/lit/ - Literature

>>14412511
no

If this still around in the morning, I’ll give feedback, merry christmas though anons

Light flickered from the television. Only the wavy yet straight pattern of static filled my view. I didn't blink.

"skitter skitter"

"Oh. Hungry?" I said as I faced the 5 ft tall cockroach living in my bedroom.

"krkrkrkrt"

"I don't have anything."

The cockroach scuttled and crawled towards me and moved from the floor to my head and to my feet. Each of its sharp legs pierced my skin and caused unbearable itching. But I did not move.

Its antennae moved as though detecting something and moved behind the TV. With what appeared to be its teeth it dragged along a rotting corpse behind, wearing nothing but a shirt and baggy pants. Flies buzzed around at the body whose flesh clung into skeleton yet fell into clumps.

"Oh. Thanks."

I ate the corpse with them.

>>14412663

>>14412670

>>14412663
whatever it was you wrote did not appeal to me, but you certainly have some character. your work emanates consciousness, remember that.

>>14412511
Merry christmas

I enjoyed this (besides the first
>you know
However that's just a pet peeve of mine)
The tone is solid. The characterisation feels honest. The main problem is, nothing PARTICULARLY happens. That's not a terrible thing, but depending on audience, this could put off the average reader. Good stuff though

>>14412663
>>14412670
>>14412676
Merry christmas
I dont know where to start with this
>>14413085
I agree it didnt appeal, not sure what he means by it emanates consciousness BUT I do think your prose has the potential to be excellent, assuming this is an attempt at flash fiction.
There are a few shaky parts, mostly the animals speaking but I think that's an affect of someone experiencing death? Greek right?
I'd suggest using more metaphors but beyond that, it's good

Mine:

I dont have one, I just want everyone to have a good christmas and enjoy themselves!

This is a writing exercise I did, it’s Merlin writing a letter to Arthur. It’s flawed, but the point is improvement so whatever.


My king in blood and deeds, the years that have followed your coronation in the light of God and the hearts of men have seemed lifetimes in my isolation. An isolation of he traveler, the roving kind of a man that makes house in his footsteps. I’ve missed you as a brother Arthur, but I fear my absence is of the most pertinent kind. The texts that are etched upon the uprooted stones in our land have lead me to kingdoms and past oceans that would only confirm legend. The black barrachals of nightmare that wretch in the souls of those that read the texts of morgoth have been made commonplace in the east. In the duned cities, where kabals of sorcerers pervert the angelic songs to the hissing of serpents and the perversion of magic. I’ve seen the doom of Camelot. The rusting deluge that will crack the swords of the knightly table. Heed my words as more than a magician’s fancy. Raise the banners of war and press the levies that you’ve so earned. I shall not be swift as the dove that bears this warning, or the horseman that trod as Black Death. The dusk of man shall set its fall before my eyes see the ivory towers. I pray for us all my king. Guard the candle we’ve sparked together from this world cracking cold that comes like a stranger in the deep dawn.

The gilded sage, Merlin

Le bump

>>14413366
based

>>14412511
First of all she was a pervert who got up in the middle of the night to wash her hands in the bathroom sink. Back and forth between the two rooms she'd walk until the sound of her father's voice caught her off guard: "What is she doing in there", and she scrambled back to bed.

>>14412669
This is hilarious and captivating. Good job.

>>14413869
>An isolation of he traveler
the traveller
>I’ve missed you as a brother Arthur
brother, Arthur
>The texts that are etched upon the uprooted stones in our land have lead me to kingdoms and past oceans that would only confirm legend.
This whole sentence is messy. First, I'd shorten "the stones in our land" to "our stones". Then the duo of "to kingdoms and past oceans" creates conflicting images; one of arriving in kingdoms, but then another of moving past oceans, not yet arriving. I would try to create a sequence, like "past oceans and into kingdoms" or unify them, like "past kingdoms and past oceans." Finally, "would only confirm legend" is confusing because you're writing in past tense, but "would" implies future. If he's already arrived there, do the oceans confirm legend or not?
>have lead
*have led
>of magic. I’ve
*of magic, I've
>Camelot. The
Camelot, the
>I shall not
Confusing that you don't use contractions here, yet you do everywhere else.
>I pray for us all my king.
I pray for us all, my king.

>>14414912
I appreciate the grammatical help. Any critiques other than technical notes?

>>14415747
Yes. Write about real life. Genre fiction trying to sound all ominous and grand with made up words is really cringe worthy.

>>14415945
I agree, I was given the exercise by another anon as a challenge so I figured I’d try.

>>14415945
This is a realistic exercise I wrote.

https://pastebin.com/tW9fKUeY

bump

Here's an excerpt of that chapter I've kept posting in these past few threads. Hopefully by just giving a small excerpt, some people will be compelled to give feedback:
https://pastebin.com/ZPhkxzhZ

>>14412663
This is genuinely phenomenal. It's exactly the kind of style that appeals to me. I love the little embedded poems used to simulate dialogued. And the lily floating on the surface in the end was the icing on the cake. I'd want to read more.
>>14413869
It reads well enough, but there's quite a few typos. Did you rush this?
>>14414601
There's not enough here to make too specific a judgement, but I am interested in how being a pervert and washing your hands in a sink are connected. This could go somewhere interesting, but I have no idea where this is going.
>>14416114
I like this one better. It feels very warm and nostalgic while at the same evoking feelings of missing what's gone. I like that you've avoided using quotations too much-- I think that's a trap a lot of writers fall into. Embedding the dialogue into the descriptions makes it feel very natural and easy to read.

>>14416862
I wrote it in one sitting on my phone, so yes I rushed it.

https://pastebin.com/8CHsjmjw

Excerpt from the first chapter in my fantasy story. I have never received feedback and this is my first story.

>>14412663
nice man i like it

>>14412669
The last line makes this for me, it changes the tone from crazy to playful.

>>14412511
The problem is nothing particularly happens. Too much exposition and not enough feeling: the prose is as stiff as washed jeans. Let the feeling be conveyed in the environment and in the story, not through the words. Have something around which to center your story: have purpose, have something, and be more creative in building the environment and conveying to us the details. Find other ways to establish the setting without explicitly telling the reader what's happening.

>>14412663
>>14412670
>>14412676
It's like if Joyce were boring. I'd rather have a root canal than read your writing: stop using three-word fragments as semantic units off of which each succeeding thought leaps, and STOP COMMA SPLICING.

>>14413869
As emotionless and suffocating as a plastic bag. My grandmother could write a better letter than this half-asleep.

>>14412669
>the body whose flesh clung into skeleton yet fell into clumps
No thanks.

This is the first piece other than poetry I ever tried writing. I’m curious what people would think of it.

https://pastebin.com/SEC7wGr5

>>14417064
You like your similes don’t you?

Me:
>>14412663
>>14412670
>>14412676

>>14413085
Thank you for your reply! Is there anything youd specifically like to see changed?
>>14413366
Wow, thank you, that's very kind. What ankit it didnt appeal to you? More metaphors! Ok, thank you
>>14416862
Thank you so much!
>>14416862
I'd recommend removing descriptions like

>ethically grey tutelage
>Courageously visionary
Make the writer learn about something along the journey of the book (mannerisms and such) opposed to telling them a specific thing early on, then when you've done it, post it again here!
The first paragraph seems a little out of the place with the rest overall. I really enjoyed the second paragraph, it flowed well and described an easy picture to the reader!

>>14416949
Thank you, and merry Christmas

>>14417064
You compared me to joyce that's so kind! Sorry you didnt like it and thank you for the feedback!

>>14412669
This was fun. Nice connection between character and the animals in the room. I'd like to read more, if there is any.
>>14413869
I dont like this if it's one giant paragraph. You describe well, and general voice matches tone of writing.

>>14417384
>that guy who replies to each positive review pointlessly to feel better and ignores the negative ones with "sorry and thank you!" instead of wanting to improve

https://pastebin.com/hX3EVZ8t

>>14417648
don't criticise, don't get criticised

>>14417621
Not true at all. The person who gave a negative review was quite succinct in their feedback which I’m trying to implement rn :)

>>14417650
you just criticized him though. his ego was too big and now hes changing his story to accomodate

>>14417650
kys. Several anons in this thread posted things without criticizing others and received criticism.

>>14417648
Are they african-americans in the deep south? That's what the accent reminds me of.

telling not showing. example: why is it hard to silence Caitlin? You just tell me it is. Would rather you show someone silencing her and having her bitch out at him.

>>14416926
Surprisingly good for a first time. A few phrases are unclear:
>Or maybe it would serve them better to think of their companions’ footing instead of their own
Unclear.
>In truth, he did not understand any of them.
So he CAN speak about the markings, but he's a big fat liar? You make broad implications that you need to narrow down.
Overall, you fall in too many of the genre's trappings. Boring descriptions of clothing. Boring descriptions of landscapes. Ridiculous, laugh-inducing foreign names. (Gobnik?)
> His voice sounded sincere, but he inwardly stewed at their insubordination. Out of instinct he put on an apologetic expression despite it being obscured behind his mask.
This part is pretty awful. It goes through like three transitions in a single moment. Don't tell us all that, show us, let us discover his resentment when the rest of the characters do.
All in all, nothing happens in the chapter. Nothing. A very short exchange of forced dialogue inbetween boring descriptions. Figure out where your story starts and begin writing there; setting up is unnecessary. Also, just write about real life. Real life names. They will be so much easier to tell apart. Right now, if I had to guess the vibe you're going for, it would be "cheap japanese light novel."

>>14417384
>The first paragraph seems a little out of place
I agree, and that’s because it’s an excerpt. The reason I was reluctant to post this as an excerpt rather than as a complete chapter is because it kills the flow as an excerpt, especially since I’m jumping between past and present in that excerpt. If you’re interested, this is the entire chapter as it’s meant to be read:
https://pastebin.com/jfXFYbf6

>>14417070
>>14416926
stop making excuses before we even read; letting us know this is "your first time" is just an attempt to be let off the hook for mistakes, or to be praised for not being awful

>>14417648
I wanted to die reading this. Either write or don't write, but this sentimental kitschy nonsense is insufferable.

>>14417070
>It's skin
Next.

>>14416926
>>They might be cooked alive by the relentless suns, now at midday zenith positions, which took divine pleasure in roasting them.
No. I'm stopping here. Whatever you do, be it genre fiction or otherwise, steer clear of pathetic fallacy usage. It bespeaks a naïveté on the part of the author.

>>14416114
>aired its ugly head
Reared, anon, reared. It seems idiomatic language rears its ugly head at you, no less.

>>14417739
based

>>14417384
>>14417064
Btw anon if you had any other critiques, I wouldn’t mind you ripping the piece apart!

>>14417702
Thank you, I will go back to revise the first and third lines you pointed out as well as look at names.

> So he CAN speak about the markings, but he's a big fat liar?

That is what I was going for

This wasn't the whole chapter, just the first part of it. Here's the whole chapter: https://pastebin.com/gvFhEAjv

Should I move scene start to just before they fight and change things up? I know what you mean with boring descriptions so I was trying to keep them concise. It would be ok to get rid of their clothing descriptions but I do have to describe the terrain a little, right?

>>14417715
just by the nature of the excuse it's not going to be used again

>>14417739
I can see the weakness in that line but what is the "pathetic fallacy"?

>>14412511
They are going to turn themselves in. Outside the correctional facility its completely dark, gloomy and expectedless; on an island surrounded by darkness everybody outside of the building is gloomy and the only light that paints out our surrounding is the lights coming from inside the facility through the glass. Painting a gloomy picture with wet asphalt from rain the day before, mother is calling, she has no idea where we are. The moon gives not enough light to see but enough to give its reflection in the droplets and puddles sprinkled about my feet.

>A dream I had at night that I felt the need to write down. I'll critique some post in a bit or tomorrow morning

>>14417788
Divine pleasure in roasting

>>14417788
It would definitely be a good idea to start where the action is.
>I know what you mean with boring descriptions so I was trying to keep them concise
Something is boring when it lacks either plot relevance or poetic beauty. The clothing descriptions might matter to tell the characters apart; in that case, you could try moving them when a new character sees them for the first time, through their eyes, or to make a contrast. You did make a contrast with the guy with the markings, but it seemed to be made in a random moment, before it was important to the plot. As for the terrain, well, it never is plot important; it's use is to define setting and atmosphere, so there you have to make it poetic and pleasant to read. Concise, as you called it, also means dry.
>just by the nature of the excuse it's not going to be used again
1.anons can use it as many times as it's convenient to them
2.don't defend an excuse. realize that you made an excuse, and remember to let your writing stand on its own and be its own defence.
>what is the "pathetic fallacy"?
C'mon, man, Google, do some of the work.

>>14414884
Thank you.
>>14416980
I was wondering about changing it before, but I'm glad I didn't.
>>14417064
I don't understand. Do you not like the way I said it, or do you not like the imagery?
But, thank you for reading.

>>14417801
It has flavor;soul. But not really any personality, I can't see the picture your trying to portray but certainly can 'feel' it if you get what I mean. By anychance are you the anon from one of the prior critique threads that reads Baudelaire and Lautreamont? You also had shared a poem that had all the same aspects and clunky word usage as this one(but this one is not as clunky and more so clear and ambiguous). If its you then you have a unique style;regardless, share more.

>>14417384
Sure thing. Here's another one I made yesterday.

---------------

The child skipped and hopped towards the empty streets of the hometown they so loved with their [heart]. So joyous the occasion that it decorated itself with colorful lights, strung along open windows on welcoming houses that adorned children looking by with lips curled into smiles; some with mouths hanging open and eyes filled with glee.

"[----]! [----]! Won't you come play?"

A solitary pebble rolled and gently bumped their bare foot. No scars, no scars at all - only smooth flesh, untainted, unhurt.

"Come on! Have a [heart], won't you?" the pebble said, moving from side to side. "Everyone longs for your communication, [----]. [----]! [----]! [----]!"

"[----]! [----]! Please come play," one of the children peering through the windows says, a huge grin creeping up on their face as they look at [----]. "Please, [----], please come play."

How wonderful, how splendid! The child was filled with nothing but [love] and joy! How their [heart] ached, knowing that they could not play. After all...

One blink and they returned to earth.

>>14417788
>>I can see the weakness in that line but what is the "pathetic fallacy"?
It's when one ascribes human feelings to the inanimate: in your case, the feeling of "divine pleasure" in the suns. If it's to be used at all, it's done so sparingly.

>>14417836
>I don't understand. Do you not like the way I said it, or do you not like the imagery?
Both. If things cling, they cling "onto," not "into." Nor do things fall "into clumps." You're relying on poor and non-idiomatic prepositional phrases when you should be giving us separate clauses for these descriptions.

"Skeleton" should have the definite article attached to it: it's a contained and whole entity, not detached pieces of material. You don't have "skeleton," you have "a/the skeleton."

>>14417839
>so joyous the occasion that it decorated itself
Yes, I'm sure it did.

>>14417869
Thank you. I will keep those in mind.
English is not my first language, so I often need tips on grammar.

>>14417823
>>14417826
I still don't see how it's a fallacy, especially when given context (which ik you don't have) that the suns are literal gods

>1.anons can use it as many times as it's convenient to them
>2.don't defend an excuse. realize that you made an excuse, and remember to let your writing stand on its own and be its own defence.
I saw some anons getting their work ignored, and thought if I said it was my first time I might get some feedback(turned out I was right). And it actually is my first time so I don't feel bad for saying it tbqhwy

> Something is boring when it lacks either plot relevance or poetic beauty. The clothing descriptions might matter to tell the characters apart; in that case, you could try moving them when a new character sees them for the first time, through their eyes, or to make a contrast. You did make a contrast with the guy with the markings, but it seemed to be made in a random moment, before it was important to the plot. As for the terrain, well, it never is plot important; it's use is to define setting and atmosphere, so there you have to make it poetic and pleasant to read. Concise, as you called it, also means dry.
That is pretty helpful. I will spend more effort in describing the terrain poetically + emphasizing the contrast in clothing rather than the clothing itself

>>14417881
>I saw some anons getting their work ignored
If you want to get criticized, critique others (you haven't)

>>14417888
Or just say it's your first time (truthfully)

>>14417838
I can see what your saying, I did wake up in the middle of the night half-delirious and half asleep to write my dream down which has been happening a lot recently desu. I do read those too but IIRC that thread was ages ago, I hope i'm not that predictable.

>>14417897
So you don't plan on criticizing others?

i don't get why some faggots have to be so hostile while critiquing but ok i guess.

>>14417910
I did already, in separate posts.

>>14417877
Fair enough. You're doing just fine.

>>14417881
>that the suns are literal gods
You have me on the edge of my goddamn seat, you do.

>>14417920
Hostility gets the point across better: it sticks.

>>14417939
> You have me on the edge of my goddamn seat, you do.
It's not a plot point or even something that will be brought up. Your enjoyment of it is irrelevant to your original criticism.

Other anon has a point as you're being hostile for the sake of faggotry instead of explaining your criticism.

>>14417970
>instead of explaining your criticism
But I have explained it. It's an awful line that you're now trying to justify as being part of the narrative. I don't care if they're god-imbued or just suns with a particular kink for schadenfreude, but the original point, and criticism, still stand.

>>14418029
The original criticism was it being a fallacy; it isn't, because they aren't inanimate objects. The original criticism was not that the line was weak, though I agree it is.

>>14417801
Bump. Looking for more criticism before bed

>>14417064
I’ve tried to adjust it to how you said, any better or worse? What to improve?

>>14418073

>>14418083

>>14418073
>>14418083
>>14418086
Not that anon, I commented earlier about metaphors. Just wanted to say, if you are going for a Joyce style then that isnt the way to go! You have a unique voice yourself anon and can write well so dont try to be someone else

>>14417801
Half-delirious and inane. I wouldn't serve this in a slop shop.

>>14418073
It reads worse. How the hell is a "chorus of nods" symphonic? Extract some kind of sound imagery from that phrase and then change "symphonic" to "harmonious" or something of that nature. Or do without it. "Harmonious with..."

>>14418123
Anything else about the rest? I can change that part now :)

>>14418123
>>14418145
Oh btw I used it like that because I wanted Lily to be a sort of conductor to this world

1/3

Here's what I started working on today.

>>14418145
On the last page you have at least two exclamation points: one is horrifying enough. Get rid of them.

Second page:
Several times you use commas when you should have periods. Consult a comma guide for reference: you need it. One example is this:
>She shone the light on her breast, still nothing.
This is wrong. "Still nothing" needs to be separated into its own syntactic unit either by period, semicolon, or colon, depending on the intensity of the mood for which the story is going. A comma will not cut it.
Internal dialogue needs to be italicized.

>>14418161
2/3

>>14418164
3/3

Obviously this is just getting started, but let me know if anything is egregiously wrong with the beginning.

Also merry christmas everyone

>>14418123
I wouden't call it inane as much as it is borderline Surrealism yet with some narrative elements which never works. Like chewing minty gum then drinking cold water/orange juice.
>>14417801
I suggest you get rid of or make some sense of the narrative elements. Sway one side or the other or incorporate both equally, I was enjoying the poetic dreadful yet heartfelt descriptions but the random shit hinting at a narrative as if the passage was taken from a larger passage. You made it 80% prose 20% '??'
Potential though, share more?

>>14418162
And about content? The overall piece etc, you said it reads worse but is that due to lack of substance or is it the punctuation?

Also I’ve been trying to experiment with using more commas but thanks for pointing out where I’ve been going wrong! I’ll head down to the store and look for a punctuation book in a bit

>>14418161
>which
Ponderous and unwieldy. Unless you're British, refrain from using "which" to introduce non-restrictive relative clauses. Or, if you are going to use "which," you need commas surrounding the particular phrase. I'm looking specifically at these egregious offenders.
>toward it and the communal microcosm which blooms like the floral appendages...
>that this attempt would become the one WHICH was no longer an attempt
That first sentence that I mentioned, I might add, loses itself syntactically in the simile. Something is off somewhere at "spring around it anticipated."
You also repeat "all-too-brief" twice.
Other than that, though, I appreciate the writing. You know your merits: what you've shown is a breath of fresh air.

>>14418182
The punctuation, meticulous though I may be with it, is getting in the way of my being able to get "into" the story. I'll need to take a drink for it. Be back shortly.

>>14418198
I just want to say I really appreciate the feedback. Would you be able to post something you’d consider to have excellent punctuation in a narrative? I’ve obviously been really lazy with my writing but genuinely am starting like I NEED to improve

>>14418188
Bad me. Very bad. I mean to say that "which" should only be used with non-restrictive relative clauses, whereas "that" should be used for restrictive ones. "The one" cannot survive on its own without being restricted to its state as "no longer an attempt." So "the one THAT was no longer an attempt."

>>14418208
>>He shook the sound out of his ears by an angry toss of his head and hurried on, stumbling through the mouldering offal, his heart already bitten by an ache of loathing and bitterness. His father’s whistle, his mother’s mutterings, the screech of an unseen maniac were to him now so many voices offending and threatening to humble the pride of his youth. He drove their echoes even out of his heart with an execration; but, as he walked down the avenue and felt the grey morning light falling about him through the dripping trees and smelt the strange wild smell of the wet leaves and bark, his soul was loosed of her miseries.
--A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, Joyce

>>14418260
I’ve just found a copy of the blue book of grammar and punctuation so I’ll go about reading it now. Thank you for all your feedback

>>14418210
Thanks for this. "Which" vs. "that" is something I continually have issues with. I clearly need to be paying closer attention when those kinds of constructions come up.

It’s like I’m in front of a beautiful mountain vista and I’m staring through it, at the black dirt beneath, at what I’ll one day be. There’s a pang I feel at the happiest times, the familial moments when people are supposed to be at their brightest, Christmas morning, birthdays. It’s the cold in the crystal snowcaps and the rings in the ancient pines. I’m stuck in a burning tree I let grow around me while green, in search of a place to hide and neither live nor die.

>>14418831
If poetry is meant to communicate the secret words of life, the unnameable, the anatomy of angels. Then it has failed in its first line. There are feelings that live and die in brains that summon souls in grape stemmed neurons and these things are beyond the works of any genius. These are read from a piece of paper split lengthwise to subatoms. The prayer of death is the crying of an infant and life is amen.

Motto: Where clearest honey hath cleft, thence shall spittle never foam.

Apollo flays Marsyas with his crackling whip, but to what avail? The old satyr laughs inexorably under his blows.

Oh ferocious dreamer, wield still harsher your chastising rod; you gentle disdainer, turn your gaze aloft - and - away; oh you adorer of adorers, from whom I learnt my immaculate vision - deliver me from the sting of his prodigal irony. Too weak am I for the broad laughter, and still too feeble my voice sounds to curse well.

Who wouldn't rejoice on account of these delightful abysses of longing? Lately had I learnt to love life. I have gazed long into her limpid, adoring eyes, and oft had I drank of her most precious, elusive draughts, where the azure tosses securely in her tresses.

Yet did I forsake her one night, even as she clung most ardently to my stern breast.

[Thereon did I sorely upbraid mine own will, even as it lay supine under the enigma that wavereth uncertain over that fateful night.]

*

Oft had my pinions been rustled with the promise of asylum, only to be oppressed:
on my soul fell the insuperable burden of these abortive flights, and her unseasonable wanderings and remembrances pursued me in sleepless tortures to the end of night.

Hark yet! One sunset, as I watched them (forgetful of travail) raise their pails full of nectar from the open seas, my courage gently proclaimed in this wise unto me: mothers are also - sleepless.

Pity me not then, but envy the golden apples that I guard with the chilblains of wintertime privation. They grow ruddied as the complexion of those intoxicated by their own suns. And whosoever fleeth not from this pregnant stillness for abashment or fear of silence, shall they not for him thrill tremulous at the first herald of spring?
(There glittereth on his glistening brow the joyous discernment of the sickle.)

To capture something formless
And seal it in these words
I reached into the darkness
And caught a flightless bird

He lived inside my mind
Never taking shape
Until it finally came the time
For him to escape

He was simply just a notion
Scattered in my brain
Lost across the ocean
Spread across the plain

Until these words did join his soul
From unrelated pieces
Forming nothing without them
Here he stands my thesis

I wrote a poem. It's probably shit

I long for the days of youth
That merriment in the rising of the sun
That awe in the waking eye
The times simpler yet complex for the waking mind
A kiss, a kiss with no tangle through lives
But dawn the age of old; hold back the sun
Stretch the days
Mortality known, like lobsters in water
Time begotten failing to the past
Surrender to time and see it multiply
Lunge toward that aeonian slumber

>>14420068
The subtle cuckoldry bit has been done to death, it's just the same every rose has it's thorn, you're too shallow to see the big picture bit you get at least 4 or 5 times a thread, which works, when they can actually pretend the entire intent wasn't cuckoldry and that it's like an offhanded thing that they did while they were being deep, but with you, cuckoldry is the only substance to your post, my advice would be to be as smart as what you're trying to achieve next time.

>>14420077
Yeah I thought it was pretty cliche just thought someone else might like it. Didn't really know where I was going when I wrote it and kind of just chose the path of least resistance. This is basically my first poem I've written beside some dumb stuff I wrote for school when I was really young.

He turned his gaze to the top of the mesa and winced. A golden orb, globular and featureless, glowed a spotlight against the burnt sky. The silent engine machinated the boulders around it; they clumped in unnatural formations. From his vantage he could see it clearly, but the men below could not. They did not take notice when it cocked its head to the left, plucked a boulder from its arm, and sent a meteor. Then meteorite, and a man’s remains sprayed out radially. It cocked its head to the right. No peeps from the men, awash in pureed guts, and it slid back over the lip of the rock wall. It sounded like someone trying to start a fire with two bricks, then ended with a crowded room popping their knuckles all at once.

Then came another meteor, and it hit a man’s face. The pebble reminded him that there was still another one of them clinging to the cliffside. But the man on the wall kept climbing up instead of down, and one of them vomited in his mouth. He let down a rope. As they climbed, they wondered if it might be preferable to just let go of the rope. When they reached the top, they saw a pile of rocks curled up around an enormous volcanic vent. One of them started to climb back down the rope while the others surveyed the tabletop arena, but he was grabbed by the scruff of his neck and pulled back. While one took out a crossbow, the others stood still.

>>14420068
I think you should try to word the first line in a more original way, or get rid of it, or something.

>>14420064
I love the rhymes in the third stanza and the pace of it there.

This isn’t great but I’d like to hear thoughts on what you would change (don’t say everything because I’m already thinking that)


The sirens rang.
A little boy named Estefan woke abruptly, terrified of the sound. His father had told him not to be scared, only babies were scared and was Estefan a baby? No, he was not.
The boy pulled the duvet over his head and peered out of the window. It was very dark outside but he could just make out the silhouettes of people running past, dragging others with them. Someone slammed on the door and screamed something that was drowned out by the siren playing again.
Estefan climbed under the bed. Ma came into the room, hands shaking wildly, she shouted his name, “Yes ma?”
“Oh, baby, what’re you doing down there?”
“Ma what’s that noise?”
“Oh, it’s just a little game that we sometimes play. Everyone has to get up sometimes and go as fast as they can to a special bunker.”
“What’s a bunker?”
“Well, it’s a safe place for all the good boys and girls in town.”
“Will you be there?”
“Oh, of course! Ma has been good this year, right?”
Estefan nodded and his ma kissed his forehead and picked him up. “Ok, baby, I want you to close your eyes and daddy, you and I am going to go to this special place.”
Estefan nodded. The siren was very loud this time and he heard a whirring. Ma cursed, she always said it was bad to curse, but she always did it anyway. She kissed Estefan again and then daddy came running saying it was too late and that they needed to go downstairs.
They went to a cupboard just below the stairs, and all got inside. Ma was crying. Estefan remembered that because she never cried. She told him that he was going to do great things when he grew up. That she loved him.
When the sirens ended, and the people left the shelter or their homes, they could hear crying. Et uh for three hours to find the source. The little boy, Esteban, had blood running down his face that was not his, cradled by his dead parents.

>>14420454
don't use very
why does she start every sentence with Oh,
"you and I am"
"little boy" is repeated, and isn't necessary in the first place because he's hiding under his bed and being comforted by ma
it took 3 hours to check the cupboard for crying?

Not that I think this part is even relevant to the story but just as an example
telling:
"Ma cursed, she always said it was bad to curse, but she always did it anyway"
how it could be reworded to show instead:
"Ma covered Estefan's ears and cursed"

>>14418292
Of course

>>14418318
Not a problem.

>>14418831
This is nothing and doesn't deserve critique.

>>14418888
Again, nothing. Come back to us when you've something substantive.

>>14420034
This is awful. You're a pretentious twat.

>>14420064
Please stop rhyming. You aren't Dickinson, trust me.

>>14420068
A nothing-poem. You've given us nothing.

>>14420099
>radially
>globular
>featureless
>machinated
Boring. Get rid of these.

>>14420506
>A golden orb glowed a spotlight against the burnt sky.
>The silent engine clumped boulders around it in unnatural formations.
>Then meteorite, and a man’s remains sprayed out.

You're right this sounds better, thanks. Was the rest of it entertaining?

>>14420495
Yea I reckoned the siren would have pointed to this being about being bombed yanknow

/crit/, im tired of all my written jokes being painfully unfunny and juvenile. they didn't used to be this way, but I feel like i must have taken brain damage in the past two years. none of my writing is anywhere near as good as the worst parts of my first novel

>>14421804
It was very boring.

>>14421804
Ho-hum.

I wrote my first Poem

Guarded golden gates of generosity,
witnessing through vile winds animosity.
Bright ascended light eternaly fading,
Deep, bellowing darkness forever starying.

>>14421832
>>14421866
help me

>>14420454
While I would hate to say that you should change all of it, I definitely think you need to think about how this scene is situated. I get that a siren blaring out is a decent way of establishing the rhythm of a place, but I’ve read this story with that particular ending just on here alone. What makes this locale particularly effective? One thing I disagree with the other responder to this story is that the repetitions should be cut back. You’re writing in a juvenile voice—repetitions are useful for doing such. However, you need to think if you’re going to make this more juvenile which would entail a longer, unwinding process of figuring out what’s going on. Otherwise, we need more tactile details and images to root us.

Avoid beginning with the siren. Or push your images with taking us to the shelter. I know it’s a draft, but aim for a different ending.

My story is the one posted recently above “The Volunteers.”

>>14417715
How would I make the excuse that it’s my first attempt on subsequent writings?

>>14417739
I’d argue that describing a desert sun as relentless is a correct usage of pathetic fallacy, it’s cliche, but pathetic fallacy isn’t the problem there. I’m not the anon that wrote it, just my two cents.

>>14422918
It wasn't relentless it was divine pleasure

>>14422952
I’d have to agree with you on that part, unless the protagonist has obviously affronted the gods in the text it comes off as pointless/impulsive.

>>14423315
Yeah I've since gotten rid of it because I don't think it makes sense without context, and the reader wouldn't have the context yet. The story takes place in "hell" and the suns are the trinity.

bump

I've posted this before but no one ever noticed so i'll shamelessly post again

Sniffling and snoring had ceased that morning,
I knew that silence would be my warning
and though i did as though i did not know
I wished today could wait for tomorrow
and that tomorrow would never begin.

My ears heard no sound, my eyes saw no sights,
as if days had become as dark as nights
for no more light shone in from the windows
and it had retreated from this limbo,
afraid to witness my purgatory.

Never had my body felt so heavy,
never had his body felt so heavy,
he always sprang up to land in my arms
where he would seek shelter from all the harm,
where he could rest and close his little eyes.

I closed his eyes and now he truly slept
no crying left for him, only i wept,
he always pulled me close with those small hands
but now at his sides those little arms hang
no more struggling for my little boy.

>>14424099
This would be fine if it was funny, had you been doing a parody of a mourning verse. As a serious attempt, the rhyme scheme is far too sing-songy and melodramatic as a result. Your images, too, are obvious. The reveal of the final stanza with the boy is cheap. Meditate more on the boy from the get-go.

Hello Neo-Suburbanites! What is the real Matrix like? If I somehow happen to become one of the 10 people chosen to live forever please consider writing me a letter. I’ve always had nightmares about the future, and it would do me good to hear from someone living in it that everything is a-okay. “Who are you talking to Mr. Goodfard?” That would be my gardener.
“No one honey, I’ll be back in bed in a few minutes.”
“Pretending to talk to people will give you schizophrenia baby.”
“No, that can’t possibly be true.”
The bitch had a point. Boiling my innards begged my outtards to retch, delivering my hot vomit all over my study.
“Holy moly. I’ll clean that up.” She whimpered.
“Don’t bother I’ve already decided to live in this filth.”
Around 4am I found the courage to lift my arms from their arm rests and angled them for heaving my still sleeping ragdoll into an upright position. At this point in my life I welcomed death. I watched miracle after miracle as I put my right foot after my left foot in repetitious fashion. A loud echo screamed in my head, I had walked into a cabinet.


I have no idea how to write anything, please tear me apart.

Hey guys, I’ve been working on a fanfic recently I just wanted to get some feedback on what you think.

https://my.w.tt/6XDOxblKK2

If you do read it any I really appreciate it and if you have any suggestions just leave a comment and I’d be super happy to see what you all think!

>>14424455
>>14424445

Haha nice feedback to others deffo gonna give you crit back haha

>>14424487
Fuck everyone else itt

>>14421903
thing is when you think of a story the imagery comes naturally, and the hard part is to put what you imagine in your head in words. it looks like to me your trying to force out images from another dimension, i suppose thats the art of it

>>14424445
>>14424455
Giving another (you) with no feedback :) enjoy

>>14412511
Reddit go home

I’ve rewrote this a bunch but not really sure if it reads 1. Well 2. Not derivative of an obvious person 3. Like the entire piece characterises this individual

Ma died today.
I got the call at work. They said: heart attack; too much shit in her veins. I agreed. She used to drink a bottle of Chateau Martinez for breakfast. I told her that wasn’t normal and she should go see someone. She told me to fuck off. They said I could come see her, so I did.
I got the train. Ma hated trains, couldn’t trust anything she didn’t drive herself. I was greeted with condolences when I arrived. I hated pity. A woman in a stained shirt asked if I wanted to see her now, I told her yes, that is why I came.
In the room, I asked when she died. They didn’t know. Told me a story about a cleaning lady I didn’t give a fuck about. Ma was dead. The last of my family was dead. The woman told me I should get a check up; better be safe than ending up like my ma.
We stood in silence for a while. When I said I wanted to leave, she said I looked a lot like my ma; that made me throw up. Ma was dead.
I told her ma used to say, “Your mind is a temple and your body the crypt that holds your family together.” She said my ma was a clever lady. I guess she was right.

AN EXTRACT:

...Yet even chainèd men
Have souls; (these souls far greater;) moist, with tears,
As flooded mist bespeckled light of heaven’s
Wide course spread oped, to wet the tools and chip
At servitude, silent strikes ring, ring-ring;
And cast in stone the fiercest pain thus born;
The arrogance of humility;
That men can’t fight for self, but should kill it,
And act so striven to God. So, and, in fell
Kind swoops, this industry of mind now explored
The farthest reach of artistry; yet small
In this did come to be the most divine
Of presuppositions - of synthesis
Of body with soul (as they’re already)
Now into financial seeming explosion
Of good-grace, between fellows, free commerce
And brought the free, though costly, movement; thought
And culture; Greek rising above as conquered
Old spirits became liberated bodies
But such the reverse should be true, ought thus:
Free men in soul not body; freedom oft
At cost of lacerating the self to kill
With chains of restriction – chains conscience made;
Impenetrably, yet, impossible
These bounds of life. But bounds to fill the city
Yet had, incongruently spilling; ink
Stain, blotched and bleeding upon charted maps,
Until each fresh build there is pressed on rote,
And floods thus forth in controlled measure,
In honour and in majesty before
Such as is He; that channelled path for life,
The aqueduct of Valens (Silvius
Long since in current), cleaving through the webbed
Arachnoid streets arowed, in granulations
Of glimmering streets paved, gem-stoned to opal,
Illuding thoughts of grandeur – jest of gods –
This as fit haunt of gods – but tracks of men.
And Grace was those who builded marvelled mirrors
Of God’s inherent absolute pleasantry;
“I have thus conquered thee, O Solomon!”

how's this?

>We found it entombed under a mountain of limestone, in the same place where it was supposedly shot down centuries prior. A dead war-god from a bygone era. Our salvation. The mainframe flickered on, and its ancient voice boomed through the corridors. "Is it time again?" it questioned. "I haven't seen people in so long. Not since my crew left me here. I don't blame them, I am an old machine. But you are here now. Do the people cry for freedom? For liberation? I can still fight. I am tired but I will fight. Do my people need me again?"

>>14426049
I like the speech - but the comma in the first sentence is bugging my autism. Could it not be:

We found it, entombed under a mountain of limestone, in the same place where it was supposedly shot down centuries prior

Or;

We found it entombed under a mountain of limestone in the same place where it was supposedly shot down centuries prior

It's a small thing, but it really bothers me - yet, I'm sure there truly is no issue with the comma being where it is. Also, the short sentences do seem to be necessary for the particular effect, but could you not use more complex sentences; or join two together?
Use the semi-colon; It's an ever venerable piece of punctuation; It is the greatest friend I have.

>>14426159
I get what you mean, but the short sentences are intended to emulate the choppy speech of an old AI. The awkwardness is intentional.

>>14424445
Ok
>>14425764
Ok
>>14426049
Ok

>>14425764
If this is meant to be a parody/homage of Camus, it's great; otherwise, way too similar to the opening of the Stranger.

Here's mine:

Chaotic dust revealed by the window-light shifted, swirling. Terri stood amidst the motes, squat and plump before the whiteboard. Her stubby nun fingers, intertwined tightly, softly tapped against her thighs. She was absolutely patient. Sniffy itchy undergrads trickled into class, clutching their fat morning coffees like vultures. Morning coughs and sneezes rumbled through the room, various bodily slurps and snorts trailing them. Terri beamed a little brighter once they had all settled in. Then she raised her crossed hands up to her chest and began, intoning:

“I would like to start, of course, with our land acknowledgement. We are meeting on the occupied, stolen land of the Coast Salish peoples, including the Lummi Nation and the neighboring tribes.” She paused for a moment, frowning and curling her lip, then resumed. “But you know, I’ve actually been thinking about this. I’ve been wondering whether my own formulation of the land acknowledgement is actually, um, is problematic in its own way. Cause in the indigenous ways of knowing, which have been erased by our capitalist framework, the land is seen as our mother. And maybe it’s problematic to claim that our mother can be owned or stolen. It’s something I’ve been thinking about more.”

Several rows of students drugged themselves with caffeine, sipping simultaneously stimulant concoctions. Some gazed like gargoyles at personal computer screens, taking notes ostensibly, browsing Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, contemplating atomized reified digital snapshots of themselves, sitting still in meatspace while they moved in the metaverse, jacked in to a matrix where their curated avatars signed petitions, liked self-replicating metastatic memes, uploaded uncanny hyperreal selfies, gawked with horror at trending news topics. Jonah Thompson sat in the back row, scrawling careful notes in pen. He was shaped bulbously, jeans ill-fitted, hair a dense juvenile mop. His eyes bulged out wide and watery; bristles stained his chin under his ruddy cheeks. He didn’t know where his limbs were supposed to go. Jonah wore a plain sweatshirt meant to conceal an endomorph torso. While he had lost some weight in the last year, stretched on his belly still were red lines – lines delineating folds of blubber.

>>14424455
>>14424445
pee pee poo poo, that's what I think

"Over where?" she asked.

The air was becoming of her sound and did not feel any lighter or softer than her hands. But it was late, and I couldn't tell if I was being manipulated my own exhaustion or if I had felt her for the first time again.

"Over there," I said to her sternly. I was pointing out the cat by the mailbox, not the sidewalk. She didn't follow through where I pointed. She never did.

"It's right there."
"The cat?"
"Yes."

So she looked. I'm in my hands, thinking about desire, and she's standing with her fingers half-hanging out of her mouth, biting her nails or keeping them there to look busy. She turned around, though, and she saw me looking at her again.

"I don't see it."
"I know. That's why you've been asking me to point it out to you--it's right there. Under the mailbox there."

"Oh!" she said, and turned to look at me again. I loved her, and I would love her when I would wake up or eat or sleep, and when I would not love her I would try to like her. Her love was too affordable. Not free, but cheaply receptible and more often than not she left a greater share for herself.

There was no cat. She was lying.
But I loved her.

>>14412511
If nobody stops me, I'm going to send this poem I wrote about the girl I love to her on facebook messenger.

Does the universe rest
In her eyes pure green
I'm blessed to have seen
Or felt something so manifest
The rise and fall of her chest
On which the tides lean
Feed a slow and quiet stream
Through the woods of the dispossessed
Winding through the cold earth
Soft smells of spring follow
The beauty that makes words hollow
She takes me up far,
Two emeralds with a life's secret worth,
To a distant star

>>14412663
Not bad but here’s what I think. Open with the action, not the scenery. ‘The initial cold made her body rigid.’ That shocks the reader as well.

>>14426861
Didn't read the poem but I'm stopping you for your own good.

>>14413869
‘Guard the candle we’ve sparked together from this world cracking cold that comes like a stranger in the deep dawn.’

Too many mixed metaphors here. Also, it seems like Merlin’s messages to Arthur are also mixed. Is he writing to praise him? Warn him? If this letter is a warning then it should open with it. Simplify whenever possible. Writing for me is a process of reduction. Not just word count but ideas, metaphors, action.

>>14426049
Do Keith Laumer proud, anon

>>14426861
Don’t listen to him anon. I think you should send it

Good rhyme scheme and tonal inflections

I wrote about how I feel before, during, and after shaving.

I look at the mirror and I do not see myself. Physically, of course, I do: my flesh, my face, and my skin. In terms of my own identity however, I do not. There is a face in front of me, looking at me, but I don’t believe it is mine. If it is not mine then, why is it in my mirror? Why am I wearing another man’s face? Where is my face?

The face must go because it does not belong here. I splash warm water onto it to open its pores. I lather lotion into it, feeling the skin. I listen to the sound of my fingers rubbing across the facial hair that is not mine. Like a predator stalking its prey, I meditate on the facial hair. With my razor I make the first attack: a strip going from bottom lip to neck. For the first time, I see a part of my face. All over the face that is not mine I push the razor. With cold water, I splash it onto my face. I look into the mirror and I see myself. Physically and in agreement with my identity, I am there. The face that is not mine is no longer here. I killed it with my razor. With its death came my face; It is a face that is respectable: clean, fresh, handsome.

>>14425764
This is honestly the best in thread. Well done.

I'm not going to post anything because none of you want to read my muscle growth fapfics anyway, but maybe you can help me with my problem.

Obviously with writing porn it's essential to create more of a visual image for the reader than in other writing, because the written porn is used as sort of a prompt for their imagination to construct the image rather than being read for its "own merits" such as they are.

My problem then is how do I break up those long exhausting descriptions while still knowing that I'm giving the reader enough? Basically - how do I know when enough is enough in terms of description?

For example, if I'm describing two characters fucking I want to make sure that their relative positions in the sex are clear to the reader, because the actions that they take don't make sense outside of the context of the positions that they're in - however, the number of words required to make it sufficiently clear are so many, even if it's only one sentence, and unerotic that they make the writing drag. Especially if there are many of these things that I need to convey. I can communicate the information more erotically but that just makes the writing even longer?

Should I just disregard the length and trust the reader to skip ahead when he feels he's got the gist and can move on to the next prompt?

If anyone actually wants to read a sample let me know but it IS fetish porn so be prepared for that.

>>14430074
When I look at the mirror, I don't see myself. My flesh, my face, my skin - but not me. There is a man in front of me, looking at me, but he is not me. He is the man in the mirror. The man in the mirror is a reflection of me, but the reflection is not right. It is imperfect, in the way that only a perfect mirror can be. I think of me. The man in the mirror is what the world sees, but he is not what I see. I must make corrections.

First I prepare the surface. I splash warm water on his face, to open his pores. I reach out and lather him. I listen to the sound of my fingers rubbing coarsely across his bristles. Like a sculptor, in pursuit of timeless perfection, I meditate on the Platonic ideal of my self. I consider all of the ways that he is not me. I consider each and every traitorous hair, freshly regrouped from yesterday's rout, and what I must do to it. I reach out for the razor and begin to carve - a strip, going from bottom lip to neck. The shaving foam falls away, as white as marble. I push my razor all across my canvas and as each piece splits off a little more of my face is revealed. Soon he is more me than him. Then I splash cold water on my face. It is a bracing full stop - the final wash, to clear away the dust and reveal the finished piece. Have I captured all my features? Have I revealed every truth?

The man in the mirror is gone. Now I am there. It is cathartic. I was there all along. The man in the mirror was never me, but now I have proved it. Now the world can see me as I really am.

>not sure how well this turned out, I was thinking about my experience losing weight in the process of writing it.
My main changes were to soften the tone. I made it less conversational in the parts that were conversational, but less direct in the parts that were direct. The result, I think, flows more smoothly. For example.

>I look at the mirror and I do not see myself.
This is too delcarative, in my opinion. Just adding a "when" makes it less declarative and thus feel less pretentious. That's a taste thing.

>",of course,"
I hate this. It's a cliche and the implied conversationality is paper thin. It doesn't communicate any information. Pet peeve of mine.

I also added a point and a sculpting/art motif but I'm not sure how well it came it. I also tried to give the piece more of a point - the author clearly has the viewpoint that you can't use your eyes to figure out who a person is. It's a more unclear way to make that point than I'd like, but I was trying to keep in pace with what you posted. Having a point turns a short piece of writing from "neat" (at best) to "interesting".

The motif is just a little thing to engage the reader a little bit more and make them use their brains. Plus it gives structure to your writing so it makes it easier for you to write.

All that said, what you posted was fine. I'm not even sure if what I posted was an improvement. It's just different.

A little anxious about posting this, but I need to get better so crticisms please. I could have made more rhymes if I spent a little longer writing this but it is what it is.

https://youtu.be/5Frq7rjEGzs [Open]

With a stomach full from steam cooked beef
And my spirits jolly, I leave the streets.

Wading through thick mud in determined march
I recant your words both untrusting and harsh.

Am I in love with the idea of you? An imitation? A figure I wish to see?

You will know, my babe, if you answer the questions I put to thee.

In the mud I found this grass. Is this not greenest on the Earth?

Do the trees that feed my lungs reside in the West?

Are the sands that warm my feet found in the East?

Are the peaks who inspire my spirits North?

Are the gentle waves that replenish my soul to the South?

Then surely it's settled, Europa, my love is true
With the greatest convictions
Here are the vows I've made for you.

If you ever cry on rainy days, I'll dig your dykes anew
I'll warm your insides with tender stews
Made from meat and bone's sinew.

When you tire in weary haze
From the sun's ceaseless pelting rays
Ill plant the seeds o'er coming days
Into your soils of fertile clays.

And as the seeds mature and grow
I'll pick up what together we sowed
"Do you love me?" you grumble low
Yes, I do, I hope you know.