/lit/ - Literature

>>16475112
>Glad to see that you've been doing some more work on BurgerPunk. I enjoyed yesterday's chapter about drive thru spaghetti
you got the wrong anon. I did drop a chapter just now though.

Don't want to post my webnovel every thread since that'll be annoying but i feel it warrants a repost since i posted it at the very end of the last one
https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/31062/saga-of-the-cosmic-heroes please be gentle if you give critique or don't.

I'n writing this in Scrivener so I think the indenting might be a little iffy.

The days before the expected departure took a toll on my mental health. Was it eagerness? Uneasiness? Whatever it was, Chal’s Lucky Alphonse weighed heavily on my mind. The instant I got off the shuttle, I headed straight to my living quarters and sacrificed one tree too many to intangible thoughts.
But I couldn’t be cooped up in my room forever. Eventually I figured someone like Friederika would worry about me. I never cared much for keeping my minefield of a room tidy, and I would hate for poor little Friederika to become a lost causality in this mess. So I spared her the trouble and left for the mess hall to regain some energy.
To my surprise, the mess hall was at peak today, even moreso than it usually is. Thankfully, the line wasn’t slow. And nothing makes a starving serviceman more grumpy than slow food service. I managed to retrieve my food and drink in a speedy fashion and secured a nice and quiet seat away from the noisy rank and file.
I looked down at the contents on the yellow plastic tray before me. A chunk of nicely cooked fillet, some clumps of green vegetables and a soft biscuit with cheese and ham stuffed into it. Aside from that I had some soup for the biscuit and a cup of coffee. Honestly, I never cared much for our selection of meat. I’ve heard from others before that it was a better selection than what civilians might get but I’ve beg to differ. What I always loved was the biscuits and coffee which were imported from local Frankish settlements.
Just as I was about to down the coffee, I heard a familiar voice from behind.
“Well well, if it isn’t the ensign Victoria crawling out of her room.”
Friederika plopped down in the free seat next to me and gave me a friendly grin. Looking at her tray, she had several biscuits and a slice of bread accompanying a large bowl of soup. On both sides of her tray were two cups of creamy coffee. I didn’t realize it much until now, but Friederika really liked her coffee. A little too much dependency on it, I would think.
“You were about to drink pitch black coffee I take it? Look at you, being all grown up without me. How very mature of you. Here, have some of my cream.”
Friederika pretended to wipe a tear from her eye and proceeded to hand me some a few creamer packets. I took them, and helped myself to clearing a few out into my own cup of coffee. As one would expect, the texture changed from pitch black to a more colorful light shade of brown after a bit of stirring.
“Thanks Kiki, I appreciate it.”
“My pleasure, that aside…”
1/2

>Hear a lot of quotes that I like from Goethe
>Think about reading Faust because of it, but don't think I'm smart enough to really appreciate it, so I don't

Has reading that book helped anyone on here?

Jack of all trades, master of none, yet I still long to leave a literary mark on the world in some way. I have found myself comfortable with an authoritative, almost encyclopedic tone in writing, but lack the background in any field or profession to write about anything in any confidence. I do research on topics from time to time, but why write about something you learned solely from other authors? It feels shameful and secondary to me.

I don't seem to have any substantial real-world experience to draw upon to write anything meaningful. I fear I was born too late to write the 'first' substantial work on any topic, and don't have anyone to share my literary ambitions with, as no one around me reads.

I would rather write non-fiction