/lit/ - Literature

>>13441596
The only way to find out is post it online for others to read.
Preferably on /lit/ where people are merciless.
You can never be objective about your own writing, but other people can't wait to tear you a new asshole. Most of the times that helps.

>>13441627
Are there other places where I can post my stuff where people will be equally, if not more, harsh. I find critique threads on /lit/ to be extremely helpful, yet their problem lies in the fact that the threads are slow, limit the word count and most of the time end with no response

>>13441654
We're in the /lit/ doldrums right now, and I'm bored. Please post some excerpts.

Read it aloud.

>>13441682
This is completely unedited. I have not read it since I wrote it...

I.
“Not even the sun comes close to those lamps,” thought Nikolai as he walked along the broken sidewalk.
It had been months since he had seen daylight, but even the last time was only a glance of dusk. As the rain pattered against his coat, he saw in the periphery of his vision, the dazzling neon lights of his refuge. Although the jarring red which they had painted the pavement with would have made anyone sick, to Nikolai, the soft spoken words of “OPEN,” and “DRINKS” brought him peace.
As he entered the bar, the manager walked towards him and said with a smirk, “You’re late. Did you stay up all night?”
Nikolai scoffed at that remark and simply responded by walking past him, towards a barstool. As he waited for the bartender to notice him, he looked around to see the usual array of sorry figures. While some played pool with only 15 balls, others stared into their tables, tracing their fingers along the grain of the wood. The entire room reeked of their despair; whether it emanated from walls’ yellowing paint, or the liquor-soaked stools, the smell was ubiquitous.
Finally the bartender made his way to Nikolai, and without asking him, brought him the drink he had wanted. With each sip that he took, he smothered his nerves and rekindled his vigor. There was nothing which he enjoyed more than the sweet release of bitter alcohol, in the silence of his solitude. Yet that was soon interrupted by a fellow named Albin. Albin was a regular at that bar, just like Nikolai. Yet unlike Nikolai, he was an old man, with youthful eyes.
tear me a new one please

>>13441682
>>13441717
cont...
Rather than scooting his stool closer to Nikolai before sitting down, Albin took a seat and dragged himself closer by the edge of the bar.
“Hey there Niko. Why so late? You wouldn’t happen to have been staying up all night? Would you?”
“I was hoping to avoid you,” responded Nikolai while staring into the counter.
“Well that’s not a nice thing to say. Why don’t I buy you the next round?”
“Save your money; God knows you need it.”
“Well then take a napkin, in case you spill on yourself.”
Albin then took a handful of napkins and slid them towards Nikolai. Before he could take his hands away from the neatly stacked napkins, Nikolai swatted them off the counter, causing a white flurry of paper to glide onto the ground.
Yet before anything could touch the ground, Albin took Nikolai by shoulders and pushed him down. As Nikolai was about to get up the manager and the bartender took hold of Albin and threw him out the bar. Nikolai was then helped up by the other patrons, where he resumed sipping his drink. However, as his nerves were about to be brought back to peace, the manager walked towards Nikolai with menacing eyes.
“You gotta leave too,” Ivan said, while jerking his thumb towards the door.
“But I didn’t do anything!” Nikolai said with a quivering lip.
“I don’t care who did what. All I care is that you leave!”
“Well then let me finish my drink at least.”
However rather than giving an answer, the manager and bartender grabbed the young man by his collar and dragged him towards the door. As they were about to reach the door, Nikolai wriggled free from their grasp and bolted towards the bar. Just as he gulped his drink down in a single sip, Ivan grabbed him again and threw him out the green, steel doors.
Although Nikolai was fuming at the injustice of Ivan, the alcohol had begun to gently stumble down his veins. With the pattering rain crooning into his ears, Nikolai wandered along the empty streets of Billington. The city which had been bustling only a few hours ago, now looked as if it had been devoid of life for years. As this young man would walk down the sidewalk, he was sure to drag his hand along the glass of each shop he passed. Yet once he walked beneath a streetlight, he paused and looked into one the windows. Through the glass, he saw a white mannequin with unhuman proportions. While one of its shoulders slouched halfway down its torso, its other shoulder was twisted behind its back in such a manner that its arm looked as if it was bent in the wrong direction. The fingers themselves even seemed to have been stretched towards the window and twisted in a merciless spiral.

>>13441717
>“Not even the sun comes close to those lamps,” thought Nikolai as he walked along the broken sidewalk.
Stiff as bricks. Introduce some props if you can't trust yourself with flowing imagery or lacey syntax; set up some basic objects, make sure they're palatable to the "mind-tongue."
>It had been months since he had seen daylight, but even the last time was only a glance of dusk.
Too illusory, elusive (and unintroduced) object, nothing to frame your allusions.
>As the rain pattered against his coat
Tedious but showing initiative
>, he saw in the periphery of his vision,
and you deflate it with choppy grammar
> the dazzling neon lights of his refuge.
If you had tied that sentence's shoes, had it walked out without stumbling, this would be decent.
>Although the jarring red which they had painted the pavement with would have made anyone sick, to Nikolai, the soft spoken words of “OPEN,” and “DRINKS” brought him peace.
Speaking of peace, this sentence has a calm feeling. I can start to see what your prose has to offer with sentences like this, truly.
>As he entered the bar, the manager walked towards him and said with a smirk, “You’re late. Did you stay up all night?”
Like a roadside sign when I"m on GPS. Not at all bad, but it feels almost ineffably redundant. I like it, a little.
>Nikolai scoffed at that remark and simply responded by walking past him, towards a barstool. As he waited for the bartender to notice him, he looked around to see the usual array of sorry figures. While some played pool with only 15 balls, others stared into their tables, tracing their fingers along the grain of the wood.
I like this too
>The entire room reeked of their despair;
You seem to be in dissonance with your theme, a sort of placid, depressing stillness.
>whether it emanated from walls’ yellowing paint, or the liquor-soaked stools, the smell was ubiquitous.
Again, something off about this.
>Finally the bartender made his way to Nikolai, and without asking him, brought him the drink he had wanted. With each sip that he took, he smothered his nerves and rekindled his vigor. There was nothing which he enjoyed more than the sweet release of bitter alcohol, in the silence of his solitude.
Hmm. Maybe you meant that to seem clunky, like turbulence before you land the text onto a smooth runway. Anyway, this is decent again. Enjoyable.
>Yet that was soon interrupted by a fellow named Albin. Albin was a regular at that bar, just like Nikolai. Yet unlike Nikolai, he was an old man, with youthful eyes.
I get a picaresque-twist feeling from this line. Are you going to kick the plot over and "shuffle the deck?" If this goes from vécu to gregarity as quick as I think it might, I'll be mad FOR you; Otherwise fine.
I "went easy" (sue me, I liked it), and I didn't double-check. Also, you seem to hamper yourself with a kind of pseudo-french laconicity. Be more Russian, it works well when you have a flair for the inward.

>>13441726
I feel like I'm in a tunnel, playing the breath game, for this entire section:
>“Hey there Niko. Why so late? You wouldn’t happen to have been staying up all night? Would you?”
>“I was hoping to avoid you,” responded Nikolai while staring into the counter.
>“Well that’s not a nice thing to say. Why don’t I buy you the next round?”
>“Save your money; God knows you need it.”
>“Well then take a napkin, in case you spill on yourself.”
>Albin then took a handful of napkins and slid them towards Nikolai. Before he could take his hands away from the neatly stacked napkins, Nikolai swatted them off the counter, causing a white flurry of paper to glide onto the ground.
>Yet before anything could touch the ground, Albin took Nikolai by shoulders and pushed him down. As Nikolai was about to get up the manager and the bartender took hold of Albin and threw him out the bar. Nikolai was then helped up by the other patrons, where he resumed sipping his drink. However, as his nerves were about to be brought back to peace, the manager walked towards Nikolai with menacing eyes.
>“You gotta leave too,” Ivan said, while jerking his thumb towards the door.
>“But I didn’t do anything!” Nikolai said with a quivering lip.
>“I don’t care who did what. All I care is that you leave!”
>“Well then let me finish my drink at least.”
Your entry facade is delicate enough, at least relatively speaking: Rather than scooting his stool closer to Nikolai before sitting down, Albin took a seat and dragged himself closer by the edge of the bar.
And your "colossal exit" fits well:
>However rather than giving an answer, the manager and bartender grabbed the young man by his collar and dragged him towards the door. As they were about to reach the door, Nikolai wriggled free from their grasp and bolted towards the bar. Just as he gulped his drink down in a single sip, Ivan grabbed him again and threw him out the green, steel doors.
Although Nikolai was fuming at the injustice of Ivan, the alcohol had begun to gently stumble down his veins. With the pattering rain crooning into his ears, Nikolai wandered along the empty streets of Billington. The city which had been bustling only a few hours ago, now looked as if it had been devoid of life for years.
>As this young man would walk down the sidewalk, he was sure to drag his hand along the glass of each shop he passed. Yet once he walked beneath a streetlight, he paused and looked into one the windows. Through the glass, he saw a white mannequin with unhuman proportions.
Ambling, but almost enjoyably.
>hile one of its shoulders slouched halfway down its torso, its other shoulder was twisted behind its back in such a manner that its arm looked as if it was bent in the wrong direction. The fingers themselves even seemed to have been stretched towards the window and twisted in a merciless spiral.
Just a hint of a invocation, lovely. That might be your best sentence yet, for someone else.

>>13441627
>Preferably on /lit/ where people are merciless.
Posting it here, people will says its bad even if its not just because they can.

>>13441817
Not really. I've seen some critique threats where people were actually supportive - in the sense that they did rip you a new asshole but told you why they don't like it. They even say what they like.

>>13441808
>>13441792
Thank you so much!!! You don't even know how much you've helped me!

>>13441831
Everybody gets one.

If you like it, its bad.

>>13441888
Trips never lie.

>>13441888
Oh now that's a tawdry ministration if I've ever. Can't beat the get, and I won't pretend to.

>>13441596
Having something called self-awareness.

>>13442028
yeah, and most of the greastest writes were aware of them being shit