Ahaha' ← People talk in txt msg speak? I'm guessing yr in HS still. Oh it's from when you were 'autistic'. Why post it? To see if yr a natural? To see if yr diary-level runoff is any good?
▲ Boring, boring, so boring.
>>7843958
this is really good desu
>>7844850
how did you get these stats
>>7842358
Preposition Ratio: 9.4 % ← Dynamic!
No Zombie Nouns ← A 1st!
Lexical Diversity: 52.66 %
Content Carrying Words: 60.82 %
Personal Vocab Diversity: 69.07 %
Longest Word: subconsciously
▲ It's 'hungover'. Look, I know it autocorrects to 'hung over' & the OED says 'hung-over'—the OAD, the important one since we're Making America Great Again, says 'hangover'. So go w/the closed compound. STOP—don't look at google, look at ME. It's 'hungover'.
▲ 2 too many semicolons.
▲ 'I didn't try to have sex with the sausage meat like John. Or ground up my wife in the magnimincer like Sokolev.' → 'I didn't try to have sex with the sausage meat like John. I didn't grind up my wife in the magnimincer like Sokolev. ← Go w/the parallel phrasing, it's clearer.
▲ 'I would probably end up giving the degenerate a hand job. ' → 'I will probably end up giving the degenerate a hand job. ' ← Unless you ended leaving...?
▲ Yr talented & entertaining. I'd read more.
>>7844883
# Lex Div
text = text
word_count = len(text)
vocab_size = len(set(word.lower() for word in text if word.isalpha()))
diversity_score = vocab_size / word_count
print('Lexical Diversity:', round((diversity_score * 100), 2), '%')
>>7844850
>in HS still
I wrote it when I was in HS, I'm not anymore.
>why post it
I just wanted to participate senpai, certainly wasn't expecting to wow anyone with my writing.
>>7841711
It's a mad scramble to lock-pick success. The good stuff comes from transcending that banal need to Say The Right Things. The best literary things came from thinkers who Houdinied their way out of themselves.
>>7844913
> text = text
Stick to writing, kiddo
>>7844993
Do you have anything new? Make something up, on the fly.
Use:
http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/randomitem.php?p=1 voila!
>>7845012
There's a reason for that. I think I thought I was resetting the variable. I was probably pretty drunk to be honest, family.
>>7845015
In class right now and pretty busy with uni stuff in general. I will write something next week though, spring break and all that.
Short vignette I wrote last night:
The man opened his eyes. Somewhere in the night, a woman was weeping, her cries leaking through the thin walls of the apartment building. The acoustics of the low hallways amplified her cries, as though they came from everywhere at once—from inside the closet, from beneath the bed, from straight out of the darkness. The man thought he was dreaming that he was dying, and that a beautiful woman was mourning by his bedside.
But when he did not die, and the weeping began to sound desperate and ugly, he remembered that his dreams were never so sweet. When he turned on the bare bulb of his lamp, the darkness was instantly replaced by his bedroom. Walls and empty space and loneliness returned at light-speed. He had almost forgotten about them.
Now the volume of the woman’s wailing was rising in jagged peaks. The man closed his eyes and plugged his ears, but the harsh light of the bulb illuminated his eyelids, and the sharp cries of the woman were still a whisper in his ears.
When the man opened his ears again, he discovered dead silence. He feared the worst, but when he listened closely, he could hear the woman’s muffled sobs and uneven breaths. The man turned off the lamp and laid back down in bed.
He didn’t want to believe that the woman had stopped weeping out of defeat—out of the knowledge that it was futile, that she was alone, that the morning would be bright and apathetic towards her sorrow. He wanted to believe that there was a better reason, one that would give him sweet dreams.
>>7845091
>>7845136
Preposition Ratio: 10.25 % ← Good.
No Nominalizations
Lexical Diversity: 44.41 %
Content Carrying Words: 53.73 %
Personal Vocab Diversity: 63.58 %
Longest Word: illuminated
▲ 'Acoustics' ← Please, why? I'm at a loss here. Just...
▲ Soooo tedious.
▲ 'Volume' ←I can't.
▲ 'began to sound desperate and ugly' ← Ok
▲ 'returned at light-speed' ← Ok so yr 12 years old.
▲ Invoke/Evoke. Words are not enough. Use the words to paint a picture that evokes ugly, desperate sadness. What a fucking bore.
▲ This was all for the original post. I'm not looking at the new one. I see you went from 'pleasant' to 'sweet'.WOW GENIUS
>(Something I'm starting to flesh out after reading Lawrence Raab's "A Glass Of Water Turns Into A Rose". Based loosely around how fucked up I felt in 9/11 and my brother in law killing a man who escaped the North Tower [true story, happened last week] and also a dream I had about Claude Debussy and how nothing feels like it gets easier ever and would you like dressing for that word salad?)
in the all purpose room
Debussy himself explains
how the instruments of his time
weighed a quarter of ours and
so when he set his mind
to sadism and the etudes
he forgot
that time was far
crueler than he would ever dare
to be:
his notes stand woven
in the chalk, sister
bernadette claps the erasers
and in the dust is all
the world laid
as simple as can be if only
one had enough faith for it to appear
without need of further explanation
and when the television
in the corner changed from
Uchida, the polyglot
virtuoso demonstrating the notes
to the panicked face of Big Bird
and the North and South towers hit
at the same time
the same dread
falls over these sheets
though it was not so-
but in dreams all things
stand just so:
as fact, and in these
minutes are we
orphaned all over again
in an instant instead of
seventeen minutes
>>7845151
Yeah the point of the repost was that there was a grammatical error in the original.
>>7841837
Everyone has fallen since then, it is just straight white men have fallen the most. You really have to ask yourself if it is better live as a black man in Harlem today or in 1950?
>>7844739
this + they're tralfamadorians anyway you tralFAGadorian
Very raw, unedited, just an excerpt from something I'm working on...
But Jesus, this scene is bleak and Hilton feels discomfort that extends well into emotional synergy, his stomach twisting slowly like a corkscrew, doesn’t like this one bit: not the kevlar, not the rubber bullets, not the mob: full synchronicity; individuality dead and gone. In his car with a cigarette, Henk is joining the fun, it's an opium den, he’s even brought his dream stick.
‘Thought I forgot my lamp.’ Jimbo’s special lamp bought cause it was Made in China, which he feels has now become vintage wholesale, now that Taiwan’s name is all over the Happy Meal toys.
‘Just open a window...actually don’t, there’s police are here.’
‘They’re just here for the show man’
‘And also to do their job, with guns and fucking shields like it’s Thermopylae.’
‘It’s just rubber bullets, besides, not like they’re gonna execute you Death Wish style’
‘I was thinking more like Platoon.’
‘The fucking Green Goblin man’
‘You don’t have a drink, a flask or something, too shaky to drive.’
‘You worry too much man have some of this’
‘I’ll have your fumes, that should do me.’
‘Righto’
The two figures sit in the car, lights off, spectating as if the front window were a screen. It’s a TV dinner on the dark streets of Mulderneaux, the air is spicey, laced with rotundone, it begs to drift onto tongues, slip into the olfactory system. It is taste aversion. The fumes of discord, pumped by Eris as serum, in another ‘social experiment’ to bait the masses, trial the Lethal Dose requirements. WARNING: LOCK UP YOUR CHILDREN AND BATTEN DOWN THE HATCHES TONIGHT THE DOOM WALKS, HARD AND SHARP AS THE PITCHFORK IT CARRIES, AND PYROMANIC. EYES SHIFT, WINDOW BLINDS CLOSE, THIS ISN’T THE WILD WEST BUT SAVAGE AFRICA. TerminatorTM. Africa indeed, where lions roam the streets as strays, they yawn in the midday sun under the robot lights, your taxi driver is a giraffe in a flat-cap who shifts cocay-een on the side. Would you like some? Now the pack is running, they have the scent, but they’ve smelt it all their lives - the anger, oppression, conditioning - and the structures are bleeding, municipalities torn apart by broken budgeting, an absentee government. But the pack wants blood tonight, primal and impatient, they don’t look to the leader of the herd - the big rich buffalo, President Athi Tolo - they sniff the lower ranker, the injured weakling and nothing but a symbolic police presence interrupts the feast trajectory.
>>7844472
The first sentence is a bit too much (was gonna say "tryhard" but decided against it). I quite enjoyed the rest though. Very "automatic writing", reminded me of Kerouac in some way.
Hi guys, read and see if this is catching enough to begin a reading. Grammar is not important, content is.
http://pastebin.com/nN0dkVa8
>>7841443
oh, so you're rewriting the fountainhead?
>>7845391
Read the whole thing and this is my opinion. Wayyyyyy too descriptive. Not a writer per se, but I feel like that's a common pitfall: you have to resist poring over every single detail of the anatomy of each character when you introduce them. The sequence where you describe the room is another example of this. We don't need to have a photorealistic visualization of every thing in the world you created. Leave much more to the imagination. Also, and i'm not trying to be a dick here, but it sort of comes across as written by a non-native english speaker. Just the adjectives you chose and such.
>>7845362
first paragraph needs some work, mainly on the "In his car" sentence. Syntax feels off, too many commas imo. Middle dialogue part has some good elements, feels realistic and that's a difficult feat sometimes. I don't like the pop-culture references (death wish, platoon, green goblin), seems a little pedestrian but that's just me. I usually prefer classical references but that can come off as pompous in the wrong hands. Last paragraph is very captivating, seems like it's from a different book stylistically from the rest, but i like it. Great imagery.
>>7845427
I agree with this. Would it be better if I cut some of the house details out? Other stuff will be used for symbolism. Genre will be realistic in the beginning transitioning into fantasy later.
>>7845453
>and a stout man with a Cuban cigar walked out in a commanding demeanor.
This is enough description of this character for now. Imo, write "with a commanding demeanor', not "in" .The sentence after that about his sunglasses is overdescriptive.
>where a man in a pale beige trench coat stood at rest leaning on the wall.
this is fine. We get a good enough impression.
>His hair was wild, bushy, and long, acting as a sort of a hat on him
This is overdescriptive again. If this character is central to your story, then by all means describe him in detail at some point, just don't blow your load at once.
>The stout man mocked in a deep and moderately loud voice
"moderately loud" is weak. Too descriptive once again. I always enjoyed the use of the word "baritone" to describe a deep voice.
>The stout man mocked in a deep baritone.
Maybe i'm a pleb but i like that better.
>The center of the house smelled of burnt explosive from the flash bang discharge, with a visible black ring around the canister.
ftfy
>The ceiling fan was blowing gently, and spreading the stench of old musky house and charcoal.
That's more than enough description for this room imo, especially insofar as it's not the center of any meaningful event.
>extremely modified gun
"extremely" is weak here. Why not "heavily" ? sounds better imo
Possible first paragraph of flash fiction?
The pad-thai arrived with peanuts crumbled on top, and the flabby waiter didn’t even look sorry about it. I’d asked him specifically to omit the peanuts—to please not murder me, a lonely man just trying eat some Thai food on a Friday night without going into anaphylactic shock. But the waiter had set down that plate of death with brusqueness and apathy, no words, no smile, like an executioner. I could see him at an empty table in the corner of the restaurant, sitting besides a chef with chili-sauce dribbled on his apron. Both were smoking and snickering about a joke told in a foreign language, a joke that I was sure was centered around me. I looked at him, then down at my pad-thai, and considered shoveling it just so that I could file a petty lawsuit and fuck his shit up, fuck this whole stinking restaurant’s shit up. It wouldn’t matter whether I won the lawsuit or not. It was solely about being noticed.
>>7845477
Yes, those are most of the details I just changed in fact. I think baritone sounds silly, haha. I'll use a different description. Thanks
>>7845479
Substitute the pad-thai for a more exotic, lesser known dish. Makes it seem too trendy imo. I think this is a legitimate complaint.
>It wouldn’t matter whether I won the lawsuit or not. It was solely about being noticed.
Remove this. They are already implied by the "petty" qualifier and as such, seem redundant and petulant.
I like the rest though, as well as the general psychology of the character. Would read more
>>7845489
np senpai
>>7840767
I will stick my hand so far up your anus that you will become my sentient dummy— your mouth clap trapping as my phalanges finagle your foolish tongue into pantomimes of hate. As your hectic speech spews across the dandy snow white faces of your family, and their eyes sharpen into the unspoken signs of familial hatred, I will remove my hand, allowing you to dance sadly through a life of unloving love.
>>7845541
375edgy249me
>>7845541
wtf is this even trying to be?
>>7840767
A lone star for the troubled mind,
Princes and kings walk far behind,
The man's oldest and boldest leg,
Effervescence, scent of nutmeg,
Planting a foot in the elder hoard,
Salting the troubled earth's accord,
Between that ashen foundation of mine,
An old man followed by the essence of time.
>>7845854
metempsychosis, baby.
>>7844902
Thanks.
there is more:
wreckedgreg.tumblr.com
Something I've written a few months back and rediscovered yesterday, getting it published on a blog. I'd like to see you guys' opinion.
http://pastebin.com/5C3dsTfg
>>7845479
A few interesting passages brought down by a certain stiltedness of language. Make it either flashier, more brusque and violent or more "literary", especially if the protagonist is, in any way, a pretentious fuck. On the topic, I'd advise you to read Cartilage and Skin by Rizza, whose first part eerily recalls this scene, albeit in a more accomplished prose. You may like it and find inspiration. The fuck his shit up part was also fairly cool,
Inspired by a dream (clearly)
http://pastebin.com/A4qYMmXB
>>7845291
GENIUS!
>>7847536
I KNOW!
http://pastebin.com/z6FFZxr6
Any opinions are welcome
>>7845665
Like a micron thin blade.
>>7846108
Trash 0/10 overwritten underthought clearly the author is a hobbit a yearning sad hobbit with hobbit breath and little hobbit hands who writes with awful hobbit grammar
Not one good thing can be said about it except that it sure has its place here on 4chan's literature board's critique thread
Everyone should be thanking you for setting the lower limit of quality down 50 more pegs
The pathetic reaching of your style really makes a mean, dark place in myself twitch
It's like you deserve awful things to happen to you while at the same time being completely pathetic and whiny and but also really honestly needing a kick in the solar-plexus until you give up this idea of "being an author" forever
Fuck
>>7841347
>the next bout of unconsciousness
>inescapable biological requirements
You sound like a cunt
>>7847694
Preposition Ratio: 12.22 % ← Decent
Zombie Nonus:
formation
tension
direction
affirmation
Lexical Diversity: 36.99 %
Content Carrying Words: 57.77 %
Personal Vocab Diversity: 56.12 %
Longest Word: encouragement
▲ 'ya' → 'you'
▲ " 'em " → " em "
▲ Overall, it's fine. Seems like it's for kids (not a bad thing).
>>7848401
Do you use a program for the percentages?
In a small flower shop grew a little bulb. This bulb was optimistic and happy, believing that she would, one day, bloom into a beautiful flower. And with a hopeful attitude, whenever the shopkeeper sold a flower, the little bulb would shout, “Just you wait, that's going to be me one day!”
The shopkeeper loved the little bulb, and so he would pamper her. Every morning, he would give her a little extra water to keep her awake, a little extra fertilizer in case she got hungry. “I'm going to bloom soon! I can feel it!” The bulb would say, and this would always put a smile on the shopkeeper's face.
But the flowers didn't like all the attention the shopkeeper was going to the bulb, and every day, whenever the shopkeeper wasn't looking, the shop's most beautiful flower would steal water from the little bulb. “I need this water more than you do, look at my beautiful petals, all 10 of them. Giving it all to you would be a waste, you don't even have one.”
But the little bulb was strong, and replied cheerfully, “Maybe not now, but I'm sure that one day I'll have 20 of them! But, gee, your petals sure are beautiful. If they really need the water, I'll be glad to give it to you!”, much to the flowers' annoyance.
And so this continued, with the portion of water the flowers taking getting larger by the day. And each time the bulb gave away her water, the more she would begin to droop. But the bulb remained hopeful, and continued to believe that she would become a beautiful flower one day.
And so this continued, with the little bulb drooping more and more each day. Many of the flowers saw the bulb's sorry state, and felt pity towards her. Through the annoyance and jealousy they had first felt towards the bulb, they now felt admiration. They begged the shop's most beautiful flower to stop taking the bulb's water, but were turned down every time they asked.
Finally, the shopkeeper saw how weak the bulb had become, and although she couldn't even stand straight anymore, she gave him her usual greeting in her cheerful tone. “Why are you crying?” The bulb asked. “I'm thinking of how beautiful you'll become when you bloom,” The shopkeeper answered, holding back tears. He left the little bulb in her little stand, and the little bulb let out a sigh. She was so tired, maybe she should take a little nap. She hoped the shopkeeper wouldn't mind.
>>7848435
;_;7
>>7846830
Preposition Ratio: 9.24% ← Dynamic!
Zombie Nouns:
conversation
destination
direction
motion
Lexical Diversity: 32.06 %
Content Carrying Words: 56.83 %
Personal Vocab Diversity: 47.58 %
Longest Word: subconsciously
▲ 'for in his dream' ← Why 'for'? Are you Hans Christian Andersen?
▲ 'rob him, then almost' → 'rob him, and then almost'
▲ Didn't suck me in. It DID bring to mind a fraction of a line from Gravity's Rainbow: '...enjoyed the camouflage of a face about to be remembered, but through the act of memory fading too far.'
>>7847645
please explain how this is art. i'm legitimately curious.
>>7848435
>>Do you use a program for the percentages?
Not exactly. I read the sample aloud to Siri and she tells me the stats.
It's a full novella. A little cringy but there's witchcraft, child prostitutes/sex slaves and cannibalism. I'll never publish it in any capacity but writing it helped me improve
http://pastebin.com/txPGvs47
>>7848469
why does /lit/ love the bunny?
>>7848469
P.S. It's fucking shit and I never did a second draft.
>>7845391
Preposition Ratio: 10.77 % ← Good
Zombie Nouns:
position
section
explosion
commotion
Lexical Diversity: 37.54 %
Content Carrying Words: 60.73 %
Personal Vocab Diversity: 56.02 %
Longest Word: overwhelmingly
▲ 'MOVE IN, MOVE IN, MOVE IN!' → 'MOVE IN, MOVE IN, MOVE IN'
▲ Clean it up, cut it down.
▲ Maybe finagle the last ¶ to the very top.
▲ Grammar isTHE MOST IMPORTANT PART, FUCKFACE. If the G is good, you can communicate w/e you want.
>>7848469
Preposition Ratio: 11.11 % ← Good, esp. considering the length.
Probable Zombie Nouns [turn them back into verbs]:
'celebration', 'documentation', 'explosion', 'commotion', 'inclination', 'constellation', 'identification', 'desperation', 'fortification', 'manifestation', 'preservation', 'premonition', 'concentration', 'conviction', 'affliction', 'instruction', 'rotation', 'intersection', 'composition', 'equation', 'detention', 'attention', 'Action', 'injection', 'condition', 'duration', 'revelation', 'invention', 'teleportation', 'situation', 'creation', 'location', 'decoration', 'illusion', 'designation', 'declaration', 'inspiration', 'intention', 'elimination', 'promotion', 'question', 'intuition', 'alienation', 'version', 'operation', 'salutation', 'trillion', 'distraction', 'solution', 'protection', 'sensation', 'inspection', 'presentation', 'position', 'fraction', 'succession', 'reflection', 'vision', 'occupation', 'imagination', 'adoration', 'acceleration', 'station', 'possession', 'confusion', 'reception', 'hesitation', 'starvation', 'preparation', 'direction', 'Defamation', 'plantation', 'frustration', 'anticipation', 'incision', 'destination', 'perception', 'million', 'satisfaction', 'emotion', 'generation', 'reaction', 'projection', 'education', 'motivation', 'aggravation', 'mention', 'transmission', 'decision', 'demonstration', 'Transmission', 'cushion', 'opinion', 'permission', 'section', 'stipulation', 'connection', 'definition', 'explanation', 'billion', 'companion', 'addition', 'information', 'fusion', 'fabrication', 'destruction', 'function', 'notion', 'COMMOTION', 'apprehension', 'formation', 'perversion', 'mansion', 'infestation', 'production', 'action', 'authorization', 'correction', 'suggestion', 'MILLION', 'description', 'determination', 'session', 'elation', 'introduction', 'deduction', 'obsession', 'examination', 'expression', 'contraption', 'partition', 'compensation', 'transportation', 'communication', 'option', 'motion', 'conversation', 'security', 'authority', 'commodity', 'curiosity', 'depravity', 'inability', 'vitality', 'city', 'deity', 'Quality', 'infinity', 'capacity', 'ability', 'Gravity', 'impossibility', 'reality', 'facility', 'activity', 'electricity', 'personality', 'possibility', 'City', 'opportunity', 'immunity', 'serenity', 'sanity', 'prosperity', 'responsibility', 'Security', 'entity', 'sterility', 'publicity', 'gravity', 'clarity', 'nism', 'mechanism', 'electromagnetism', 'skepticism'
Lexical Diversity: 6.46 %
Content Carrying Words: 56.63 %
Personal Vocab Diversity: 12.22 %
Get a thesaurus!
Longest Words [pretty obnoxious]: 'Exxxxxcellllennt', 'counterproductive', 'electromagnetism', 'hyperventilating', 'indistinguishable', 'overenthusiastically'
I'm not going to actually read it :^)
>>7848535
Thanx. Explain the purpose of a preposition ratio? Or link to description of purpose?
>>7848535
>'million'
>'city'
>'deity'
>'quality'
>>7848464
Surely you can't beSirious.
One chapter of a fantasy novella / fairy tale. Not as cohesive alone as it would be in its full context -- hopefully the surrounding plot can be imagined.
>http://pastebin.com/nMRgwJp6
>>7848457
As the person who wrote it, so am I, senpai.
>>7842699
the grandiosity commanded the reign? it doesn't mean anything, man
>>7842886
ya autistic
>>7840767
>It was inside a forest of falling leaves. The morning that had dawned on that day, warm and cloudy, a sign that left the hunter unsure when sunset came. In such a day, one could see how jubilant nature was to show its beauty to the world, reclaimed its rights on the ruins of a devastated landscape. The mixture of dark green and blond forest grass now stood out when comparing the defensive works of the trenches and the remains of human corpses.
>>7849367
sentence 2 is wrong, and sentence 3, 4... it's all wrong
>>7849373
I know, I haven't had chance to correct them. I just type this for this thread.
But did you find what I wrote interesting?
>>7849380
I'm afraid not, but I'm very depressed and don't find many things interesting. It's important to remember that, when you post things here, you're presenting them to an audience that's so far from the world that even the concept of heaven or love doesn't do anything for them anymore.
>>7849395
>I'm afraid not, but I'm very depressed and don't find many things interesting. It's important to remember that, when you post things here, you're presenting them to an audience that's so far from the world that even the concept of heaven or love doesn't do anything for them anymore.
Did /lit/ destroy you?
>>7841440
Wow, great stuff. Are you an fellow Estonian writer?
>>7841156
People are really harsh on you. I liked it. You can tell this is an example of "literature" that is actually a post-it of your personal ideas to help handle your own struggles at the time (this is clearly marked by the classic battle any clever adolescent has within himself when still a young idealist). I enjoyed it and saw my past self in it. Its raw brutality and its flaws add to the dynamism in it. But it's not perfect indeed, still a nice entertaining paragraph
>>7848592
Yeah, not everything ending in ity is a nominalization. So sue me.
>>7848551
It's a gauge for how turgid & turbid yr writing is. 25% reads like academese & 10% reads frisky & briskly.
Two related but not-the same short pieces.
>>7842388
Highly underrated
"How comforting must kindling warmeth fare
to those who kiss goodnight a merry face
yet I must spend this night in grieve alone.
As he who gave a whole life's joy away
is dwelling 'mongst the angels' deathbound light.
A many moons must past 'fore we rejoice.
Ah, you crystal sky! Can you not mend my longing?
Can clouds not siege the pearly gates
and free those who dwell there from their blissful sleep?"
From a play I just began writing. Should I even bother continuing?
>>7844583
10/10
>>7850530
If you decide to go for poetry pay attention to metaphors and to imagery. It is not worth your time writing poetry if it is not filled with imagistic. Verse plays are a hard medium, and you will need to study a lot to learn how to balance a colorfull imagery with everyday speech that makes the action walk foward. It is one of the noblest and hardest mediuns in literature, and it is also currently greatly underrated, so only choose to go for it if you have a strong stomach and pateicne to learn. Read all the great technical books about Shakespeare that you can find (about imagery, versification, rethoric, figures of speech, language, dialogue, etc).
Here is my own work, can I get some critic:
I have never seen in my entire life
The nocturne hour entomb life
In such a complete way with its silence.
The darkness was so dense, so
Thick the grimy blanket of the shadows,
That it even seemed like some God, drunk,
Had knocked down, when he stumbled,
The bucked of nankin in which the night
Wets the brush that invokes the evening hours,
With the black ink of an entire month gorging
A single twilight; or maybe some
Ambassador of the skies, some minister
Of the clouds has spilled the cup
Of coffee that he was sipping above
The atmosphere, frightening the timid world
Of us mortals, that do not comprehend anything
Of the clergy and the politics of the heavens,
Of the gears and wheels that operate the universe.
(original is in Portuguese)
>>7841440
Nice.
I don't like "persons", "orifices". Don't repeat "of travel", "another" breaks the symmetry.
concrit pls. I admire honesty.
http://pastebin.com/gsbWB5pU
>>7851164
It's fantasy and I just named it 'Fox'
Is the name I chose alright, by the way?
(Valerie)
>>7851164
yiff in hell
>>7851183
lmao it doesn't have furries
>>7851164
>characterized by it’s beauty and social life.
>it's
>'
REEE
>>7851164
foxes hunt all the time and love to play. at least watch a documentary on foxes before you write about one. repetition of "old rag" needs to be removed. there's no way a trapper would approach a cornered animal to free it from a trap. infested with maggots? wtf.
>>7851260
I was referring to the way I wrote it.
I already know it has some fucked logic, I wrote it quite a while ago.
I actually didn't notice the one about the old rag, so that was helpful.
>>7851452
>wrote it awhile ago
>knows it's fucked up
>doesn't use any of that time to edit it
come on anon, get it together
Anyone? >>7849564
>>7851508
they're ok as experiments but nothing more
>>7851523
Thanks.
>>7851508
Trash 0/10 overwritten underthought clearly the author is a hobbit a yearning sad hobbit with hobbit breath and little hobbit hands who writes with awful hobbit grammar
Not one good thing can be said about it except that it sure has its place here on 4chan's literature board's critique thread
Everyone should be thanking you for setting the lower limit of quality down 50 more pegs
The pathetic reaching of your style really makes a mean, dark place in myself twitch
It's like you deserve awful things to happen to you while at the same time being completely pathetic and whiny and but also really honestly needing a kick in the solar-plexus until you give up this idea of "being an author" forever
Fuck
>>7851592
take your meds anon
>>7841440
Very well written, anon. Anachronistic, but well written.
>>7851592
Seems like it got an effective emotional reaction out of you.
First time trying to do poetry in forever.Sorry if it's a bit cringe-worthy. I've been pretty depressed lately.
But, the earth will split open.
Oceans will devour cities,
the ground will buckle and sway.
Atomic clouds will appear,
the orange sky will scatter.
We will cry and shake; and yet
grass will grow through the sidewalks.
they're pale
near white
and i want to
suck
suck suck
suck
nibble
nip lick
caress them
wrapped around my neck
>>7852457
A little rushed in the images, I think.
Sit simple—
put up your own
shifting sheaves,
and try not to meet
the eyes of those aliens
dancing around you,
with a thousand smiles
for a thousand other paper castles
who totter and leer looking lusting
for gaps that give pry-hold, tell difference
and deviance from the diversity
so deftly maintained.
Sit simple—
find your own
sad sample
who will sit simple too
while the monsters dance and
hunt for sacrifice among
themselves.
Wait and sit simple—
for the ones who will see your face
without killing you.
>>7852457
>Atomic clouds will appear
This line is a bit weak.
Maybe "hellfire clouds will rise" or something like that, "appear" isn't a very strong word, and "atomic" is awkward in this situation.
>>7846736
Could anybody spend a few words on this? It's hard as fuck to get properly critiqued when you're ESL.
It's late
Feeling down
Couldn't even write anything down
But time passes
Getting later
Will I even remember this later?
I need to sleep
And get unconscious
Just so I can have more lucidity when I again turn conscious
Such is life
Better learn to deal
Sometimes I wonder if I couldn't have gotten a better deal
I have no job
I have no life
I have free time to last through my whole life
I do browse /lit/
And I do read books
But will I ever use this for something else than talking about books?
http://pastebin.com/nZnPHTvA
Note this is genre fiction and was written to a prompt, which was something about "what paradoxes do you live with," which is why you have the horrifically awkward bit at the end. Also I'm incredibly overly wordy.
I wrote this a few days ago. I was wondering if I should continue with it.
http://pastebin.com/xVe2rL8Y
>>7852692
"tribulous" isn't a word, your prose leans a tad more towards the purple, otherwise fairly alright. Not an English major so some symbolism may fly over my head, but expand upon why he so majorly regrets staying away from those heathens, other than "laying down the sword" because war is hell, etc.
>>7852728
I mean, I'd probably space out the infodump about how he got into his present situation a bit more, but I chuckled a bit. Also use cigarette less in the third paragraph before it totally loses all meaning.
>>7852727
I like the idea and I found it entertaining as far as genre fiction goes, but I think you should work on your adjectives and adverbs and make sure they match the verbs and nouns they describe. For instance, you wrote something along the lines of "he gradually pivoted.." To me, pivot means to rotate quickly on a point, but gradually implies a slowness that pivot does not have. Then again, maybe you intended for these to be contradictory given the paradoxical nature of the story, but it didn't strike me as intentional.
Some of the dialogue also seemed a bit clichéd, but in a short piece of genre fiction, you don't necessarily have to be subtle.
>>7852759
Thanks, I'll start working on it again.
On the 28 day, I heard her come.
on the 27 day, I began to raid the stores on their last remaining food
On the 26 day, I began to shut down.
On the 25 day, All I heard was the explosions.
On the 24 day, I saw the city fall asunder, despite our best efforts
On the 23 day, I heard that god had left us for dead.
On the 22 day, I lost control.
On the 21 day, I ate a person.
On the 20 day. I began to cry.
On the 19 day, I began to hide.
On the 18 day, i heard her hunting me down.
On the 17 day, I had to kill my friend.
On the 16 day, I began to have nightmare.
On the 15 day, I lost my left eye.
On the 14 day, I saw Her again
On the 13, I Began to call her a monster
On the 12, I found her standing outside of my house.
On the 11 day, I saw my friend alive.
On the 10 day, I lost all hope.
On the 9 day, I no longer care about my survival.
On the 8 day. I began to write down my nightmares down.
On the 7 day, I began to have a fear of the unknown.
On the 6 day, I heard her cry outside of my bedroom.
On the 5 day, I began to pray.
On the 4 day, I began to rave at the world.
On the 3 day, I woke up on the cries of the outside world.
On the 2 day, I found her standing over me in my sleep.
On the 1 day, She began to save my life.
Today, I had become death the destroyer of worlds
The gist of my novel I plan on writing
>>7852822
I vaguely see what you're going for, but what I'm getting out of this is edgy, apocalyptic Seven Little Indians
I wrote this for my final year of English in high school. The prompt was something like 'conflict changes us forever'.
When I wrote this, I had just completed reading Crime and Punishment, so you can easily tell that it's based from the book. Writing style hasn't changed that much since then, but it's gotten better (I hope).
>>7852831
Any help on that?
>>7852900
Summarize in a different format, write the damn thing, at least part of it, so we know what you're going for?
/crit/ can you tell me if this short story plot is missing some important?
>narrator asks grandfather over the phone how he met his grandmother
>gramps was a med tech in the korean war and got shot in the leg when the north swarmed a hospital
>while recovering back home, friend showed him photos of a wedding he missed
>he expressed interest in a bridesmaid in the photos and a few days later he gets a letter from her
>they send each other letters every day and she gives him clay to keep his hands busy, he sends her clay birds fired in the home oven
>his dad, a rabbi, gets angry when he finds out she's christian and forbids him from sending letters to her
>gramps sticks a dollar to his letter with a piece of clay and throws it down to some kids on the street asking them to mail it for him
>she never writes back
>gramps runs out of clay and books so he starts picking through the rabbi's books
>finds weird kabballah but can't understand it
>tries to understand it for a week before passing out from an infection
>in his fever dreams he suddenly understands it
>when he comes home, still no letter
>rabbidad asks him why he was in his private study, so he lies and says he wanted to be a rabbi
>rabbi is thrilled and pulls out some cigars.
>as gramps grabs the ash tray, he notices the remains of her letters in the ashes
>using what he learned from the book, he creates bird-shaped golems from clay and uses them to get back in touch with grandma
>friend and grandmother drive up in a truck with a ladder and free him from his own appartment and they run off together
>Narrator gets angry at being lied to, gramps gets angry for not being trusted
>they never reconcile
>several years later, gramps dies. He left narrator a box in his will
>inside the box is a dusty clay bird that can fly around on command
>>7853008
Stop mansplaining you shitlord
>>7852951
It seems really long. I started thinking of this tune halfway:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UZvf0_2uwIg
>>7852951
Why wouldn't the grandfather just show him the bird to prove that the story is true?
>>7853029
The grandfather just has a love for the dramatics
>>7853035
gamps likes the nightlife
>>7853035
Just make it a deathbed story, with the grandfather fading in and out of lucidity, so the narrator chalks it up to senility.
>>7853037
Before the end, there should be a scene where the grandfather's mouth stretches uncommonly wide, deep and black. In the void we should see a noted figure of the day, such as Kayne or Cena.
>>7853025
>assuming i'm a cis male
>>7853029
Like I said, they never really reconcile. Gramps is angry because he his own grandson didn't trust him and, and narrator is angry for other reasons
>>7853040
>>7853029
its a Deconstruction of all those others stories about grandparents telling stories of how they meet their loved ones.
The Grandfather obviously thought his grandson or granddaughter would believe his story without any truth to this claim. But the narrator Left angry on such blatant lies from the grandfather left in anger. destroying their relationship.
The grandfather dies, and he sends a box to his grandchild, inside the box is the clay bird he made, as one last fuck you to the grandchild
'Salamander Kid'. Why 'Salamander Kid'? All John could possibly come up with as an explanation for his strange pseudonym was based on subjective behaviors that he could never experience to be true.
He started with the basics: 'Kid' denoted the distinction of Gerry's being that he was small, young, a kid, and thusly named 'kid'.
But of what made 'Salamander' a fittingly title in front of 'Kid'? What was known to others was, quite obviously, not known to John.
For one, salamanders are known for their contribution to the drinking realm with their inclusion of the aphrodisiac qualities of salamander brandy; a strange aftereffect of fermenting them in alcohol. Tara always called Gerry a great kisser, so the idea that his kisses caused great sexual arousal to spring unto Tara's unsuspecting or so-suspecting lips was not quite far off from possibly solving the mystery.
Salamanders are also known for their ability to regrow their lost limbs, a trait of which Gerry was never - at least publicly - known of possessing. However, John duly noted his apparent breach of sickness or injury early on in the process of him gaining their burden, whether they be soft or hard on his body and overall health.
Salamanders' affinity to survive is a primary distinction that sets them apart from other animals. They do taste strange to other animals (a half-notable fact that ironically does not interfere with Gerry's strangely addicting labia). They also are well know to camouflage, a trait which one would hold Gerry would possess being that he is a solider! The strangest by far that John had encountered was their supposed mystical aversion to fire.
Fire? How strange does the flow of world find itself sweeping its victims- men. And what strange a fate have it that this 'Eye of Newt', Gerry, the Salamander, be cast into the cauldron along with John, the Duck.
More animals were crawling towards the head of the tree.
>>7852951
Don't have the final bird be able to move.
Do have the bird be made out of some sort of clay that was available at the time but isn't any more. Say, a particular shade of red that the narrator can recognise as being. Just something that proves it's as old as it needs to be.
>>7841805
>But the 50s were only good for white straight men with money
even if this was true, so what?
https://ajustwarblog.wordpress.com/
>>7852951
it's missing that fact that it has been done already
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Big_Fish:_A_Novel_of_Mythic_Proportions
>>7845278
I like it but something feels wrong, though i couldn't point out what
>>7841443
WHEN NIGHT FALLS SHE COVERS THE WORLD IN IM PENNY TRAYBUL DAAAAHKNESSSSS
>>7852728
Preposition Ratio: 12.13 %
Zombie Nouns: extension, position
Lexical Diversity: 40.12 %
Content Carrying Words: 53.19 %
Personal Vocab Diversity: 60.82 %
Longest Word: Subconsciously
This is the 3rd X 'subconsciously' has popped up as the LW in the pastebins. That can't be a good thing.
▲ Using the # of ciggies smoked as characterization immediately triggers 'edgy highschooler', which if you are that, fine (nothing wrong w/that), but if yr in uni(+), grow up.
▲ 'makeshift coffee mug-ashtray hybrid' → 'makeshift coffee mug-ashtray'
▲ ¶ Jim ¶ Jim ¶ Jim ¶ Jim
▲ 'but ever since the stroke he had a few years ago in December' → 'but ever since his stroke'
▲ 'succumbed' ← there has got to be a better way
▲ Pretty good, interesting, tight grammar, you know HOW to write, etc, etc. And yes, continue. It feels like it could go somewhere when you figure out what it's about.
>>7842237
top kek
>I got in the car and started back to town. I had just turned onto the street when I saw a ford coming helling toward me. All of a sudden it stopped. I could hear the wheels sliding and it just slewed around and backed and whirled and just as I was thinking what the hell they were up to, I saw that red tie. Then I recognized her face looking back through the window. It whirled into the alley. I saw it turn again, but when I got to the back street it was just disappearing, running like hell.
Critique my latest paragraph please?
>>7841805
One person looks at it like, "hurr durr the 50's were bullshit. It was only good for straight white protestand men."
Another person looks at it like, "why don't you try to be like the straight white protestant men, then?"
>>7854264
Being a father, diligent employee, and member of the community is a social construct.
>>7854272
So is not being any of those things.
>>7854282
Um no. Not being those things is a result of systematic prejudice.
So it's not no one's fault not nobody can just 'be' a white cis male JeWASP—not none of us wanna be that no way anyway & we must systematically be prejudiced against them.
>>7854290
>Um no. Not being those things is a result of systematic prejudice.
>So it's not no one's fault not nobody can just 'be' a white cis male JeWASP—not none of us wanna be that no way anyway & we must systematically be prejudiced against them.
wut?
No. You might not be white. You might not be a Jew or Protestant. But you can believe in those values that made that era and group great.
>>7854304
Which values?
W/the dawn of the internet, shared knowledged exploded & the proletariat collectively saw the face of their oppressor: people w/$. It's a small group of people & there's a pattern & they pay yr fucking bills b/c you & yr parents do what They need you to do, even if it's ten steps removed.
Shutting yr neurons closed to Them is a value that will Make America Great Again?
Honestly, maybe, but yikes.
>>7854304
the primary value of the 1950s was conformity.
>(This is the "title track" so to speak from a collection/chapbook/whatever I am attempting to publish at the end of this year or middle of next year. This is called "Past Lives")
When you left my side I stood
among the reeds, measuring the oceans
and reckoning the points in which
you and I have fallen in love
before time was, and before that,
and whatever came
before time-
I say I will never forget your face though I have
often forgotten my own-
as when through these very reeds, I passed
as notes in another season's canticle-
that I amended the screel of the pipistrelles as they
nightly descended upon the moths.
I escaped the earth in that version of myself
in one night and in the passing of a single breath.
Before you left my side, I
sprung from holes bored in the skull of a dead god
who had been entombed by their apostles
in a rite taught to men by the mud daubers
and how they died waiting for their lord's return
how they gauged their eyes in penance when
they saw I was the yield-
and too, I forgot when my hand was forged
on the sentence of exile
imposed in lieu of death,
that my name appears among rows of countless others
of whom only the starless night may claim to have known,
to having followed-
and of the starless night were you,
(or some other aspect of you)
who knew that your beauty was in the width of your arms-
too wide to know-
and how we alone would know each other's beauty
and etching a letter in the core of my teeth
which you would know me by,
you said:
'son of man, this is but your most
recent configuration and I will never cease
to love you, though you forget me,'
When you left my side,
when you fell silent-
Let it be so, then!
Let it be so!
Let it be the way it must-
for if it must be that we forget each other
from iteration to iteration,
then hold nothing back when you kiss me in this life-
when you strike me in the next!
If I must depart from you then each day I spend awake I will spend
awake with desire,
even if it appears that were never awake at all,
and though what is can never be again
>>7854402
it starts fine but stanza two gets way too purple, stanza three goes off the deep end, stanza four goes even further by losing concrete imagery, and i stopped reading after that.
>>7852612
>>7854351
Why are you typing like a fifteen year old girl?
>>7854507
Is that positive or negative?
>>7854517
Hello underage b&
>>7854566
B^) elliot rodger lives on apparently
Lay it to me straight. I finished second stage editing. There still might be large alteration after third though.
http://pastebin.com/Prr0bktu
>>7854509
He's trying to become a personality. Ignore him.
>>7854873
—TheCynic89LOOKOUT!
Was thinking of doing a kind of office rant SS. A bit Catcher In The Wry but more obviously sociopathic. Did a little draft of the into just now:
Let me tell you about musicians and cockroaches; I am an expert on both. I knew one of the latter in Birmingham who liked to surround himself with a harem of blacks. He made a kind of hollow music and he looked for hollowness wherever he could find it but if you knew him you’d know he was stuffed. That’s what the blacks were for. Their consummation was over wanting which he wanted and they had, a kind of thrusting into the void. I’d tell anyone who’d listen that you can hear this in the music, this pining for neediness but he was stuffed. He came I think from at least two generations of Eton but he looked down on me for being friends with cockroaches. This is what I call offices types because when the bombs fall or the last grain silo shuffles off cliff top in central Africa it will be the will to office culture that stands back up. They don’t at all know this but I do. I get to know things like this because I have a quick and well-oiled mind. It is like a lever or spike or anything of that sort.
Let me explain to you how I know. Once there was an office party and everything day-to-day fell pieces. Typists howled and got Vodka in the keyboards and the head of finances curled up under my desk violet and prone for I think the whole next day. Still though we managed to have an argument about television; it was out the back where we never went and we were sharing some skunk dropped off by a guy we might throw staplers at from the 8th floor on a normal day.
>>7855037
pt 2
One guy didn’t dig the new HBO. When he said this everyone went kind of quiet and I knew they were all thinking the same as me. What I thought was in a sequence. First I thought Christ he does not appreciate good drama. Then I thought I was going to have to explain it for him. Then I felt sick and I thought about all the difference between my thinking and his and I thought I don’t go that far, this is where I get off. That’s when everyone else stopped thinking. Then I thought about that distance a bit more, and how truly I fucking hated it. Then, I’ll admit skunk gives you a push in cases like these, I thought about how that is kind of like a Dalek: they hate everything that’s different from them don’t they. Then I thought how this is more like people, who, isn’t it true, carry all the tools to copy themselves and will do anything to put these to work. That’s because what people really can’t stand is anything that isn’t themselves and this is really true of office people especially in regards to television. I have never met a bunch of roaches that were more like each other than office people and certainly none who were happier about it. That’s why they’ll weather the apocalypse: because they of all people will not be able to abide it because it will be so very different from them. Then they’ll fuck it to death. That’s how I know.
The other musician I knew was a cockroach but he had high ideas about it. He worked in one of those places that make blankets or Band-Aids or let toothless boozehounds snuggle up in the ventilation systems. You could hear it in his music just the same: It was very adamant that it was giving you something.
>>7855047
hmmm I don't think so, Anon who posed here. What kind of things do you like? Are you sure your not just misinterpreting what I'm aiming for?
>>7855117
posted *
>>7854240
Idk if you ever came back to the thread, but this gave me a good starting point. My biggest weakness is my vocabulary and sentence variety, but the only way I can fix that is through more reading and writing.
>>7854773
Preposition Ratio: 8.45 % ← Dynamic!
Zombie Nouns:
abstraction
isolation
illusion
illumination
interpretation
comprehension
sensation
indentation
grandiosity
legibility
Lexical Diversity: 27.62 %
Content Carrying Words: 58.57 %
Personal Vocab Diversity: 44.2 %
Longest Word: interpretation
▲ 'I couldn't' → 'I can't' ← but also, you must have read this 1st sentence a ton of times—why is it so terrible? It's a remarkably bad opener. I mean, show don't tell: describe the scene right off the bat.
▲ *this* ← I'm hoping that's a replacement for italics. If not, do that. *This* is fucking obnoxious.
▲ 'cliché' as an adj? *grits teeth* T_T
▲ That 1st semicolon. It should be a COLON.
▲ 'were a brilliant new coat of white compared' → 'were brilliant white compared'
▲ 'kind of eyes you give an angsty teen' ← Pls
▲ 'paliple' → palpable? palipal?Haha you are fucking retarded.
▲ 'Now I'm both quantum and theoretical' → Not bad actually, I laughed.
▲ So all of *these* are like Stephen King italics?
▲ 'hehe' → 'haha'
▼ Whole thing is decent. I didn't expect it to handle that topic so well. The end was pretty entertaining.
>>7855364
It's funny because the major rewrite I'm condidering is the intro. It works for the story, because it flows: It stays in character of the writer of the story.
The * parts, yes, I want them to be italicized but my go to app doesnt support. It'll get changed.
Most of the other errors you pointed out I probably would've got in third round editing, but still, thank you for spotting them. Thanks for the input as well. [I'm honestly just glad you at least enjoyed it.?]
How do I get good at writing?
>>7855586
The 10k hrs thing is a myth. ~25% of ability is from practice—which is a big chunk. So read & write & think about those things.
The rest of your lexical ability is how your brain is laid out. What do your family members do for a living? Are you sure you don't just like the idea of being a writer, an author?
But in general:Go fuck yourself.
~ennui
Day, night.
Day, night.
Day, night.
...
Woe is me.
Woe is me.
I make myself to climb a tree.
And break its branches one two three, then jump the ladder.
Another day.
Another day.
My corpse is marched in weak foray.
The dead mourn me none never nay, how does it matter?
Hey guys, I've never written anything for leisure before today. It's therapeutic, I'll probably write some more
Of what i fear i fear the border
Only time can take me there
Do i cross or turn around
What kind of life awaits me there?
An end of misery, final joy
Will i make my last mistake?
All my life i've walked the border
How much longer will i have to wait?
>>7849409
I'm just an American kid who likes Joyce
>>7855893
gee, is english your first language? real problems here, the biggest of which is consistency: if you follow overly simplistic lines with long clunky lines (like "My corpse is marched in weak foray.") it makes every element jarring and horrible.
>>7855989
not bad. I think you could find a better way to express your main device/image as I don't find the word "border" very evocative. It's perfectly fine to talk about a well-worn idea but you gotta then be extra careful to not make your language and execution seem well-worn: "last mistake?" nahhhhhhh
Wrote this quick, Sorry for any mistake.
>Prologue The world he's seen before.
>He looked up to see the world around him had become nothing more than pure pitch black, an infinite void of nothingness. The person started to walk, where was he? The question lingered in his mind for quite a while as he walked on all directions to no avail, it was only when his legs grew tired did he finally accepted he was in a world of absolute nothingness.
>His stomach growled in hunger. His mouth parched from walking. The only answer he could come up for this pitch darkness was this was merely a nightmare, and soon enough he will awake in his bed. Yet as he stood proudly for answering his own question, a small dim light appeared beneath him. His eyes surely must be deceiving him, it was impossible even in a dream for a small light to appear in such location.
>As soon as he began to ponder on this, he suddenly began to fall from where he was. "What?" Were the only words he could say in his shock. Was he wrong about everything? Was this not a dream? Could he have just gotten lost when the sun had set? What was he doing before he got to this point? Whatever the answers for those questions were, it no longer mattered for as soon as he fell, he came to an abrupt stop.
>"How saddening…," A voice could be heard in the distance. The voice sounded like that of a young woman, but such lady was nowhere to be seen. "This place you've been here before, do you not remember it?" The voice once again spoke, this time however footsteps could be heard in the distance. "So will you answer my question or will you just stare blankly at my direction?"
>Approaching him as he lay dying on the ground, was a woman whose voice he could vaguely remember. The woman tossed in front of him the remnants of what used to be a lance. It shone brightly, even in its damage state. Looking at it, he couldn't help but be enchanted by it. "Beautiful isn’t such a weapon. Its only saddening it could only be used once." She lamented on the status of the lance. "Such a lance is quite difficult to make you know." She continued, making small talk.
>"Tell me, little one. Would you mind telling me your story, before you die? I am quite curious, as to know who you are. It would be ashamed to not know anything about you, knowing you and I come from the same place." She asked the late adolescent, with voice that seemed to convey sadness. But sadly the woman could not have her answers to her questions, for the person on the floor was no longer alive.
Tell what you think?
>>7856677
Never tell what you think.
He was screaming now, screaming like he’d never known and could have never imagined; it was a scream which filled the whole world, every inch of rolling sky. He was standing in the layby of the M27 with his feet angled so that the toes of each shoe touched and his knees were bloodied and reddened together below his shorts and he couldn’t remember when that happened. It must’ve happened in the playground or the back garden or that big tall field he was once driven to and got hay fever from – he was sneezing the entire ride back and his face was like a little ripe tomato. It was sort of like now; his cheeks were all rosy and snot dribbled down onto his lips and dropped down to his shirt – it was the shirt with the red and white stripes on it, he liked it a lot. A few feet away from him was the car – from where he’s standing he can see the left-sided doors are all open and Percy was lazily hanging his head off the edge of the back seat. The stitch underneath his ear had opened up again and his stuffing was blooming out. This upset him even more as in such a condition Percy would hardly be able to lend the required moral support the situation required. Apart from Percy he was alone. This was probably the worst of any day he had ever had. All the time in the world went by and all the other cars were flying past him so callously – couldn’t they see his was upset? Couldn’t Miss Hail’s car drive by and she step out and give him a plaster and a cuddle? He was now zipping back from a shamed sob to a belting weeping scream like he was an air raid siren and the motorway was everything and everything else. He’s not hearing the sound of footprints coming out from the shrubbery. There’s a hand on his head rustling his hair.
“Hey there champ, what’s the matter? I was only away for a few minutes.” Dad held his hand all the way to the car – Dad’s hands are really big - and to make it better they go and stop for ice-cream at the service station. It isn’t very good ice-cream, but he’s prepared to let that go. In the evening he’s lying in bed, and he guesses that things could’ve been worse. He thinks that maybe far worse days are gonna wake up to him one day, when he’s a big boy, and he can take it.
bump with something I wrote today that just occurred to my head.
I am not an experienced writer, but I tried.
http://pastebin.com/QX21HMDm
>>7858143
Are you writing an urban fantasy anon? Or are you merely writing a tale of a human stuck in demon society? I am quite curious
>>7858167
Uhh, I was imaging an alternate realty or a dystopic post-apocalyptic future where America is run by fascism based around something similar Satanism and the worship of other demons and mythical beings . Except in this world the supernatural is a very real day to day commodity and element in society. Classes are mostly based on how much are you related to the legendary true demons who once destroyed humanity and took over the world, bending our tendency for hedonism to their own devices and breeding a new era of mankind.
The setting that I have in my mind that I haven't written yet is the work where both characters work their weeks at. A massive warehouse in the desert belonging to a major corporation that crafts and sells supernatural items for day to day use.
I haven't never really written before though, i'm just starting out so tell me if it sounds too cringey.
