/lit/ - Literature

>>11480340
It's hard to take you serious when you are barely out of university and have no life experience, yet parrot Marxist views and canned points from the MSM as your 'opinion' pieces.

>>11480425

What Marxist views are we talking about? I have serious misgivings about orthodox Marxism and generally distance myself from it. Like most of us I share in some of the critiques of capital but come on you can't just throw unfounded labels around.

>>11480425
>>11480455

Also, it's really the fiction I'm trying to draw attention to here.

>>11480340
Reads like Grug wrote it.

>>11480455
Just read your opinion piece of Scheer and the Conservative Party and first nations people. You swear like a child in a published piece and praise censorship and 'hate speech' laws. You compare politics to corporations and think it is a good thing. You likely have no idea Scheer and the dairy cartel stole the leadership from Maxime Bernier. The same man you praised undermined our elections and colluded with a corrupt cartel and then bragged in public, evne going as far as to drink a carton of milk and smuggly say he had no idea how he got elected. Everyone laughed and knew what he did.

Your naivety regarding indigenous people is laughable as well. You clearly have never lived near them or interacted with them. You don't know how much they are given by the government, how much they bend over backwards for them and how little they return. We did some horrible things to them, but its nothing compared to people fleeing communist countries, coming to America and building successful lives within years. We've done everything for First Nations, who werent even the first people in Canada or North America - the oldest settlements are white Europeans and their are several found confirming it. Natives immigrated here. They didnt sprout up magically. They genocided themselves. Some came from New York area and passed the French Upper Canada, who had been there for years, and settled AFTER us. They are still "first" nations.

There is no excuse for how they behave. They ARE lazy, uncultured and uncivilized. Go to any reservation and you will see it for yourself. Spend time with any group and you will see it. They start school at 10 o'clock because kids can't get out of bed after nights of partying. They end earlier. Drugs are rampant. Many are addicted to Listerine and other mouthwash with alcohol content. Their unemployment is due to laziness - they get first dibs on any job and preferrential treatment. It was not an unfair assessment. It was a fact. Oil sands projects are required to hire a certain percentage of the natives that live there. They struggle to meet quotas because they stop showing up to work and they can only do basic security, unwilling to learn a trade and unskilled to do anything else. And they still quit, fail to do the job properly and only want EI.

The OP/EDs you write are extremely naive and show a basic lack of understanding regarding politics, life and how the world works.

>>11480340
I don't understand what you're doing, you know, I like it but it's not my cup of tea

>>11480572

What do you mean? I'm writing fiction? Or are you referring to the picture in OP?

>>11480495

It's from the perspective of an old chinese lady my girlfriend ran into on the street one day. I should've have included the file name into the piece itself as a title at the top. That would clear things up.

>>11480532

My god, man. can't say I read all of that but I'll chime in to say I voted for the CPC leadership election and ranked Maxime second. You sound fresh off the Libertarian Party facebook page.

I share your concerns about a lack of life experience. Although I've probably done and seen and read more than most others my age, this is part of the reason why I've stopped sharing political commentary for the time being. We all have to start somewhere though.

Your FN rant was wildly off the mark. I have been to reserves and understand the extent of what's going on there. There is an extremely self-defeating culture and I understand that assimilation and integration is the only viable path out. Don't assume I'm pozzed up because I decried an elected official's choice of words. Denigrating indigenous peoples is not the pathway to integration and rehabilitation. You scoff at my lack of experience in the world but yours has left you jaded, angry, and cynical. Consider this the next time you smear someone for their age.

The assertion that FNs were here before European settlers is an extraordinary claim that I've never once heard before and you've provided no evidence to support. That is just a laughably bad take.

Relaxing on a sunny spring morning.
Gazing up at the ancient blue sky.
Bright clouds drifting through my vision.
Like all those dreams of years ago.

>>11480789
Really boring imagery and unoriginal observation

>>11480801
This attitude is why Rupi Kaur is popular.

>>11480340
Here is something really weird I couldn't help writing for some reason.
________
Chaste Huntress! Chaste Huntress!
But one can pierce the wool to find your tracks.
'tis not a dream you drag your fair head or prey
across the sandy taileld of the shoal
an age of heroes must have sailed to best.
Man hath not trod the seas alone to see,
though shipwrekt, beached and starved enough to plunge,
the soil between your toes, and heard you speak
for thunder, and was deaf among the dead
before you lipped a second word.

Chaste Huntress! Chaste Huntress!
So long the power holds, my castle stands
Now, speak. I've wired myself as one with nil.
Of epics, each imposed in Trojan layers
whose section only can contain you whole.
Man hath not touched his life but for your anomie.
My eyes are bloody, what is on the in-
side tends to be, observing better for't.
And when the powercut discards me cold
aa blinded worm, I will have felt your,
Chaste Huntress! Chaste Huntress!

>>11480340
Here is some weird shit I couldn't help writing.

__________
Chaste Huntress! Chaste Huntress!
But one can pierce the wool to find your tracks.
'tis not a dream you drag your fair head or prey
across the sandy taileld of the shoal
an age of heroes must have sailed to best.
Man hath not trod the seas alone to see,
though shipwrekt, beached and starved enough to plunge,
the soil between your toes, and heard you speak
for thunder, and was deaf among the dead
before you lipped a second word.

Chaste Huntress! Chaste Huntress!
So long the power holds, my castle stands
Now, speak. I've wired myself as one with nil.
Of epics, each imposed in Trojan layers
whose section only can contain you whole.
Man hath not touched his life but for your anomie.
My eyes are bloody, what is on the in-
side tends to be, observing better for't.
And when the powercut discards me cold
a blinded worm, I will have felt your hands,
Chaste Huntress! Chaste Huntress!

inner walls of sinclair station,
knife-etched tags stake their claim
on the edges of a speckled mirror,
flaked residue of a soap dispenser torn
off the wall, the drywall crumbling,
its snowy dust still on false marble stations.

but here we find relief, respite
laid down with careful sheets
upon the seat, piss-stained,
silent profanity caked with grime,
a decal dinosaur stares blankly ahead.

>>11481237
it's about taking a shit?

>>11481249
well i thought i had to but it ended up just being a big fart

>>11480340
man, this really fucking sucks. sorry OP.

>>11480425
there we go

why you crypoop?

why you crypoop?

you poop. everybody want poop.

no pee.

want poop.

>>11480340
you sound like an illiterate nigger child trying to be profound

>>11480784
https://d3n8a8pro7vhmx.cloudfront.net/maximebernier/pages/2021/attachments/original/1528225699/Chapter5-Supply-Management-Final.pdf

Maxime Bernier's cancelled book describing supply management and how the dairy cartel functions. It is why NAFTA talks are failing (as well as Trudeau demanding gender equality, First Nation rights, and climate change be top priority in a trade agreement). They are why the EU cancelled our free trade agreement (Italy refused to sign over dairy dispute). They are why we have a 300% tariff on dairy from America.

>https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/new-evidence-suggests-stone-age-hunters-from-europe-discovered-america-7447152.html

There are more settlements you can look up confirming oldest remains from Europe. It's been known for a long time.

>http://www.cbc.ca/history/EPCONTENTSE1EP2CH5PA5LE.html
Iroquois genocide the Hurons. 30,000+ dead and wiped out. They migrated back up to Upper Canada afterwards. French were already established by then. Iroquois werent native to Canada at that point in time. Only fled there after they genocided the Huron.

>>11481331
I agree it's not any good but I think that was sort of the point

>>11481148
tailend*

Opening line to my novel:

The rain was relentless and the street was deserted and the stranger's hand was edging ever closer to my wife's breast.

>>11481420
>and the street
>not , the street
Leave this board.

>>11481440
are you dense? it was obviously intentional

>>11481440
It's a deliberate stylistic choice

>>11481261
>>11481303
>>11481331
>>11481378

Yeah I didn't want feedback of the shitty poem in the OP picture. I wanted feedback on the work in the link I provided. The picture is a joke poem about a Chinese lady my girlfriend encountered on the street one day.

It’s very bright and hot, sun blasting out radiation directly overhead in an intense teal–blue sky. Smells of automobile steel and leather are amplified by the furnace heat. The car is in a parking lot of something, a diner or a gas station. I’m so blinded by hormones and brain chemicals that I do not notice. Rich, full leather seats creak with our writhing movements, my hands gripping tight skin and handfuls of fine black lace. Time expands and becomes endless, the concrete lot and the sky and the automobile stretch out to fill eternity. Intense heat. We are on the back seat of a 49 Ford Police Cruiser, big black and white rolling rocket. I can feel the time becoming heavy like the air moving in between the particles of my being.

how did you write looking for k?
how is the vernacular so spot on

>>11481615

Thanks for the compliment. Believe it or not, that piece was astonishingly easy to write compared to the others. I think I wrote all of that in about an hour, whereas the more descriptive ones took me days if not weeks. For whatever reason dialogue and writing speech comes very naturally to me and comments such as yours are making me realize that. I should continue playing to my strengths.

>>11481562
>481562▶
>>>11481261
ah, my apologizes

>>11481148
>'tis
Dropped. New century. Act like it.

>>11481630
it cuts to the quick. i thought the dream stuff was a bit much; if you had it 100% realistic except for the 'when you see my face you will know' business it'd be more haunting

>>11481676

Must winds that cut like blades of steel
And sunsets swimming in Volnay,
The holiest, cruellest pains I feel,
Die stillborn, because old men squeal
For something new: ‘Write something new:
We’ve read this poem – that one too,
And twelve more like ’em yesterday’?
No, no! my chicken, I shall scrawl
Just what I fancy as I strike it,
Fairies and Fusiliers, and all.
Old broken knock-kneed thought will crawl
Across my verse in the classic way.
And, sir, be careful what you say;
There are old-fashioned folk still like it.

>>11481686(you)

>>11481678

Are you suggesting I remove the "if you see in my face you will know" line? The whole story is really built around that

>>11481719
no, the 'When I was young i thought that a dream was the future talking to you' stuff

>>11480817
what

>>11481569
Starting with weather description is boring. Further descriptions of car is also boring. It takes several sentences before we even know what this is about. These first few sentences are also a clear example of telling, not showing. You repeat yourself and tell us duplicate information. Example - its hot and sun is blasting overhead (hottest part of day, already know its hot). You then mention a furnace heat - we get it, its hot. Another is telling us its automobile steel and then the next sentence informs us its a car. You could cut automobile and we know its a car implicitly by the next sentence.

This narration is obviously from the man in back of the car. He doesn't have the wits to remember where he is parked, but can give full descriptions of 'rich, full leather seats' creaking with movements.

Time expands part is waxing poetic and out of place. Pretentious sounding and not in tune with the rest of the paragraph. The rest of the sentence is nonsense. It doesnt mean anything, is too long and with too many 'ands'. You are telling us way too much bullshit.

This entire passage should be about passion and waht is going on in the back of the car. You should have flow that reflects this passion. Short, concrete expressions and emotions. You shouldnt be beating us with details like the police car and make and model at the end - that should have been earlier if at all needed. Intense heat was a good example of what should be building to the climax. The time and eternity shit is completely out of place and ruins any momentum of the scene and passion and is a terrible way to describe what is going on or being felt in this case.

Finally, stop using so many words. 'very bright and hot' does not need the 'very'. Adverbs are almost always redundant and amateurish. Very rare is it right to use one (this is an example - very is pointless, Rare is all that was needed). The automobile steel is another. Just steel. You are describing the sun blasting radiation overhead, but also told us it is 'very bright and hot'. We know the sun is hot. That sentence is almost completely useless and tells us nothing. You are trying to get the reader hot and bothered like the protagonist, but beat us over the head with simple descriptions of basic things. A way to say things are hot is to describe condensation on a glass or pit stained shirts or broken a/c being a problem, etc.

I would write something about the road stretching out beyond us, a river of asphalt steaming in the summer air. Sweat and leather are the only smells. My hand grips tight skin as the seat creaks, our movements sticky and writhing. Intense heat. Intense pleasure. The windows steamed. Our passion erupting. The moans of pleasure and stifling heat amplifying our passion and bringing us to a climax, our panting the only sound either of us can hear - time stops for me. The passion of the moment seared into my memory. Her scent. The taste of her sweat. The black lace.

>>11481676
You should have read up to for't. No point wasting yourself on 'tis with gems like that lying around.

All paths lead to the cliff, as if they have been curved by god’s hand itself for that sole purpose. The beaches pebbles, the cobbles of the town and the twigs and earth of the forest of Witchmhaven, all curve and twist and wind their way up to the rocks.

>>11481686
>There are old-fashioned folk still like it.

Ye, sir, are a ful brave carl.

>>11481562
You dumby.
You’ve posted that poem in the past 5 threads unironically. Just because you’ve how negative criticism on it doesn’t mean you can say “oh it’s just a joke poem”

>>11480340
>>https://larthurhunt.com/fiction/
I liked Three Around the Edge or whatever it was titled. I'm not sure if you intended it to come off as empty but that's the general sense I have from it. Not empty in that it lacks substance, but empty as the main idea, knowwhatImean?

>>11481927
All paths lead to the cliff, inexorably drawing to its edge as if carved by the hands of the gods. The beach's pebbles, the town's cobbles, and the twigs and the earth of the forest of Witchmhaven all curve and twist and wind their way up the rocks.

I like it, I'd want to read on if it were a book's first words. Low-key suicide theme?

>>11481985

Thanks, it's just a little warm-up I did. Low-key suicide theme, yeah.

>>11480340

Checked out the fiction on your site, there's a reason there's a standard manuscript format for online fiction. Shit hurts the eyes the way you lay it out.

>>11481686
By the way, if you do agree with the poem you've posted, would you give mine (Chaste Huntress) a read? It's not exactly final the way it is, so I am open to suggestions.

>>11482149
I didn't understand it really

>>11481839

>posting 6 paragraph review of a 1 paragraph post

nice man! you done good

>>11481927
not bad, but i'm not feeling the 'm' in Witchmhaven. Don't know if that was intentional or not. The beaches lead to the cliff, though? The picture isn't crystal clear in my head but it's not a bad warm up, as you've said. I don't know you if meant to include a comma between beaches and pebbles. If not, then you need to add an apostrophe at the end of beaches to make it possessive.

>>11481950
i use it to bump threads because it's one of the only original writing-relevant .png files on my laptop right now since I just had the HDD wiped. I'm not actually looking for feedback on it my man. I've never written a good poem in my life. I have no problem taking criticism

>>11481963
Thanks! Yes, emptiness is a central theme. I appreciate the read.

>>11482034
Which piece are you referring to? All of them are formatted differently, for the most part. Also, I've been writing for a couple years and still haven't found a standard manuscript format so I don't know what you're referring to

My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love;
And though the sager sort our deed reprove,
Let us not weigh them. Heaven's great lamps do dive
Into their west, and straight again revive,
But soon as once is set our little light,
Then must we sleep one ever-during night.

>>11482200
>who with phantoms war lonely
This is awkward. You have established company, yet used a comma to separate this piece. You are trying to paint a picture that he is warring with phantoms, but the structure makes it apply only to phantoms.

>dusk...dawn
This is, again, awkward. You have two opposite time frames, but are applying both to 'your mark' and the implication that both occur at the same time, but distracts the reader with the conflicting dusk and dawn. Referring to the setting and rising of the Sun or clarifying this sentence should be done. Writing poetry because you think it sounds like poetry is not how you should approach it.

>2nd paragraph
I like the beginning. As of right now, I get an 1800s style English feel. I would look up some texts on it and use words like 'connexion' for 'connection' or words like 'acquiescence', which has fallen out of favour . Just an idea that stuck in my head while reading.

The rest of the paragraph feels awkward due to the use of your commas and the completely unnecessary parenthesis (you use it twice in the piece). You never come back from the comma to finish the original thought.

>3rd paragraph
remove parenthesis. commas will do fine. 'into damp of early hours' feels wrong. I'm not sure how to reword it. It pulled me out of this section (along with the parenthesis like this does). I want to say add 'the' before damp for 'the damp of the early hours', but multiple 'the's' feels wrong, too. Unsure. Just my thought on it. Otherwise this is strongest paragraph.

>4th paragraph
Glowed and glowed is wrong. Completely ruined the flow for me. 5 sentences instead of 6 like all others is another problem. I would like to see conclusion to the grief of the early riser ending the piece, bringing us full circle. Glowed by our toes feels out of place with rest of text. Loses flow and feel of the piece. This last section is the weakest for me. We are talking about the embers of our acquaintance (furnished heart and how warm to see from para 3 implies this to me if I'm mistaken). The embers of friendship perhaps have once glowed is what I gather, but the by our toes completely ruins what we are building towards. I would work on this conclusion more.

Overall, it's a solid foundation for a good poem. I would work on punctuation and clarifying a few things along the way. I think the 1800s English would add a lot to this. I imagined a man on a porch looking out into the mist reminiscing about lost friendship from the fire of their youth. But I received no conclusion, no satisfaction. A few choices pulled me out of the piece. A little work could polish this piece.

>>11480340
On lige invertibridges raggabags
don't scool. Forthrife badour is frue our kerm.
Retempress taives the only cendrue glore.
There are gandrata few of ashphlates soum
with feay whereby no cinger courbs no flafe.
And though my earwess fipes for umpor-tond
it still cannot awasse a fotler yave.

>>11482340

you're a legend, my friend. Thank you for the advice. I rarely ever write poetry and this is the only piece I've ever been unashamed to post publicly. I'll go back and revise with your comments in mind. Much appreciated

I don't know what I'm doing please help


“Come on, chase me!”
Waylaid brush slaps you in a downward sprint through the thickets and whirlwind of green. Her laughter echoes back to you, wrapping around the budding trees to roll back down the hill among upturned leaves and grass. You tumble together amid the displaced dirt and shrubs, the sounds of frolic ringing around you and away through the surrounding trees to the distant untouched branches hanging far away.
“Got you!”
“No you didn’t!”
“Did too!”
You dash again after her, racing to anywhere.

>>11482960
Second person narrative is difficult to pull off, and I don't think what you've shared rises to the challenge. I'm interested in hearing why you chose to write that way, because it's not a common approach.

The juxtaposition of the frenzy of activity with the indulgent descriptions feel at odds. I think your main goal should be to maintain a sense of momentum, and would suggest cutting down the descriptive flourishes to a minimum to keep an appropriate narrative pace.

>>11483046
Good point. I'll go back over this tomorrow and try to make it fit the speed of the story.

> I'm interested in hearing why you chose to write that way
I'm trying to write a book that conveys a certain emotion. It's an emotion that a lot of people never feel, and I had the brainlet-tier idea that the audience might be able to understand it better if it was literally "them" as the character, rather than James McCuntwaffle or whoever. I have good reasons for not using first person either, but I might not have a choice.

>>11482960
2nd person narrative is extremely difficult to do well. I would recommend a 1st or 3rd person narrative. Only time I see 2nd person used well is Choose Your Own Adventure-type books. I honestly can't think of a 2nd person narrative novel or even a short story.

That said, this isn't too bad a sample. I'd clear some things up. Examples:
>Waylaid brush
This doesnt tell me anything. How does 'waylaid' relate to brush? How do we get waylaid into a downward sprint? I'm confused as to what happened. I can infer they are running into the woods, but I'm not sure what happened. He should be following her, so how is he 'waylaid'? She would have been 'waylaid' if he is chasing her and he would just follow her into the brush.

I do like the thickets and whirlwind of green. Clear up the beginning of the sentence and this is a good opening. Also, because you open with the dialogue, it is attributed to the first person you mention after - 'you'. I feel like he said this to her, but then you write that her laughter echoes back and he is chasing her, making me reconsider the opening dialogue. 2nd person hurts for attributing and you did well working around it at the end. It was quite clear who was speaking except in the opening. You could reword the sentence to make her laughter echo and THEN go to 'you' going through the thickets and whirlwind.

> wrapping around the budding trees to roll back down the hill among upturned leaves and grass.
This is a bit excessive. I'd cut the 'roll back down the hill' and simply have 'wrapping around the budding trees among upturned leaves'. This is just as descriptive and pleasant to read, but cuts down on the extra fluff. Some variation of that would work.

>You tumble together amid the displaced dirt and shrubs, the sounds of frolic ringing around you and away through the surrounding trees to the distant untouched branches hanging far away.

This is equally excessive. I'd trim some fat here too. Maybe 'displaced dirt' from the first part. 'distant untouched branches' could get cut to just distant branches. 'far away' can go since you said 'distant'. Maybe cut distant and keep far away. I'd cut the sentence in two. Bit too much for one sentence. A hyphen into last part could work, too.

Dialogue is fun and playful for children. Easy to attribute. 'No you didn't' should be 'No, you didn't'.

Final sentence can cut 'again'. Adds nothing. I'd also add a part about the girl running away. As is, makes you do a double take because you start the sentence with 'you' dashing, but then we find out 'after her', but we were never told about that action. Racing to anywhere doesnt work for me. I'd make it clearer where they are going, even if its just a general direction (deeper into woods, towards the lake, etc).

I liked this. 2nd person is rare. It worked for me in this brief section. Id like to see how it progresses and if 2nd person holds up.

>>11483046
>>11483165

Wow, good advice. Thanks man. I wasn't really expecting much beyond "kys."

Tell me if this is better:

“Come on, chase me!”
Her laughter echoes back to you, wrapping around the budding trees among upturned leaves and grass. Wild brush slaps you in a downward sprint through the thickets and whirlwind of green. You tumble together amid the shrubs, the sound of frolic ringing through the trees and far away.
“Got you!”
“No, you didn’t!”
“Did too!”
She darts between branches with you close behind, excited voices cut between the snapping of twigs and leaves.

>>11483117
>>11483393
I think that's a big improvement that tightens things up. I'm still on the fence about second person, but I admire the ambition and don't want to discourage it. It's unfamiliar territory for me, so I don't have much feedback to offer other than the observation that it's still awkward for me to read at this point.

Spray gun in hand, I kicked on the power to the pressure washer. The hum of the generator bounced and echoed off the walls inside the cave. I couldn't stop thinking about how pointless and wrong this felt. Gray seemed to sense my reluctance, and turned to face me.
His stare was powerful and hypnotic, and the way his unblinking eyes fixed on me would have been unnerving, had it not been for the immense sense of compassion and silent wisdom he seemed to possess and project. He stared briefly at me and a thought entered my head, which I had come to understood as his voice:

This is as it shall be. The time we have spent here is long enough, and it is time to leave. We are ready and prepared. Our remnants, no matter how precious and sacred, must be taken with us or erased, so as not to disrupt new emergent sentiences. So Gray's kind, and others before them, have done before us, and so shall we.

I lingered a moment and nodded. I turned to face the wall. The lamp light shone on it, all of it: the ancient hand prints of the unknown artists, the long prancing horse that spanned the entire wall, the eight-legged buffalo that, in flickering firelight, galloped like an early movie, and the myriad dots, lines, and symbols still not fully understood. Not merely a piece of historical interest, the mural seemed fresh and present, like its artists had only just left it there.
The entire cave, down to an atomic level, was fully mapped out and its simulation indistinguishable from where we stood. Our data was enough to study it well beyond the need to observe it directly, and we had done so for years now. But the pain of this duty, this act of erasing these works of art, our earliest ones known, still nagged at me.
So I inhaled, counted to five, and lifted the gun up. Without pausing, I pulled the trigger. The gun kicked back lightly as its jet sprayed out in a tiny, focused blast. I swept it across the face of the wall methodically, mist and grime lifting off the rock. Everything disintegrated or dripped down in a watery smear: the prints, the horse, the buffalo, everything. It only took a few minutes before the cave wall looked like any other, the dirt and charcoal pigment mixing into the stream below, trickling away.
I had tears in my eyes as I turned back to Gray. He looked back in that strange, loving way, and I threw my arms awkwardly around his gangly, reptilian frame, crying as the generator hummed through the cavern.

Paranoia-

Wake up early, heat is heavy
Need my coat so they don’t touch me
Gloves and mask both come on next
Let’s see them break through this defense
Boots and hat to keep out rain
I’ll never touch the tap again
Sun is bright need glasses to block it
Almost forgot the gun in my pocket
Smashed my phone to lose connections
What’re all these mens’ intentions?
All my plants hear “see you later”
Lock the door, can’t trust my neighbor
City’s loud, forgot my earpro
Vitriol can hurt you know
Reach deep in my floor length coat
And start to read the book I wrote
Return to my silent home
Thankful for my catacomb

>>11483393
I think this is a much better version. Still adding a little too much to your sentences. It gets annoying to hear, but it's really a problem with writers starting out. Even longtime writers do it on occasion. Ex.
"echos back to you". To you is unnecessary.

For the brush slaps, I'd consider 'Wild brush snaps back at you as you lunge through the thickets in a whirlwind of green'. This implies she went through and the tree branches are coming back at you. Dash is usually an open space thing. Lunging gives an impression that you are make headway through something and an attempt to grab her/catch up in this instance.

Id add a sentence saying you caught her after this one. Something along the lines of 'Your hand finally catches her mid stride.' This leads to the tumbling sentence.

The 'sound of frolic' is awkward. We used laughter earlier, so I wouldn't want to reuse it this soon, but frolic doesn't work for me as a sound in this situation. They are playing and acting excited, but we have a clear idea of what they are doing - it isnt playful prancing in the bushes that frolic paints for me. It's a game of a catch me if you can/tag your it. They were just rolling down a hill. It's not quite frolic to me.

Maybe reword the sentence altogether could help. Something like, "You tumble together (omit amid the shrubs, we know where they are from the thickets/whirlwind of green). Playful cries ring out as you find yourself cradled amid the shrubs. You triumphantly call out to her, "Got you!"
"No, you didn't!"
"Did too!"
She darts out of your reach, the sting of branches snapping back, slowing your pursuit."

I dont like excited voices to the end part. Id like to know what these voices are saying. Some playful banter perhaps? Tell us the relationship through dialogue interspersed with narrative. Indicate their age through dialogue (look childlike, but could be say 12 year old big sister and 6 year old little sister or first love early teens chasing or cousins, etc. I'm not positive 'you' is a boy or a girl yet. Maybe some dialogue clarifying any of these during the chase).

Ex.
She shouted back at you, "Race to the big tree. Loser has to help with the laundry!"
"No fair, you had a head start"

You pressed harder, but the barrage of branches made catching her again impossible. When all hope was lost, you break into the clearing. The old tree sits on the hill, its silent vigil a welcome sight. You see her. She's hooked on the fence. You can beat her.

More dialogue as 'you' teases about winning as she passes her, anger from 'she'. We get the idea of living together, family, young girls running, but could be a boy as well. Fighting over chores, adventure through the woods. Allows you describe flowing wheat fields or green hills or whatever setting you put them in from there while building towards the finish line at the tree. 'She' could be older and faster to catch up after getting hooked, etc.

>>11483439
Avoid unnecessary words. First sentence, we dont need to know the spray gun is in hand. The act of turning it on is enough to show us that. It's not a two man operation. We can figure it out without describing every detail.

Second sentence has ismilar thing - generators make noise. We know that. We don't need the sound describe with 2 adjectives. cut 'bounced and'. I would consider putting this sentence first to establish the cave. It's much more interesting. What's he doing in a cave? What generator? What's going on? I'm intrigue from this. The first sentence was boring. This one has questions I need answers to.

Third sentence - again, try not to double adjectives for your sentences. pointless and wrong is redundant. Pick a new one that works for both or just use felt wrong and cut pointless. I'd even condense the sentence more, ex "This thing we're doing, it felt wrong. Why are we even doing this?" This tells me its much more than a power washing cave and the narrator has moral issues with what he's doing. What is it? What am I getting into? Again, I want to know more now.

Gray should turn first, then sense reluctance. He wouldnt know otherwise. He will sense it when he looks at you and sees doubt or conflict in you. Not magically while looking at the wall.

Again, double adjective for his star. Then you give his eyes another adjective of unblinking and a fourth of unnerving. We could even consider the immense sense of compassion and not just wisdom, but silent wisdom as being related to his eyes. This entire section is an extreme case of telling, not showing. A single adjective for his eyes to build on tension from before. Something sharp and concise that puts doubt into what we know about this Gray fellow. Good? Bad? Friend? What is his purpose. What does this look imply? I want to find out. 2 sentences and half a dozen adjectives for his eyes does not do that. It bores me. Yeah, yeah, he has eyes. What next.

The "dialogue" is first instance of sci-fi setting and was unexpected. Sci-fi isnt my cup of tea, so I wont comment on content. Chop up that second sentence. 'enough. It is time to leave.' works better and fits the tone. Your way comes up casual, like 'oh ya, and were leaving too". Prepared and ready sounds better than ready and prepared. Its the order youd do it too. No one is ready until they are prepared. Place your descriptors in order. Sacred and precious are pretty much same thing. Just go with sacred.

Last sentence is awkward. I'd rework this. So is a terrible word and you should remove it from starting sentences. This last sentence doesn't seem like "grey's voice" either. It sounds like narrators thoughts on what they are doing - not what he interpreted from the voice. Separate it from the "dialogue", if that is what the previous part is. Use quotations for it if its dialogue.

>>11483439
>>11483613

More issues with the telling and not showing us. This first sentence in last paragraph is on the nose - you tell us every single step you take and what happens. Readers are smart. They can figure out if you turn your head or face a wall. I'd work on this aspect of your writing most alongside the overuse of adjectives.

The artwork on the wall can be descriptive, but is it necessary to describe? Will we see these 8 legged buffalos, etc? It's a little dull reading this description so early. I want to know the protagonist and this Gray fellow. But more time is spent on this painting I dont care about this early. Unless extremely plot relevant, I would leave it as a basic cave painting with no context and have the protag's reluctance to erase this historical work, the earliest of his kind. This gives the image of early caveman wall paintings without describing that. We are allowed to imagine what it might look like, what is on teh wall. The sci-fi nature and clandestine erasing might tell us there is even more important things being erased than simple cave drawings. We get to imagine this, we get to think about and its all implicit - no reason to beat us over the head with it. You can let the reader in on secrets with breadcrumbs and theyll love you for it. Tell them 'i did this. i then did this. i turned my head to look at that. i moved to that and started my work. i didnt want to do it. its a shame. okay, im done.' - this kills the readers involvement. Its boring. Its on the nose and makes them want to skip it.

At this point, Id forgotten about the pressure washer. Weve covered a lot of ground since the first sentence. Was it necessary to mention it? We could keep kicking generator to reveal the cave and just have lights come on. Conversation with Gray while moving towards the pressure washer and painting. Near end he picks it up and we are introduced to it instead of reader having to recall where that came from after your two character introductions, cave paintings, telepathic communication, aliens, etc. Kinda lost track of it as is.

More extra words ending the piece. Everything disintigrated or dripped down. People know how pressure wash work. Just describe the jets bouncing off the wall, maybe echoes jets like the screams of our dying heritage or some philosophical mumbo jumbo comparing to the painting and early history of his people. Dont tell me every detail of a jet spray down to pulling triggers and kickback.

It's a decent plot. Reptile aliens genetically modified humans or aided their uplifting. We see the proto human help cover up evidence of their work and pain of removing his own history. Just some issues with pacing and excessive descriptions and adverb usage.

>>11481148
I don’t even know what it’s about but I like it. I don’t like the puzzle element (maybe I’m just poor reading comprehension), but ya. So few poems I like so take it as a compliment

>>11483662
>>11483613
>>11483535
>>11483165
>>11482340
>>11481839

Can we take a moment to appreciate this dude going around and writing page long poem criticisms on an anonymous Eritrean manga board? Thanks, dude

>>11481839
nice crit but the replacement isn’t that good man. I’m a third party and that’s my view

>>11482218
Nice, but a little spare

>>11482960
This is like a scene from Star Wars. Too Rom Commy for me

The old man reclined in his hammock as glowing flies danced in the tank hung from the ceiling. Facets of his segmented eyes lit up multicoloured as the flies darted back and forth, changing hues as they bumped into one another. He sank deeper into his trance. His papery wings twitched, reliving youthful hunts. He hummed without tune.

A scratching at the door. Not the larva down the shaft announcing himself with rolling knocks to demand sugar clumps and war stories. Not the landlord with her curt and practiced tapping. His antennae twitched as he smelled the stranger. Too much country mud to have been in town for long. Stress pheremones clumsily covered with sweet perfume.

The old man took his time sitting up in the hammock. He reached for his cane, rolled onto the floor and shuffled towards the scratching.

I'm writing a post-apocalyptic novel that takes place in Maine. Just looking for feedback on my words.

Opening Version A:

His feet padded along the film of water on the sand, its surface oily black in the night, reflecting the dimming flourescent lamps of the safe haven ahead. To his left the ocean burbled and hissed. To his right, the crumbled houses lined the edge of the beach. Almost there.
The rifle strap wore at his shoulder, and he stopped for a moment to slide it over his head to the other one. It seemed foolish to do, so close to home, but he could no longer stand it. He kept on, the wet sand growing drier as he neared the sea wall. The orange lamps struck the concrete at such an angle as to exaggerate the bumpy surface, and even the barnacles clinging to the side cast long shadows. He climbed the stairs in one final burst of effort, coming to an empty concrete lot, windswept and litter-strewn. Around its edges sat darkened buildings, once motels and shops. Only one of the windows held light, a glow that caught on the cobwebs clinging to the glass. In an alcove two doors down sat an old woman on a rickety wicker chair, her sagging face wrapped in cloth.
He ignored her, and headed for the lit window. Peering through, past the

Opening Version B:

A salty scent permeated the dark. To his left was the sloshing sound of the waves, to his right a scattered row of lights. The rifle strap wore at his shoulder, but it seemed pointless to adjust it so close to home. The lights ahead glimmered off the film of water on the sand, like a shining road home in the night. Out here, he could look over his shoulder another ten miles along the coast, fuzzy faint set of pinprick lights, then back to those just a few hundred feet away, and realize how far he had come.
Closer to the sea wall, the light barely reached the rocky tidal pools, and threw the withered concrete stairs into sharp relief. He climbed them, the extra burst of effort bringing out the weariness in his legs. At the top was a litter-strewn lot, small vending stands here and there, crates and barrels stacked against worn buildings. Only one of the windows held light, a cozy orange glow that washed out the sign hanging in the window.

>>11483662
>>11483613
I appreciate you taking the time to look my piece over. I haven't done much narrative writing lately and this really helps focus on some shortcomings. Thank you.

>>11480340
You spelt curriculum vitae wrong my dude

>>11480340
"This won't give you nightmares, will it?" No. "I should have asked."
"You know when you sleep with your arms above your head, and when you wake up, they're paralyzed?"
Pink gloves for the kids. Black gloves for the invols. Blues when we just want to get through it. Those, most often.

>>11481303
This is good

>>11480340
This is bad

New and naked asses
Hopping into summer bunks
From the verdant hours running
through parks and schools
Shielded by praying hands of communion
Fondled by their nursing flames in healthy doses
A hypnotic lull to slip them out from under their shoes
An into their beddy-bye socks
Ant summer nights close the lights, living the last days of their golden age
and fireflies bake trees turning them into christmas
Under planets twinkle distance
Naked asses like the little actors in some theatre
On stage performing in delight over their own bodies
Bouncing bottoms and breastless nipples,
flopping to the floor, and swimming in motion
They sing into the dripping souls, their elastic spirit
they don't care what they spill, and don't bother to clean it up
Messy are the hearts of rummaging possums, garbage eaters, discarded bones stained with fried nicotine
Raccoons can see into their dreams, can speak to the sleeping
Laser green orbs caught in their night eye now,
Without a blink they stare, for the better part who knows
An hour, maybe a day, maybe 30 years
Where Rip Van wrinkled well into the Julian calendar
In his own movie, where freedom is a the theme much kinder and gentle
And all the kids in the movie try their pranks on an unsuspecting School-marm
Adults who never know the better of wicked crimes kids play
A truth or law as wise as any coming from a child
some romance soul radio winding and curling into the breeze, syllables uttered in funk
Where cruel and sweet blunders are being had amongst first time loves
The ritual caste system renewing itself among it’s newest members
Crawdad catchers sweating out the solitude of town heat
Dipping their malnourished fingers into the pond
Would he have to wait that long to be in the arms of some fair body
To bring the cooling of the universe
Now at a constant buzzing, seeking oscillating balance
Would there be human ecstacy for all
never ceaseing at getting better
Strange unfamiliar witness in the reflection, Ripples through youth time
anticipating the first real sneaky foot forward into the future,
But A muddled tumor hitting puberty for now
Stars above, beginning to detach in his mind,
they use to have voices and personalities he imagined
how long would it take before they would lose their laugh?
When meaining grows old it means nothing,
When just as you get a glimpse, paradise turns 40, and is almost over the hill
And the past becomes more colorful as the years go on

I don’t know, maybe your experience differed from mine. For me, growing up as a human
being on the planet Earth in the twenty-first century was a real kick in the teeth. Existentially speaking.
The worst thing about being a kid was that no one told me the truth about my situation. In fact, they did the exact opposite. And, of course, I believed them, because I was just a kid and I didn’t know any better. I mean, Christ, my brain hadn’t even grown to full size yet, so how could I be expected to know when the adults were bullshitting me? So I swallowed all of the dark ages nonsense they fed me. Some time passed. I grew up a little, and I gradually began to figure out that pretty much everyone had been lying to me about pretty much everything from the moment I emerged from my mother’s womb. This was an alarming revelation. It gave me trust issues later in life.

I don’t know, maybe your experience differed from mine. For me, growing up as a human being on the planet Earth in the twenty-first century was a real kick in the teeth. Existentially speaking. The worst thing about being a kid was that no one told me the truth about my situation. In fact, they did the exact opposite. And, of course, I believed them, because I was just a kid and I didn’t know any better. I mean, Christ, my brain hadn’t even grown to full size yet, so how could I be expected to know when the adults were bullshitting me? So I swallowed all of the dark ages nonsense they fed me. Some time passed. I grew up a little, and I gradually began to figure out that pretty much everyone had been lying to me about pretty much everything from the moment I emerged from my mother’s womb. This was an alarming revelation. It gave me trust issues later in life.

>>11481676
Not that anon, but what an obnoxious post. There's nothing wrong with using the occasional archaism, and the poem is obviously written in an antiquated 18/19th century style anyway.
>dude get with the times lol
What a lazy fucking criticism.

>>11484485

Damn that's unsettling. Nice start.

>>11484479

Ah fuck, thanks. Forgot that section was still up desu

>>11484138
Opening A is more appealing to me.
>To his left the ocean burbled and hissed. To his right, the crumbled houses lined the edge of the beach. Almost there.

That's a more alluring hook than anything in the second version.

>>11484123
Is the old man a fly?
Nvm. Yes, yes he is. Kind of interesting. Are you going for a Kafka type story? If so it's not a bad start. Pick up the action right away.

>>11483439
This is good stuff Anon. The critiquers make some valid points here and there, but some of their advice is just the special brand of autism that pervades this place. For instance, your description of the paintings was extensive but it struck me as important to visualize the cave wall before it is effaced, so the reader gets the sense of loss. In a word, be careful about the advice you take.

>>11481839
You were doing good until you rewrote it, which is the first error amateur editors make. Criticizing and editing something means dissecting what really stands out as something that doesn't work and brings the narrative down, not changin everything because it's not written like you would

>>11484868
It's a world of insect people and I'm not sure that that is the start. I just wanted to write a little bit of a scene. The protagonist is the one scratching at the door.

>>11485217

that sounds so unsettling to me. Many people are put off by insects so I wouldn't want to read a story about them but props to you if you can pull it off

>>11485241
I'm also put off by them and I'm also trying to address my fear. I think if the characters are empathetic and generally human in outlook then it will be easier to read.

>>11484979
I'll keep that in mind for future critiques. I was trying to give an example of what I had described. I expect most posting for crit here are amateurs/beginning writers. Simply telling them 'this is wrong, fix it' without an example felt wrong to me. I dont want them to use my basic examples - just use them as an example of what I was describing and apply it to their rewrite if the critique was unclear.

Thank you. I am not an editor. Only a freelance writer. I'll try not to do this in the future when critiquing. What you say makes sense from an editorial side. I wouldnt want anyone editing my work to completely change my words. Hopefully you can understand why I did so in this situation with the presumed experience of the writers looking for help here.

>>11481839

Thanks for the feedback. It was a Dream Diary entry. I was trying to imitate Charls Carrol.

>>11481569
>>11485526

That last sentence is a doozy, get rid of it. I didn't pick up on the Charles Carrol/MDE vibe. Does he have any fiction out there?

It wasn't apparent that this was ironic or self-referential or anything like that. Which, in my view, is what the MDE crowd is going for. On first read I thought this was pretty awful because I received it as though it were meant to be sincere. You'll need to hammer home the over the top irony or pepper in some overtly humourous character or object or throwback if you want this to come across as MDE-inspired. Though when you read it as though it were satire it's a lot better, no doubt.

I just write poetry, nothing long as I've no urge but perhaps one day.


The world will bend

To the times that nag

Like a current on stone

When God is mad

Went away with my fathers to gather the fallen
To return with the wisdom of the kings
Let me dream. . .
Let the fallen hear:
"It never rains around here"
The sand smothered on my chest was Music Choir

Opening chapter to my novel. Goal is to evoke the spirit of the event.

https://pastebin.com/ec984rrh

I had this little dialogue in my head yesterday after talking to a friend. Some of the sentences I had thought up initially I couldn't recall anymore, but I wanted to try my hand at this sort of dialogue anyway.

Will crit for crit on this. Short story opening I'm struggling with.

https://pastebin.com/nkW06i5Y

>>11487978
>https://pastebin.com/nkW06i5Y

Some research on painting would help. A master painter would take weeks or months or even years to finish a portrait. An entire town's population coming out to watch someone paint would be bored waiting and doesn't seem realistic to me. If he's to be this great painter, he wouldn't be doing 4 hour paintings in the plaza. Mona Lisa took 4 years, for instance. Also, I've oil painted for many years and the way you describe painting and technique doesn't sound right to me.

Attributing dialogue is currently at a standard where it is simply 'he said' or 'Name said'. Avoid mannerisms. People say things, they dont wheeze, gasp, etc. Asks, replied, random action, He sighed, etc are frowned upon by most publishers. You would separate the actions and the attribution. It is better to have no attribution if you can establish through narrative who is speaking. For example, you are discussing the steward and follow him through the first paragraphs. You would not need to attribute his dialogue with 'He asks.' It's also an example of the outdated standards that publisher dislike with 'asks' instead of 'said'. I would not even use the attribute here. We know the steward is the focus and only person we've been introduced to - he is the only one we expect to speak at this point.

>D’Invercio repeats the motion of his head, then in a voice that crawls out his throat says, “ just let me finish.”

The first dialogue from the painter is another problem with your attribution of dialogue. Here's how actions should be listed in dialogue:
>Jim sighed. “I can’t take this anymore.”
>Not: Jim sighed, “I can’t take this anymore.”

Separate action from dialogue with a period. You would capitalize 'Just' in your dialogue and it would be a new sentence detached from actions. I would refrain from the use of 'crawls out of his throw'. I would describe his mood instead of telling us the action. Maybe 'his annoyance was palpable. 'When I finish.'" You could come up with something better, but the gist of it is show, dont tell.

>“I’m beat,” exclaimed John tiredly.
Seems like a normal sentence, but it is a classic example of telling, not showing.
>John dropped onto the couch. “I’m beat.”
This is showing, not telling. Note how we describe an action. We don't need the outdated attribution 'exclaimed' nor describe how John said it 'tiredly'. The reader is smart enough to understand the emotion he would feel and likely experienced it themselves - collapsing into a couch after a long day. Readers are experiencing an emotion based on dialogue without being told here explicitly what John is feeling. This is the essence of show, don't tell that people always toss out.

We dont have to attribute the dialogue either because his action previously makes it implicit. You tell a lot and rarely show.

>>11487978
>>11488166
Use less words. If it is possible to cut a word out, always cut it out. Ex:

>What looked like the entire town had gathered around them to watch in silence as he transcribed her from life onto canvas.
This sentence has multiple infractions. 'The entire town gather round to watch.' is all you need to really say. This is also a long sentence that is telling, not showing. Transcribed her from life onto canvas is awkward and an obvious statement. It bores the reader being beaten over the head with mundane and obvious actions.

>Pushing his way through the crowd
Pushing through the crowd

>Pushing his way through the crowd he caught glimpses of the man the closer he got. He was slightly shorter than the rumours said, and his black hair wasn’t as long either. But the other details were right. The thin lips, the bleak eyes and the leather bag full of brushes at his feet made the steward certain it was him.

This is a blatant example of telling - its basically an info dump description of the presumed protagonist/painter. This reminds me of people that write the protag waking up and describing himself in the mirror for the reader in painful detail when we dont even care about the person yet. So much of this could be trimmed as well.

You've also taken so long to introduce our protagonist - I would start the story with the action of him painting in the townsquare. Perhaps towns folk naming him and talking about he's just about to finish and others telling people to be quiet. The steward can come in after establishing the protag and giving us some action. Sprinkle some protag features as you go - not in one big dump from the steward.

Finally, some awkward words - canter is major one. I doubt your audience is knowledgeable on equestrian jargon. People dont want to feel dumb nor have to look up words to understand what you mean. Never use a foreign phrase, a scientific word, or a jargon word if you can think of an everyday English equivalent.

I've critiqued a lot, but I'm honestly interested in seeing more. Bringing the protagonist to start, especially in a short story, and establishing him before the steward would be more engaging. You could describe the painter as having been coming to the square for months painting the girl and this is the final day that everyone is gathered for - this gets around the 'busker in the square' doing cheap 1 hour paintings you have it set up as, which doesnt go with the large crowd watching.

I would also have the steward forced to wait, maybe the protag completely unresponsive to his calls. The crowd could do the talking and tell him to let him finish, shut up or even throw a tomato or something at him. I feel like you are trying to establish him as a renowned and famous painter, possibly the greatest in this period. I don't see him responding so quickly to someone he does not know while finishing another masterpiece. He can ignore an entire town, but not this one person?

Gradually I Began to Hate Them

They speak in riddles, words chosen to confuse and deflect.
Feigned ignorance their only recourse,
To gain victory was to gain despair.
Again, they would return and ignore,
The agility of their tongues, the virtuosity of their lies,
They cry out in pain as they strike you.
Gradually I began to hate them.

>>11481357

>posted yesterday.

>no reply.

Whether or not he is right or wrong, it appears as if he is right because OP didn't respond. So I only hope that for those who need to read a counterargument in order to considerate it, they read this as such.

>>11488225
>>11488166

wow thanks for the in-depth crit.

>>11489010

Wasn't worth a full response. He's right about the dairy cartel in Canada but he is ignoring the domestic effects that dismantling that cartel would have, especially in the prairie provinces. Which is politically unviable to most (see: Maxime's fate last year). Although I agree that supply management needs some sober second thought.

Everything else isn't worth my time. If he's trying to convince me now that some FNs committed genocide against other FNs then he isn't saying anything remotely new.

>>11488790
Not a huge fan of the last line but this was pretty comfy. Quite good around the middle.

A cricketing evening anywhere westward-
a gown that has seen the world from the craddle
cocoons a silkworm addicted to strangeness.
Wherever exposed the engulfèd impresses
a glistening-wet mozaic angel,
with white on a canvas it leaves both the bruise
to tell to itself of its outline and colour
and fuel the love of whoever would choose.

at night,
when nobody is awake
and everything is dark and silent,
i climb into your heart
and sit on the strings
and i pretend to be happy
for a while.

and when i’m finally comfortable
in my own skin again
i crawl out from your insides
of cogs and cobwebs
and back home,
and no one says a word.

>>11490672
I would mirror the 2 stanzas and have equal sentence count and basic form/lengths.

For instance, the final paragraph could start:

"at dawn,
...
...
for a while."

move 'no one says a word' to the 6th line of the 2nd stanza and you'll have 2 stanzas of 7 lines each and a common theme to both. 2nd line of stanza 2 can cut the 'and' that starts it.

lmao 1

>>11491004
lmao 2

I'm >>11486380. Just had a free 30 minutes, so I looked over two of OPs fiction pieces.

>https://larthurhunt.files.wordpress.com/2018/07/fifty-bucks-an-hour.pdf

The experimental nature is p obv, so anyone reading knows it's a dialogue. And on a technical level it's fine. My focus is going to be on the piece itself:

So you're telling an interesting story between the mother and daughter, here, and there is some good characterisation going on from the naturalistic dialogue. But my problem is that the closest thing we are building towards is the revelation that the kid's lonely and the mother seems somewhat negligent; and that's not really an interesting thing to build towards.

The entire piece feels like it should be building up towards something - us learning a crucial snippet about their relationship that completely reframes the previous conversation. That's because the conversation is very banal - if you must have banality in fiction, have it be in service to the revelatory, extraordinary, or the powerful. To me, learning the kid wants more time with their mother is not serviced by the banality nor in of itself powerful enough to warrant the foreshadowing. The same sentiments for the entire piece could have been conveyed by a single line reading "I wish mum had more time to me."

As an experiment with un-quoted dialogue and with minimal writing outside of speech, it succeeds on a technical level. As a piece that I felt was worth my time to read, it fails because of the issue of banality.

>https://larthurhunt.files.wordpress.com/2018/07/looking-for-k-final-draft.pdf

On the other hand, this is an exceptional piece. Very naturalistic typing/texting, and technically well done. But to accompany it is something exceptional - you have emotion and conflict going on here. You make the reader truly see the desperation and pitiful state of the Mexican; I particularly like how the CPS person is only really a catalyst for the woman to splurge and express her own mad inner conflict.

You evoke in me a mix of pity, contempt, frustration, and anger. There's no big 'oof' at the end, but a creeping sense of corruption and entrapment that corresponds with the disgust as you see the pathetic displays, the self-pity, the self-sabotage, and the evasiveness. The fact that the woman is also pitifully illiterate also sets it off - the fact that people exist like this who are so feeble of mind and body only further sets in the horror that there will be depths of depravity like this.

Contrast this with the first piece; this one has something extraordinary and telling at its core. You're inviting us to see a spectacle that is believable (I wouldn't be surprised if it were a verbatim transcript), yet profoundly discomforting and evocative. That's the place for an attempt at dialogue-only pieces; to give us intimacy with raw and extremely emotional times and infer the tone and nature of everything solely from expressed content.

I enjoyed it a lot.

bump

would anyone be interested in a /crit/ discord? I feel like it'd be a good way for people to help each other over longer projects. Maybe have seperate channels for prose/poetry that kinda stuff.

>>11491929
>>11491145

OP here. Yes, I would be interested in a Discord. Absolutely.

Also, thank you so much for the feedback. That was fantastic. I'll respond in greater detail later on and will make sure I give your chapter a read. I'm just at work right now.

>>11486380

OP here to return the favour.

The first line is ineffective in drawing us in, of which the second half is nicely put and revealing of the grammatically clean trend that the rest of the piece will follow in. Sometimes you can just tell by the structure of an opening sentence if the author has a strong enough command of English to really impress as a writer and yours was one of those.

I don't know what to make of the phrase "ferocious din". The word 'din' seems too weak, small, hollow to be well-suited next to the word ferocious.

I think there's a typo here:
>adde shoulders straight

The phrase "ancient seconds" is kind of cool.

I'm getting the sense that Madigan is a politician approaching a podium during a Trump-style campaign stop.

I like the shift to a more conversation, intimate tone as soon as Madigan begins to speak. This is especially evident with the line "He was testing them--not teasing them, testing--to see whether..." but then my satisfaction kind of nosedived at the end of that line with "whether they could hold back their lust having been aroused." Not only do I think this line is a bit grammatically confused (esp. the qualifying phrase "having been aroused" being in present perfect tense) but it's also awkward and honestly kind of gives me a squirmy, creepy vibe.

His speech is well composed at least in the early stages. Although the build-up to the revelation "one thing alone: happy" is particularly good, that choice of word, 'happy', felt kind of flat to me. Like it missed.

>iterate along
Is 'iterate' really the word you want?

>Raymond Tusk
Wait, is this some neofuturistic House of Cards fanfiction?

>Faster
This line didn't land for me. It's referring to an initial observation a little too far behind it and besides Madigan is no longer asking questions anyway.

>A hoarse, rageful, commanding.
Not a big fan of this line either. I'd rework it into something more immediate, something that rocks the reader. Personally I'd go with something like "A hoarse and frenzied commandment, possessed now by the spell of rage."

>The army rallied around the marshal...
Hmm, wasn't expecting this to be a military address.

>There will be deed and glory. There will be struggle and fear.
This doesn't sound like a genuine rallying cry in a military setting. An alternative I prefer is "There will be justice and glory. There will be struggle. There will be fear."

Not digging the overuse of exclamation marks. You're skilled enough to be able to show us otherwise.

Those last five or so lines took a sharp turn for the worst, in my opinion. I don't like where this went at the end. I was envisioning a valiant charismatic leader, a hero to lead the proletariat in a revolt against the interstellar elite class.

>WILL YOU COME TO MARS?!
This is a bad note to end on. I suggest toning this down quite a bit. Lose the caps and punctuation marks. You can make a more powerful statement without them.

>>11493401
2/2

You should frame that last line as a statement, a call to action,rather than a question.

Anyway, I'm out of time. Feel free to email me or add me on IG/Twitter to keep in touch cause I'll gladly read more of this, it's definitely up my alley. Overall this is quite good and one of the very few pieces I've read on here that I'd genuinely want to read more of. Best of luck with this.

>>11493401

3/3

Wow sorry just came back to make one correction. I said your first line was "ineffective in drawing us in," but I meant to say effective. Big mistake.

i just threw the first short story i ever wrote up on my site. it's called "everyday pity", and i wrote it when i was 21. it's the first on this list:

>https://larthurhunt.com/fiction/

anyone want to take a stab at it? dunno if it's complete trash or semi-salvagable. also, i'll crit someone's work in return, that's a lee guarantee

>>11493401
Thanks, that's a very useful perspective and a good source for some adjustments. Keen eye on your part.

A couple of comments on things you perceived:

>Wait, is this some neofuturistic House of Cards fanfiction?
Nah, don't even watch it. Now that I know about it I'll probably have to do a namechange there.

>Hmm, wasn't expecting this to be a military address.
It isn't. It was a metaphor that fell flat. I think it probably works better without it.

>Anyway, I'm out of time. Feel free to email me or add me on IG/Twitter to keep in touch cause I'll gladly read more of this
I avoid socmedia, but I may shoot you an email in the future when I finally have confidence enough in future chapters to shop them around.

She said she saw sweet Oblivion under that house
A fleeting glimpse of
A sleep deep enough
To beat being awake

The organic break
Pulls me like gravity
It’s scary though
When I fell under, dopey
The fear I felt was real

It seems like a cloud I can’t get out of
It clings sticky to me
A lucid dream of waking
Up to pee

A forbidden love
But too much anxiety
A belief or piety’s required
To dip into that open casket
I’m afraid I can’t get out of

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1yagTJ7yPpeHIqGW-NKMhNAOX4fs3c0ly2iM2MBy4Bm4/edit?usp=drivesdk

Should I keep writing this?

>>11494159
It's not open, you need to request access to view.

She said she saw sweet Oblivion under a, house
A fleeting glimpse, of
A sleep deep enough
To beat being awake

The organic perfect break
Pulls me like a falling snake
It’s hoarse. it's death calling
When I fell under, dopey, gravity
The fear I felt, Tangible, real

It seems like a cloud I can’t get out of
It clings sticky, eating me
A lucid dream of flying
Then just to get up to pee

My forbidden, it's love
Not too much anxiety
A belief or piety’s required
To dip into that open casket
The one you can't get out of

>>11493806

That's wild to me that you picked the name Raymond Tusk at random.

Sounds good man, anytime you'd like some feedback don't hesitate.

i found this written in one of my notebooks

there was something like death in the air then, with the dance - it wasn't the fruitless elegance of old where bodies touched
and senses mound - no, there was something more, a carelessness as to a stray shoulder from a man or lady, here or there,
a shadow of a touch to remind something or somoeone would always be there

what did i mean by this?

>>11495358
it means ur a homo because u want to fuck ur mom

>>11495373
Or some pussy old cowardly cunt had nothing better to do than to stslk and harass someone she didnt know. Then this worthless childish peice of shit continued to stalk the guy after she framed him three times over because thats how rmpty that fucking cunts life is. And this empty stupid bitch was suddenly raissd up ad an example for the world. There is nothing more sickening than that demented childish rapist little bitch getting styention she didnt deserve. She’s nothing but some aging old nerd who barely managed tonhabe a child who had her husband abandon her because she was so fucking worthless and eho jumped on the idea of fame by harassing someone she didnt even know by pretending she was better thsn him. That worthless pld cint snd every cunt like her deserve nothing less than to be pushed off cliffs. They are worthless fucking disgraces but we have bug men, pansy fucking thirsty pussies who hire these fat lazy cunts hoping they will het to fuck them. Humanity is a joke.

My mother's firm brown arm
Tentative and slow, set
A rustic kennel on the rug
With a red scarf hung over its door
Like a rose petal over a beehive’s mouth

Inquisitive, a pink nose slithers near
Sniffing the changed air
The molested air, drizzled with immigrant smells

The white fuzz attached to the nose
Halts at the crate's curtain;
His fine whiskers meditating

Our anxious human eyes gleaming above
Like fairy lights floating in a supernal ring

My mother lifts the scarf exposing
Two weak yellow eyes
In a vortex of shadowy fur,
Hesitating.

any germans here?

The tiredness relaxes me
My feet scout for the rejuvenating sand

The quiet paradise of cool water expands
Like a great net thrown over a hidden kingdom

The slender music of smoke
From burning wood
Is twirled by a cunning ghost hand

I am drunk with the performance
I could drop into the lake

>Pinkwetha had been surprised when Sam and Sut Seng came to him that morning with an entire branch of bananas, flower and all, and a stack of yellow mangoes. And then Zaw had joined in, massaging his shoulder muscles as he ate the fruit out of the others hands. He could tell from their taste that the bananas had been cut the night before but they were still deliciously chewy and the mangoes were a type he had never tasted before, a treat in itself, and so sweet he sucked the skins clean. He hadn’t noticed at the time that with each mouthful Sam and Sut Seng had taken a step back and he had stepped forward led by his greed for the next bite, Zaw alongside, patting and rubbing him in encouragement. It wasn’t until the two men in front climbed up a short bamboo fence that he realised they had led him into a pen. He turned his head to ask Zaw for help but Zaw had gone and when he tried to walk back he found that a gate had been shut on him and he was pinned in like the stone in the centre of an unripe mango. Betrayal clouded the air like thick pollen as more familiar faces appeared around the pen with apologies falling from their mouths but an unmistakeable mirth in their eyes. And then came the ultimate indignation. He had grown up in a camp where all his aunties and uncles had carried the men to and from the forest to collect fallen trees, but he had still not been prepared for the sheer humiliation of a man sitting on his back for the first time. To make things worse it had been Tam La, who he had known since they were both children, who made the first attempt to ride him. Pinkwetha had bucked and writhed in a fury, kicking his hind legs up but Tam La seemed to fly up into the sky each time he did it. Being penned so tightly he could not look up but in front of him he saw a group of men tugging a rope that went up into the trees and realised that Tam La was on the other end of the rope and they were lifting him up to safety each time he kicked. His anger built up into a storm and he smashed the fence with his head. He had no space to charge but he bent his neck down and butted the sides of the pen. Over and over again. And then a stick of bamboo, thinner than the rest, cracked. Now the smirks on the mens’ faces were beginning to sink. He battered the fence again and again and then dug his tusks into the gaps, twisting his head to crush the now weakened sticks. Eventually the entire front side smashed outwards and he came charging out. The men ran to cower in their huts, all except Tam La who had been left dangling in the air above the pen, with a pathetic pleading expression on his face even though he was too high to reach. Pinkwetha ran towards the forest into the forest, roaring like strangled thunder.

>>11496377
Yo

Just looking for comments on the dialogue. Is it natural? Do each feel distinctive? Not worried about cutting words or punctuation at this time.

I put first narrative in just for some context. They are colleagues at work. She rarely speaks to anyone and keeps to herself. They've conversed privately after a lunch with co-workers and spoken one other time. It's a dystopian future roughly 40 years from now (focuses on socialism instead of usual dystopia settings, so not some nuclear wasteland or fascist dictatorship or police state). She has asked him to meet her at an art exhibit after work with a random note handed ot him in passing. Scene picks up with him waiting.

I was checking my watch when I felt a small tug on my sleeve. A petite, blonde girl in a red overcoat and tuque with a beautiful smile was looking up and waved at me. I was taken aback. I had never seen Karen smile before. She always kept to herself or showed any emotion. No one really showed emotion anymore. A genuine smile like this was a rare sight. There was derisive laughter, frowns, and sneering ridicule. But a smile with real emotion in it? It was almost too pure for this world. It made me want to tease her.

“I’m sorry, but could you let go of my sleeve? I’m waiting for someone.”
“Oh, is it a girl? Is she cute?”
“Very cute. She acts all shy and demure, but she snuck me a secret love letter and has had my heart all aflutter in anticipation.”
“It wasn’t a love letter!”
“You didn’t dispute the very cute part.”
She turned her head in a huff. “I didn’t realize you were such a playboy. I thought I had invited a gentleman.”
“So, it is a date.”
She started for the door to the exhibit. “This is why you’re still single at your age.”

end scene as they go into the exhibit