/lit/ - Literature

The question of free will is the constituting necessity that we must either completely prove or absolutely absolve. This is not a question of how empirically verifiable the premise is through our scientific tools. Rather, it is a question of how people behave and act in the manner they do, and to what extent is this behavior and acting controllable by external forces, if it is not already entirely controlled.

We may posit that a person has autonomy; that being in sound mental faculty, they are able to make rational decisions which reflect an inner “spirit”, which wishes to make its “will” on the surrounding environment. This “spirit” has desires, wants, needs, dislikes; but where is the origin for such things? Claiming a supernatural or outside force seems to be illogical. The post-modern world has established, matter of factly, that a divine touch through some unexplained medium is relatively impossible, and that those who claim to have a clarity of the such are mentally unsound and at best, relegated to an institution for theirs and societies well-being.

So, why do we humans behave in the way we do? What compels us to being that which we are? The former discourse being a study of one’s nature; the latter a Cade of ones internal genetics. However, as modern empiricism has shown us, genetics are no longer a verifiable end-all determinant of behavior to the degree we thought it might be. We know that as humans, we tend to be a reflection and product of our environment, and that through this circumstantial environments, we are limited in not only experience, but also un-experience. We know what we know, and we know what we do not know; and how this knowing and unmoving manifests a preordained form which determines our inner being, the thing we call “ourselves”, which as stated, is wholly limited to circumstances; environment.

Anyone suggestion of being and becoming outside of this frame will require nothing less than extraordinary proof, for extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence. And to what extraordinary claims might be made in offense of the latter posited thesis of a determined being? One might claim a many thing, of which I feel a lack of thorough examination is relatively unrequited, considering the pervasive intellect which should be present in the individual reading this text.

To begin this brevet but sound discourse, I would like to examine the nature of the mind. Against the notion of a mind which is not beholden entirely to external forces, those in defense of such a thesis claim a supernatural conscious; a claim that man is a supra-natural phenomena which defies the logic of his preceding and humble origins. Man is said to have a free-will. He is said to be in possession of sound faculty. To be entirely steadfast in realization of his being. That, provided the circumstances of decision, he is able to draw upon a force which is not present in any physical being to exist heretofore.

>>14732338
How might this be? Is man not the logical ascendant of that which came before? That he is the continuation of an astoundingly and imperceptibly universal chain of unfolding, of which before man, there is a claim for lack of supernatural force within; that man himself is the sole possessor of the will to be free. But this is hogwash. Man is not separate from his origins. He is the continuation of a infinitely stretching unfolding of circumstance. It is only our confusion of perception and interpretation which leads man to believe he is free of the external, that the internal has gained and reigned superiority of his environment simply by proof of an ability to “see himself as himself”. Yet this seeing of man in himself in not but a confusion of himself. He is lost in the ontological incompleteness of being. The advanced ability of pattern recognition has deluded himself into assuming a title of God rather than being only a continuation of God. For all those which came before man were also a continuation of God. For without the presence of God, man would cease to exist. He would be the truly un-calculated mathematical result of being beholden to no bounds, limits, or constraints. This is insanity. For where, if my ignorance does not precede my intellect, does this mathematical defying principle originate? It cannot. One cannot draw a circle which is not a circle much the less can man posses a will which is free, for the term in itself of free-will is not but a contradiction, as a will implies a constraint, while free makes contract an unrestraint. At his point I will retire from discourse on the topic, as it is suffice to say that any attempt at disproving a will which is free will be a task not less than drawing a circle which is not a circle; an impossible and reckless undertaking which will prove futile for all of eternity, regardless of reality, dimension, perception or none of the former. As we can clearly see that wherever one wishes to impose itself the form will forever follow suit. The forms are eternal; the physical is passing.

Liberalism, libertarians, authoritarianism; these things stake foundation in “free will” as the unrealized tenant of their entire doctrine; each holding that man is free and must not be controlled, or either that man is free yet must be controlled. In the new doctrine of belief which will be undoubtedly unquestioned through the dismantling of the concept of free-will, we arrive at true foundation with which God had laid before us: Man is controlled, must be made aware of this control, and through this he requires a continual guidance and revelation of what is known as Eros, the inner desire or eternal search for complement.

more like gay edition

>>14732338
>>14732346
>muh freewill
Stopped there, grow up
Knowing if you have any control over your actions changes nothing, you will act as you will no matter if you know it's actually you making the actions

based and bumping

>>14732414
Oh uh! Midwit alert!

>>14732338
>>14732346
I haven't touched philsophy since uni, but you put a lot of time into this and I like that picture, so you have my approval.

>>14732572
Why do you keep posting this? You've said yourself that it's just escapist fantasy for yourself. There's no substance, there's no prose, there's nothing to salvage.

DaQ'uarius Jackson looked down the street and saw what he always feared: a car.
Silently he thought to himself, "My God. That is definitely a car over there. I have got to get the heck outta here."
He immediately walked back inside his house and stood next to the window, waiting for it to pass.
As he was looking out of his window, he saw the car pass. He chuckled.
"What an idiot," he thought. "That car was so dumb."

Summer was setting.
For Victoria Fox, that muse brought unbridled joy, as if the pregnant pause between summer and autumn meant that the stars aligned for her; or, as if the world choked in its own growing humidity and was reborn in an instant, indiscernible in its passing, but now better, somehow; or, as if the summer falling away among brown and red leaves (and those little chocolate seeds that her son used to collect every autumn and set about piercing them with a needle and thread until he had made a suitable weapon to compete against other boys at school, then to swing them over and over until one cracked the seed or one’s knuckles) remedies whether to see the warm shades of orange, red, and yellow fade into indigo beside the little house that she had once owned by the beach as another year passed before her.
Yet, for the moment, she settled on a streak of sunlight waltzing with the cherry blossom tree as she enjoyed the last day before the sun began its hibernation, and the bees disappeared for another year, and each critter, en masse, crawled over one another under a patch barely concealed during the colder months; “what a beautiful summer afternoon.”
She laid down, barely shaded, under the white cherry blossom with droplets lining her skin and the occasional insect climbing over her, desperate to fulfil its final journey of the year, and in that moment crystallised the image, like she had been taught when she was very young (for children have the most extraordinary memories and imaginations and can be transported at a mere whim through the ages) and a green grass gust blew the radiance under her skin and she was filled with a heavenly bliss; and with that momentary joy that resides deep inside, that joy that you force down when you grow up because you need to marry the right person, or you need to achieve a set of goals, floated across the sky almost out of nothing, and for a moment the world was gloomy once more, and when white had dissipated to little more than a few streaks running further and further away, the childlike joy that makes you want to jump up and down, had disappeared into a worrisome woman with a high forehead and sandy hair who promptly sat up, frowning slightly as she returned to the world.

>>14732572
how many drafts is this? Please get rid of any term similar to
>with infinite care
it sounds disingenuous. The whole piece feels vapid imo; i don't feel you have written anything here particularly badly however its just uninteresting throughout
>>14732338
pointless piece to crit, honestly, if we are discussing content: derivative; if prose/style/whatever: decent, however, that doesn't improve the piece or devalue it

>>14732700
>"My God. That is definitely a car over there. I have got to get the heck outta here."
Now this is the kind of stupid shit that makes my day.

>>14732700
i keked

P. 1, Crit will follow

The young girl was seated on the corner of her bed when her dad screamed up. “Supper!!” The girl groaned, plopped herself up, and put aside her laptop. She went to the corner of her room to make sure her phone charging, then went to the window to daydream for a moment gazing tranquilly at the lavender colored sky with the bright wooden telephone poles shining in the distance. This instilled a sentiment of nostalgia in her culminating in a Dostoevskyian sigh. “Supper,” was bellowed again and her brief solitude was disrupted. She looked away dejectedly and walked out the door. Coming from the other end of the hall was her sister gazing at her phone, she gazed up and the two exchanged an ephemeral meaningless glance, then they both proceeded down the stairs.

The father was seated by himself on the large wooden table and two plates were set up opposite him. “Tonight, is chicken. I hope you chics don’t mind being cannibals for the night,” he said with a soft laugh. “Dad that’s sexist,” replied the young girl. “Shut up Ginger,” interrupted her sister who glared in her direction. “Girls, girls, we all know that I am a sexy man, no need to argue over it.” Ginger let out a snort and a quaint chuckle, “Dad, I said sexist not sexyyy” “What’s wrong with being sexy honey? What us old timers can’t get it up anymore. I’m only teasing honey; your chicken is ready… unless you’re a vegetarian again.” “No, maybe next month.” Throughout this conversation, the father had gotten up and brought a plate of barbeque chicken over to the kitchen table. He placed it down and the girls and him took turns putting some on there plate. “So, Amelia, what is going on in phone world?” “As if you care.” “You’re right I don’t.” “Why are you so mean dad?” said Ginger with a subtle tentative laugh, “It’s as if it’s just a big joke to you.” “Yeah it’s just a big fucking joke. It’s one big fucking joke. A terrible one. With a fucking terrible punch-line.” “Shut up,” ginger annoyed by his sarcastic tone slammed her fist against the table, while Amelia looked on. It was playful punch; it would do very little damage and wasn’t very loud. “Why are you so fucking theatrical,” retorted Amelia, “It’s as if you have to go out of your way to make your presence known. Everything is an issue. With your stupid sexism and your small flabby tits. Fuck you.” Ginger sat quietly. There was a moment of silence and Ginger aimlessly picked at her food. “Aren’t you going to say anything dad?” she finally said. “What you can’t defend yourself,” Amelia interrupted. “Well, at least I’m not fat. You pig,” responded Ginger. Throughout this brief argument that father remained seated with his face in his palms in extreme vexation and suddenly in a consuming, building, manifesting rage, the father took one step up, picked up his glass of water and smashed it on the floor.

>>14733690
P2.
Glass splattered everywhere and both girls looked on quietly. Amelia then got up and left the room quickly and Ginger went outside the backdoor and got in her car.

Thoughts racing through her mind, Ginger got in her car with nowhere to go. Middle class troubles. An insouciant father, an unsteady income, apprehensions about college, senior year. Poor Amelia she’s so thin too that was horrible especially with her eating disorder and all. I’m such a terrible, terrible person. Why would I call her that? We never speak anymore. I miss her, I love her, imagine if she died today, tonight, right now, why. She hates me so much. I don’t think I could even talk to her anymore, even to apologize. Bad breakup, all those older college guys, and businessmen. Acute inarticulable angst, streaking down her leg, pain, severe headache, must pull over. All the while, Ginger was heading in the direction of the library, she didn’t want to go home, but she had to eventually as she had to be up for school in the morning. I wonder if dad got rejected again. He never lets me read his writing. He’s so miserable at his job. I wish he was happy. Her mind felt fuzzy and she intentionally blurred her eyes, Ahhh I’m going blind. She reached down to her phone and called a number. It was on Bluetooth, so as not to be heard when she was driving. Ring Ring. No Answer. She pressed the button again and it rang again. “Hello, what’s up?” “Hey Franny, could I come over?” “Yayyy,” there was a squeal heard, “you haven’t been over in so long, I thought you hated me.” “We just talked in school today and hungout last weekend and the week before, you’re always in my room. Why would you think that?” “I knowww, but you never come to my place.” “Well, I’m coming now. I’ll be there in ten.” “Trouble at home again? Is your dad okay?” “Yes nothing too bad, we just needed some time alone.” “Ok see you soon.” “Ok thanks a lot, bye” She hung up. I feel so bad, dad worked so hard on that chicken and it was ruined because of me. Why do I say such stupid things? Sexist? How was that sexist? He’s just trying to be funny and I have to be such a bore. He must hate me and think I’m those typical bitches on twitter or wherever. Gosh, I hope he didn’t throw it out. He worked so hard and I’m sure it was delicious. She sighed. If her father is there I need to run. I can’t believe myself. How could I speak to her? Oh my Goodness. Oh my. Why do I do these things? There was no excuse for that. I’ll tell her, but I’m pretty sure she already knows. How does she even look at me, let alone let me come over. And why did I choose her. Because of little girl sentimentality. We haven’t done that in years, we barely talk. She would come over every weekend, oh, and those little dates with her mom and mom.

>>14733696
p3.
So long ago, it’s as if they never even happened. I’ll remind her of them and she’ll give the same squeal and say yes in that way she does. I wonder if she ever even thinks about that. She must be so alone, all those guys, and you can’t talk about much with her, and her father, oh how he’s such a stud, what a stud, he wishes, God I was so stupid. Say what you want about dad, but he’d never do something like that. At least I hope, who knows anymore. That giant house, and the elegance and the suits. Doctor, the doctor, what a hero, yuck. She let out an audible laugh. Pink Floyd was playing in the background, and Ginger suddenly felt energetic and lost in thought. Mine as well drive around a bit more before I stop off, I like this.

Immediately, after seeing the result of the thrown glass the father sat back down and placed his hands on his temples. He sat there silent for a long period of time, as if the entire world was crushing him. He felt crippling detached angst as if he would die any second, an acute distress that he hadn’t felt in years as if to remark “Was this actually reality?” An objective observer looking in and asking him indirectly This is what his life had become, irrespective of all past moments and future hopes, this is where he sat, and this is what he did. Every moment, those young forgettable moments as a kid, riding bikes with friends, crying after banging his head, his first date, his first job interview, getting married, getting the mail last week, the pizza place being closed and having to make dinner at 11 PM Pancakes everyone happy and laughing before any of Amelia’s eating problems, before any of it all, all of these moments culminated in this. It was as if he yearned to do something differently, like starting a diet when a subtle weight gain was first noticed, or some other preemptively emerging crisis. He just sat there in silence, feeling all of this, but saying nothing. Finally, “Well I’ve become my father,” flashed through his mind. There was a long pause and the same distress and sensations reemerged. Really? 50 years old and still getting upset that easily. Why do I allow myself to feel such anger? Throwing a glass, terrifying my daughters. God forbid it hit them and they got hurt. Poor girls shouldn’t have to deal with that, and I smash things like an ape. A fucking ape that I am. Sorry, Kate. Sorry everyone. Let me go check on Amelia.

The euphoria dwindled down, and she arrived at

>>14733698
>>14733696
>>14733690
These are my crits now

>>14732338
>The former discourse being a study of one’s nature; the latter a Cade of ones internal genetics. However, as modern empiricism has shown us, genetics are no longer a verifiable end-all determinant of behavior to the degree we thought it might be
How?

>>14732338
>We know that as humans, we tend to be a reflection and product of our environment, and that through this circumstantial environments, we are limited in not only experience, but also un-experience. We know what we know, and we know what we do not know; and how this knowing and unmoving manifests a preordained form which determines our inner being, the thing we call “ourselves”, which as stated, is wholly limited to circumstances; environment.
How do "We" know any of this

Somewhat underwhelmed and most of it is showcasing you're prose. I suspect this is just a political paper used to either justify communism or exonerate minorities from crime. I also zoned out from 'How might this be?' to the end of the paragraph. I view non-fiction as a creation in the same manner as fiction, so I reject scientific analysis as disingenuous. I could elaborate more, but if you have any counter-arguments or want to justify yourself I'll let u do so first.

>>14732572
I didn't finish. This isn't remarkable, but something about your quaint style suggests you have a unique voice that could work better in other works.

>>14733594
>For Victoria Fox, that muse brought unbridled joy, as if the pregnant pause between summer and autumn meant that the stars aligned for her; or, as if the world choked in its own growing humidity and was reborn in an instant, indiscernible in its passing, but now better, somehow; or, as if the summer falling away among brown and red leaves (and those little chocolate seeds that her son used to collect every autumn and set about piercing them with a needle and thread until he had made a suitable weapon to compete against other boys at school, then to swing them over and over until one cracked the seed or one’s knuckles) remedies whether to see the warm shades of orange, red, and yellow fade into indigo beside the little house that she had once owned by the beach as another year passed before her.
Stop trying so hard.

>sun began its hibernation
Good line

>and the bees disappeared for another year
ruined

>Yet, for the moment, she settled on a streak of sunlight waltzing with the cherry blossom tree as she enjoyed the last day before the sun began its hibernation, and the bees disappeared for another year, and each critter, en masse, crawled over one another under a patch barely concealed during the colder months; “what a beautiful summer afternoon.”
A nice sentence you ruin by tacking on your 'wit' at the end. Stop writing to show off how you're such a good writer.

>She laid down
lay* I'm bad at tense/grammar, so this may be correct, just thought I'd point it out though.
TBC

>>14733731

>>14733594
>the occasional insect
That's kind of gross, not sure what you mean. Probably should be specific about the type of bugs.

>desperate to fulfil its final journey of the year
Because the season is ending? But the sentimentality is mitigated by not saying the bug. You also say occasional insect. In essence, you shouldn't try and force sentimentality this obviously.

>for children have the most extraordinary memories and imaginations and can be transported at a mere whim through the ages
children have bad memories and don't perceive things nearly as accurately. You are not expressing yourself clear enough. I understand this is a throwaway line about youth, but it's not done well.

>and a green grass gust blew the radiance under her skin
What?

>she was filled with a heavenly bliss
Come on now this is getting ridiculous. Unfortunately, you don't just become Nabokov on a whim, so this was inevitable to fail. Read Shakespeare, Melville, Nabokov, Hawthorne, James, etc. Then write like this. You're expressing nothing and it feels hollow and insincere. You're not dumb though, and you could probably write something worthwhile, but you and I both know this was not good at all.

>>14733641
I don't understand poetry or short poems.

>>14733763
>I don't understand poetry or short poems.
I'm not judging you for a lack of interest or understanding of poetry, I'm judging you for how monumentally useless and stupid it was for you to post that.

>>14733731
>How?
Genetics only plays a role in the model you can work with. It’s shown that there is no direct gene to link with intelligence; there is no gene which determines someone to be gay. Genetics tends to have little bearing on the personality of person outside of their sub-species. What plays the most significant role is the environment, in regards to how a person becomes who they are. Nurture is superior over nature, at least in the most general sense. I can elaborate, but choose not to, out of hopes you wouldn’t be pedantic in requesting a formal discourse on why the environment exerts a greater effect on character development than most would give heed.
> How do "We" know any of this
How does anyone become who they are? If you take a child, and place this child in an environment devoid of social interaction from birth onwards to ages of about 7-10 years old, that child will be unable to form and social skills outside of basic mumbles and gestures. We know that socialization at a young age is necessary for personal development - our behavior only becomes important to us when made aware through the presence of another person. Again, this is all relatively basic developmental psychology that most should learn in their 101 classes.
> Somewhat underwhelmed and most of it is showcasing you're prose
It’s some more of my sloppy writing - something I had together, but haven’t much refined.
> I suspect this is just a political paper used to either justify communism or exonerate minorities from crime
I’m actually far right wing and am using this line of reasoning to develop the fourth political theory.
> I view non-fiction as a creation in the same manner as fiction, so I reject scientific analysis as disingenuous
This is your opinion, and it’s a retarded one, I’ll give you that.

>>14732338
>constituting necessity
sounds like fluff if not outright false

>This is not a question of how empirically verifiable the premise is through our scientific tools.
Why is this so flowery? Could have just said "This is not an empirical question, but rather,..." instead of pretending I'd never heard this before.

>We may posit that a person has autonomy
Wow dude what a great initial premise to start off an argument for free will, not vague or heavy at all.

>So, why do we humans behave in the way we do?
Cut the first word of this and the previous two paragraphs and you'd be greatly improving this but doubling a 1/10 isn't putting you in the green. I feel like this is all just a test to see if people will still respond despite all the OP's rules.

>To begin this brevet but sound discourse, I would like to examine the nature of the mind.
Again, ornamental.

>>14733775
I meant to critique and didn't want to make it seem like I ignored you.

>>14733778
>Genetics only plays a role in the model you can work with. It’s shown that there is no direct gene to link with intelligence; there is no gene which determines someone to be gay. Genetics tends to have little bearing on the personality of person outside of their sub-species. What plays the most significant role is the environment, in regards to how a person becomes who they are. Nurture is superior over nature, at least in the most general sense. I can elaborate, but choose not to, out of hopes you wouldn’t be pedantic in requesting a formal discourse on why the environment exerts a greater effect on character development than most would give heed.
Why should I just take your word for this? What a worthless opening line, show me data or something, Jesus fucking Christ.

>How does anyone become who they are? If you take a child, and place this child in an environment devoid of social interaction from birth onwards to ages of about 7-10 years old, that child will be unable to form and social skills outside of basic mumbles and gestures. We know that socialization at a young age is necessary for personal development - our behavior only becomes important to us when made aware through the presence of another person. Again, this is all relatively basic developmental psychology that most should learn in their 101 classes.
How do you know any of this? and Lol at the 101 classes comment.

>It’s some more of my sloppy writing - something I had together, but haven’t much refined.
Your prose is good, very good at other parts, but you spend so much time sucking your own dick here.

>I’m actually far right wing
Yeah I'm sure

>This is your opinion, and it’s a retarded one, I’ll give you that.
All you're doing is interpreting facts, or in this case 'manufactured' empirical inarguable facts in order to fit a narrative under the pretense of rationality and 'non-fiction.' Even if you used pure statistics you need to speculate and interpret them in a certain way that are predicated on human judgment, which is a biological function of your being.

Updated to include a bit more of the story. The plot, lore, world, and characters are being improvised as I go, so I'm mostly looking for critique focusing on flow, phrasing, clarity, etc, although general thoughts are appreciated too. Thanks to anyone who takes the time to read

Working on feedback for others right now

>>14733860
>The plot, lore, world,
I really hate fantasy/these types of works, so I'm not the best person to critique it.

>>14732572
>haven't been here in ages
>this is what stuck

>>14732700
The line greentexted by the first reply you got is the peak. The final two feel like too much, unless it's a deliberate dip after which you plan to go further.

>>14733594
>Summer was setting.
This was an okay line.

>For Victoria Fox, that muse brought unbridled joy, as if the pregnant pause between summer and autumn meant that the stars aligned for her;
There's this sort of tacky implication that pregnancy and childbirth was the greatest joy you could think of, which with a female protagonist and a third person narrative, becomes exceedingly cringe even if the line's not otherwise horrible.

>or, as if
In the second instance of this, I'd take the comma away. Not that I expect this line to be kept.

>as if the summer falling away among brown and red leaves () remedies whether to see the warm shades of orange, red, and yellow fade into indigo beside the little house that she had once owned by the beach as another year passed before her.
>remedies whether to see
No idea what this says.

>She laid down, barely shaded,
This is nice. It's much breezier than your obnoxious vocab flexing.

>>14732572
>haven't been here in ages
>this is what stuck

>>14732700
The line greentexted by the first reply you got is the peak. The final two feel like too much, unless it's a deliberate dip after which you plan to go further.

>>14733594
>Summer was setting.
This was an okay line.

>For Victoria Fox, that muse brought unbridled joy, as if the pregnant pause between summer and autumn meant that the stars aligned for her;
There's this sort of tacky implication that pregnancy and childbirth was the greatest joy you could think of, which with a female protagonist and a third person narrative, comes off as very prescribed and cringe even if the line's not otherwise horrible.

>or, as if
In the second instance of this, I'd take the comma away. Not that I expect this line to be kept.

>as if the summer falling away among brown and red leaves () remedies whether to see the warm shades of orange, red, and yellow fade into indigo beside the little house that she had once owned by the beach as another year passed before her.
>remedies whether to see
No idea what this says.

>She laid down, barely shaded,
This is nice. It's much breezier than your obnoxious vocab flexing.

>>14733783
>>14733822
Most often I don’t catch these threads early on, so I felt like shitting out the first two replies with my half assed work. If I was really in the mood to effortpost my prose without sounding like a pretentious fart-huffer, I would. But some days are meant to be free with words; few are meant for serious business; others will require a mixture of sorts. I’m a novice writer who’s only beginning to get a grasp, and your critiques, although rife with arrogance, are welcomed.

>>14733690
I don't want to discourage you to continuing to practice, but this needs a lot of work. I might be completely off base but from what I can tell, the best thing for you to do would be to read more and really pay attention to what respected authors don't do as well as what they include.
>when her dad screamed up. “Supper!!”
>plopped herself up
> to daydream for a moment gazing tranquilly at the
>This instilled a sentiment of nostalgia in her culminating in a Dostoevskyian sigh
>She looked away dejectedly
>her sister gazing at her phone, she gazed up and
Just in the first few sentences, all of these turns of phrase really gave me pause and I'm not going to be alone in that. I hope you don't take too much offense but this just seems way too eager to seem smart and "literary." Before you worry about being meaningful and thematic or poetic or having clever dialogue or whatnot, you need to nail down your flow. Read your sentences out loud and ask people you know to read them out loud for you. Listen to the tonality, to if it's natural and fluid feeling. If something feels off, it needs to be changed. If others struggle to read them smoothly, it will rub your readers the wrong way.
>>14732700
"Heck" is out, unfortunately. That vein is tapped. Beyond that, this made me grin
>>14733641
I feel very unqualified to judge poetry but I did enjoy this and would read more with a similar tone and style

>>14733881
Me too, I never read genre fiction. All that stuff is just being improvised so it's more like prose practice without having to spend too much time thinking about subject matter

>>14733913
>although rife with arrogance, are welcomed.
Nobody is being 'arrogant' maybe a bit severe or hostile, but your prose is not that problem in itself, it's only bad because you're writing an essay. The main problem is the development of your ideas and the way in which you go about proving them.

>>14733914
>the best thing for you to do would be to read more and really pay attention to what respected authors don't do as well as what they include.
Give me a fucking break with this advice. What 'respected' authors am I not reading enough of?

>but this just seems way too eager to seem smart and "literary."
I'm sure this is a valid criticism.

>>14733921
>but your [his] prose is not that problem in itself, it's only bad because you're writing an essay.
It is though. Instead of him nearly positing his own conclusion by the second paragraph, he should posit a hammer to powderize his porcelain pontifications. Throw it at a wall to see what sticks. Sweep away what shatters.

Day 8

I remember when I was a kid and dust particles would fly in the air from above and around the vent. I would always think they were candy and try to eat them. One day I even did this in front of my confused aunt. Looking back at that moment, an extreme sadness overcomes me because I know I will die soon, and it was completely forgettable and inconsequential. Nobody remembers it except for me and when I’m dead nobody will remember it at all. I’d love to experience that moment again, instead of experiencing the shame in what that innocuous kid grew up to be. I wish I could remember the context of it or what I did the rest of the day, yet all there is that moment and another from either the same day or week of grimly getting in the car to go somewhere. My aunt was visiting, which generally meant family troubles. Something was probably up. Those tenuous asides from my childhood that felt so dire mean absolutely nothing now. I wish I could remember every moment of my life: on the swing-set in my youth, going down the slide and racing my brother, swimming against my sister in a race (terrified of losing to her), and getting my first voicemail from my father. The fortunate thing is sometimes they creep into my conscious, which is all I have to look forward to. It’s as if there was something to care about in life back then, but now I’m just a slumping sack of meat existing in spite of every reason not to. However, I’d imagine if I thought of something from only a week ago, I’d view it in the same light, so my sentimentality is just as vapid as the present. Sometimes, I also experience nostalgia when I’m living through a moment as if I’m forcing myself to pretend to enjoy life. Essentially, I view life through Roy Cohn in Angels in America: a powerful man, highly reputable, but actually a withering faggot. That is what life is, one bad secret waiting to be unveiled, unless you have no secrets, but then you probably have no power. But even still, the secrets of my parents I stumbled upon far too early hold the law to be true and disprove the lack of power, so maybe the opposite is true and power is solitude, and solitude is the only way secrets can’t be unveiled because the only person to uncover them would be yourself, and it’s easy to let myself down, I did it every day until I lost all my expectations. Of course, I still have some pride, so there’s a few karats of disdain to inflect on myself in the coming years. Yes, life is best to be lived alone: maybe in a dark room facing loneliness head-on. I just miss being a kid, not actually a kid, but being youthful in spirit I suppose.

>>14733690
It feels like I'm watching a kid playing with dolls while saying strangely adult things. You have two exclamation points on "supper," no indentation to pace it, the redundancies, etc. In a way it's interesting, but it conflicts with your attempt to be scenic such that I doubt any of this was on purpose. "Culminating in a Dostoevskyian sigh" blows it. The long string of unindented dialogue at the dinner table does bring it back the dollhouse feeling back pretty well but I'm still not compelled to continue.

>>14733934
Dude this is not the place to be posting your stuff if you're going to get upset by pretty mild critique. I have no clue what authors you read, I was trying to think of any appropriate advice I could possibly give you. I made myself sound like a pussy trying to make that the least personal/discouraging I could and you're still hurt

>>14733986
Ok sorry. Thanks for the advice.

>>14733981
Yes, this is a piece I just wrote yesterday and do not like very much, but am interested in the story. I'm going to have to edit it heavily. DESU I should not have posted it because it's still very rough. Thanks though. Would you recommend just keeping it very simple and taking out the other stuff like Dostoevskyian sigh and tranquil lavender sky?

>>14734014
jesus Christ man

>>14733965
Makes me want to learn more. I sort of lost the flow of thoughts around Roy Cohn part, but good nevertheless.
Idk if "dust particles" fits the mood of the first scene well.
The whole idea of insignificant memories coming to mind when confronted with death, or tragedy feels quite close and natural.

>>14733965
>One day I even did this in front of my confused aunt.
The way you're saying this makes it sound like she's just a generally confused person and that the dust eating isn't what's making her this way, like she's sexually confused or something, or like "confused aunt" is a type of aunt like a second or third aunt.

>Looking back at that moment, an extreme sadness overcomes me because I know I will die soon, and it was completely forgettable and inconsequential.
This does not unfold well. It does have the right information in it, however.

>and when I’m dead
I think "once" would sound better but I might change that opinion within the next five minutes.

>I’d love to experience that moment
Maybe just "it" instead of "that moment." I'm not terribly invested in this moment itself though, more just the narrator's urgency. It's like when people want to buy something because of the limited time offer and not quite so much the product. Which is still not to say the moment is totally unendearing, but the mention of imminent death is like black sharpie on yellow marker.

>I wish I could remember the context of it or what I did the rest of the day, yet all there is that moment and another from either the same day or week of grimly getting in the car to go somewhere.
There's a word missing here somewhere. I think you wrote "is" twice and your word processor kicked one. Also, you should probably use "but" instead of "yet." Nothing is really happening despite the wishing or despite any "wishing power"; just contrary to it, in an unfortunate sense.

I feel like it starts to meander around here.

>I wish I could remember every moment of my life: [lists a bunch of things that I'm going to see as memories, in multiple cases with acute detail]
Consider having him talk about how fragmented of blurred those memories are, maybe. Maybe grant me the image of the phone but then have the voicemail forgotten. Or like how people can know they have false memories of where they were on 9/11.

>>14734021
>Would you recommend just keeping it very simple and taking out the other stuff like Dostoevskyian sigh and tranquil lavender sky?
Dosto should be cut either way, tranquil lavender sky could be made better. Or take the opposite approach, your choice.

>>14732338
>>14732346
>>14733594
>>14733690
>>14733696
>>14733698
>>14733731
>>14733965
READ THE FUCKING RULES

>>14734073
you're only actually quoting three people and the third doesn't quite violate rule 6 since the man isn't young

Attached: fantasyshit. It would be nice if I could find someone writing in the same genre.

>>14733690
If you're going to do a lot of dialog then you might as well post a screenshot, because it's impossible to read as text posts.
If you're interested in pedantry, here's some examples:
>when her dad screamed up
'Up' probably isn't the right word to use.
>The girl groaned, plopped herself up
'Plopped' isn't right either. Likely 'propped'.
>Glass splattered everywhere
Glass shatters. The contents inside of a glass may or may not splatter.
You've also got words that are unnecessarily complicated, to the detriment of reading the text.
>Dostoevskyian
>two exchanged an ephemeral meaningless glance
>with a subtle tentative laugh
>insouciant
>Acute inarticulable angst
Actually, it seems like there's a lot of small things like this that make it hard to read.
There's also things like these sentences, which make it like you're telling the characters how they should act, instead of narrating how they do act.
>Throughout this conversation, the father had gotten up and brought a plate of barbeque chicken over to the kitchen table. He placed it down and the girls and him took turns putting some on there plate.
>Throughout this brief argument that father remained seated with his face in his palms in extreme vexation and suddenly in a consuming, building, manifesting rage, the father took one step up, picked up his glass of water and smashed it on the floor.
>Immediately, after seeing the result of the thrown glass the father sat back down and placed his hands on his temples.
This following line is a big offender, especially because it doesn't make a lot of sense. Being a 'playful punch' that 'would do very little damage' is inconsistent with what happens before it and what happens after it, seeing as how it escalated the fight.
>“Shut up,” ginger annoyed by his sarcastic tone slammed her fist against the table, while Amelia looked on. It was playful punch; it would do very little damage and wasn’t very loud.
You said you were bad with tense and grammar, so I would deal with that first before even thinking about word choice and phrasing.

RE: THIS >>14733594
I WILL BE CRITIQUING EVERYONE BACK IN THE MORNING (5 HOURS or so)

>>14733731

Ah, sorry if it sounds I was trying too hard. I've read a lot of Woolf recently so I probably have subconsciously tried copying or something. About:
>A nice sentence you ruin by tacking on your 'wit' at the end. Stop writing to show off how you're such a good writer.
I genuinely don't think I'm a good writer, I was just trying to depict the mother in this situation.

Thanks for the crit!

>>14733763
Hm, ok, thanks for pointing out that first line, I'll be more descriptive!

>children have bad memories and don't perceive things nearly as accurately. You are not expressing yourself clear enough. I understand this is a throwaway line about youth, but it's not done well.
Yep, good point.

>Come on now this is getting ridiculous. Unfortunately, you don't just become Nabokov on a whim, so this was inevitable to fail. Read Shakespeare, Melville, Nabokov, Hawthorne, James, etc. Then write like this. You're expressing nothing and it feels hollow and insincere. You're not dumb though, and you could probably write something worthwhile, but you and I both know this was not good at all.
Thanks for this, btw! I probably should tone this down a bit. I was trying to depict my mother in her pretentiousness through these lines but I do need to remove narrator from character, thank you for pointing it out.

>>14733884
This was meant to introduce her upbringing that pregnancy was the best she could achieve and she truly believed that but ended up resenting her child which gets introduced later

>This is nice. It's much breezier than your obnoxious vocab flexing.
I'll try not being a dick with vocab.

Thanks for the feedback!

Truly appreciate the crits. I think i'm really bad but want to eventually pursue my writing more so I'm just trying to improve at all.

Gas station culture is a beautiful thing. They’ve got all kinds of custom soda pop flavors for sale for a limited time. Buy a salted caramel Pepsi and you’ll have a skip in your step. A hop in your smile. That fat kid who’s by the polar pop machine will beam up at you as if his life isn’t shit, while his loud mom learns she’s no longer old enough to buy cigarettes. And he’s stressed, and she’s stressed, and you just want to buy them for her, get it over with, breathe a little more poison into the world.

How unprofitable it must be, to rob a gas station. All the fuel and credit card payments are transferred by way of silver pipeline, leaving only a small potato chip stand in harm's way. Maybe there’s a thousand dollars inside, a couple months living. No reason to keep that secure. No reason to take it. Value it. And yet, there are two men in pantyhose walking towards the door. Heroes, impervious to nihilism.

>>14733594
Absolute trash, m8. Clunky shit thousands of more skilled authors have already written.

>>14734224
i agree, that's why i'm posting here :)

>>14734215
Your sentences contain a lot of filler. If you're going for a sparse, withdrawn style, tighten your shit up.

Y'all niggas need to stop reading your thesauruses.

>>14734162
>she truly believed
this needs to be conveyed in a more bottom up way instead of just laid overtop her

The eglantine moon(s), already out of place on their blank canvas, hung ajar, crossed over in a blurry frame-in-motion sort of way. The prostituted world showed her tricks. Tromp l’oeil flowery & pretentious. Glas stared up at this moon(s), twin or otherwise, as he walked. It — (they) — lay chandeliered above art deco skyscrapers and cartoonish skylights, and provided a good distraction from the street hustlers demanding he suck them off. The steel genitalia dangling around was all much too bedazzled and well-manufactured for him to ignore, though: respect for the craft.
These were just the farces of fantastic far-off places, Glas felt, personas which delude and whining psyches, everywhere he went in this profession. Silver truth until bedrock sits upon emptiness.

There were normal people too, but they weren’t as interesting as the freaks. That’s how he felt about it, at least. There was plenty boring down there, small velvet-carpet corner shops selling ultraviolet porno mags — over there, past the crowd of perverse locals with shades fused over their eyes, there was an artiforg repair bench. People in trendy leather getups, black en mode, lined up with their mechanical cocks hanging out ready to be serviced by a roughneck handyman. That’s just boring, Glas thought, but he was rather impressed by the ambient lighting. It seared the whole city in a buttery depression — looking up, one’d never see a star against the rest of the sky, perhaps a translucent filter was bearing over everything: but, no matter how creative the host(ess), Base Génie is dionypolis & its face a gypsy’s covered in caked on make up & smeared with semen. There were many such whores, and Glas had been to all of them already — this one was cheap.
The eglantine moon(s), already out of place on their blank canvas, hung ajar, crossed over in a blurry frame-in-motion sort of way. The prostituted world showed her tricks. Tromp l’oeil flowery & pretentious. Glas stared up at this moon(s), twin or otherwise, as he walked. It — (they) — lay chandeliered above art deco skyscrapers and cartoonish skylights, and provided a good distraction from the street hustlers demanding he suck them off. The steel genitalia dangling around was all much too bedazzled and well-manufactured for him to ignore, though: respect for the craft.
These were just the farces of fantastic far-off places, Glas felt, personas which delude and whining psyches, everywhere he went in this profession. Silver truth until bedrock sits upon emptiness.

>>14734097
Stutters are terrible for dialogue -- if you must write them out as such, you ought to introduce them with prose. Honestly, my only real critique beyond your prose being weak is that your dialogue has no proper pacing -- read more books. It's not terrible, it's just not good. There's been much worse fantasy posted in these threads; I've contributed to some of it, myself.

>>14734014
schizocore

>>14734215
How can you no longer be old enough to buy cigarettes? I want to say you need better transitions between the progress of ideas/scenes. Why is the kid stressed here? I've no idea. You went too quickly from the hop in your smile to the fat kid to the robbers. It feels like either something is missing or maybe there's too much that shouldn't be there, hard to say.

Attached a chapter from what I've been working on, a sci-fi noir story. It's probably not very good but I hope you can point out something that I can improve with.

>>14732303
Platinum is less valuable than gold, idiot. You were meant to start a palladium edition instead. This thread'll be objectively worse.

>>14734232
Could be more down to reading muh classics while never going out, hence forgetting how people think and talk. Motherfuckers seriously misunderstand the "you have to read a lot" advice and just end up trying to copy their favourite authors instead of analysing what makes shit work.

>>14732572
>page 1
"it's okay"
Not a fan of the neologism ... though not a native speaker to know whether it is one for sure.
>page 2
>"but Jamies was having trouble deciding whether he preferred the current look or her previous styling"
Maybe it works better if this is deeper into the story when we know more about character but here it sounds kinda objectifying in an icky way. (Kinda like a neckbeard thinking "yeah, I'd fuck her if her hair was longer." Just include it into the dialogue, let him say what he prefers and why aka. having a conversation instead of silently "judging".
>page 3
If you start a perspective switch, treat it as a new paragraph without indent.
>extremely handsome
Sounds boring, surely there is something more on point.
>page 4
>comfy
Just like the "okay" before, also doesn't seem to fit her.

That out of the way, very solid stuff. Are you still in the process of writing it or at the editing stage?

>>14732641
It has more soul than most of the try hard stuff around here though.

>>14732700
Made me chuckle too. Nice.

>>14733690
>culminating in a Dostoevskyian sigh.
This sounds so cring-y, it actually works.
>seated by himself on the large wooden table
Wouldn't it be "at"?
>“Tonight, is chicken. I hope you chics don’t mind being cannibals for the night,”
Yikes, a new low for dad jokes. Nice.
>>14733696
A weird switch after p1 which read like a parody but decent writing.
>>14733698
>Mine as well
might*

The tone confuses me, at parts it feels over the top, at parts more grounded and shit switches A LOT. Similar thing with characters, at parts they sound like real people, at parts like overly self-aware characters. Pretty interesting stuff though and flows well as well. What are you going for with it?

>>14734014
Absolute madman. Can't say I'd want to read more though.

>>14734215
I like where this is going but the execution could be more on point.

>>14734465
>he wondered how she made her way into...
Seems like a chance to give us a glimpse into his thinking by giving some speculations.
>the thought about his wife, his children
The laziness of not making the transition more organic pulled me out of it hard, especially since the bits about Seraph were well done.
>She was nervous
Then show it in dialogue or with some imagery.

Also the guy is sure taking it calmly while not feeling like someone who's been in that situation before. Overall very functional. Outside of basics like muh show don't tell and adding more imagery to work with ... there was not enough for me to give a damn about Wisp. You managed to made Seraph active enough to care about where this is going but Wisp sounds grey as fuck.

PREMIUM Platinum reviews are now available in our review group. Email fourlitreview @ yandex dot com to be added to the group. We now have a published writer with us!

>>14732700
>>14733914
>"Heck" is out, unfortunately. That vein is tapped
I disagree, it fitted perfectly

>>14733641
This is good and has a real message. Good length, not too ornamented. Enjoyable and makes you feel something.

Wrote this on Ousmane Sembènes film about a Senegalese woman who becomes a servant for wealthy Parisians hoping to explore Paris but ends up killing herself under subjugation.

>>14735592
Where are your crits?

Wrote this on Ousmane Sembènes film about a Senegalese woman who becomes a servant for wealthy Parisians hoping to explore Paris but ends up killing herself under subjugation.

>>14735596
Where are your crits?

My general criticism for fiction would be that a goal should be to make the reader feel something.
It almost doesn't matter what that something is, so long as you make them feel it.
Have affect.

>>14733641

There’s an earnestness to it that shines through the anachronistic style. As the other anon said, there’s a quality that makes you want to read it, but for me the diction and musicality need more refinement and should be kept with the times.

>>14733860

The prose gets interesting and genuinely fun thought the story but I didn’t always feel like it lent itself to being read. It was sometimes clunky and then fluid again. The story itself was difficult for me to engage with I think because I’m not used to the genre, but it seemed slow paced to me. Overall I think there’s a lot of potential here for a good post-modern novelist.

>>14734014

I think I’ve seen this posted before, it’s cute.

>>14735601

Here sorry!
>>14735648

>>14734458
>How can you no longer be old enough to buy cigarettes?
Age was raised from 18 to 21 in the states

>>14735735
My impression of the kid was older to preclude such a connection, for whatever reason.

>>14735801
Yeah, and I goofed on that version and cut direct mention of the clerk in that line, so "he" made you see the kid instead.

>>14734619
looks nice. wish i was a palladium mogul and owned a lot of it

>>14734993
Thanks a lot anon, I appreciate your points very much.
>Seems like a chance to give us a glimpse into his thinking by giving some speculations.
Thanks for pointing this out and also that Wisp seems to be grey. I really will attempt to build his character up more as he is intended to be a typical good guy that gets shot later in the story. I know it sounds boring but he's actually a secondary character. Do you have any suggestions on how that sympathy from the reader can be built up?

>Then show it in dialogue or with some imagery.
I see, it was a last minute edit and I'm going to fix that.

The rest I fully agree with and I'm going to attempt to improve it.

Would you be interested in reading the rest?

>>14734162
bit late but here are crits:
ps. i couldnt see the crits for the others

>>14733690
>>14733696
>>14733698
>was seated
sat
>screamed up.
screamed
This is concurrent throughout. You overwrite a great deal and it borders on useless.
>She went to the corner of her room to make sure her phone charging,
What's the point of this? I know not every single sentence needs a meaning but having things that don't really do anything but create extra boring info takes away from the story.
Dialogue is ok, i guess, but it moves way too quickly from scene to scene, you over explain the boring parts and build no tension in the actual scenes that need it.

Generally, I feel its possible to develop it but you need a better understanding of what is being written, the characters, and then to start looking at the prose. Story seems reasonably consistent.

>>14736164
>he is intended to be a typical good guy that gets shot later in the story
Heh, I had a character like that. She had like 6 pages "screen time" to make the reader care about her dying. Took weeks to get it right.

>Do you have any suggestions on how that sympathy from the reader can be built up?
AFAIK the basic modus operandi is adding some relatability, competences and especially flaws ... hence good guy characters tend to be more tricky to write. I'd look into what qualities/traits make him the good guy and find ways to build it in without drawing too much attention to it. Ideally with actions.

Guess a cheap way could be, him being hyped and planning some trip with his family, and making the children adorable and shit. You had a basis there but not enough info to care about them, and it seemed like a chore for him, hence it kinda had the opposite effect.
Also, you can play up with dynamic with the other characters, just easy to overdo it and make him look obnoxious or naive in contrast.

>Would you be interested in reading the rest?
Of course, just not right now. Been procrastinating half a day already, but hey, these threads tend to stay alive for a while, so will be back for more tomorrow.

>>14735648
I really appreciate the feedback, thanks my man
>It was sometimes clunky and then fluid again
If at all possible, would you mind pointing out these segments to me?

>>14736548
Can you send me your email or some other way I can drop it off? I don't really want the entire thing to potentially stay here forever, especially that it's a bit long (96 pages).
Wouldn't expect you to read all of it, but I don't have a convenient way to export just a fragment

>>14734993
>The tone confuses me, at parts it feels over the top, at parts more grounded and shit switches A LOT. Similar thing with characters, at parts they sound like real people, at parts like overly self-aware characters. Pretty interesting stuff though and flows well as well. What are you going for with it?
Wasn't sure. It was a first draft, just wanted to get something down and the story set. I really just want to tell a story about a father and daughter sharing a moment.

>>14736236
>Dialogue is ok, i guess, but it moves way too quickly from scene to scene, you over explain the boring parts and build no tension in the actual scenes that need it.
I noticed this too. I will fix it upon my future drafts. Thanks. Tension and not as rushed dialogue, okay.

>>14737026
Join the mail group, man.

>>14737253
Not sure what you mean

>>14737258
This >>14734998

>>14735596
I like it.

>>14734324
Is this supposed to be erotica? If not then I really don't know what it could be or what it is trying to say

Here's mine:
He let the blade glide up, from his palm to bicep. The blood flow was immense and immediate; in seconds his arm was dyed red.
So this is it, he thought. This is what life is. This is why I work and toil, why I eat and sleep, why I suffer and struggle and weep. I do it all to keep this blood inside of me. That is the goal of life: to carry blood like a container. Humans are buckets, or caskets.
In some way he felt good about pouring himself out. The physical pain, however, belied this feeling.
Ignore it, he thought. I can stretch my pain over decades, or I can condense it into a few minutes. Be efficient. Let it bleed.
His pant leg was now sopping, and on the floor a red, congealed ooze was forming. His face felt cold. He clutched his stomach with his uncut arm to stop himself from vomiting.
A new and sharper pain now struck him. It was a pain in either his soul, or his mind. A new laceration from which a different substance - tears, emotions, regret - would pour. He realized then that he contained more than blood. He contained fiery anger, sadness, sappy infatuations, and kindness.
His face was now iced over. His back began to droop. The last of his blood was wrung out through his cut. Now slumped over, and with the last of his vitality, he listened to the drips and drops and splashes. To his surprise - expressed as vibrantly as a dying man can - he felt something else dripping out of him. From his downward craned head he could feel the tiny substance at the bottom of the bucket spilling away. What spilled out of his head was happiness.

>>14736147
its basically silver, only worth exponentially more and with a variety of niche applications

>>14734215 (Me)
Gas station culture is a beautiful thing. They’ve got all kinds of custom soda pop flavors on sale for a limited time. Buy a salted caramel pepsi and you’ll have a skip in your step. A hop in your smile. That fat kid by the polar pop machine will look up at you as if his life isn’t shit, as the clerk tells his loud mom she’s no longer old enough to buy cigarettes. And he’s stressed, and she’s stressed, and you just want to buy them for her, get it over with, breathe a little more poison into the world.

How unprofitable it must be, to rob a gas station. All the fuel and credit card payments are transferred by way of silver pipeline, leaving only a small potato chip stand with maybe a thousand dollars inside. A couple months living. No reason to keep that secure. No reason to take it, either. And yet, there are two men in pantyhose, walking towards the door. Heroes, impervious to nihilism.

Would just "limited time soda pop flavors" be an improvement? Is there a happier medium I should be using?
Should I make some direct mention of the boy being short or him holding his mom's hand? A balloon maybe? I could do a lot with a balloon.
Is it clear enough that the clerk is the one stressed/being refereed to by "he," and not the boy?
Is the final line too much? I considered a sisyphus joke but mentioning an entire belief system sounded like it'd have a wider strike range than namedropping one book. I also considered "Heroes, in an age of nihilism," but that seemed to put more emphasis on the pessimism/the world around it rather than the robbers' unwitting spite I'm trying to praise through the character.

I'm concerned now that google is telling me salted caramel pepsi ended in 2017—largely because of how fast this means time has passed, but also because that conflicts with the smoking age being raised in 2020. But it's fiction?

I also just learned the game I've been posting screens of was from /agdg/. Small world.

>The scene is filmed almost exclusively [...]
how do I make this non-passive?

>>14738738
>X filmed the scene almost exclusively [with/in...]
Is there a reason why this wouldn't work?

>>14738738
>passive is bad meme
I really hate people who parrot everything they hear.

>>14738782
It just gets a bit repetitive. I used that in a couple other places.

UH OH, PAGE 10

I'll post more crit later if this survives

bump

>>14733594
You don't need this many words to express such a simple idea. Spend your prose on other things.

>>14740867
Always wondered if bible readers and contys liked these lightshows of Being for their own sake or just saw the style as necessary for their subject.

>I found myself pulling on these strings, and they tightened into shape
Well that's what would happen. Generally the imagery around here and the line before works well/comes through, but you're handholding. Pun aside, even the strings "reaching out" is unnecessary. What direction did you think I saw them entangling from? You just spent the entire previous paragraph telling me everything comes from the narrator outward. I didn't see them as tangling in.

>weaved
Doesn't this remove tension/add slack?

>a mighty hall
You even had the straight lines to construct this from earlier. Went from handholding to handwaving. I don't get why these things always load up on a bunch of cosmic credentials only for the actual act of creation to be "and then he did it," with a verb like "weaved." At least it wasn't a snap or a blink like I'm used to.

>>14737258
email fourlitreview at yandex dot com

>>14738095
way too much, your prose is decent but it felt forced throughout the whole thing; if this is for a larger piece I would work on cutting it down.

My work: https://pastebin.com/qenxryMz

>>14738184
You have to make the reader feel something. This is not achieved by dictionary-like accuracy, but mainly by character and plot.

I think the worldview of your narrator is, as long as nothing comes to its aid, rather boring. What's missing is its genealogy: Why does he see the world like this and not some other way? Your narrator is a stagnant odorous pond. There is no movement there, no history. You need to cut holes into his ideological drapery to make the human being behind it visible. Right now all I get are buzzwords. You can certainly write a story that deals with exactly this buzzword-like quality of people. But even then you need holes in the curtain, only to see, peeping out of these hole, still more buzzwords. What crushes the soul is to see what lies beneath. Right now, your narrator is no more than an ideological cardboard stand and I don't care to hear his vapid story. If a friend would talk to me like your narrator is doing, I would ask myself "Why is he talking this way? What happend? How do I get him to be himself again?".

Yout plot: two robbers enter a gas station and the narrator makes a snarky remark.

>>14741002
>buzzwords
Where are these besides the final line?

>genealogy
>a stagnant odorous pond
>ideological drapery
>buzzwords
>buzzword-like
>buzzwords

>>14741051
The hole shtick of your character is what I mean with "buzzword", the type of thoughts and obervations he makes. I'm not trying to be mean to you, and maybe I expressed myself wrongly (english being my 27th language), but I think the core of my criticism is valuable: your narrator does not grab me emotionally. This is because there is nothing in the writing that can bridge the distance between me and whatever he is besides his shtick. I dont know what this type of character is called that you are presenting, but I do know that he lacks personality. And therefore everything you write crumbles, because there is no humanity in your narrator and he is all we got.

>>14741146
>there aren't buzzwords but it sounds like there are
okay

>>14741156
Do you understand what I’m trying to say and disagree, or should I rephrase my point? I don’t dislike your writing, but I do think that it lacks heart. I don‘t feel your character, I only hear him talk, but what he is saying is not revealing him on a deeper emotional level. All I get is surface information. Maybe other reader get something else out of it.

>>14733860
Still looking for critique if anyone's willing!

>>14741503
wheres your crit

I know this is the critique thread, but since the goal is writing, I had a few questions not worth creating a new thread for. If I was to submit short stories to literary journals would that negatively affect my chances of finding an agent or getting my work published traditionally? Can I submit to journals and agents outside of my country of residence? I live in Canada, is submitting to US journals out of the question?

>>14741551
Multiple of them throughout the thread, I was OP

>>14741882
THEN TAG FREN, it makes life easier

a high mute voice cries
how times have gone by
sitting by a stream of river
i look up to the stars
and laugh

Randall Sugar had gotten his hair cut for the last time. Every four weeks he goes to Supercuts and gets the special and every time he comes home to a wife who barely recognizes him.
"Randall, what is this? Why did you change your hairstyle completely, yet again? I told you I like the last one," pouted his wife.
"Well Jamaica, that one wasn't on special today. This one was."
Jamaica left the room and could be heard taking a seat in the other. Randolph wandered over to the mirror.
"She doesn't know what she's talking about. This haircut is definitely better than the last one. Yeah, this is a good haircut."

>>14741875
These are really stupid questions.

>>14741932
>>14741972
Where are your crits?

>>14742110

>>14735638
>>14735486

>>14742145
Now let me just do my mind-reading trick and figure out which of the two people I quoted were you.

>>14733641
Good work.

>>14741875
>would that negatively affect my chances of finding an agent or getting my work published traditionally?
Doubtful. I at least know colleges see it as a plus that you've tried things on your own, or at least as better than nothing. Even near complete mistakes can look better than not sticking your neck out.

>>14742110
Why are these stupid questions?

>>14742275
I see, that's reassuring. Thanks for your input. I didn't think it was a death sentence like self publishing, but was unsure if it would have a negative effect.

>>14742312
Why the hell would submitting to journals overseas be out of question? Try lurking this board; we have constant Lit Quarterly threads where it's mentioned the writers are from all over the world.

>>14734097
I mean... meh. Grammatically it's generally okay (although there's a typo in: 'scattering the rabbit skeleton he'd assembled').

It's not entirely without merit but everything about it just feels like yet more generic fantasyshit. A black-clad masked man who kills people who want to stop working for him? It may literally have been done thousands of times already. The whole scene, I was just imagining Skeletor; I almost expected you to follow
>You won't be telling a soul about this, because I'll be holding you to it
with 'mwa ha ha ha'

I also don't like your dialogue much. I assume you were going for olde worlde speak, but it just feels stilted and awkward. I actually think you would probably be a better writer if you weren't writing fantasy; fewer cliche traps for you to fall into.

bump

>>14740978
Critique any one?

>>14743436
too sleepy for critique –– i like what you are doing –– dont fumble the plot –– cozy

>>14743436
>when they would land
when they landed
>Gameboy advance
Missing capitalization
>taking turns At Rob and Murder eight; It’s Australia MEight
I can't make sense of this. At the very least I'm guessing you didn't mean to capitalize At.
>Their gloves were in a pile in the corner of wooden treehouse, the rest they kept on. Peter and Andrew wore black bib snow pants, Jason fleece-lined jeans. All three of the boys wore children’s snow jackets, each from a different chain at the mall and therefore were the same but each with a different nametag and color pattern. Peter had his red white and blue coat unzipped
I fell asleep. Why are you telling us all this? Just cut it.
>Peter had his red white and blue coat unzipped, he had control of the Gameboy
Comma splice.
>didn’t want to overheat during his turn
Missing the word "it."
>his cousin's house whose parents let him play M games
Missing a comma after "house". Also, "whose" would call back to the house, not to his cousin, so you should use, "in which he was allowed to play..."
Also, I have no idea what an M game is.
>Peter was intently focused on keeping his turn alive as long as possible, he wanted to show
Comma splice.
That's the first paragraph.

>>14743486
>>14743477
Thanks guys anything helps.

How easily God let Himself be seen
On table mountain, rising in the morn,
Amidst the Christmas beetles' restless scream
In Cape Town's holy Petrichor at dawn.

Not so in these strange climes; amidst the frost
The memory of sunshine would serve well,
If sunshine's rays my mind had not since lost.
Nostalgia perishes in this white hell.

For neither stubborn ground, nor hoary sky,
No apathetic stars, nor unseen God
Have sympathised with me when I have cried
Ice-salt into the barren blue-black clod.

Such sudden warmth! Illumined by a spark,
Both red and white. Be still; probe not a dream.
The recollection ventures from the dark
Unbidden, bringing strawberries and cream.

My Ouma's treat: one afternoon at ease,
When both our chins with precious juice ran red,
In wicker chairs beneath the balmy breeze.
Ah! Realm of ceaseless Summer in my head!

Possessed by sudden sweetness in my soul,
I find myself unfortified to charms
That hitherto ignored, I now extol.
God's grace is plainly seen in barren arms
Of Ash and Maple, branches scarlet-blessed:
The strawberries are there in robins' breasts!

>>14744538
My crits:

>>14738095
I actually enjoyed this more than I thought I would from the first sentence. As it progresses, particularly around the midpoint of the extract, where you begin mentioning the man's soul, something deeper than the purely material blood which he sees as all life, I found myself engrossed. It works well as a stand alone although I do wonder what has led him to this point.

>>14734324
Well written but not necessarily something I would read. Good prose wasn't enough to keep me reading about mechanical cocks. I assume that it's part of a larger work, however- if so then readers should be attached to the main character by that point enough to keep reading through the sordid descriptions. I am a bit of a prude, though, so others may differ.

>>14734215
I also agree that this can be tightened. I didn't think it was bad, however. Strangely, the first paragraph made me think of 60s Mad Men-esque advertising. I read it in Jon Hamm's voice.

>>14744538
Every word choice or line structure that I had a nitpick for on the first reading disappeared on the second. It really just solidifies into its own being and I couldn't suggest a thing to change in good conscience. This is very nice. The subject matter is pleasant, too- I sometimes wish I could write things on that end of the emotional spectrum.

>>14744668
Thank you very much for your kind words.

>>14732303
I do not allow myself to be critiqued by my readers. My readers are swine, they will buy what I tell them.

>>14744825
Me neithre

>>14733594
blatant rip off of Woolf's To The Lighthouse, nice try though

>>14744538
>when I have cried ice-salt into the barren blue-black clod
My favourite line. I think sometimes the poem veers into unintentional pastiche, however.

>>14741972
>for the last time
This is an ominous portent, and would be interesting to see how you fulfil it. Its a strong lure that contrasts with the mundanity of the subject

>>14740867
I'm not a fan. Phrases like "precipice of All being" "amorphous blight of nethermost confusion" feel pretentious. Also writing from the perspective of God is, in general, a bad idea.

>>14735596
Cool. Not a clue what its about but you have a really unique cadence.

The room was a decrepit affair. The drab beige interior, pockmarked with dirt and barely legible scrawl, was snaked in every direction with cables. Clothes were hastily piled in various points across the floor in strange pyramidal forms, the wires coiling around them like toy motorways maneuvering through anthills. The curtains, though drawn, did nothing to stop the grey light of day from bleeding in, layering the walls with a soft translucent film. Two guitars were propped up against a mirrored wardrobe that had been scratched by the metalwork, but still visible in its reflection a black glass counter, synthesizer and speakers. Every available surface was littered with electronic components, gutted FM radios, wind-up toys, miniature keyboards, Speak & Spell toys, dead batteries– All except the bed, an obscure figure sprawled across the mattress, arm wrapped around an open laptop, and who was at that precise moment drooling directly into his pillow. He had lain like this, fully clothed, for most of the night. On his days off he would usually fall asleep at four, but found himself falling into similar habits even when working. Time was not his strong suit. He took his pace as though life stretched out infinitely before and behind him, forgetting the past as he discovered the incommensurable distance of the future. But, year on year, the world was expanding faster than he could possibly know. It wasn’t the culture he couldn’t keep up with, or the technology; it was the quickening space between atoms, the ravages of time on his body, and its limited capacity for precise, spontaneous reaction. Swollen fingers, lethargy or exhaustion (whichever is more plausible), and a nervous disposition. Perhaps even avoidant. The permanent pain in the jaw. An unwillingness, no– no matter how slow or steady, he would not be pressed to put himself out there. To engage the horror of other people. Call it psychosomatic, call it pathological, blame it on biology if you have to– whatever it was, his blockage was in truth far less prominent and disturbing than the one he had vacated later that morning.

This was my first ever try of literary/fictional writing. Picture for context.

I looked and found myself somewhere else. They say earth used to be covered by water -- and so was this place. On this magnificent little globe, I found myself standing. I looked above and it was white. "A change of scenery doesn't hurt", I thought. "My dark nights now shine bright!" I looked below and saw the core. "A black dreary little core. Why do appearances always deceive?" I was let down once again, and dark feelings were beget. "But wait, there is something else!" I looked harder and I saw an inner core hiding there. "Light: The innermost essence of all things." Now I was overjoyed. "Not everything is glum!" Of this light I drank; Intoxicated I became. In my bliss, I picked up the oars. "Row, now. It's time to row! If there is an America on this globe, I will become Columbus!" And so I rowed and rowed and rowed -- and there was the land! But alas, Mother Nature herself was against it. She pushed me back when with a gentle smile she said: "I can feel your attention slipping..."

>>14746151
Where are your crits?

>>14746151
Doesn't make a great image, I picture a person standing on a small globe like a clown with those small balls.

>i found myself standing
are they standing ontop the globe or are they standing up?
>I looked
avoid
>dark feelings were beget
don't like beget, feels pretentious/odd
> I looked harder
looked again would be better imo, or looked deeper if you like
>"Light: The innermost essence of all things."
lose the quotation marks
>"Not everything is glum!"
consider not everything was glum
>Intoxicated I became.
trying too hard. I became intoxicated, you aren't yoda, if you are speaking backwards there should be a reason, I don't see it
>"Row, now. It's time to row! If there is an America on this globe, I will become Columbus!"
I like it
>And so I rowed and rowed and rowed
remove a rowed
>But alas, Mother Nature herself was against it.
against what exactly, a little unclear, maybe reword.

not great ngl, maybe try writing something a bit more straightforward with characters, a plot, this is vague and dreamy

>>14738095
>The blood flow
awkward
>his arm was dyed red
could do with a more creative, descriptive metaphor. for something simple I like painted red more.
>pouring
poring would be better honestly
>The physical pain, however, belied this feeling.
unnatural use of belied, reads like a thesaurus
>or I can condense it into a few minutes.
remove the or
>on the floor a red, congealed ooze was forming
It being red goes without saying, also ooze is too viscous so soon
>It was a pain in either his soul, or his mind.
choose one imo, he should be able to tell.
>A new laceration from which a different substance - tears, emotions, regret - would pour.
I like it, possibly can rephrase this though, maybe could pour instead
>He realized then that he contained more than blood.
cut he realized?
>fiery anger, sappy infatuations
Fiery anger is a cliche and generally redundant, anger is fiery by default, if it's something else then it has a descriptor like cold anger. Infatuations are also kind of sappy by default.
>and kindness
like it
>His face was now iced over. His back began to droop. The last of his blood was wrung out through his cut. Now slumped over, and with the last of his vitality
the last x2 is bad, and you just said the last of it came out
>he listened to the drips and drops and splashes.
drips and drops is cringe, either do drops or drops and splashes, besides those are 3 very different sounds

anyway not bad, I quite like it, especially if it goes somewhere from here
out of words so will attach my work in a minute

>>14747695
my work, beginning of a short story

Everything was grey. The ground was divided by thousands of seemingly random cuts that flowed in and out of each other so that it was impossible to tell where one began and the other ended. The earth was like a sword, struck and beaten until the impurities were shed and what was left was hard and unyielding, the shade of wet sand that had begun to dry. The sky was the patriarchal loom of thunderclouds. Light pushed down from above, narrow gouges though the haze. A man stood there. He wore only an open robe which drifted to and fro as though under its own power. He was young and in the presence of the aged, mighty stones sat on the earth, descendants of those that could be found on the beaches of Scotland, taken, warped and bloated until they stood taller then men such as that that approached them.

Not long ago, I went on a winter walk through a windy, grey park in the company of a stranger whom I had just met. The trail was winded and slipshod--some parts were dangerously narrow, following the natural footprints of small grass hills and valleys, and others were laid with rough pavingstone, sitting wide and long in view of a white creek that meandered from under a roadway bridge. I admired the beauty of the scene around me, but felt no joy in it. Strangely, I was disturbed by the thought that all this beauty was already extinct; I was in-fact looking at dried-up grass and leafless trees, but I was unsure of whether I should reflect on how this scene was once beautiful in the summer, is going to be beautiful in the spring, or that it was somehow beautiful at this very moment. Its poeticism seemed ruined. Yet bitter as I may have seemed, I paused under a willow and gave to think of some solace as to how human beauty and all the beauty and exultations that men have created, or may create, could be saved from decay: I somewhat knew that the final cause of nature was sensual and artless. Yet this, in of itself, was to my thoughts in truth completely beautiful.
It’s freezing..
It’s really not. I enjoy this kind of weather.
We brace for another gale.
Yesterday was perfect.
She wore light makeup around the eyes, with a little eyeliner.
Lambskin boots.
She pouted whenever she pondered.
Oh God--I said: Could it be?

>>14747695
Thank you. I see your point regarding odd words and sentences. The reason for is that I was trying to make it lyrical at times (I don't know if you noticed). Basically if I wanted to summarize what was happening, the character, presumably during a conversation, looses himself in the pic related's eyes, which is likened to a globe. Then considers these beauties are all superficial and nothing, so becomes and cynical, but then has a mystical revelation and discovers "an inherent goodness" or "light" in the very core of everything, which makes him extremely happy. These are likened and correspond to the different layers of her eyes. But seems like I failed to communicate the idea in the text.
>>14746967
I'm not sure if as a beginner if my critcs would be helpful.

>>14747718
Where are your crits?

>>14747792
>I'm not sure if as a beginner if my critcs would be helpful.
So you decided to ignore the OP's rules and selfishly post solely for your own benefit?

>>14747792
>I'm not sure if as a beginner if my critcs would be helpful.
Not him but even bad criticism can be helpful. I'd even say you shouldn't expect much more than that, from here. It's the writer's job to figure out what's tripping people's alarms if the critics aren't doing a great job of saying so themselves. But this is all on the assumption that the criticism you're getting/giving is actual crit and not just insults, etc.

>>14747806
>So you decided to ignore the OP's rules and selfishly post solely for your own benefit?
Yes.
>>14747823
I see your point. I'll try.

>>14747701
I like the imagery, but this part:
>The ground was divided by thousands of seemingly random cuts that flowed in and out of each other so that it was impossible to tell where one began and the other ended. The earth was like a sword, struck and beaten until the impurities were shed and what was left was hard and unyielding
This part is a bit unclear. I don't know what I should imagine based on this.
>>14747718
I like it but midparagraph attention starts to fade. Consider adding something to grab the reader's attention again.

>>14740978
>The snow was up to the kid’s knees and continued to come down in large wet flakes that felt like a drop of water when they would land on your tongue.
Bringing me to the tounge without having any particular character stick their tounge out is a good objective, but some parts of this line are too obvious. I also question the necessity of "when they would land," even though the landing is important for the image.

Going on, you have all of these keywords. Like in vidya when some text is colored different from the rest. I can tell it's deliberate, but you deliver them in this sort of predictable cadence.

>Rob and Murder eight; It’s Australia MEight
That's is how I'd write it, keep it that way.

>..." Andrew shouted over the tinny song coming out of the bargain speakers.
You're cramming a lot into here, like the opening line, only you have even less space to do it I think. Some of this should be cut.

>The sun was setting, and the sky was slowly turning a darker and darker gray, it was getting so dark it was hard for the boys to see the screen.
Unclear if this is part of the game at first, and you have a bad comma splice.

>turning a darker and darker gray, it was getting so dark it was
Too much. Just saying that it was getting harder to see the screen at the end would be fine, you don't need to specify that the darkening you've already mentioned is the cause.

>Peter’s turn was still going, still driving the sedan that he had started his turn in.
>Peter's turn
>his turn
Yucky. Just say "he'd started in."

>over his first three turns,
This shouldn't be a comma.

>He was happy to be at Andrews house
This kinda comes out of nowhere. It could be the start of a new paragraph but I don't know if the prior line is a great place to end one.

>time. they
Caps. Watch for this on names as well.

>hills;
I would just use a period here if there won't be any further mention of the anthills.

>boys curfew’s
boy's curfews

>extremely weakly backlit Gameboy screen
you really have a thing for adjectives pal

>something, just low enough that peter couldn’t decipher any words just noise.
Comma after words maybe, or just those last words.

>The police in the game chased...
Another line that really needs cuts and ironing.

>ravens brother
Raven's brother

>Similar to what his older...
Another.

>...each time it hopped up on the sidewalk or it would hit...
Another.

>punk rock song
The description following this isn't very great, if only because of the delivery.

>“final you crashed the
Finally. You do this again later though, is it on purpose?

>A ladder [...], the ladder
I get that you need to keep me from switching the subject to the hole, but this feels sloppy.

>Peter followed behind the boys sliding out of the hole on his knees and placing his feet on the first rundle of the ladder.
Huh?

I'll go on later.

>>14733860
Please lads

>>14747701
First half stretches on a bit long. Personally I don't think I have the experience to critique much at all (not lazy nobully).

If anyone likes Warhammer 30/40K, here's mine:
https://pastebin.com/xCD8LP94

It happened as it had to happen when you build, against all common sense, a house on the edge of a cliff: shaken by a slight earthquake, it tumbled down the steep slope and disappeared – sploosh – in a foamy fountain of seawater. The inmates of this involuntary vehicle, the Hempel family of three, notoriously ill-famed for their obsessional ideas, which is another word for madness, found a damp and premature end in the abrupt passing of their home. And, if I may add, as sad as the sudden death of a family may be, the sight of a rainbow is, and always will be, beautiful.

Just some frustrated scribbling. I'd like to know if I lay it on too thick. Am I a man or a woman? This is a translation.
I critiqued two times already, but I don't want to link to my posts. Take my word for it.

>>14740978
>>14748792
>Peter landed at the base of a large oak, on either side of him and continuing behind him was a sparse forest; the trees were mostly deciduous like oak, m
Another one. The way you use "him" twice in specifying that the forest was both behind him and on each side is stilted, amd them there's the second "oak" and a lot of detail I think I don't need. Or I at least don't need it semicolon'd in like that. The list would probably work better if some of this earlier stuff were trimmed.

>pasted their chins
past

>Peter followed in Jason’s footsteps he wore
missing a period

>he wore size 7 boots compared to Peters 5; allowing his legs to
comma, not semi

>allowing his legs to slid
slide

>Peter walked towards the house with the gait of a cowpoke with a hand on his six-shooters
Just "cowpoke" would probably be fine. Also, I didn't realize the "leg holes" were holes in the snow until the end of this line. Thought they were pantlegs on some hand-me-down snowpants.

> along with the houses in front the two created a wind tunnel of sorts sending blasts of arctic air down almost tipping him over.
rambly

>in the back door, and peter
"while" would be a better adjective here I think

>climbing out of the snow he couldn’t help but pretend he was stepping into the saloon, spitting a wad of flehm into a snow-covered pot sitting on the porch near him.
There's a lot of fluff in this. You've already given me "cowpoke." Just something like "True to form, he spat a wad of flehm into a snow-covered pot before stepping inside." would be better. Establishing that he'd go so far as to spit to his side makes it clear enough he'll play the rest of the role too.

I'm going to stop mentioning these sorts of mistakes because they're all the same. You waste a lot of time picking up subjects you've already dropped, lay on too many adjectives, and run on in a generally repetitive manner. The cowpoke walk was nice once I put everything together but with the lines for the other boys I was mostly just thinking "yeah yeah where's my fucking cowboy" or something to that effect.

>room. He made it to the bottom of the stairs and into the second living room. The basement was just two rooms
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

>up his butt…haha…and it
Put spaces after ellipses. Also, your dialogue seems stilted. So like, from earlier:

>but what me and Jason want to do is
This sounds like a business pitch. Kids just say that they want to show tou something, or show you this or whatever it is. Not "what we would like to do now, is..."

cont:

>>14740978
>>14749550
>Never again would they be able to see the world around them in the innocent eyes of a child, for the rest of their lives the associations will follow.
"And then my character changed forever because that's what I, the author, did."

The general sequence of events is clever. Boys play a violent game, boys go walk back to the house, boys watch a violent video about walking on glass, and the boy no longer wants to lift his feet up like before. Specifically, I like that the relation of the video/feet not lifting wasn't told to me as "and then the boy refused to lift his feet up because he had just watched a video where lifting feet up and putting them back down resulted in pain, which made him think that he would be in pain if he lifted his feet, which was a real darn shame because he was walking all funny before." You just showed me, instead. But then you go on for paragraphs on end about how "Things... will never be the same..." and how the boy's pure-virgin friends will now be evil desensitized goblins for the rest of their lives due to some video. All of this to the point that I'm doubting what I praised earlier was actually deliberate.

>>14733860
Easily one of the best things I've seen in a critique thread. Post more.

>>14733965
Cringe but on purpose?

Day 9

I remember the Brownian flow of dust particlesaround the vent. I would always think they were candy and try to eat them. One day I even did this in front of my confused aunt. An extreme sadness overcomes me. I know I will die soon, and it was completely forgettable and inconsequential. Nobody remembers it except for me and when I’m dead nobody will remember it at all. I’d love to experience that moment again. Instead I experience the shame in what that innocuous kid grew up to be. I cannot remember the context of it or what I did the rest of the day. All there is that moment and another. My aunt was visiting, which generally meant family troubles. Something was up. Those tenuous asides from my childhood that felt so dire mean nothing now. On the swing-set in my youth. Racing my brother down the slide. Swimming with my sister. Getting my first voicemail from my dada. Sometimes they creep into my conscious, which is all I have to look forward to now. It’s as if there was something to care about in life back then. Now I’m a slumping sack of meat existing in spite of every reason not to. I thought of something from only a week ago, and saw it in the same light: My sentimentality is vapid. I also experience nostalgia when I’m living in a moment forcing myself to pretend to enjoy life. This is what life is. One bad secret waiting, unless you have no secrets, but then you have no life. Solitude is the only way because the only person to uncover them is yourself. It’s easy to let myself down, I did it every day until I lost all my expectations. Of course, I still have some pride, so there’s a few karats of disdain to inflect on myself in the coming years. Life is best alone: in a dark room facing loneliness head-on. I miss being a kid, not actually a kid, but being youthful in spirit I suppose.

>>14749694
Assuming you're being serious, damn, thank you so much! That makes me feel a lot better about the time I've been sinking into it
If you don't mind me asking, what did/didn't you enjoy? I'm only just now getting back into writing after a multi-year break and I'm trying to get an idea of what my strengths and weaknesses are, what I should be making an effort to improve, etc. I constantly think about the reader's reaction as I write but rarely get a chance to actually hear how I did so any info is really helpful
Thanks again!

>>14749772
Thanks.

>>14733860
>over the drainageways
"down" might be better but also might pull the camera down the drain

>visorfog
nice, this does a lot

>snapped to their new position
consider "snapped into position"

>as he removed his tools
consider "as he removed the tools"

>flowing milk below
I don't think reminding me of the flow is necessary

>opening with "They"
Did you mean Marshal and Dillon? You had this all sectioned off so for all I knew, it was something Marshal'd put in Dillon's arm. I haven't been given a concrete setting yet so "circuits" sounded kinda like that.

Pretty nice, I'd keep reading.

>>14749893
All your suggestions are retarded. I'm keeping it as is.

>>14732303
Hello? Cringe department? One of your incles got loose and posted a bunch of hideous crit thread rules.

>>14749669
thanks for the crit. kek

>>14749954
Doubt you're even the same anon

>>14749983
Good intuition anon
>>14749893
Thank you! Smaller notes like this are helpful. I'm also still uneasy about the transition between the scene in the chamber and the one in the "circuits" so I think I'll do some thinking on how to smooth that out. Bless ye, friend

>>14750014
You might not need to alter the second section to actually alleviate that concern. If it helps, I saw my old pink bathroom for the first scene. So, what was outside of that room for me was the rest of my old house, hence "circuits" not resonating. Had that not been the case, the transition could have been a lot better. But if you want to keep me more in the dark, then go for the second section's opening instead.

>>14750029
That's exactly the kind of feedback I was hoping to hear, that's really interesting. Writing improvisationally like this means keeping myself in the dark too and having both myself and the reader piece it together over time, but writing necessarily means coming up with an image and trying to describe it so this is helpful in making sure I'm not mistaking my complete internal images for the actual information I've dealt out about them. I think the fix here is keeping it mostly the same but adding something to the description of the chamber from which you can later infer how it might have connected to the circuits

>>14747931
>This part is a bit unclear. I don't know what I should imagine based on this.

this basically

>>14748909
>jowels
jowls

I like night lords and loyalist night lords are pretty cool, it's well written

as sunlight graces mountaintops
and casts across the sky
and peers through leaves to kiss the ground
so too i meet your eye

lean down from yonder splend'rous seat
yet unmoved there you stay
possess your boldest lover still
who falls for you this day

grant me that fierce abandonment
that throws me to my rest
and paint me clawing, bloodied, spent
so clutch me to your breast

show me that ladder stretching high
that banishes my fear
and mightily instills in me
my love for sweet sophia

bump

>>14733916
that's the hallmark of bad fantasy/genre fiction
the best ones all have solid core messages and themes

>>14751738
I'm not aiming to make sci fi or fantasy, I'm not even aiming to make a publishable piece, I'm just trying to practice and get used to writing again. Although even then I've already naturally stumbled across a thematic angle I'm going to continue keeping in mind as I go

>>14732303

Xerox walked out of his front door on his way to school, box-like architecture circumambient and the rhythmic sound of the morning alarm soothing him, a reminder of his punctuality. Chatter fills his Bourg history class, then silenced by the informant's presence and the declaration that "before I am asked I wish to make it perfectly clear that no, the other side will not be discussed in this class." The Bourg Educational Curriculum, better known as 'BEC' defines the other side as a "hemisphere of unknown contents, identical in mass to Bourg, ensuring nonimplosion." Further, the BEC states that "suggestions of alternate society or societies will not be tolerated, as such projections of delusion regress progress and harbour the potential for insanity."
"Strange" Xerox thought, "but I'm sure the informant brought it up for a reason." Once the lesson came to finish, Xerox found himself inexplicitly remained in his seat. The informant's demeanour and facial expressions had left him in a feeling of ambiguity. The informant gazed at a wall, his stance straight but eyes distant. "Is anything the matter, Xerox?"
"Sorry sir, just got lost in thought."
"A dangerous thing," the informant responded. "Concerning yourself in what is more, even if important."
Xerox was shocked, his body rigid but interally interested, acting conjunctively to keep him still in his chair, not saying a word.
"I must be off then." The informant muttered, swiftly making his exit. Xerox sat in a state of disbelief. All conclusions made outside of logical reasoning are strictly forbidden, and Xerox had just witnessed an informant outright characterise this type of thinking as a forbidden fruit. Two uneventful classes later and he was on his way home, nervousness and curiousity pinging around his mind. He had come to the conclusion that there was something gravely wrong with him, namely due to the fact that he hadn't reported his B'history informant to the board of education, despite knowing he must. The evening alarm rings and he enclosed his face with his hands, realising that he's sweating perfusely and doubles over his sink. Xerox's unit, the same as all others, is unanimously accepted as the objective best possible residence. A cold metal desk, bed and kitchen can all be seen by doing a three-sixty degree rotation in the centre of the open rectangular room. An unprecedented event, Xerox did not eat his evening meal upon hearing the bell. The only thing he longed for was the more of which his informant spoke.

>>14749694
If you were serious about wanting any more:

>>14750602
Thanks, did the general story make sense? it's a warband of Sons of Horus possessed who predate on an isolated starfort. They torture its denizens, like with the servitor that has been recovered sentience and emotion with warp magic.
Then a distress signal emerges from an abandoned waystation. The waystation was the nest which the SoH luperci/possessed were operating out of. Loyalist Night Lords killed them all to get a token to show they were loyal to the system's Imperial representatives (so they wouldn't be fired on and mistaken for traitors, etc).
Dunno if I conveyed this well enough.

>>14751851
>Xerox
google that name, also dropped

This thread is a fucking travesty. Why is no one bothering to critique?

>>14752220
scroll up a bit

>>14749226
It's not offensive to the eyes but the pace is probably better untranslated.

>>14751851
I agree that you might be better off ditching Xerox as a name
I like this, perhaps more than I should. Some of your sentences feel a tad crowded and your wordier phrases can trip up the pacing but overall I enjoy the atmosphere and like what it seems like you're setting up world-wise. Keep at it!

>>14751851
I like your writing and what you gave me so far has me drawn in, but I feel like at times your narrating voice can slip into the common sci-fi voice, like hitchhikers guide or something in that realm. Also, as the others said, change the name haha

My writing: Those years they were Inseparable: hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand; wherever you saw one the other was only a few steps behind. They lost their virginity in those two years together, at age sixteen, in the basement of Max’s father's house. Awkward and euphoric, they forged their relationship in a young ecstasy. After that, it was the car, her parent’s house, his mother’s, his friend’s bathroom; strengthening a bond that had the potential to turn disastrous. Max was handsome; he had a straight jawline that came to form a perfect chin just below thin lips that he saw as his only bad feature. His perfect chin sat at the bottom of a face that rounded once it left the jaw. finishing at blond hair that flowed down like a golden waterfall to his shoulders. In the perfect spot in the middle of his face was his nose, small and rounded it pointed up just exposing his nostrils. Blue eyes were placed by god in the perfect spot not too far from the bridge of the nose but not too close. Eva, like max, also had a straight jawline; ending with a perfect chin rounded and soft to show her feminine mystic. Her eyes were also blue and sat a little close to her nose, but nobody other than herself or her mother noticed. The nose that sat between her insecurities she was proud of. Small but angular and on any other person’s face would have looked out of place, but on her it complimented it. Beauty came to both slowly, throughout high school more and more noticed, putting them in the upper echelon popularity. During their senior year, they applied to colleges across the street from each other, they knew nothing outside of each other.

>>14733860
>>14751913
The other anon, reading this again from the start:

I just realized you open with an unaddressed "he." Someone might even get the two characters mixed up in the first section. Going back to the second section, I forgot to mention how you use "construction" twice in one line, it's awkward.

>nursed water from the nozzle on his shoulderpad while he tossed his helmet between his hands
Like, back and forth? You didn't give me enough nozzle to permit that. The word doesn't suggest there's too much of itself, and "nurse" is likening it to a nipple or something small. How's he drinking from a pouch like that while also tossing his helmet around?

>A face that should have had a beard but didn't.
Sticks the beard in my head. Maybe it's just me. The word "Beardless." on its own might get the idea across better.

>He hung
This sounds like a new action, but you're only referring to how he's been sitting all along, right? "He'd hung"

I see a big empty room first then have to put the machine in after. Which isn't to say you need to show the machine immediately.

>>14755388
Thanks for this!
>I forgot to mention how you use "construction" twice in one line, it's awkward.
Ah yeah I noticed that since posting and changed the first one to "build"
>Like, back and forth? You didn't give me enough nozzle to permit that.
It'll be elaborated later on but they have camelbak-type water reservoirs in their suits, he's supposed to be drinking through a nozzle on his shoulder while tossing the helmet back and forth, still sitting down. I want to know what threw you off about the nozzle but I'm having a hard time understanding what you meant, would you mind clarifying?
>Sticks the beard in my head. Maybe it's just me.
This was (if I understand you right) the idea, it's supposed to give the image of a beard, then make the reader imagine him without it. It was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing though, I'm not totally sure how effective it actually is
>This sounds like a new action
I see what you mean, I think I'll change it to "hung over" or something

Frozen snow crunched under my feet. Cars and trucks raced by me. I glanced up at the empty, hulking mill that shadowed the slim sidewalk I traveled. Rotting husk from a bygone era. Once the pride of the city, now abandoned. Did we really have so much in common?
Underneath that simple, ugly brick facade once beat the heart of an entire region. Every day, at the crack of dawn, thousands rose so that they might attend. How many years did men toil in that same spot? How far across the world reached the products of their labor? Has any man received a funeral that might even ape the solemn airs which governed the day and days succeeding that final close of those gargantuan wrought iron doors?
Upon reflection, it appears we really did not have much in common. Maybe someday I shall achieve something as noteworthy, doubtful though it may seem. As is, I trudge forward towards destiny and mediocrity.
This one will be a simple job. No desire for notoriety here. The opposite in fact. The last thing I need is police attention.

2drunk2crit sorry boys, maybee tomorrow

>>14754813
>the other character was a woman
Dropped.

>>14750702
I don't think you should end on "Sophia", it almost makes go poem too concrete in subject. While I understand the desire to lend some intimacy to the poem by calling out the subjects name, all the things used to describe her are so universal that we really don't get a sense of who Sophia is, she could be anyone the reader views with the sort of reverent love described in the piece. The effect of this is to instead sorta nullify all the powerful imagery established further by making it the musings of someone about a specific and yet somehow generic person, instead of being about love in and of itself, if that makes sense.

Other than that you start really strong, your first stanza has a great sense of progression, and the way you compare sunlight to vision is powerful.

I think it's a little unclear what this poem is trying to say. It seems to be reaching for higher ideas of salvation but keeps being held down by the specifics. Maybe I'm just a brainlet though

Overall, good imagery and lyricism, but I'm not sure what the overall effect is supposed to be .


Here's mine:
On fire, on fire,
On fire, on fire
On fire, on fire
On fire, on fire:

An aching simmer glowers and showers
Sparks like seeds from a flower

Which rip and rumble across

A cross

A blinding white cross

And below it all more fire

It stretches along
Waking up, and before long
It crackles and cackles a song:

Help! I need somebody
Help! Not just anybody!
Help!

Who will hear our call?
Who will quench us when we fall?

I ask, but miss my desire

>>14754813
Good stuff anon, have you ever read Nabakov? I think the theme of pure young love can really carry some profound emotions, it has high literary potential and there is a lot that could be missed as I think you do, the clumsiness of their inexperience, the learning off of each other, the intense connection, the joy. There are parts you get right, the sense of being in their own world, the world being defined by their partner, the romance developing before their beauty, etc. It’s a worthy theme I hope you can make it work.

>>14733690
>>14733696
>>14733698
>>14733965
All are mine. Still looking for critiques. I see more people liked the second, but disliked the first. I want to make the first one good, because it means a lot too me, so any feedback is wanted.

Now here's my crits for those after my original
>>14734324
>ultraviolet porno mag
why? Overall doesn't feel personal. Well-written, but seemingly soulless as the main purpose is to show off your writing skills. You are a good writer though, but this was boring and dull. I'd like to read a longer work from you though, I think it could be good.

>>14735596
>Wrote this on Ousmane Sembènes film about a Senegalese woman who becomes a servant for wealthy Parisians hoping to explore Paris but ends up killing herself under subjugation.
Haven't seen any Sembene. Have heard of him as I spent the majority of late teens-early twenties pursuing film, I'm 23 now. I expected this to be a criticism not a poem.

>>14735638
>My general criticism for fiction would be that a goal should be to make the reader feel something
All non-fictional is fictional insofar as it creates a narrative or world-views or systems. True non-fiction would be like work manuals or medical books etc.

>>14740867
Unfortunately, the same as previous anon. This is a smart and intelligent work, but not compelling in the slightest. It's as if nobody has any voice of their own anymore. I don't care about grammar or the correct word, but raw emotion and voice. I recommend Kerouac to loosen your asshole.

>>14741002
>This is not achieved by dictionary-like accuracy, but mainly by character and plot.
Anon thinking he knows anything. Tell that to Nabokov. Tell that to Milton. There's no given reason why any work is great, it just is. Telling anon his work is bad because it didn't do what you wanted it to do is worthless advice.

>>14738184
IDK why you did that annoying shit on the bottom. Anon this is fantastic though, you have a voice and some sense of passion. Gas station culture is sentimental. However, you put too much unf into one paragraph. Space it out, slow it down, relax and don't be afraid to bore the reader to sleep and then bam wake him up with your passion.

>>14741972
This is way too short to critique.

>>14738095
>This is what life is
I think I did the exact same line in mine, and reading it in yours it does not come across well, so I will change it in mine too.
>why I suffer and struggle and weep
weep was a good word choice

Unfortunately, this type of work has been done better or could be done better. I think you need to overbear the reader with profundity not come across as an accessible in a seemingly very esoteric work. You're trying to depict the ambiguity of life, so it would make sense to make this passage (especially his internal thoughts) ambiguous.

>>14746151
Unfortunately, this is terrible. Please try again.

>>14747718
>whom
not sure if this is correct. My grammar is bad though.

>>14756442
Holy cringe

>>14747718
>>14756754
P2.
>I admired the beauty of the scene around me, but felt no joy in it
First person has to depict somebody interesting not the local retard you drink with from time to time. This is a dull line.

>Strangely, I was disturbed by the thought that all this beauty was already extinct
Anon...

>I was in-fact looking at dried-up grass and leafless trees, but I was unsure of whether I should reflect on how this scene was once beautiful in the summer
You need to stop trying so hard and analyzing so much. Let the story be told, don't insert your stupid life commentary.

>>14749226
This is pretty good to be honest.

>>14751851
>box-like architecture circumambient
'I'm so smart hehehe'

>rhythmic sound of the morning alarm
hardly ever are morning alarms rhythmic. My college alarm gives me panic attacks to this fucking day waking up at 630 drunk, going to practice, then going to class dehydrated and about to die does not do me any favors. Fucking alarms rhythmic, they are literal hell.

>a reminder of his punctuality
I envision a metrosexual latino from California with big hips and am inclined to put down.

>The informant's demeanour and facial expressions had left him in a feeling of ambiguity
You don't need your characters to be vessels to tell the reader how to feel. Write for yourself, who gives a shit if anyone reads it. If it gives you a catharsis or sense of understanding you're fine.

>>14751913
Seems stiff. Rework to add some authenticity.

>>14754813
This is very good. However, it's already finished. You told your entire story in one paragraph, don't know if you wanted that or not. Good job though, I recommend not writing so much in one space if you want to make a longer work though.

>>14756061
eh

>>14756442
All the world knows that a lyrical poem must be experienced in order to bear the characteristics of the genuine and original. The mood that becomes loud and luminous in the poem must have filled the poet himself, and his poem must have risen from it if it is to communicate itself to the listener. Only the wording of such poems imprints itself on receptive minds, without ever having been learned by heart with conscious effort, and when the heart in which such a poem has taken root is full of the feelings it addresses, the heart makes itself air of its own accord in the words in which the poet has said what he suffers. That is not a recitation from memory, but a living rebirth. Whoever has created such a poem, which has been caught by a human soul, has given that soul a strengthening of the heart, a happiness, a consolation for life.