/lit/ - Literature

Not the bees the caged man sang
we crushed him to a pulp, and passed the bones around.
A vector transformation to a lower degree
so thin to have no breadth at all.
Zero width tiffs, sharp pangs, corrupted and cached.
Shared and cast outward. A wide webbed world, the fisher of men,
the hair is a bird, the father, the son and the holy ghost writer.
Cage the sad strange man, silence his uncanny scream.
We are the edge lords, on high ledges,
mouths filled with nothing but reference,
wax dripping down our thighs.

>>15646602
Like a good amount of the language in this one, but I think the Nick Cage stuff and using "edge lords" kind of detracts from the tone. I'd probably say commit one way or the other to either a mostly farcical or mostly serious thing.

I am in a head and body surrounded by rooms.

What do you think of my story outline?

Main character: works at father’s bakery, during morning bakes bread, pastries, cakes, during daytime works as cashier, during night caters baked goods at weddings.
No one notices her or appreciates her work. One day she thinks about asking father for raise, more say in how the business is run, or gaining recognition, and coincidentally her father comes over to talk about something important. He asks if she can also work on holidays. She tries to talk about a business idea to sell branded cakes at Mall-mart, but she stutters and mumbles a lot. Boss father dismisses her and says they specialize in custom cakes anyway.
One day she’s working at bakery and her father comes with chef costume. He is here to do an interview and photo-op for a magazine. Later she reads the magazine and he’s telling people that he is the only one making the cakes. But as a result of the magazine advertisement, he’s gained a new client in Austria. They’re rich people throwing a party and they need someone to bake custom cakes.
“That’s why I’m the boss,” he says.
They fly to Austria.
Before the party, main character works 12 hour days baking cakes, hors d'oeuvres, decorating cakes in a fancy way. One day, a guy walks by and notices her hard work. She feels appreciated. They go out on a date and he shows her his wood sculptures. She notices his hard work and he feels appreciated.
Prince is impressed with main character’s work and offers her a job at the Austrian castle. Her father goes back to America.
Main character learns how to make Austrian-style baked goods and with prince’s help, networks. Prince learns to be less shy with showing his art and speaking up when talking to professional sculptors. They encourage each other to be more confident and business-savvy.

>>15647356
They hold an art exhibition. It’s a success. Each sell stuff and get more clients. They think they can marry and bake cakes and create sculptures happily ever after.
Elderly queen disapproves. Royalty can’t make profit while being royalty.
Main character meeting with queen: Queen says that neither the king nor queen can spend their free time making sculptures or baking cakes. Main character has to choose between her and prince pursuing their own interests versus doing their duty, i.e., taking care of their castle and legacy. Main character decides to go back to the US. Queen approves of this and gives her a check.
Main character goes home. Father now appreciates her business sense and gives half of bakery to her. Since running the business alone, he realizes how much work she did. She and father go to Mall-mart executives and pitch plan for branded cakes. She has a solid business plan and presents it competently. They get the contract. She uses money from Queen’s check to set up factory. Main character gets interviewed for magazine. She says she and her father co-own the bakery and it now makes both mass-produced and custom cakes.

Epilogue: Main character is in her new bakery, looking at expansion plans in the US. The prince walks in. He has abdicated throne so he can be with her and fulfill his dream of being professional sculptor.

>>15647362
>>15647356
Feels like the story wanders around without much purpose. Could be a cute rom-com if you made us care about the characters

>>15647123
thanks. without getting too heady, it's centering around the memetic reduction of something (cage/wicker man in this case, among other things), and the life it takes on afterwards as a meme. the contrast of farcical/serious themes was meant to reflect how the intended seriousness/horror of the source (the wicker man) has supplanted the unintentionally comedy of its failure to convey seriousness/horror effectively. that was part of my intent at least, guess it fell short.

>>15647356
>>15647362
the conflict is light and the resolution feels predictable. i personally don't find it compelling based on the outline alone.

https://pastebin.com/dSrgHXBh

I often wish to post my garbage unstructured poetry for you guys to laugh at, but when it comes down to it I shy away from it. Any poetry losers have any general tips on how to improve?
>>15646602
I laughed, not at the quality but at the content. Is that intentional?
>>15647356
>>15647362
If the story does not include a very detailed description of the main character making a cake i will be severely disappointed.

I know these are shite but can someone tell me which one is the most pleasing. Also general crits would help too.

cursed is the woman with an ascetic for a husband

our friends give us pitying looks
and offer us support
because he wears such simple dress
and eats unseasoned millet for his breakfast
so each time i shake my head and blush
and find some fickle excuse

and at the dinner table he's quiet and plain
so they think him a dullard
or some other illiterate fool
even though he knows the greeks well
and can defend axioms rare and obscure

he wont buy up houses and let them for rent
or take on business deals that draw from the poor
or lend money for interest
or avoid the truth when he really should

he wont be of mind to take a winter coat,
if the weather is frigid and biting
or speak to our physician
if some injury he's sustained
so that only weeks later we'll discover it

and most nights i'm left untouched
as if i had slept beside a brother
so that by morning i'm about ready to find some other man
to do the husbands work

and if i had known all this
since my father dressed it up all in elegance and regalry
i would have chosen the barrister instead
cursed is the women with an ascetic for a husband

his dress is miserly and dun
and meals are dull and low
so pitying are the looks we won
from peers who think they know

he refuses sound agreement
that'd make us rich and gay
and wont let out a house for rent
or give out meagre pay

when dining in our hall
our guests all think him weak in head
since talk is plain and small
yet in the greeks he is well read

wont call for our doctor
nor think to take out clothes more warm
if some ailed bone is sore
or the weather seems want to harm

most night i find i'm left untouched
as if i'm with brother
so that by morning i'm willing
his role to another

damn father kept it well
but if any of it i'd known
that cursed wedding bell
i would have chosen to postpone
to dodge this saintly hell

Criticize my story line

A young girl who leads a completely normal life one day gets a brain injury that lets her see into her own future, like an out of body experience.
She sees herself living a good, bright future and is very happy. Back in the present she discovers that she can peek into the future at will, and uses it to see the future of her friends. However. she finds out that one of her friends will get brutally murdered and the first act revolves around her using her powers to prevent this from happening.
She seemingly succeeds but later it is revealed that all her efforts are for nothing. Desperately trying to find an answer she sees too far into the future and arrives to her last day, as a cancer patient. The second act of the story focuses on her despair as she tries to saver herself from her future, slowly finding out that all the people around her are going to experience inescapable tragedies. Time passes and she eventually arrives to the first future she saw, instead of being the bright and shinny future she had first seen, she lives an unfulfilled life surrounded by tragedy and the ever-present knowledge of her own terrible demise.
The third act revolves around her life coming apart. All the tragedies she foresaw become reality as she finally realizes all she could do was look into the future but she never had any chance to change any of the events that occurred in her life.Time keeps moving forward, moving her closer to her death. She lives her days with the people she loves, drowning in melancholy and doing her best to enjoy life. The story ends a long time before she gets cancer and a long time before her last day of life, when she finally gives up on seeing the future.
Of course there's a lot of details I skipped over, but that's basically the story. It started out as an Azumanga Daioh fanfic.

>>15648079
Critique
>The lack of capitalisation is a nice touch, it gives off a rather neutral or soft tone, even something that implies it was born from the Internet Age.
>"knows the greeks well" Fine. O.K. But this isn't really a sign of education or erudition anymore, as it is more attuned to like 4chan autodidacticism.
>rhyming is okay but not sure why you're adding it to such a minimalist and seemingly k mart realism type of piece. it throws off the reader.
>it's fine, it has potential, but you kind of squander it

Piece, a pastiche:
>SEPTEMBER – YEAR OF THE MAOIST KOALA CHOCOLATE BAR
>For Moishe Goldstein, #56, night is like the day’s cuckolder. The day is a cuckold who preps the bull before night takes over for about fourteen hours or less. There’s something about the way it just sucks off the night-time with all its juicy sunrays. It made Moishe think about Kabala and the eschatological premonitions of Pan Cogito.
>Moishe Goldstein’s brother, a practicing Rabbi, wakes up alone at 0830h. amid a damp scent of juvenile blood and Aryan precum stains on the sheets. A twig of incense is burning away near the various copies of the Torah he had ordered, in hope someone might order some to convert to Judaism after wedding a fully developed Khazar milker.
>Moishe makes brisket as he always does in the morning, by heating it up in the microwave. It’s leftovers from last night, as his mother is known to always cook brisket every Monday evening for her two NEET sons. There was a saying that went ‘Jewish sons never fall far from the nest’ which ran through the Goldstein family like somewhat of a mantra.
>They’re both wearing the knitwear that Ima knitted them in commemoration of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising that even their own ancestors had participated in the distant past, but which felt like the most recent of events to them.

>>15648212
What is Kmart realism. Should I try the theme again allowing myself more syllables? 10-8 maybe?

>>15647356
>>15647362
This sounds like the garbage I read by MFA's in the literary magazines I shouldn't have wasted my money subscribing to. A painfully failed attempt at self-pity and self-realization by someone who cannot comprehend that life can be worse than your parents not being totally okay with financing your dreams. At least you have the good sense not to have your main character be against Mall-Mart based on some hazy notion that making money from art is wrong.
Also, it's impossible to take someone seriously when they ask you for your opinion on their plans. Until you've committed yourself to action (by writing the story instead of posting a vague outline) it impossible to tell if it is a good idea.
Here is my contribution to the thread. It is called "Comedy of Badminton." Critiques are not requested and will not be read.
https://pastebin.com/F8ec98s2

I freeze up when he spanks me, as I wasn't expecting it, but part of me wants more.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I say.

I feel him speed up, and another firm, hard smack goes across my ass, earning a decently loud scream of pleasure from me.

"I think you do." he says, slapping my ass again for emphasis.

I grab onto the cushions as he speeds up even more, the sounds of him slamming into my ass filling the room, along with my slutty moans.

"Fuck!" I moan out.

"You were this serious and stuck up bitch when you came over," he says, spanking me once again. "But now look at you. Bent over and being fucked by your son's bully. And you fucking love it." he says, pounding even faster.

He grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls back, making me look up at the wall. My screams have gotten louder, and the pleasure is fucking unbearable.

"Fucking admit it. You love this a whole lot more than acting like a good mom and chewing out your son's bully." he says.

His cock keeps pounding away ruthlessly, and it's slamming against the deepest parts of my cunt.

"Say it!" he says, spanking me.

"I fucking love this so much!" I scream out. "I love how good your cock feels! It feels so fucking wrong, but it just makes it feel even better!"

>>15648164
>Criticize my story line
read the op faggot, but sure i can help. it stinks

>>15648363
forgot this part
"So you don't care that I bully and harass your son whenever I see him?" he asks, his voice gruff.

"I don't! I don't care! Just keep fucking me-e-e-e!" I moan out, my eyes almost rolling to the back of my head from the pleasure.

>>15648334
I wanted this to be much worse than it was.

>>15648363
please migrate to literotica

There is not a time
When I will look at the sky
Feeling underwhelmed

Clear skies, heavy rain
Oh how it is filled with rain
Regardless I look

The gate that you made
I can see it all so clear
When you allow it

Don't toss me aside
Let me peer into that blue
For my better days

>>15647968
Now please respond to my post

>>15648334
There's inconsistencies from as soon as sentence one.

>>15648417
I haven't read this post, but upon re-reading my story I see that I refer to the tiger by two different names. Nothing else is incorrect.

>>15647755
This was moving, makes me think of Salinger

>>15648079
I think I like the first better

anons on /v/ are using this greentext as the skeleton for a visual novel about volcano high, that garbage looking ps5 launch title. I'm told
the romance is disjointed and doesn't follow an organic path. How can I make it more natural?
https://pastebin.com/gHDeQCRE

>>15648530
to be more clear, the visual novel obviously has more endings planned, including an ending where fang does a school shooting

>>15648401
Reign

>>15648479
The inconsistency is still there.

>>15648530
The main character is incoherent. He has no friends so he attends concerts to try to meet people and he thinks of 4chan boards, yet he has enough confidence to diss a band out loud in public?
You randomly switch from first person to second.
You use a double negative.
I can't tell if the transition from coldness to friendship was natural because I have no idea what happened. The MC has a random flashback of katanas and suddenly apologises? This is schizophrenic.
It's ironic that you try to posture you're above the game by calling it garbage when you write this.

>>15648363
great piece of flash fiction. no unnecessary intro. starts with a visceral shock that makes you feel the mom's surprise, and brings the dialectic of her character to the breaking point, ending right where it needs to. continue?

picrel is mine

>>15648363
great piece of flash fiction. no unnecessary intro. starts with a visceral shock that makes you feel the mom's surprise, and brings the dialectic of her character to the breaking point, ending right where it needs to. continue?

picrel is mine

>>15648614
Looks like a lot of plot and worldbuilding. What are the themes? Thesis?

>>15648592
good points. The perspective issue will naturally not be a problem in the full project, but either way i'll keep that in mind in the future.
I don't think anon laughing was out of character considering others were already making fun and he was just joining in. But I'll try to keep him more consistent from now on.
The apology scene is supposed to be anon realizing that fang is just being weird for attention, like he used to do until it ruined him to the point of having to transfer. I'll make it more obvious when I flesh it out though, thanks for raising your concern. thanks for being critical about it

>>15648363
great piece of flash fiction. no unnecessary intro. starts with a visceral shock that makes you feel the mom's surprise, and brings the dialectic of her character to the breaking point, ending right where it needs to. continue?

picrel is mine

>>15648640
Damn bro, you're defensive. You don't need to comment on every single point, just take what's useful and leave what's not.
Anyway, now that you've explained the friendship scene, I can analyse it not being organic better. The girl doesn't have a personality. Her only trait are her pronouns, which is ironic when you think of how 4chan complains about how media writes lgtb people as defined by their labels. She doesn't have a concrete voice or opinions, so when the main character decides to apologise the decision is all on him. He progresses the relationship all on his own, and apparently he does this because she reminds him of when he was a immature kid, so all he feels is pity? Why would I keep pursuing this romantic path in a game when you've told me I should dislike her? It's clear you're at odds between hating her snowflake identity and having to write her romantically. You're supposed to try to sell her as likeable.

>>15648688
>media writes lgtb people as defined by their labels
funnily enough that's exactly what the real character is, that's part of the inspiration to do this.
>You're supposed to try to sell her as likeable.
ohhhhh, you're right. that's what I'm missing. so she should be doing a good deal more. Now that I think about it yeah, it is anon doing most of the stuff.

>>15648716
>funnily enough that's exactly what the real character is
Haven't we only gotten a trailer? She hasn't said a line of dialogue, so you don't know shit about what the real character is. You just want to be outraged so you wrote a strawman where she's defined by her pronouns instead of trying to surpass the potential game and writing a layered character.

>>15648729
the official discord bans people for having problematic text in the profiles linked to their discord account and for making people uncomfortable by mentioning cancer, it's a pretty good indicator of their mindset.
also her character bio is pretty damning with the point that she's just in an attention-seeking rebellious phase

>>15648763
The bio lays out a character arc pretty clearly about a rebel who wants to reach out but is afraid of getting hurt. There's no mention of her pronouns. It practically writes itself, but because you're obsessed with the outrage, you wrote about nothing but her pronouns.

>>15648530
Spent more time than I should have looking up why this is even a project. Yeah I get you fags are doing the whole waifu bit but that's kind of the problem here. Waifus don't make for interesting or relatable romances because it's always inherently about the fantasy aspect of a girl falling head over heels for you because she was secretly in love the whole time. There's no change there's no development. I'm excusing minor details like first and second person because this is greentext, but fuck, all endings reek of a misunderstanding of what's wrong with her and what's required to fix it, romance or not. Approaching it from the angle of seeing the flaw and fixing it will help a lot of the underlying dissonance. Unless y'all just wanna make a fantasy game where you get the perfect tradwaifu and live happily ever after because all she really needed was you, then by all means. Just don't pretend like this is anything but the original game's MO with a different coat of paint.

>>15648771
you're the one here trying to strawman me here by saying i'm 'outraged', it's pretty much what >>15648779
is saying.
>>15648779
I see. How would seeing the flaw and fixing it go down?

>>15648801
I said you're obsessed with the outrage, not outraged. You care so much about the identity politics of it that you know the game's official discord banning policies, bro. You had a clear character path to follow and you decided to make her character all about her pronouns, exactly what you complain about, instead of doing what you would like to actually see. You're essentially getting mad at the game before it was released by writing its maddening version yourself.

Rate my story outline desu
>This story follows the triumphs and tragedies of a Greek-Australian man named Lucky and his chain of restaurants. It's a story of family, a fire, the mystery of a father, jealousy and unintended consequences, love, and the threads that bind people to each other.

>>15648809
>You care so much about the identity politics of it that you know the game's official discord banning policies, bro.
actually we found out the hard way when we tried to go there for extra info on the characters
>you decided to make her character all about her pronouns
it's mentioned twice bruv
> instead of doing what you would like to actually see.
how would you change it?

>>15646602
Unironically solid

>>15648840
>it's mentioned twice bruv
She has no dialogue in her introduction that isn't about her pronouns. That's what the entire interaction is about. When I first called you on it, you said "that was the point, to riff on the (unreleased) game". Not much use in denying it now. You decided to create something to be mad at.
>how would you change it?
oh I don't know come up with a personality, lay out a character arc, give her a background and hobbies that aren't related to her pronouns?

>>15648855
wow m8 it's almost like we're planning on doing exactly that and fleshing it out
either way thanks for the feedback, we got a lot to work on now

>>15648892
You could've written her well from the start, but I guess it was easier to focus on the things you hate, huh?
Here's my advice: play less videogames for children and read more actual books if you're going to write something.

>>15648905
>>15648892
>>15648855
Get out of my thread, Cabrones!

Anons I need some advice. I'm having a hard time making my characters seem realistic, human, or relatable, because of the relentless pace of my book making them seem like robots.

My book is filled with explosive combat scenes, which I love, but the flip side of that is my characters being just stiff caricatures that can only react emotionally if someone gets hurt. Other than that, they just fight. It makes no sense for me to inject a 'calm' scene where they talk or unwind or relax or whatever, when they're racing against the clock or are being hunted down and killed. I don't know how I can get these scenes in. And would a few calm scenes even work? I feel like the issue with my characters being shallow runs further than that.

Just to give an example, here's the rundown of the first third of my book.
>protagonist arrives in Ireland, ends up shooting a man dead in a mixup
>she stops a hanging of one of her friends and saves her life
>is immediately recruited into an expedition to an abandoned facility
>ambushed on the way, one of her team dies
>ambushed again near the entrance, extremely bloody fight, her team splits apart and runs off
>it's just her and her boyfriend who also got shot
>she races inside the facility solo to gather tools for ghetto surgery to save him
>kills a man to obtain surgery equipment, goes back, saves her boyfriend's life, sticks him in a cold shower to reduce fever.

shower scene is the first 'calm' scene of the book. everything else is just relentless action. is my book fucked? do I need to write about boring shit for my characters not to seem like robots?

help me, anons. I can't have my first semi-human scene be 30 000 words in...

>>15648779
> Unless y'all just wanna make a fantasy game where you get the perfect tradwaifu and live happily ever after because all she really needed was you
you say that like it's a bad thing

>>15648932
What exactly is stopping you from cutting half of those ambushes? None of it seems to contribute to anything.

>>15648947
it's like saying to cut the action from an action movie, though, isn't it? brutal combat is supposed to be the draw of the book, at least that's what I was thinking.

it just becomes less impactful if the characters aren't believable...

>>15648955
You seem to be responding to yourself -- you know what to do. There's no reason to care about action without characters, and there's no reason to care about characters without development. You're not making a movie, you're writing a book. Action is not interesting in a book, but dialectic drama. Every action scene should further the characters' journey in some way. If they are just there for the sake of action, cut.

>>15648241
>What is kmart realism
/lit/, I didn't realise it was summer somewhere until today

>>15647356
>>15647362
I see you took the advice I gave you in the last thread to heart. Unfortunately you're now missing the "gun" (so to speak) that you fire in the last act, so that when the bullets fly the whole thing appears contrived. The solution is to think about the relationship between Prince and his mother and the MC and her father, keeping in mind:

1. That these relationships should be the same but different, i.e different aspects of the same argument.
2. The relationships should be pushed to their extremes so that the characters are in irreconcilable conflict.
3. The relationships should cohere to the principal argument, which means that you cannot have the main character reconcile with her father and the prince abandon her mother and then have them runaway together (at least not in such a short space of time). In other words, the natural conclusion to the epilogue is for the MC to deny the Prince, having outgrown his childish egoism--or alternatively to have the MC deny her father, having outgrown his parental influence.

Ignore the naysayers in this thread. This story, in its fairy tale simplicity, can be quite powerful and its message is quite relevant to the developmentally arrested adults that pervade modern society (many of whom browse this board). Good luck!

>>15648801
Aight you kind of get this is an attention seeking thing. But this is as much of a symptom as the gender thing, not the root cause. Bio says she's neglected by her parents because her brother is perfect and gets everything right. He's a goody two shoes with grades and parents, popular, I'm guessing that other girl is his gf too. Fang's response is to adopt an "I need nobody" attitude, and has basically bought an off the shelf personality and identity to compensate. People like this do not feel like they have agency. They lack self actualization. These "store-bought" identities from ideologies like the LGBTQIAAOMGWTFBBQ people and racebaiters offer only the feeling of validation without the essential step of self. This behavior you can find in (You) baiting on 4channel, which is an attempt to find some semblance of "I exist!" instead of realizing you can't get that affirmation from outside. Fang adopting Tradwife, sticking with high school attitudes, or shooting up the school isn't fixing the problem of her gaining agency. You can fix this by having Anon be there as an example of being a self-actualized person, he shouldn't be there to fuck her or save her. Every choice that's not purely cosmetic should be set up with the intent to help her gain agency. She feels like she's always compared to her brother, never judged on her own merits or personhood, so she substitutes this with an identity that comes with excess baggage. It shouldn't matter if she's goth or bisexual, as long as this comes from within, and not because this will make up for her lack of personhood. This is why tradwife is missing the point a bit, it's substituting colored hair and pronouns for Jesus and prayer. She still does it because its an identity without any real substance of the self behind it. Or maybe I am talking out my ass and all she really did need was a man to fuck the degeneracy out of her. You guys do you

>>15648969
So I'm doomed to include boring filler emotional scenes with characters talking and eating and sitting around, just for my action scenes to later mean anything? Are there no action-centric stories with believable characters?

>>15649085
Stick to video games and movies.

>>15649076
incredibly based post, this is a huge help

>>15649095
Only a book can make you 'feel' like you're in the middle of combat with explosions, guts floating around, the smell of blood, while you're tearing out organs with your bare hands and your friends' head bursts from a sniper's shot.

Fuck movies, fuck games.

>>15647294
Unironically better

>>15646602
I read it twice and I like it, your language is very cogent. You tackled a tough subject- writing seriously about jokes.

Maybe a dumb question, but your final line “wax dripping down our thighs,” is that supposed to be a reference to the memes losing their edge, “burning out?” As they’re transformed to “a lower degree so thin to have no breadth at all.”

Good stuff, anon.

>>15649085
>filler
The point of a book is the characters. If you want action, play a VR game.
What are your favorite novels?

>>15648644
>ruminant smokestacks

>>15649074
You seem to know a lot. Where can I learn this stuff?

>>15647356
>>15647362
Sounds like a Hallmark movie.

>>15649117
Action in written form fucking sucks most of the time. The entire point of action is that it doesn't involve long drawn out thinking or ruminating on certain things. Reading something almost by nature takes the "action" out of it. Post some action excerpts from your book and then we'll be able to help you better.

>>15649162
Desperation by Stephen King, the first few Dark Tower books before it got fucking boring, Song of Ice and Fire books but I skip all the pointless characters like Caitlyn and Bran or Sansa. the fights and deaths are the best parts of those books, you're always on the edge of your seat to see what's going to happen. I wanted to write a book that's like that all the time, with unending action, but it's not working.

>>15647356
>>15647362
As some other anons have mentioned, this feels very, very predictable. This is definitely a pop romance, Hallmark channel type novel- you’re dealing with very strong types. The plucky, under-appreciated girl, the prince who just wants to make art... it’s objectively “cute,” which is not a critique or a value statement. You will probably not get much appreciation of the story type because this is 4chan, but as long as you invest in your characters and don’t take the story too seriously, it’s not going to be a disaster.
That being said, my main suggestion would be that because your characters seem from the outline to be almost stock wholesale types, they need to have strong personalities. Both of the lovers being misunderstood by their harsh parents is too much. Are either of them going to be comic figures? You could easily make the Queen very funny- she saw a magazine ad for a bakery, is she into silly fashion magazines and takes it very seriously, does she actually have no taste buds and just chooses the cakes because they look nice in pictures?

To be honest, this is not a story that *I* as a reader, or most of the people on this board, would enjoy, but it is definitely marketable.

I still get scared that whatever is on the screen will come out at get me. I can’t handle these new movies like the transformers or the avengers or Jurassic Park I like silent films mostly the talking is usually too fast in theses new movies to even understand what they’re saying anyways. Dialogue is for books

>>15649199
Action excerpt from my novel:

***
I tightened my grip. He knew something was wrong when his arm started to get smaller, as if the skin sucked in on itself. He hadn’t felt it yet; the sensation was too foreign for his brain to comprehend. But after I vaporized the bone in his arm, I set the energy to release. Two holes opened below his bicep and above his wrist, and they spilled blood and marrow in wire-thin streaks. He screamed. And then I twisted, and his arm came off, amid strips of torn skin, severed arteries hanging off the stump like loose wires. I detached his severed arm from my shoulder and tossed it in the dirt.

“Jesus Christ,” someone said from behind him. “Shoot the fucking scientist.”

I could see the blur that was Yulia dashing from cover off to my left. No one was in range to help me. I tried to move between the screaming man and the new one who was taking aim. He wouldn’t shoot his friend, who was standing right in front of me, holding his-

His scream was cut short by another blast from behind him. The left side of his face, along with his other shoulder turned to red paste mixed with shot pellets flying at me in a black-red splash of force. It was like a punch. I had no chance of standing still, the pellets blew my head back, spun me into the dirt, cut all sensations.

***
I think my action is fairly stylish and flows fine. It just doesn't matter when my character is not 'realistic' and 'believable', I guess, because people don't care if she lives or dies.

>>15649206
I'm sorry, but you sound like a child who focuses on very childish aspects of storytelling. In any case, I'll say this. The deaths in ASOIAF are impactful because you care about the characters. If every chapter was a death you'd feel nothing.

>>15649233
Yeah, I sound like a child because I like genre fiction. Only children read genre fiction.

I don't mind that you feel better about your tastes, really. I appreciate the help though

>>15649245
I didn't say that, but it's telling that you called yourself out like that. I said you sound like a child because out of those books, you focus on pointless things like "man the fights and deaths are so cool!" instead of their techniques or themes.

>>15647755
The story is good, very moving and compelling. The scenes are very clear. You do have occasional grammar mistakes and on my first reading, at least, it feels as though you are trying a little too hard to have a “style.” The story is solid, but I would take the time to read back through and toy with your voice, being honest with yourself at which points you’re imitating someone else or forcing wording.

>>15649232
>because people don't care if she lives or dies
What do you think anybody would say in response to that

>>15649256
I'll admit that I'm playing up my 'insane action addict' persona here, but you can't really tell me I enjoy the wrong things. Sure, there are many things I also enjoy about those books, the gritty realism of war, the way the characters are believable and unique. But the combat scenes are where it all culminates, it's sparks of emotion, fear, worry, awesomeness that makes you jump in your seat. You just don't *get* that in books that don't deal with stakes of death. That's why I'm interested in writing it. I want to get at this emotion of edge-of-your-seat awesomeness.

>>15648212
This is hilarious in a really fucked up, anti-Semitic /pol/ edge humor type way. Please send this to a publisher and post his response.

>>15649284
>But the combat scenes are where it all culminates,
But not where it begins and ends. The action in GOT is an answer to a dozen other questions, most importantly: will the world be ruled by justice or by greed?
For the action to have meaning, we must know which of the characters to root for. We have to know what they want, why they want it, and why the antagonist wants to stop them. Take, for instance, Bron defending Tyrion at the Vale. Imagine that scene devoid of any context. Some random lady wants to throw a dwarf out of a pit. A random mercenary decides to fight for the life of the dwarf. A brief battle ensues, the mercenary wins. The dwarf tosses off a pithy remark and rides off into the sunset. Who cares?
Entire shades of meaning and emotion are missing. That scene is important to us as the reader because we know what's riding on it. In the excerpt from your story, your protagonist kinda comes off as a dick, melting people's limbs for no apparent reason.

>>15649537
You're right about a lot of things. I appreciate the insight.

Though I think GRRM's writing is so realistic on the line level, it'd still be a compelling scene even without context. Though maybe I'm wrong. But in his collection of shorter novellas about the knight Duncan, he's not set up very well before all the fighting starts, and yet I found myself rooting for him. Maybe it's naive for me to want to create realistic, compelling characters with as little space as individual lines... I just worry that including too many slow, character-building scenes will scare off readers who are action fans.

There's also the question of the 'first five pages' that literary agents want when submitting the manuscript. I need to jump into action instantly, I can't start the book with a slow scene or it'll get rejected.

>>15649295
Thanks ese. Good idea.

This is a performance art piece called
>meditación
https://voca.ro/lWvZGK0GCr1

>>15649565
>I just worry that including too many slow, character-building scenes will scare off readers who are action fans.
Character building doesn't have to be dull. Conversations can carry a lot of things: veiled threats, hints of important secrets. Going back to GOT, certain characters manage to inspire dread and fear without ever lifting a sword or personally torturing anyone. Anytime Tyrion speaks to Joffrey, we feel slightly afraid. Ultimately, what we are afraid of is Joffrey ordering Tyrion's execution. Action, so to speak. But in the meantime, we are afraid that Tyrion will slip up and speak a bit too harshly to Joffrey and equally afraid that he will compromise his principles to protect his own life. Watching Tyrion walk that tightrope of suspense is far more tense than an outright swordfight between Joffrey and Tyrion (although that would fairly interesting in it's own right).
>There's also the question of the 'first five pages' that literary agents want when submitting the manuscript. I need to jump into action instantly, I can't start the book with a slow scene or it'll get rejected.
I'm not sure where you got that idea from. Maybe the agents you query won't be into action as much as you are. Maybe he thinks atmosphere is the most important quality. Maybe he likes witty dialogue. Probably he's not going to like a manuscript that leans too heavily on any one aspect of storytelling. Go ask people why they like GOT and they'll all give you a different reason - insightful dialogue, vivid description, unique characters, political intrigue, strong action scenes.

>>15648932
>Female protagonist
Just stop

>>15646602
Based and Cage pilled

>>15648079
First narrative poem in months that's been more than a very hairy sketch


>>15647968
>often wish to post my garbage unstructured poetry for you guys to laugh at, but when it comes down to it I shy away from it. Any poetry losers have any general tips on how to improve?
Pound's rules are sound. You have to be a butcher to isolate the best cuts of the original idea/image, but only trim the requisite amount of fat.


>>15648334
>garbage I read by MFA's in the literary magazines
>painfully failed attempt at self-pity and self-realization by someone who cannot comprehend that life can be worse than your parents not being totally okay with financing your dreams
This is the cancer eating through contemporary literature; the artistic conceit necessary for any amount of suspension of disbelief can be discarded out of hand, because we can tell instantly the contents are culled from the author's autobiographical naval gazing -- "art as therapy" needs to die.

>>15648401
Forget the guy's name, but he did some early haiku into English translation; offers some guideline/suggestions for content/structure

>2nd line
I'm reminded of apocryphal accounts of turkeys drowning by staring up into the rain, hypnotized. Misread as "regardless of [how/when] I look". The haiku image needs to be complete, and the the 2nd line inflection from outer to inner falls flat, banality. Suggested"
>Clear skies downpour
>I could gather rain water
>Wherever I look/am/go
Alt., something along the lines of not being able to be wet in the ocean, or paradoxical like the/your desert being in drought regardless of it (monsoon ect.), e.g.
>My deserts never flash flood
('just deserts')
>Empty dust cisterns

https://pastebin.com/dzpRxGs0

Wrote this the last day, haven't edited it yet so expect it to be rough. It's just the start of a short story or maybe a novel I'll see how it goes.

The joints of his restraints gave way with tiny shrieks to jagged metal, sharp and useful. He made an incision to release the blood, his finger now the inky quill of a man confined. He set about marking the damp wall with a warning, as the jailers dragged their feet outside.

I often write passages from books that I haven't even planned to start writing yet as an exercise at work. My friends tell me they'd like to read the full stories but I'd like some more in-depth critique of the style before making that sort of commitment.

A bit sarcastically: "Well look at this strapping young fellow! Why he looks like the inside of his mind must be a, white page, with black font."

"Oh funny Mark, was that your creativity center shutting down in the middle of that one?"

"I like the haircut."

"Yeah?"

"Tall man meets helicopter."

"Fuck you."

"No, come back!" Mark said, standing into his sandles. He waddled after his friend, wine in hand. "I need to know if you're joining the army!"

His friend turned. "I'm retiring," he said.

"Then why cut off all your hair?"

He rubbed his palms in it. "I like the way it feels."

"Rolex." They were walking now.

"It's not one, but yeah, bought that today too."

"You gonna be okay man?"

"Yeah."

"You need to talk about it?"

"No."

"Is there, you know, something I can sell you?"

Joel looked him in the eye, and smiled.

>>15648932
>that can only react emotionally if someone gets hurt.
Why do you think the pace entails that? I can imagine someone reloading a gun emotionally, dropping the cartridge on the viewer while holding something in their mouth.

>she stops a hanging of one of her friends
There's not explanation time in there?

>kills a man to obtain surgery equipment, goes back, saves her boyfriend's life, sticks him in a cold shower to reduce fever.
That just is the character man. That's fine. Is this character, by chance, the narrator?

bit from a hard sci-fi piece i'm working on. Concept: Future. frontiersman w/ cerebral-integrated AI is confronted by a terrible alien creature. He realizes that he is guaranteed to die in the encounter, and later on chooses to flood his body with various stimulants and attempts to sacrifice his limbs and organs during his losing fight in order to keep his brain intact for transplant after help arrives.
¥¥¥¥¥¥
I'm never listening to the advice of that dumbass psychoengineer again. How stupid I am, disabling my AI integration because I wanted to be “alone with my thoughts” for a bit. Being philosophical without AI interference is the dream of many free spirits — a vacation of sorts while the mind is relaxed in a state of ignorant silence — but in the wilderness of the frontier, it's just a pseudo-intellectual's way of committing suicide. Case in point. My brain tells me, judging from my previous experiences and expectations of reality, that this abomination before me is an impossibility that must be an illusion. My subconscious tells me that I must flee from this creature at all costs. But only the zero-nine has actual answers. A quick pedia search, and all the information recorded on the creature is data-blasted straight into my brain.

It’s called a Chrysalisk. A six-legged, warm-blooded arthropod that weighs an average of four-hundred kilograms and is notorious on the planet as an intelligent apex predator that kills for sport. Of the nine previous encounters of its kind by lone surveyors such as myself, nine were completely killed. The creature is as lethal as it is alien, and its features straddle the line between those of an engineered bio-weapon and a natural life form. A plated carapace blistered with sclerotin. A body covered in barbed urticating quills that can be shot out like bullets. Raptorial forelegs tipped with hollow talons that drip gastric acid. A dolichocephalic skull ending with a scaled snout, a sheath for its razor-sharp proboscis used to suck digested innards out with. Adaptive pigmentation allows it to blend into its environment or change colors at will, camouflaged in both the infrared and regular light spectrum, and a nervous system advanced enough to use it for psychoactive manipulation — I stop datablasting briefly. I get the idea. I ease my hand from coilgun to the distress transmitter, and start to analyze the Chrysalisk before me, not the ones on record.

One thousand dark militae stand watch into the night holding serene wordless protest against the angry advance of metal, metal borne by flesh and hewn against bark leaving gaping ruine bare wounds and space to be swarmed upon like flies to rotting carcass pilfered and trampled and sucked dry and dead the mountains are cut of their coverings and left naked towering ancient sentinel dissapearing into pink mist of memory ocean and sleep. The hazy din of church bells echoes the forgotten call to action the decrying of worldly fain but falls on the ears of sleepwalkers who only want cured the headaches of their racing so they can rage again and thrash turn and twist against the night rushing toward its end and clutching each other in death’s embrace.

>>15651126
Sounds like it's going to way of How to Train Your Dragon

>>15651415
what you mean brah?

>>15651430
I mean that the main character has some sort of defect and he's about to have a meeting with this big scary creature. In
httyd, the main character is a coward in a a brave society, your character is a bio brain in an AI enhanced society. In httyd, the dragon is a special rare scary species of dragon, but the mc makes friends with it and it turns into a pet.

>>15650925
it's hard to tell what's happening or whos talking

the cult of answer.
its followers -
compliant and content with one.

one query too many
and their beloved answer

turns yet a question anew.

>ESL trying to use fancier english

>>15651168
pretty badass,anon, just maybe add some punctuation

>>15651566
thanks, dawg.

>>15645450
kek

There it was. The silhouette that hovered above the family couch for so many years. My older sister continues to tease me for having been so terrified of a floor lamp. I named him Tineen, which meant dragon in Arabic, and, like a dragon, Tineen had a long tail and a large arched neck, which made him dominate the space of the living room. My frail legs were constantly bruised from all the times he would deliberately trip me up with his long black tail, which is where he gets all his powers from. Whenever someone would sit on the couch, Tineen would get so angry that his head would light-up with fire and heat. In these instances, I would pray to God for his protection. But now, ten years later, Tineen had lost all his supernatural features. I realize he was not as tall as an eight-year old’s perception made him in my mind. Instead, he inspired pity with his arched back and thin frame. All these years of servitude must have worn him out. He is no longer the fiery monster I had known him to be; he stands still, in the same spot, looking at his feet and waiting to obey the commands of his masters. When my sister asks why I am crying on the couch, I lie and say that I tripped over the lamp cord again.

>>15651627
>There it was. The silhouette that hovered above the family couch for so many years.
Sentence fragment. Replace the period with a comma.
>My older sister continues to tease me for having been so terrified of a floor lamp.
Confusing tense change. "still teases me" might be clearer.
>I named him Tineen, which meant dragon
means dragon
>which is where he gets all his powers from.
Repetitive sentence structure; another "which" too soon. Also, tense confusion. It should be "he got"
>But now, ten years later, Tineen had lost all his supernatural features.
"Now" is a present tense word. Don't use it. Just cut that intro.
>I realize
I realized
>All these years
"these" is present tense. It should be "those"
>He is no longer
He was no longer
>he stands still,
stood still,
>When my sister asks why I am crying on the couch, I lie and say that I tripped over the lamp cord again.
This comes out of nowhere. It wasn't established. It's not evocative because it's unclear what your intended effect is. Wouldn't it be more emotional if he said "the dragon's tail tripped me over again"?

I have an idea for a book that has been on my mind for a while.
It explores religion in a fantasy setting, and how different people experience it, sort of how there are different sects of Christianity.
While planning it, I have found that I am paralleling Christianity a ton, but not exactly. I want God to be an entity within the story, and not just some talked about thing.

My question is;
Should I rename God, and give him his own little backstory to differentiate him, or should I just stick with 'God' and hope that I don't get Crusade'd?

>>15646602
One of the best things I’ve read on here

Email me at greeniethecrow@gmail.com cuz I’d love to get to know you

>>15651540
Was the watch the worst part?

Go live today and tell me how it felt.
Just admit it. How the crowd
Felt like a shroud, or pelt, and your skin was abuzz
Rubbing abreast with a stranger’s. How it was
A molting of sensitive languor; the most emotive
Mooring, then untangling, then recoupling, then breaking from
Some decades of anger. The electric taste on a tongue,
Where every nerve, latent, is strummed, called to attention,
Sated and wrung, then reset all anew. Some summited view,
One pace from a plunge, exhilarant rush. Where minutes are
Paused, or skipped, if you deem them as such. That the cadence
Of a din holds some embrace there within.

Tell me that’s how it was. Tell me. Admit it.
Tell me.

>>15648212
How is the brother a NEET and a rabbi? Are there supposed to be three?

>They’re both wearing the knitwear that Ima knitted them in commemoration of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising that even their own ancestors had participated in the distant past, but which felt like the most recent of events to them.
This line is a mess. "Even their own ancestors" reads like the alternative contrasted is "none of their own ancestors," but then your conjunction "but" is followed by something instead related to how distant it was.

>>15652739
God I knew it wasn't much but I didn't think it was that horrible. Well, at least I can take consolation in the fact that English isn't my first language. Thank you for the feedback though, appreciate it. Any advice on how I could git gud?

>>15650655
Anybody want to critique me?

>>15651627
>long black tail
this is redundant

final line is melodramatic

Nothing else is actually a large issue compared to those. I think your second mention of the tail was because you wanted to fix the image of the lamp, but what I'm going to see is a metal dragon in the way and you should probably just accept that until the very end, unless you don't want to keep what you wrote earlier.

>>15653218
Look up the Franklin method, use it with the works of you favorite authors

>>15653021
Name him Muhammad

>>15648164
I'm afraid to say that's pretty much the storyline to Life is Strange. You could make something good out of it, though.

>>15650655
The way hid/secluding relate in the first paragraph made "and warming their cockles with a sup of brandy or whiskey" look a second thing you were listing the people secluded themselves from, rather than secluding and warming being in parallel. I didn't sense the issue on any of your other "and"s though.

"A large window gave opportunity" sounds like a play on "window of opportunity" when I don't think it should. Something about the outside/inside rhyme rubbed me wrong too.

>and all sorts of dimensions
What?

I got the impression that there was much more snow, from the start.

>was speaking
Well speaking? Or did you mean to narrate overtop of whatever he said? I assumed the latter but never saw a another mention of it, so now I have doubts.

>Alfie rested one arm on the bar and rested his head on it.
On the first read I essentialy saw him napping on his forearm instead of resting his head in his palm like a kickstand. The exclamation point beforehand makes me think the latter is what you really want.

> “Miss Susie I hope you mean Mr. Needham”
This felt nonsequitur.

>At that moment the barman came with their drinks.
>“Will you be having another?” he asked.
That early?

>Big words equal a big brain,
This might be better as part of the character's quote, and then let the narrator finish with the "a bit harsh maybe."

After that I just see a whole bunch of claims, which doesn't make for an super interesting conversation whether it's being lampooned or not. I'm just referring to the dialogue though, not the end.

>>15653314
But seriously, is it better to create a god, or piggyback of an existing one?

>>15653633
My honest answer is that your question just kicks me down to different ones. On the one hand "Je suis Charlie" but on the other hand you have Jesus Christ, whose visage can be found printed on paper plates beneath hamburgers being eaten by men in America undies. I'm really not a huge fan of idols either way, real or otherwise.

>>15653616
I think a lot of the stuff you're critiquing has things to do with the Irish culture, SUSI is an organization that pays for students to go to college and the pubs open early and being students they'll drink for any reason, not that uncommon. The conversation is more showing off the character of Alfie more than anything, it's not meant to be some deep dialogue of philosophical note. The others are more syntax errors I'll definitely clean up, I haven't looked at any of it at the moment I've just written at the moment under 2000 words and the tidying up will come after. I'm more focusing on the very foundations more than the polish which is two young students sitting at the bar talking shit with Alfie showing his ego and self-confidence.

>>15653677
>The conversation is more showing off the character of Alfie more than anything, it's not meant to be some deep dialogue of philosophical note.
Yeah I got that this wasn't the point and I didn't take you for pretentious or anything.

>>15653692
I should really show more polished pieces to be honest, It's not a good example to pick apart yet anyway, thanks though! Hope it wasn't too painful haha.

>>15653263
how is long black tail redundant? Tails are not necessarily long or black

I've written a short story. Would appreciate any criticism. Here it is below:

> Streetlamps

> The dull illumination of the streetlamps was the worst thing about the night shifts. Not because they rarely worked and were sometimes kept flickering on and off in the dark streets. Nor because they were so illogically spaced, creating sombre corners that descended into pitch black pockets as night’s curtain fell. The thing he most detested about the streetlamps was their dull fake illumination. That tepid half-light created by their fake hue which neither nurtured the ground nor really helped you see. It was as if they were constant signs, constructed by society to remind him daily, when they came on at the fall of a clock’s hand, what his life was. Dull, irresolute, and bereft of utility. He would sit at the desk of the petrol station, eyeing the streetlights for all 8 hours of his night shift. And no one would come in.

> The station was small. Filed by two large aisles with bulging shelves of outdated cans of food and corpulent bags of third-rate junk food. The petrol pumps outside, seldom used, had become decrepit and rust crawled up their handles and spouts whilst the prices of fuel was now several years out of date. He had no idea how it looked in the daytime, but it was probably just as soul eroding. The floor tiles were sticky under your feet as rain and damp festered, whilst ants made burrowing hives beneath the foundations, crawling up when he carelessly left food on the floor. He sat on his chair behind the counter, the tarlike fat from his haunches pooling over the side of the chair. He used to get up to walk around the station to check stock but had long since given up when he realized nothing ever sold. He only left his chair to use the toilet and to leave at the end of the working day. The last sounds in the station before his unknown double took the morning shift would be his wheezing waddle out to his car, and back home.

>>15653815
He's trying to reinforce that it's a lamp cord because he wasn't confident in the inital metaphor/was afraid it'd take over. But if you just let it take over then there's no real need to have the dragon ornament's tail match the cord's color. Another anon highlighted the text immediately afterwards as repetitive sentence structure. It throws me back when I don't need to be.

>>15653815
>>15653914
It gives me the feeling of a do-over, is how I should put it.

>>15653909
Never mind, I got screen shots. Here is 1/17

>>15653946
2/17

>>15653946
Are they called 'Streetlamps?'

I've heard them called Street Lights, or Lamp Posts, but never Streetlamps.

>>15653951
3/17

>>15653963
>>15653959

4/17

I'm not sure, I've always called them streetlamps but I've heard both terms.

>>15653977
5/17

why's everyone talking about lamps

>>15653985
6/17

>>15653991
7/17

>>15654000
8/17

>>15654007
9/17

>>15654016
10/17

>>15654026
11/17

>>15654038
12/17

>>15654049
13/17

>>15654057
14/17

>>15654069
15/17

>>15654084
16/17

>>15654092
Final/17

Thanks for reading and sorry for the dump. I've not written much and I wasn't 100% happy with this but would appreciate any feedback.

How do you even plan a story?

Do you just right a start, middle, end, and then just add more scenes around it, or do you plan out everything that happens?

>>15654398
Different anon here but bumping this

>>15654398
>>15654512
I literally just dive in, write like fuck then go back and edit, although I may try planning more.

>>15653214
And but so

>>15653946
>were sometimes kept flickering
Just link a google doc next time instead of clogging up the thread with this first draft you didn't even proofread.

>>15654648
I missed that bit, my bad. I'll do that next time.

>>15653946
A lot of your earlier lines are very purple and scarcely modify my image of a dark night with street lamps. You end up going back to the dull illumination anyways. Maybe the irony in how they never "really helped you see" was deliberate. The paragraph ends well though.

"aisles with bulging shelves" is slightly odd to me in that it suggests the shelves belong to the isles, when each shelve is part of two. That's not incoherent but there's probably a smarter way to build this.

>prices of fuel was now several years out of date
were

>He had no idea how it looked in the daytime
This isn't particularly believable.

>foundations, crawling
This sentence sounds like it ends at "foundations." The way you use "crawling up" sounds like they're doing this while burrowing. Like, "he did this, doing that" implies a synchronicity but you're instead connecting two mutually exclusive tasks (being underground, and not). "to crawl up from" or "crawling up from them" could be better if accompanied by other adjustments.

I didn't like reading "chair" twice, and starting the line on "Tarlike fat" should work better and give you one less line that begins on "he." So like:

>The petrol pumps outside, seldom used, had become decrepit and rust crawled up their handles and spouts whilst their fuel prices were now several years out of date. The floor tiles were sticky underfoot as rain and damp festered whilst ants made burrowing hives beneath the foundations, to crawl up from whenever food was carelessly left on the floor. Tarlike fat pooled from his haunches over the sides of his chair. He used to walk around the station to check stock but had long since given up when he realized nothing ever sold.

>leave at the end of the working day.
Weird use of day.

Maybe just have him wheeze to the car, the waddle should be seen anyways.

I wanted to stop making line level comments but you use the word "sticky" again at the start of the third page and it comes off as a vocabulary shortage. But then you use "tar" and "wheeze" again too, which makes me think this is actually is on purpose and just doesn't look it. Regardless, I didn't like the gimmick, or you've just been going on for too long for me to appreciate it. Most people who read understand that life as a gas station attendant is boring.

>mast-like
>beaconlike
Why not just say "lamplike" at this point anon? These look like placeholder words, yuck.

The repetition of "slowly" I like, it does well for the tiptoeing.

>primordial fears
>aura
Does this person really feel auras/primordial things?

>pooled slowly into it
This one I didn't like. Repetition, the pattern itself, can be reused for what you're doing; individual words have shorter limits.

>paced
This is your best example of showing instead of telling.

On the fifth screen you wrote "anger to flash flashed," which I think was a typo, and on the fourth you wrote "clocks ticking" when I think you wanted the possessive.

>>15654845
Thanks for the feedback, I really appreciate it. Yeah I have been trying to clear up the language a bit and make it less cliche or hokey.

A theme I was trying to play around with was that the attendant doesn't feel any utility to his job or life and that the unnatural light brings that out in him. However, I wanted the interaction with the stranger to mirror a church confessional which, through being able to witness the stranger's confession, the attendant's work is justified. Some of the stuff is intentional and I'm trying to hone in on that stuff.

Thanks again for reading.

sorry if it's gay.

A Letter to the Adversary (and a caution to him that I am aware of the nature of the Anti-Christ, and will warn others)

That all around known villains
are stomachs away from bankruptcy,
I see this, and so declare I am comfortable
within the sight of the adversary.
Pustule, here is my epistle:
I hear you are a-swimming now,
and that you are enjoying all the
wonderful things that life has to bestow.
"(... was it ever really so wrong?)"
As you swim, these parenthesis of
half-thoughts trail the even poorer ones.
For, in the hierarchy of the wake,
strongest and supreme are thoughts
caused by the petty tempest you make
at the disturbing points of your kicking
through the mind you take,
and these are your ribbings:
these are your jibes you showcase
as if new forms of swimming:
the strokes you demonstrate
to the exclusion of their purpose:
your design, therefore, I expose:
to exhaust with excess, to impose,
to unwind, to rewind, to drown.
Your new justice: that all around
known villains are stomachs away
from bankruptcy, they are swayed
to make it a not-impartial matter,
and the attitude that would flatter
for the power to review,
all effort thitherto exerted
translating God's Will into constitutions,
without the crux of God in Man's intentions:
with this clear point for the blind I assuage,
how the Reason of the Good is smeared:
rearranged semantic language.
Trailing all of it, your question:
"(... was it ever really so wrong?)"
As many questions as there are peaks in your wake
and as many peaks as there are crackles in static,
that so lost in a crackle of conjectures,
no known villain ever hears you speak,
but listens to you all of the time.
Seeing the game I lament my pawnhood:
I take a pen and write,
and so am adversarial
to you in a method you delight.
I am shallow and tightly my own,
and the bursting of you, to me,
is matter of self-esteem,
therefore I swell you.
It seems that I am the loneliness you have
to offer all compatriots of a better egotism,
whose vein runs sorely through the network
of a shrivelled organism,
of hearts, whose cancers hurt,
and twitch, and cause a start,
whose deeds are as legs
of a spider at whose behest
they spin, at whim, to theirs,
the great ordeal:
they do not make the thread,
but their efforts are coordinated
through the perversity of their web,
whose dark synchronism stokes
out something in the hearth,
for, the pen the light provokes,
and as they try explain the shadows,
they tread the downward path...

>Story outline (a horror manga, inspired by Junji Ito)
>"Year of the Anti-Consumerist P-Zombie"

>It is June 12 September 2020, twelve years since David Foster Wallace hanged himself.
>In the misty heights of Claremont, the cremated remains of the metamordernist author are gathering and coalescing into the shape of a body.
>Like conscious clay turning into a statue of a man-sized soldier... the golem rises.
>David has come back as a p-zombie, something that daunts every philosophy undergraduate.
>Some rumours that he faked his death (a feat worthy of Marlowe), to then pursue a writing career as a ghostwriter of the deceased Pynchon, have been put to rest.
>The reanimated Frankensteinian corpse of DFW is soulless, albeit as insatiable as ever.
>Will he feast upon the brains of Zadie Smith and Jonathan Franzen before they crack the enigma code?
>Will his vengeance against mass media come to fruition, as he sees the state of streaming television?
>Will he just end up in a cloistered room writing out formal logic and set theory?
>TUNE IN TO FIND OUT.

>>15655265
Typo. There isn't supposed to be "June" in the first line.
Here's my critique of >>15655214

>already lost me after the first three lines, you need to work on diction
>don't use dialogical marks, use italics for dialogue instead
>why do you choose to rhyme properly only a considerable way through? very odd to use near rhymes for the majority of the start. if there's an intentional technique for this, please let me know, otherwise work on a holistic approach to form
>overall, cool content but I'm not sure why you're making me work so hard if there's no pay off in sight

>>15655265
David Wallace is nice man, no bully

>>15655016
>>15654007
>Thanks again for reading.
Still am. There's a limit to how large I can make a comment. But I'm not going to pick out each and every little thing, except:

>The hairs on his arms grew like weeds on his goose bumped forearms
this line was particularly bad, the use of ink earlier was good

>frogs
better not be a pepe reference

>And then it happened.
slight cop out but otherwise the notecards were done well

>The figure's movements became ghoulish and animalistic. Its arms spun and clawed the air around it
Yeah I'm seeing some 360 degree action-figure shit going on here, I don't think you wanted that.

>However, I wanted the interaction with the stranger to mirror a church confessional which, through being able to witness the stranger's confession, the attendant's work is justified.
That's clear, and also not a bad objective. The problem is that you risk your moral looking like, "Fat gas station attendants are great because they pardon frog-obsessed rapists" right now. While it's worth appreciating the freaky shit gas station attendants deal with (I have seen an arrow fly through a gas station window), it may be more worth emphasizing the horror of people like this attendant being the closest things many people have to a pastor or father/mother figure, and the causal connection this has to them committing atrocities. You even mention the rapist's poor childhood. I feel like you're mistaking a viscous cycle for an enlightening ouroboros.

>>15654398
whatever the plan is, i know the execution takes either patience, or immersion. During the process of writing, on thing must always lead into another, and that which comes after is effected by that which comes before; the flesh to the skeleton of this plot, where the details of A to B are given interesting life, must be written with immersion and confidence, and careful planning, without 'envisioning' the necessary minute details of scenario, probably leads to writer's block. although general downright misery leads to writer's block too.
i think when it comes to creating a story, generally we can be moved by an instance of our imagination of a particular scene, which might create an entire story - the ending to 'of mice and men' *could* be an example of what i'm talking about here, where the author sees the scene, is moved by the poetry of it, and creates the necessary story to support it. generally, on imagines more engaging plot points the more one imagines. it seems less like a 'plan' and more interactive empathy with the non-existing taking them from one place to the next.

>>15655313
cheers for reading, i was angling for the Satire III John Donne metaphysical poetry vibe. the reason why i stopped rhyming a bit of the way was because i couldn't think of any rhymes.
I was hoping the pay off to the poem was the idea that writing itself for the purpose of thwarting the devil is not necessarily divine. thanks for reading it though man, i know it's dense, and the form is amateur

>Deke's girls were probably grown in a vat in his capacious basement. I imagine one of Deke's shriveled silent mama-sans hunched in the green glow of a wombtank, watching swollen blatocysts cannibalize each other. Maybe she snaps on rubber gloves and hauls a particularly vicious mutant from the cloying murk, inspects its for defects as it twitches, then deposits it in the next tank along. In my dreams the line of tanks stretches on into the damp darkness. I glimpse smooth forms drifting behind distant glass, the kink of an elbow in a swirl of pallid unflesh. I think of shark embryos pickled in formaldehye.

>>15648819
Run-on sentence runs on too long. Three items or less, please.

>>15649232
Action needs to be snappier? Cut everything that's not absolutely necessary, e.g "...and above the wrist...", "amid strips of torn skin", etc.

"And then I twisted, and his arm..." this should be two sentences

"I detached his severed arm from my shoulder..." - where does this come from? What the fuck? Why is his arm on her shoulder? Needs more setup or something

it is presumptuous of me to reword you poem, but the opening lines could perhaps be:

Go live today and tell me how it felt,
and admit how the crowd
was as a shroud feels, or pelt,
and felt as if abuzz...

and then:
... some decade's anger.

and then later perhaps:
... a summited view,
a pace removed from plunge's rush, as minutes
paused, or skipped, if deemed as such.

and maybe lastly:
That the cadence
Of a din embraced an anchor point within.

good poem though

Does anyone write Drottkvaet? I can't tell if what I am writing is worthwhile or garbage.

>>15655866
fuck i don't know if i'd like what youve got by the sounds of what i've just read about Drottkvaet, but i'll give it a go and tell you what a layman thinks.

>>15655866
maybe if you could give a good example of it that i could compare it to as well

UPDATED outline
A homage to and pastiche of JoJo's Bizarre Adventure, with some horror elements from the likes of Junji Ito.

>Pg. 1: Cover art: David Foster Wallace with shotgun, his eyes missing, under a huge title of "YEAR OF THE ZOMBIE NATIONAL BESTSELLING AUTHOR".
>Pg. 2: September 12 2020, recounting the life of David Foster Wallace, until his sudden resurrection on the twelfth anniversary of his suicide
>Pg. 3: DFW zombie body appears from ashes
>Pg. 4-5: DFW dispels myths around his death; DFW goes back to his Condo to get his shotgun
>Pg. 6-7: DFW begins stalking and killing the likes of Zadie Smith and Jonathan Franzen.
>Pg. 8: Cut to Thomas Pynchon, who is working on his next novel, in his New York apartment, trying to keep away from anyone with Coronavirus
>Pg 9: DFW breaks through Pynchon’s security detail
>Pg. 10-11: A fight ensues between the two Maximalist novelists, Pynchon looks like his old age will get the better of him, until he shoots out a secret gun inside slinky eye glasses. DFW's head explodes when the two bullets enter his eye sockets and destroy his brain.
>Pg. 12: DFW seems to lose, until he springs a surprise weapon (he swallowed a bomb and his corpse is going to explode)
>Pg. 13: Pynchon jumps out the window within an inch of his life, swearing to hunt down all evil
>Pg. 14: Pynchon hunts down all the Aztec magic items that allowed DFW to be a zombie warrior
>Pg. 15: It is revealed that other authors are rising from the dead, puppets to Aztec magic, led by a nefarious Nazi organisation that claims lineage to Hitler from his hideaway in Patagonia after the failed invasion of USSR.
>Corner of Pg. 15: TO BE CONTINUED

>>15654103
Not sure if you were going for it but the first line of this reminds me of Homer's Odyssey and "Then Dawn appeared, fresh and rosy-fingered"

A nice read, good diction overall. You have a great command of the English language.

>>15655927
>>15655937

Here is a comparative piece which also illustrates all the rules (lot of resource do not contain the full set), https://rabid-ravener.livejournal.com/21063.html


Here is a verse of my own. I favored kennings over altering word orders because I feel it damages the 'feel', as English isn't very flexible in that regard.

Lightly perched on pauldrons
post, the Axis Hoster’s
pain is held forth proudly.
Pipe echoes his crow-song.
Fire’s ember trade, forebode.
Fateful dance of hate-known
Serpent-got; last grapple
gored on golden sword-face.

>>15656166
I'm going to be honest, i didn't read the rules, but without doing so I can tell you the poem reads tight. What does "Axis Hoster’s" mean? The person who hosts and axis of things? of what things? (i'm not telling you to embellish in the poem, i'd just want to know)
my first instinct was that it was an actual perched crow, but then it moved onto a decapitated head made trophy. It seems like someone made a trophy.
what does this scene describe? I get the picture of an aftermath of battle, and celebration.
post more if you want, i like it.
i will say, it takes some effort to appreciate. one thing i have noticed, is that most poetry i'm not "told" is good takes effort to appreciate. but that's a separate phenomenon.

Hey guys, willing to do a crit for crit with anyone.

I'm working on a new novel based on a cross-Canada bicycle trip I did with a buddy last year. Playing around with a minimalist style. The central themes have to do with purpose, alienation (of course), the value of struggle, and the pursuit of goodness. The main arc is the progression of my own mental health.

Each chapter narrates a day in the journey. Here are the first two days.

>https://larthurhunt.files.wordpress.com/2020/06/novel-2-intro.pdf

One particular obituary caught his eye. It read, “IN LOVING MEMORY OF BRIAN WALKER, 52, writer, father, and husband. He is known for his two self-published novels, The Bridge and The Dinner Party.”
He had never heard of either one. With a cursory online search, both had mixed reviews, many of them negative: “The dialogue is childish, the characters useless to the plot, nobody comes, nobody goes, nothing happens, it’s awful!” An email notification jolted him. It was another literary journal.
“We’re sorry to inform you that your piece was not selected for publication.”
This man filled him with inexplicable fear and resentment, as if disgusted that he touched something dirty, a bad omen, something that would “curse” him out of success when he already had himself to blame. He felt condemned to nothing more than dust, that he was made from dust and to dust he would return. He was a writer who refused to engage with other aspiring writers – he preferred to read “the greats” who he self-identified with closely. His reading list rarely went past the 20th century. He only read the literary journals where his work was published, and never that of other contributors. He opened his notebook, setting the accursed paper aside with an apotropaic gesture, scribbling away thoughts and prose that would remain scribbles.

>>15656390
>That guy who was an international relations major is still posting here

based image

>>15655660
>Run-on sentence runs on too long. Three items or less, please.
Remember to ignore brainlets who misuse terms and write stuff like this.

>>15656041
This is absolutely terrible.

>>15656473
It's supposed to be campy/ironic.

>>15656482
Sorry, but the association with Jojo makes it cringey. When you grow out of it in a couple of years you'll look back at this phase with great shame.

>>15656511
I think you're just averse to anime and manga in general, which is probably as shallow as reading the Greeks if you've been told to from /lit/.

>>15656544
I actually read a lot of manga.

>>15656552
Then why are the outrageous twists and silliness of the outline lost on you? It's definitely not serious, like JoJo isn't really supposed to be taken seriously. It's just overt and maximalist pleasurable art, like the work of Pynchon in general.

I've read worse stuff on Dark Horse Comics about making W-O-C "Oliver Twist," and that's not merely because of the political performative activism.

>>15645450
Area Codes

Symbols of where you lived and grew up,
Thoughts of made you, and what brought you up,
Numbers and feelings of who you used to trust,
Affiliation to care and contentment for where you grew up.

Area codes and old cell phones
Are like the new nostalgia of home,
Too many questions for what’s been done,
No time to explain, I lived there for fun.

I was born there we used to say and I think
That I would like to go home one day too,
To sink once again into that warm ether made new
Because of how far we fell from former brink.

Yes I do believe that I will care for where I was
Just like I don’t think that there should be anything
Wrong with stating what you think should be or were
When life was good, the sun shined, the phone rang.

>>15656579
"outrageous silliness"! le epic monkey rape!
When you grow out of it in a couple of years you'll look back at this chat and blush.

I enjoyed the latter more, some minor suggestions:
-"when dining in our hall/our guests..." too many "ours" close together, maybe replace the second "our" with the, ie "the guests..."
-"wont call for our doctor" sounds a bit awkward, i dont think adding "he" at the beginning would take away from the rhythmic structure

>>15656780
Ah fuck forgot to address the post
>>15648079

>>15656432

That guy who's reading my biography is still posting here

>>15656041
>a secret gun inside slinky eye glasses
keep this, the rest can be discarded

>>15656243
The 'Axis Hoster' is kenning for the Greek hero Atlas who betrayed the gods. His 'pain' then being the punishment to hold the up the world on his shoulders (Making him the center of the heavens, IE the host of the axis.) Each line is made up of kennings that incorporates different allusions to mythology (this is necessary due to the demanding composition rules.) If you would like I will trace each one for you.
The verse as a whole is a recounting of the prophecy of the beginning of Ragnarok and the battle of Heimdallr and Loki.

In prose it would read like this:
(referring to Heimdallr)
Gently on his shoulders
sits the weight of the world.
With dignity
he blows the horn of war.
It is told he will exchange death blows
with the God of Mischief.
His last deed will be to
slay the traitor.

>>15656973
Yeah I was thinking it needs some work. Should Pynchon have invented tiny guns as a whiz engineering student?

Here's a rough and poorly done sketch of a possible title page. Obviously got practice to do.

how's this paragraph from my novel?

>The night cannot be silent. There’s a breeze through the tent nylon, pulling on the guy lines. Crickets sound in the bush, water rushes over rock. In the morning our purpose will renew. We’ll have a place to be. And that’s enough for tomorrow.
Distant laughter carries over the crackling of firewood, the expiration from a beer can, the whish of the tide against the shore as I flood with dreams.

>>15658196
>In the morning our purpose will renew

This line doesn't feel like it belongs

>>15654398
I laboriously plan my story beats.

Time Engagement - Routine of the character
Turbulent Chance - Something unexpected
Character Choice - Important choice made

These three factors repeat with ever increasing states towards the climax.

When I write I have the context figured out so I don't have to build the setting as I write about what the character is thinking in the moment.

I’m a melancholic soul
so I hate more
and run to the distraction of a vice.

and I say aloud,
when staring at clouds
on a june midnight
not able to stand or walk
but feeling like the most powerful man alive,
I say,
“when I asked for god and looked for him,
I saw the sky”.
and raising a fist at those clouds I shout
“you have forsaken me!”

but I can’t see strait,
I fall to the ground and let out a whimper.

Anyone want to critique my screenplay?

>>15658892
>I’m a melancholic soul
humorously terrible opening line

The rest is terrible

>>15656690
decent

>>15656400
>With a cursory online search, both had mixed reviews, many of them negative: “The dialogue is childish, the characters useless to the plot, nobody comes, nobody goes, nothing happens, it’s awful!”
describing your own work?

The rest is clunky and autistic

>>15656041
You're trying too hard

should I express?


should I ask for love?
no,
you don’t ask for something like that.

love is born to everything,
every sound, every sunbeam,
every rose, every raindrop,
so it’s the fool who asks.

and true, it's never a question,
it hits you in the face and breaks your nose.

>>15658911
>you're trying too hard
I lifted most of the motifs and plot from various kinds of pop culture and manga. That's probably why it seems tryhard. It's more of an ironical mishmash of various 'low culture' things, making them into a postmodern vibrancy.

>>15659120
Yeah it’s terrible delete it and pretend it never existed

>>15659147
I'm already drawing for it

>>15656690
>thoughts of made you
Dropped. Is that a typo?

>>15658962
Love the ending line but I'm not sure what the repititon is trying to do for the poem. What is the payoff for that small bit in the middle, if you could do without that flourish?

Hey anons I'm trying my hand at writing a book. More of a vanity project than anything I think it'll be therapeutic for me to give it a go. Here's a small extract from what I've got so far. Would appreciate the feedback as it's the first time since I was a kid that I've tried anything remotely like this. Thanks!

"That was the worst that could happen. What a dumbass he thought to himself as he climbed out of the taxi and entered his apartment building, the nights events replaying fuzzily in his head. Marcus entered the lobby, scowl on his face and fists clenched as he walked towards the stairs, why did he have to act like that anytime he let his guard down?
As he climbed towards his apartment the pedometer inside his head slowly ticked up. An old quirk he'd had since childhood, it helped calm him somewhat as he made it outside his door. He had alot of these routines that had stuck with him. Never a superstitious person but he had always had the sense of something being wrong if he didn't stick to them, much like the feeling of forgetting whether or not the door was locked before one went to sleep.

Finally at his door, forty-nine he mused as he entered his home. The odd number had always struck odd, one off perfection, like many aspects of his life he felt he was always just missing that little bit more to make things whole.

"What a dumbass" he sighed as he locked up and dropped his keys on the counter and walked through to the living area and sat down heavily, alcohol and cocaine still having a fierce dance inside of him for control."

None shall see me
When im alive
And am all
Closed in this cell
Of comfort and pain
No bother
Only pain
Company me
When im unmasked
Ordinary fellow, friend,
Lover - im none there
Only vibrating source
For the one
Who knows me
‐--------------
Blue eyes
I fall into your sky
I met you when there was no light
Your sight opens my skin
Leaves only soul
To feel

>>15659769
>What a dumbass he thought to himself
What a dumbass, he thought to himself
>as he walked towards the stairs, why did he have to act like that anytime he let his guard down?
as he walked towards the stairs. Why did he have to act like that anytime he let his guard down?
>Never a superstitious person but
He'd never been a superstitious person, but
>Finally at his door, forty-nine he mused as he entered his home.
Finally at his door, he mused "Forty nine," as he entered his home.
>one off perfection, like many aspects of his life he felt
one off perfection. Like many aspects of his life, he felt
>"What a dumbass" he sighed
"What a dumbass." He sighed
>as he locked up and dropped his keys on the counter and walked through to the living area and sat down heavily
as he locked up, dropped his keys on the counter, walked through to the living area and sat down heavily
My advice other than reading how punctuation works is to count all the times you use "as". If you notice, every single sentence is an "as" sentence. You need variation, and to stop relying on it. It's a crutch. In the final sentence it doesn't even make sense; he sighed as he did all five of those things? That's a damned long sigh.

>>15659176

Yes, there are two typos. My bad

He walked through the streets where his long deceased father used to play. Due to his own old age his pace was slowed down to a mere thirty feet per minute, but his mind was still sharp as ever. As he looked at the overgrown by nature buildings, he consumed by a thought: I am going to die. This has of course occurred to him many times, but now he truly knew it.
"I am going to die in a world that won't even know I'm missing. No, that's not true", he added. And sure enough, he was right. He would be remembered by his children and soon to come grandchildren, by his wife and other loved ones, by his colleagues and many more. His daughter would remember his amazing stories and the time she snuggled up on his warm, soft belly before falling asleep, his wife would remember their first kiss and all of their moving moments; most others would remember his great contributions to science.
Sure, he would be remembered. If not anymore by his relatives, by some college students or interested laymen.
But what would become of him? Would his fame somehow make him immortal? Somehow make him last forever in another metaphysical realm, together with all those other great men?
"No", he already realized, "it wouldn't mean a thing". This question has seen many attempts, o so many for he has been guessing at it for whole his life, and today was such another attempt.
He came closer to the decaying house his father grew up in. But he never came closer to an answer. And this too he knew.

>>15645450
>throw shade
get the fuck out you cock-hungry abomination

>>15661439
>Due to his own old age his pace was slowed down
Due to his own old age, his pace slowed down
>he consumed by a thought
he was consumed by a thought
>This has of course
This had, of course,
>"I am going to die in a world
The lack of contractions doesn't work a second time. I'd go with "I'm going to die"
>not true", he added
not true," he added
>And sure enough, he was right.
cut
>and other loved ones
cut, or actually name them
>falling asleep, his wife
falling asleep; his wife
>and all of their moving moments
you need to actually name an example, these sweeping statements don't work when you're trying to move us
> If not anymore by his relatives, by some college students or interested laymen.
Not sure what the point of this fragment is. You just said his relatives would remember him.
>"No", he already realized, "it wouldn't mean a thing".
"No. It wouldn't mean a thing".
>This question has seen many attempts, o so many for he has been guessing at it for whole his life, and today was such another attempt.
This question had seen many attempts, o so many, for he had been guessing at it his whole life, and today had been such another attempt.
Also, the "o so many" feels very out of place.
>And this too he knew.
And this, too, he knew.

>>15661524
>> If not anymore by his relatives, by some college students or interested laymen.
>Not sure what the point of this fragment is. You just said his relatives would remember him

i meant relatives in the far future, like grand grand children. Should have explicitly stated that.
Anyhow thanks for the remarks. General rating?

>>15661578
I like the idea of it. It just needs more show than tell. If you started a rapidfire cascade of touching memories like the daughter sleeping on his belly (very moving) but with everyone else, like the wife, I think it could be evocative.

>>15661524
>and all of their moving moments

accidentally typed "m" instead of "l" somehow, so it's supposed to be "loving".

>>15661588
thanks anon, great remark, i will keep this in mind

>>15656390
I wonder if your mention of tires before handlebars might lead someone into seeing a car before a bicycle. Maybe it doesn't matter.

>Like bumper cars
This doesn't reveal anything to me, although you want that much there for the pacing I think. Could something not-a-metaphor go there? Your rear wheel lifts maybe? That would put the camera at a good angle to see the baggage newton's-cradle forward and to contrast the birds eye view later.

>cruise over the top of the dam
Consider how this might get misinterpreted. The Wilhelm scream comes to mind.

>She is tall, blocky, and motherly
The rhyme is a little unctuous. The word "Momish" might be lighter, but it's also an african noun for idiot so maybe I should just worry less.

>“Ben’s done one of these before, right?” Laura twirls the conversation. “One of these big bicycle rides?”
This line works particularly well in context.

>c4c
Continuation of something posted: https://pastebin.com/U4MB5Axz

>>15661745

Sorry, where's the rhyme in "tall, blocky, and motherly"?

Also, I'm not sure about what you're referencing about the Wilhelm scream as it relates to the line about cruising over the top of a dam.

Thank you for the note about the bumper cars. I was unsure of that myself.

Reading yours now :)

>>15662341
>where's the rhyme
The two words ending in Y, the latter being the one I suggested changing.

>cruise over the top of the dam
It can sound like you're cruising off rather than along the top.

>>15662362

Haha, I see. Thanks.

>>15662341

Good, punchy dialogue. Not sure that line about the creativity center in his brain being reverse colors did anything for me, personally. Also was somewhat off-put by the term "creativity center".

>>15661378

Punctuation is definitely suffering. My laptop is broke atm and can't have it fixed right now due to the pandemic so alot of this is handwritten/on my phone

As for the 'as' thing, thankyou ill take a look.

Truth be told this is the complete first draft I haven't went over my work to adjust it I just wanted honest opinions to make sure I'm headed in the right direction.

Thanks man

>>15662455
I didn't intend that term to stick, that's helpful. He only meant "did you run out of ideas?" in response to his friend's burn being just a page.

>>15649170
I know of only one sure fire method and I share it freely although I know not many people will have the endurance to see it through to the end.

The method is as follows:

1. Compile a collection of your favorite works--the kind of work you aspire to write. Don't be unambitious but also don't just choose works that are considered "great" by others--this is simple pragmatism: without personal joy you'll be unable to sustain motivation for the work. 3-6 works is a good start.

2. Re-read each work and as you read, create a scene-by-scene outline. Use index cards. On the front write down the scene number (i.e its sequence in the work). In the back, with as few words as possible, write down the scene's basic details (who was in the scene, what happened, where does the scene take place etc.) and what you think its purpose was in the story--remember that you know the entire story already so things like foreshadowing, "guns" (in the Chekov sense), and symbols should jump out at you on a re-read.

3. Having completed the entire outline, go through the following exercises (and update your scene outline as you gain more insight):
a) Scramble the scenes and then reorder them using just their descriptions
b) Remove a couple of the scenes at random and try to rebuild the outline from what's left. Make it harder by increasing how much you remove (20%, 40%, 80% etc)
c) Once you've done outlines for multiple books, try and match scenes across books that serve a common purpose

4. Now that you have the macrostructure down, dive into individual scenes and go paragraph by paragraph. Write down what you think the purpose of every paragraph is, compare it to the overall scene purpose you identified, then try and rewrite the scene using only that information. Compare to the original, did you accomplish the purpose as well as the writer did? Notice where you were deficient and after a few days, try again. You don't need (or want) a 1-to-1 copy, you want to accomplish the underlying purpose as well as the author did. Trust your ear, it'll tell you where you've gone wrong.

5. Repeat the process for the other books and look for patterns. You're ultimately looking for patterns in what YOU like, NOT some universal story structure. You might find that a certain kind of plot appeals to you, or a certain kind of character or setting or structure etc. because they always appear in the stories you've selected. These will be valuable to you when you try to write something similar because you'll have a model you can draw from (e.g In one story you might need to make the reader empathize with the villain, so you look over your outlines for all the scenes whose purpose includes making a character empathetic and you see how those authors did it). Over time you'll internalize these models and at that point, you'll have become a "pro" because this is really nothing more than a conscious, focused version of what every professional author does automatically.

a poem called "good person"

writing this poem will not make you a good person
publishing this poem will not make you a good person
working hard will not make you a good person
paying taxes will not make you a good person
donating to charity will not make you a good person
walking in the park will not make you a good person
going to therapy will not make you a good person
commerce will not make you a good person
praying to God will not make you a good person
having sex will not make you a good person
making art will not make you a good person

>>15663685
You're supposed to critique, but I wanted to say this is very, very good. I think I remember you posting something a few months ago- keep going.

>>15663685
This really is good. Feels professional.

>>15663715
>>15663740
Thanks both! Yeah, I posted the extract a little while a back which got a great response. Been feeling despondent lately so it's encouraging to get positive feedback- this is still from that second chapter.

>>15663685
I like it but your old extract was better

Very basic, and probably outright shoddy, but it's the first thing I've written in over a fuckin week so I'm hoping this will get me writing at least consistently again.

>>15663831
I don't have strong feelings about this, but water being grey is an underused description.

If we can assume the past exists even only as memories, then we are not so much a plane of existence descending through the axis of time, so much as a bullet, with a trail; the everlasting loogie, lest we snap, one of many droplets reflecting themselves which with no such connection would instead drop to the floor, a flat plane of existence, descending through time. The past has an interesting way of catching up with you. I’m on my front porch. It’s raining.

It is beautiful when you look up to the moon and it lights up the clouds as if they were the holes in the sky, things through which we could escape the night and enter some heavenly unknown. But nothing is ever so much a place to be, as a place occupied, and so we each remain in our nights. You under an umbrella.

“I thought you’d died,” I said.

>considering adding “, like the pavement beneath a rooftop” after “The past has an interesting way of keeping up with you”, possibly cutting all the text that follows
I also used to have a semicolon after "snap" and I don't like the opening to the second paragraph. I had the line in my head but didn't write it, then went to do it later and it wasn't the same.

>>15664035
>I also used to have a semicolon after "snap"
oh, and I'm wondering if "axis" etc is too much.

>If we can assume the past exists even only as memories then we are not so much a plane of existence descending through time so much as a bullet, with a trail; the everlasting loogie, lest we snap; one of many droplets, reflecting themselves, which with no such connection would instead drop to the ground, a flat plane of existence, descending through time.

Is it better to explain that a character sighed or groaned, or is 'humph' or 'argh' sometimes alright?

>>15665209
Only if you're writing YA novels and/or about pirates.

We were always two back then — two sets of ratty new balances; two sets of jeans with fraying bottoms, the white threads tracking water in our wake the time it rained; two sets of listless, wandering eyes and two sets of logorrheic mouths. We were always walking, on the look-out for anything, though nothing too much. We were two malcontent boys in some inauspicious college town. We would walk and talk and become spirited at the slightest provocation or error made by the other and we would work ourselves out as it became dark, as we meandered back towards our rooms full of strangers. Living there it sometimes felt as though I was in the eye of a hurricane or the navel of the world.

“So you’re going to see the Hawk tomorrow?” Charles asked me.
“Well it’s not like I have much of an option. When he calls, he calls.”
“I mean you could just not go, not show up, it wouldn’t be hard. Easy in fact.”
We both knew that this wasn’t how it worked here.
“Do you have any idea what he wants to talk about?”
I shrugged.
“Any infractions?”
“None that I know of.”
“Are you failing a class?”“Would be news to me.”
“I’m just saying, weird is all.”
After the brief exchanged we lapsed into a rare silence. Charles focused hard on a hang-nail above his thumb, I sent a rock skipping down the path before us.
“So have you finished the reading for tomorrow?” I asked.
“Well it’s not like I have much of an option,” he responded, still assiduously focused on the flap of near-shorn skin.
I tried to broach a few more subjects, light subjects, but it seemed to me that Charles had taken my sudden reticence to be stand-offish, that there was something I was keeping from him. He met me with only cool amusement, answering each new conversation topic with a smirk.

>Piece:
—Ho hum, my good sir, ho hum. 'Tis a day like no other, my good man, since today is my wife's boyfriend's thirtieth birthday.
Swiftly, stout and corpse-fleshed Colonel Uckheart was coming down the alleyway, tipping steeply the end of his newly-purchased fedora acquired from the local antique hat boutique.
—'Tis a day like no other, he repeated, adding slyly, methinks Tyrone shall receiveth a wonderful Nintendo Switch.
—A Ninten-do Switch? Ozymandias Black the Third asked in bewilderment and dismay.
He was his best friend, despite being a Chinaman. There was an eager look in his eyes, as though he wanted to get at the bottom of this before their quick stroll around Detroit. It was a very familiar and homely city, one in which they searched every alcove as children. They were waltzing down a main street, which housed many local Bohemian start-ups and petty bourgeois boutiques.
—But cuck supposed to leceive the Ninten-do Switch, isn't it?
—My good man, you still have yet to comprehend the full relationship of the cuck and the cuckolder, as much as you need to grasp the language of the people whom you live among, and whose land you owe all your newfound prosperity.
Colonel Uckheart swivelled on his heels and turned down a little alleyway full of artisan coffee shops, micro breweries and tucked-away bars.
—Come, come, my good man, he said cheerily to his yellow friend. We shall get at the finer details over a pricey spiced rum.
—Yes, I rike lum.
They sat at a damp wooden table full of used glasses that had salt and lemons on the rims. Uckheart gagged at the thought of cocktails in this weather, instead preferring a fiery beverage to heighten his mood before the grand sexual orgy tonight, of which he was not allowed to take part in, which, to him, was the most exciting part.
—The Switch is for him to tease me with while he fucks my wife's arse full of big fat whopsies and huge bellows, long windy ones, and quick merry cracks. He will then play it before my eyes and make a red-faced bawling child of me.

>>15665588
Very happy to do a crit for crit with anyone I forgot to type.

>>15665768
Here's mine, anon. >>15665683

>Crit
Needs to start a new line between "Are you failing class?" and the next line. This is overall a good piece but I think that the topic is so banal to me that I'm biased towards disliking most 'school/college lit'. It certainly makes me want to read more, who is Hawk? The descriptions at the start are a nice touch and characterise the protagonist as well as giving a story about his relationship and attachment to others.

>>15665209
Neither, let their words or action show their frustration. I cringe every time I read a "sigh" or "sighed" on the page, not sure why I hate that word so much.

>>15663526
t. bad person

My first attempt at poetry

The Trail:

The gravel crunches below me.
Through the cool rain I press on.
From out of the mist I see Her
Her pale face, Her damp ginger hair.
I smile. She smiles back.
We pass.
I look back vainly, but She’s gone.
Lost in the mist.
Never to be seen again.

(if anyone wants to do a crit for crit just (you) me)

He was a boy.
She was a girl.
Can I make it anymore obvious?
He was a punk.
She did ballet.
What more can I say?
He wanted her.
She'd never tell.
Secretly she wanted him as well.
And all of her friends stuck up their nose.
They had a problem with his baggy clothes.

He was a skater boy.
She said, "See ya later, boy."
He wasn't good enough for her.
She had a pretty face but her head was up in space.
She needed to come back down to earth.

Five years from now, she sits at home feeding the baby.
She's all alone.
She turns on TV and guess who she sees?
Skater boy rockin' up MTV.
She calls up her friends.
They already know.
And they've all got tickets to see his show.
She tags along,
Stands in the crowd,
Looks up at the man that she turned down.

He was a skater boy.
She said, "See ya later, boy."
He wasn't good enough for her.
Now he's a superstar
Slammin' on his guitar
Does your pretty face see what he's worth?

Sunday

“You got the hamburger buns out.”

“And the beef, too.”

“Well I was going to make tacos.”

“Oh… Well you still can.”

“Yes, I still can.” *laughs*

Down the street a dog screeches and whimpers,
his owners have been gone for weeks.

*napping*
He inhales sharply with a snore/grunt that wakes him

“Oh, excuse me.” *smiling*
*laughs* (multiple)

Ann comes in:
“You see what I have to put up with.”

*more smiles, light laughs*

“I guess we’re having hamburgers, instead of the other.”

“That's perfectly fine.” he says.

The smell of smoke sneaks in through the back screen door,
sunny sunday,
Someone shot the dog in the afternoon and buried it.

I have this here:

It is the year 7999, gargantuan ships flood the great swirling of the volatile Milky Way galaxy. Her planets, vibrate in horror as the metal struts of war machines pound against the blood soaked ground which once held great cities of prosperity. The time of peace was over, death arrived as the disagreements of great nations came to an explosive solution. Bitter rivalries had unearthed themselves and so plunged the races of the Milky Way into a violent conflict that the galaxy had not seen before.
Live through this perilous time in the lives of four soldiers, fighters of what is left of humanity now known as Sharackians.
This galaxy is ridden with conspiracy and war, will these soldiers survive and remain with the fiery nationalistic fervor implanted in them by their superiors? Or will they change, break away as the hidden curtain is opened to reveal the dark and maddening truth of both their establishment and the establishment of every other nation.
Of the year 7999, the normal life of the past is forever gone.

I have more on Wattpad if anyone is interested:
https://my.w.tt/Wu5Wnth5v7

>>15667588
What's with your weird passive/backward constructions? Are you ESL?

>>15667712
>be larthurhunt
>be Quebecois separatist
>call everyone else ESL

If you are a friend, travel with me as I travel through. Let these words be textured, hollow bark, overhanging, saplinglike and let them grow with you. Walk with me now. See everything as I see. Down from my court, I walk to forest white-laced, streaming with sylphic mist, tucked dark. I walk calmly into this. These halls are mine, and no creature here could set heart away with wormy fear, or quivering mind, or sinking spirits; none of these trespass. Through the arches, come! Here sprout blackberries sweet and maples grow here. Ravens, rabbits, scurrying. Tones sing in this wood, light but sharp. These territories, languid glade, they present a peace like none other on the Earth; where under swaying moss is felt streaming in air such quiet raptures. See the melting winter: gallant mist pervades, deep dens open, all grows. There is life in bark and branch. By dawn’s light or by evening gale, whether wilting in the sleep of the world or in her rising, don’t you see these face-like forms of leaf and winking dust ensouled? If elsewhere such peace as abundant were set free, then still here I would rest, and still here would sacred virtues shine as sacred water flows.

>>15653169
I don't really know what this is describing. It sounds like a mosh pit, or like sex, maybe you mean both. Idk. However, it flows extremely well. Very pleasing to read and very fast and energetic.
>>15649085
It doesn't really have to be talking and eating and mundane things, just something where their life is at stake. Obviously the scene should still be interesting and meaningful.
>>15653021
I've also had to think about fantasy religions in my planned works. I think its best to explore religions symbols from around the world, even if its not just of the gods. Having a list of somewhat interconnected, canonized symbology woven into the mythology is something I think will give it life. The practitioners are alien-like beings, so their mythic symbols are influenced by their different body schema and neurology. Anyway, to get off of me and back to your question: Maybe you can explore very similar words to God such as "Lord", "The Good", I know the Hebrews have tons of names of God to draw inspiration from, and Hindus and Buddhists usually give their gods many alternate names. On the other hand, I don't think there would be so many consequences for just using God if it were the most convenient and immediate word, which it is. Fundamentalist Christians have been forced to live alongside a thriving body of fantasy works with gods/God for a long time now, and have plenty in the genre to complain about already. They'll always complain about how demonic Harry Potter is, for example.

A sick suspicion that our true selves are the skeleton lying beneath, and the world too has a layer of milky white bone, which will stretch out pristine and off-white until the horizon when all of its flesh and dirt has dried out and blown off, blinding to anyone who would be there to walk it, crept over me. My lips are dry and bleeding and I am nauseated to a point that my reasoning is affected as I stumble across the great salt flats. I look behind me and the column of smoke from the Bottlenose is still visible, only small and thin, unstirred by the wind, a filament stretching to the terrifying blue heavens. I only have to remember to walk directly away from it, to the mid checkpoint, until I can see that safe haven as a dot on the horizon. When I reach that point I can fall to the ground, safe in the knowledge that I’ll be spotted by Oliver with his binoculars. Some back of the head math tells me that time will come in around two more hours of walking. No, I think, they should have seen that black plume of smoke from the crash, someone should have been en route twenty minutes ago.
I remind myself that this is not a life or death situation. There are plans in place for me not completing the trip. My route is linear and mapped out, it would take multiple inexcusable failures for me to die today. It’s just going to be a dry, thirsty, cracked and tired couple of hours. I am thankful for the oily film of sunblock on my nose and cheeks and neck. I imagine it as mother Mary, carrying my dying body to a tent with bottles of water and a radio, and the project’s chief engineer, Oliver Hamer. It is one-hundred-and-five degrees Fahrenheit, and the waving and wiggling horizon dances in front of me. Pale earth crackles beneath me, the lines blending into white further on. I remember lying in bed, a heavy red flannel blanket weighing me down, too hot, but an impossible burden to overcome in the state I was in. Some valve in my spirit had been constricted, weakening not only the translation of my desires into action, but of my will into desires. I could only cast my eyes straight up. The cottage cheese pattern of the ceiling began to twist and turn in my head, and I saw in it a painting of God casting angry bolts at me.

https://pastebin.com/FKJAzQyZ

>>15667249
I'll bite.
Seems like a bit of a freeform kinda deal, which is cool, but most freeform poetry has a certain rhythm to it to bring it together. I can tell this person wants the gal, which is great, I can tell what's going on.

I'd recommend taking the thing out another verse, and establishing a stanza structure, maybe building the character a bit more before tearing them down.

https://pastebin.com/FKJAzQyZ

>>15647356
>>15647362
>Baker goes to Austria
I thought this was gonna be a Holocaust joke.

>>15656390
as someone who's read the entire thread, I couldn't get past page 2 without being relentlessly bored. Non-fiction can be more interesting but it really doesn't feel like a lot of life is being injected into the start. The rest could be amazing but I'll never know.

>>15669295

Shit well thanks man

>>15648164
Would not read a garbage like this even if my life depended on it.

>>15667893

lmao what makes you think Liam is a separatist?

>>15670637
I'am a professional conversationalist coach. I look into these things

Crit:
>>15651558
I like it and it has nice rhythms, but the third line spoils it by simplifying it to just a "haha you people suck". Soften it to make it more ambiguous. Make the poem be pointing out something, not a self-satisfied insult against some vague collection of people. If you want to be self-satisfied, it should be over something very specific, not some vague worldwide category like "the cult of the answer", or else you come off as banal and lame.

Submission:

>My friend and I reunite in the time after monuments, when none of the recognizable landmarks are left, when there's nothing left to put your name on, nothing more to do, not even a brute stone reminder that effort existed, like they wanted us to leave. In this twilight, we can finally start to imagine what we're going to do. Undeniably it is twilight: I'm not an idiot: I recognize that by the dimming of the sky and the gray stone fields, fading down to black in silhouette, just like we used to see at a terminating day. But it has become a chance for peace, possibly following the ash and the ardor. Fortunately, location itself has not been annihilated. Together, we create a peaceable transaction that stretches from Egypt to the Nowhere Railroad. A Pax Praetorius. Every title, moniker and name has been yielded. Form and intent remain. We can stand here and watch the tides of receding conversation, and then observe our powers as they turn to dust, and enamor us in fire, and vanish from the face of our relentless desires, like a setting sun.

Crit:
>>15651558
I like it and it has nice rhythms, but the third line spoils it by simplifying it to just a "haha you people suck". Soften it to make it more ambiguous. Make the poem be pointing out something, not a self-satisfied insult against some vague collection of people. If you want to be self-satisfied, it should be over something very specific, not some vague worldwide category like "the cult of the answer", or else you come off as banal and lame.

Submission:

My friend and I reunite in the time after monuments, when none of the recognizable landmarks are left, when there's nothing left to put your name on, nothing more to do, not even a brute stone reminder that effort existed, like they wanted us to leave. In this twilight, we can finally start to imagine what we're going to do. Undeniably it is twilight: I'm not an idiot: I recognize that by the dimming of the sky and the gray stone fields, fading down to black in silhouette, just like we used to see at a terminating day. But it has become a chance for peace, possibly following the ash and the ardor. Fortunately, location itself has not been annihilated. Together, we create a peaceable transaction that stretches from Egypt to the Nowhere Railroad. A Pax Praetorius. Every title, moniker and name has been yielded. Form and intent remain. We can stand here and watch the tides of receding conversation, and then observe our powers as they turn to dust, and enamor us in fire, and vanish from the face of our relentless desires, like a setting sun.

When writing a fantasy world, do you need to stick to the rules of the world when describing things, or can I use real world parallels?

Sort of like Orcs knowing what a menu was, in LOTRs.

>>15671864
bruv it's fantasy, it doesn't matter just use your imagination and do wot you want

>>15665683
>>15665807
Sorry for the delay anon, I didn't have access to a computer for a bit. I really like your use of adjectives firstly, "corpse-fleshed" is maybe my favorite. I also really enjoyed the use of more antiquated language in general and the use of em-dashes to set in new trains of thought, very Gaddis-like. Clearly you are a good writer, but my main critique would be thematic. It is a funny theme, but I wonder how long it could continue for without the humor wearing away, that just being: that it is common tropes about cucks but told in a high-literary manner. Of course the story might develop beyond that, but I do think the writing is solid. I also like the allusion to the Joyce letter at the end.

>>15667588
Period after 7999, ditch the comma after planets. There's also this machines/cities/prosperity sound that I think recurs too much in that line. Otherwise pretty fine.

howdy fellas. haven't posted in a minute. got published twice in the meantime. here's some experimental poetry I'm working on. Inspired by Phillip Glass' "Einstein on the Beach"

>>15673148
What is the fucking point of that formatting?

>>15673168
Lol imagine needing a point for creative expression. never gonna make it.

>>15673148
this is not experimental, stuff like this has been full normative for decades. Compare this to the actual libretto of Einstein on the Beach (which was written by a 13yo autistic kid btw lmao so maybe that's not who you want to imitate) -- yours feels artificial instead of the innocent sincere autism of the original.

>>15673148
Phillip Glass?

Hilda wished she was a worm. Hilda, sitting among the stalagmites, hunched beneath the weight of fur and steel, wished for the unencumbered existence of the worm. It was if she had taken a deep, deep breath long ago and had held it for a long, long time--for her whole life--and the worm, living in the innards of this mountain, beneath the earth, breathed freely every single day, breathed, in fact, with its whole body--and she envied it.

Yes, but the worm, she reproached herself, did not breathe anymore. Look at your boots. Examine your sword. There is its lymph, its ichor, it's blind unburden come to nothing. Because this creature bore only itself in its whole life, and because it writhed here in this darkness all alone, its tendrils and maw worn to their own selfish ends, only its death has any meaning. It is so.

The lymph pooled steadily at Hilda's feet. It had the color and consistency of rainwater gathered in a deep hoof-print and its shape reminded her of the Prince--which these days she'd begun to see everywhere: in the clouds, in the knots of trees, in the campfire. In her dreams. His golden hair afloat haphazardly above his eyes like frozen straw--the eyes of a bird, of some creature of air and light. She rose quickly to her feet, sheathed her sword, drew her knife. She went quickly back to the dead worm and plucked out its eight blind eyes and stuffed them in a sack. They were as heavy as pearls, as though made of something more dense than flesh, their color of amber--the wedding gift of her people--and she reproached herself again. So, its love is it? she mocked herself and spat bitterly onto the worms body.

From cavernous hollows she emerged like a match-flame. Long ago she had discarded all pretense of beauty, yet, even in that harsh contrast of light and shadow, it persisted. Her skin shone like gold; her lips like blood. She wore a silver band in her hair and silver hung in heavy loops from her earlobes. Her chin and cheeks were as soft and smooth as molten lead and her neck was as powerful as a bulls.

Her horse awaited her at the mouth of the cave and whinnied when her head rose, step by step, from the darkness. The sack of eyes swung in a tight arc from her girdle and the bare parts of her thighs were enveloped in a sheen of sweat commingled with blood and slime. The horse snorted and flared its nostrils at her approach, disdainful of the scent, but she cooed and coaxed and gave him long rubs down his snout and offered him secret promises of apples and he soon relented. She strung the sack to the horse's saddle and rode hard down the mountain path. You will not see him, she thought, and you will let the courtier have it and you will go away without temptation. And when her heart beat against her ears like a funeral bell, she thought, now you old fool, you'll forget him in a moon. And she wept as she rode, telling herself, yes, it is so. It is so.

---

>>15673148
Oh fuck you said Phillip Glass
That is some interesting music I was deep into that a few months ago yep
Cool enough experiment, I’m retarded though

The sound of focus is a strange one, it’s not unlike silence or anything that comes with consternation and a drop of sweat from the brow. But focus has an energy to it, it’s sound is like a static energy, it’s a charge in the air. It’s something that’s reactionary and that reacts to itself.

You can hear a slight *zip* not with your ears but in between your ears, where the magic happens. Where you begin to take in what focus brings you. Sometimes focus is on something you find fun, or something you’re working on. There’s sometimes though where a focus more than you can understand turns your mind to the void. It’s not a scent you follow, it’s an animal magnetism you’re compelled to hover over the hollowed ground of.

Where does the line between focus and investments lie? What you focus on is what holds you, what you invest in is where you try to direct yourself. There’s a degree of wiggle room, sometimes more sometimes less. It’s a hard thing to navigate. But to go through the eye of the needle is inevitable, it’s approach is just another manifestation of gravity. There’s a path to it no matter which investment you take. Find something to focus on that makes you actively want to get there. Take some distractions with you too, sure, but hold yourself upright. Take measures to avoid your lonesome.

- a character that was secretly breaking the 4th wall the whole time

>>15675145
>strange one, it’s not
strange one. It’s not
>from the brow. But focus has
from the brow, but focus has
>energy to it, it’s sound
energy to it. Its sound
>static energy, it’s a charge
static energy; it’s a charge
>It’s something that’s reactionary and that reacts to itself.
It's reactionary and reacts to itself.
>You can hear a slight *zip* not
You can hear a slight 'zip'; not
>in between your ears
in between them
>where the magic happens. Where you begin
where the magic happens, where you begin
>or something you’re working on
or something on which you're working
>sometimes though where
sometimes, though, where
>a focus more than you can understand
more focus than you can understand
>you follow, it’s an animal
you follow; it’s an animal
>you’re compelled to hover over the hollowed ground of.
of which you’re compelled to hover over the hollowed ground.
>What you focus on is
That on which you focus is
>holds you, what you
holds you; what you
>what you invest in
that on which you invest
>room, sometimes more sometimes
room; sometimes more, sometimes
>to navigate. But to go
to navigate, but to go
>is inevitable, it’s approach
is inevitable. Its approach
>gravity. There’s
gravity; there’s
>to focus on
on which to focus
>you too
you, too
>to avoid your lonesome.
to avoid loneliness.

>>15673148
Seems like anything'll get published nowadays. I'd rather not get published than get swill published

>>15675449
Do a private publishing, and inoccuously stick your thing in local book or thrift stores unannounced
Paper is cheap and common enough to where this could work

>>15675911
Kill yourself

>>15663685
One of the better excerpts I've seen.
There are two points I'd predict people in MFAs and editors might cares about, if you ever try and publish. Not exactly things I'd care about, personally.
1. Use of semicolons.
2. Use of adverbs. This always confused me, but there's a substantial prejudice against using adverbs in the literary world. For example, to replace "bent over awkwardly" in your passage to "stumbled over."

Your life is small; the endless sky is vast,
To never land's worth any sacrifice,
Vanish in rising wind, all sorrows past,
To never land's worth any sacrifice,

You feel the many weary hours worn thin,
The crumbs of love locked in a gilded cage,
All that you want and need is named a sin,
Fly far from death in evil wars they wage,

Fly free of summer's burn and winter's bite,
Spread out your wide wings to the wild, wild night.

>>15674386
I'm not sure the tonality matches the content. You're reaching for a very classically literate style of writing but the content reads like genre fiction. It's all very baroque, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but I get a lack of self awareness of the dynamic from it. There are a lot of minor grammatical errors as well, but I'll chalk that up to phoneposting.

Anyone have any input for me? I posted a while ago and this is another excerpt.
>https://pastebin.com/HHB2WszU

>>15677232
Love the last line but some of this is jarring. Try to think about a more concrete concept to write about.

>>15677851
i wrote as a sort of gnostic poem if that makes sense.

Cum Town

Mankind had finally discovered the sound that makes everything cum. Subsequently, it was played everywhere, like the sound telephone poles make. No news channel could afford to be the one that didn't make people cum, no cartoon nor commercial either. The lone exception were the sad animal shelter commercials, which instead played The Sound of Silence. But from the footage, you could tell what they were playing in the kennel.

>>15678244
Where can I find Cum Town?

>>15678327
https://youtu.be/IM8LOy0kj_8

>>15668455
I feel like some of the imagery is a dead end here, or that when you reach for meaning it's strictly implied at best, or simply for the sake of the words composing it at worst. I don't think everything needs to make sense though, and I'm not arrogant enough to say that my not seeing "meaning" on my very cursory glance-though means there actually IS none. You write wonderfully though. Great command of language without retreating fully into that broodingly dour THIS IS MY WRITING VOICE kind of tonality. I enjoyed it.

>>15678244
>google to check if it's the telephone poles or wires that make noise, or if it even matters
>google now thinks I'm schizo and needs to remind me 5G doesn't give corona
fucking christ

Would it sound better with "wires" or "poles"? I'm thinking about where these sounds get repeated.

>>15678650
It's actually the transformers which make that sound. The wires and poles are silent.

>>15668455
I can't quite pin the image of the opening line. Like it comes through but I'm trying to fit a human spine around a globe and don't know quite where to put it. A good adjective before "layer" might help, I don't know.

>terrifying blue heavens
I saw black simply due to the planetary image from earlier, though I like it.

"Smelted bronze in the furnace,
solid bronze in the mold,
soft bronze in the face,
lovely day in the forge!"

The sweet sound of the song
carried the soul of the work,
and the maker under the dome
Guarded all joy in the world.

But your golden feat is now done,
And you must reap what you sow!
It'll shine in London as in Rome
So revere glory, for here it comes!

"Smelted statue in the furnace,
solid bronze in the mold,
soft bronze in the face,
lovely night in the forge!"

>>15678650
>thinking about where these sounds get repeated
in the text, I should specify

>>15678658
Thanks

>>15678708
first stanza is great although "lovely" feels out of place.

second stanza, last line is way too obvious -- spoils the poem.

Third stanza is dramatically worse. Scrap it and write a new one.

Coming back to the first stanza after only two stanzas between -- it hasn't been long enough for that to feel satisfying. Either add at least one more stanza or ditch the idea of coming back around.

>>15679228
actually I would make it two more stanzas to feel satisfying

>>15677730
Awkward, garish and mannered to the point of distraction. It reads like a poet's attempt at prose, except that it has no real flow either so it would have to be a bad poet. Worst of all, this "story" has none of the necessary elements to make it so.

>>15679328
>to the point of distraction
That's kind of the point. Going over the actual sequence of events:
>the narrator is masturbating in the bathroom
>he has a flashback to something he experienced with a girl
>loses interest
>starts stimulating his anus with his finger
>cums
I'm not saying you don't have a point, but was it all a little too allegorical? The narrator finds himself jerking off in the bathroom at this point in the story because reasons, and I decided to try to have some fun with it.

>>15679470
Allegory isn't the problem. If you're going to try and distract the reader from some obscene act with your prose, you need to write better prose.

>>15679511
Pretend for a second that I'd already built up some goodwill with the reader in prior passages and cleaned up strictly the flow. Would you personally still hate it?

>>15679548
Why would I not? Bad writing is bad writing. If anything it would be worse, since the writer has demonstrated he can write well if he wants to (doubtful in this case, but post other excerpts) but chose to suspend his judgement here. If I read something like that in a published work, I would throw it in the trash, without exception. No amount of good will is worth suffering through the author's try-hard attempts at poetic force. Even if your character masturbates on the page, it doesn't mean that you should too. Respect the reader or else write in your diary.

>>15679598
I'm trying to wring something constructive out of this. Can you expound a bit on "write better prose" or "respect your reader" please?

>>15679692
No, I really can't. Not in a 4chan post anyway. There are, however, entire books written on the subject (Le Guin wrote a pretty good modern one), you can start by reading one of those and then applying it's principles to your writing. Studying and breaking down the prose of the writers you admire is a better exercise. You might take a look at Nabokov for example, and see how he handles the business of massaging perversion with prose.

I have feeling you won't heed this advice anyway though because you'll think it's beneath you. In fact, it seems to me you already know what your problems are, since you say
>>15679470
>I'm not saying you don't have a point
but you're not willing to fix them. In which case, at least fix your most glaring (albeit superficial, in terms what the real problems are) issues of sentence monotony and inappropriate alliteration.

>>15679854
Thank you for the reply. Pynchon is probably the writer I admire most, and it's a hard thing to invoke him. I could never be Pynchon obviously (I can only be me) but I did try to capture a bit of the playfulness, unsuccessfully it looks like. I'm not unaware of the unwieldy alliteration. I was hoping it would read as playful as I felt while writing it, but I guess it fails in that regard and just reads pretentious. I appreciate the input.

>>15658196
not enough to go on. post the meat and potatoes of it.

Timothe woke to the sound of laughter. Not just the laughter of one, but many people. Being a caucasion Englishman on the cusp of thirty, Timothe never concerned himself with the realities of tsunamis, tornados, or earthquakes; since these were the type of things which plagued countries far and away, typically in more humid climates.

Yet so great and heavy was the cacophony of laughter, Timothe rolled violently out of bed, landing bleary-eyed and dazed on the bedroom carpet. More laughter stabbed his ears, beginning unbearably loud then ebbing quickly away.

Timothe wasn’t surprised to see his small bedroom empty of people, since, now he’d had a second to think about the potential source of the sound, he looked for a speaker of some sort.

Perhaps he had left his laptop on and perhaps a browser had been left open, and that browser was now playing some annoying advertisement at peak volume. But no, there was his laptop powered off on the side table by the radiator. His television was switched off too.
Timothe realised with sudden whimsical clarity that he must have dreamt the laughter. This sort of thing had happened before. Once he had woken in the middle of the night to see a menacing figure bearing over him. Timothe couldn’t move a muscle at the time even as the figure screeched and looked him square in the face with its bottomless black eye sockets.
Another time Timothe woke to see a huge spider the size of his open hand crawling up the bedroom wall. It was only an hour or so later that Timothe pieced together the truth behind the spider’s sudden emergence, and even quicker disappearance: it was never really there to begin with.

That was all classic sleep paralysis phenomena. When the mind is coming out of a dream into wakefulness, if a person wakes too fast, they can see and hear things that aren’t there, often frightening things.

Timothe took in a deep breath, then let out a long sigh. Dressed in a purple pajama shirt and checkered boxer briefs, Timothe slipped on his navy blue slippers and opened his bedroom door.

He quickly wished he hadn’t.

>>15680871
>Timothe never concerned himself with the realities of tsunamis, tornados, or earthquakes

Tremors would've been a better word to use over earthquakes.

>>15680889
Yeah better illiteration

>>15680899
Also because Graboids are worse than earthquakes.

>>15680713
sure, you can find the whole chapter here:

>https://larthurhunt.files.wordpress.com/2020/06/novel-2-intro.pdf

>>15680957
I found this incredibly boring to read.

>>15679228
Third one is indeed quite bad, as I rushed it too much trying to tidy it up. Yeah, you are right, as well as in the point of it needing at least two more stanzas. It was fair criticism, and gonna work on it, thank you.

>>15667582
You've put my childhood neighborhood into words really well. The sitcom inanity of the conversation about the food plays nicely with the desperation of the starving dog.

I tried to make this one not sound mopey, I don't know if I succeeded. I also feel like it should be longer and might extend it later, but there wasn't any imagery besides the sun and wind that came to mind in the moment.

>>15680907
unappreciated master piece

Not letting this thread die yet

I wrote an unofficial sequel to American Psycho in my spare time but not sure if it's any good because I feel like it has too many crazy chapters/edgy humor and not enough purposely monotonous/tedious parts and autistic descriptions of clothing

>>15685795
You should doctor it up as a standalone and try to get it published

>>15685795
Post a google docs of it and anons can critique it. It also won't be traced if a publisher wants to find if you've published it online (only allow comments and delete the doc once we've critiqued)

Every man is alone in the ocean, even in a ship full of people. In the busy hub bub of life, we often create busyness, intentionally or not, to drown out the dreadful questions that haunt us but in the ocean, all of that is laid bare. The hopes of a loving God becomes infinitely tentative when man, solitary, hears the wild fury and capricious judgement of the raw elements of the waves. People of yesteryear feared the oceans and lands beyond the horizon in the same way just as we all feel our infinitesimal insignificance when seeing how small our earth is in respect to the universe. The silent tyranny of the vast natural world relegates all things human, our worries, hopes, dreams and even love to be foregone contrivances, laughably small-minded.

>>15677730
Can anyone give me some constructive feedback on this please? I'm not asking for anyone to suck my dick, but if something is wrong I'd really appreciate it if someone could give me some help.

>>15686650
People already have critiqued it.

>>15686789
One person has, and he basically just said "you suck" and then declined my request to elaborate. That's fine, people can say that, but I'm asking for something a little more concrete.

>>15677730
>>15686868
>>15686650
>https://pastebin.com/HHB2WszU
Can you stop with the alliteration and trying to make it read like a verse? the wordplay reminds me of a hackneyed over-the-hill eminem song.
What makes all of this detail so important that it cannot be said with a few sentences? What have we truly learned about this character or this situation at hand? Why does the narrator internalize thoughts in a completely unrealistic manner? Who legitimately thinks like this?
>I think of the sand wives of the high country, of cocaine linguistics, of rules broken, and soft breasts under taffeta. I'm transfixed, a chilly crown thornless abreast my temples.
>Hand on the rudder, I steer myself towards something superlative.
It comes off pompous and synthetic, not human.
A lot of starter writers have problems with slowing down and not really delving into the scene. You're the opposite and this scene has no reason to be what it reads as. It reads to me like a boundless hubris, congrats on using words that are technically used correctly but do not fit whatsoever in the sentences or at best are purposeless.
Do yourself a favor and close the thesaurus and just write the scene like a normal person. It's honestly jarring.
All that being said, not even trying to be an asshole, I'm sure this is great for niche girls.

>>15687393
I'm not trying to be defensive, but I think the passage might be a little misunderstood. I'm really conflicted at this point because it's kind of supposed to break the fourth wall in a self-aware way. I purposely forced a few of those jarring words that seem out of place to allude to what's actually an allegory. The narrator is in a bathroom jerking off and starts fingering his ass after thinking of an old girlfriend. Those are the facts of what is actually happening in that scene. So there actually is a reason for it to be what it reads as, as in I had an actual reason for it. I really just wanted to juxtapose the content of the scene with the tonality of the language. It's definitely getting rewritten at some point, I'm just still not sure of the direction I should take when rewriting it. I'm at least going to clean up the way it flows. Should I make it MORE flowery to highlight the juxtaposition? I was already kind of stretching myself. Maybe a thesaurus might be a decent idea for this passage since I was definitely running out of steam. I really don't like the idea of using one though. Thank you for the constructive feedback though, I unironically really appreciate it.

How's this for an opening line?

>>15688648
Pretty good.
I'd change it to;
>'How is this for an opening line?'
Puts more emphasis on 'this', making it more impactful, but it really depends on the characters.
If you are writing from the perspective of a flamin' drongo, then 'how's' is fine.

Hows this for a story outline

Main character goes to school and learns he can fly. He goes to fight the head principal who is actually the devil. In the end the main character wakes up and realises it was all a dream, which is a major plot twist.

Not a piece, but an idea. I suffer from a bunch of neurological issues and shortly after I was sent to the psych ward to have my mental aptitudes checked, I had this idea of writing about a neuropsychiatrist of sorts and the trials and tribulations he experiences as he deals with his patients, one or more of whom could be irredeemable. It wouldn't have to be a madhouse, just a nondescript clinic home to disabled people from all backgrounds. Maybe I could write it in a journal style or take inspiration from medical notes to show how the guy's job takes a toll on him as the years go by. That said, I need to do a lot of research and I'm hesitant for fear that it might have been overdone. Thoughts?

>>15687918
Everyone unanimously dislikes it. Take a hint.

>>15689045
Sounds shit and boring. Even I'm an outpatient and it doesn't interest me in the slightest.

>>15689045
there is no 'one day x happened' hook atm

>(it's in spanish)

“”Me fui al puente Saavedra” decía una nota de cuaderno a rayas, escrita en lápiz, en el frente de la puerta. Era un día frio y seco, sin niebla pero aún así oscuro, casi como una preparación para astronautas en una agencia espacial. El joven inquilino, de sólo 17 años, se había puesto sus mejores zapatos, los había lustrado, hasta acompañó su camisa Hilffiger con una corbata negra, y se había asegurado de tomar una mezcla alcohólica que casi violaba la convención de Ginebra. Un par de viajes en colectivo después, estaba sentado al borda del puente, con su mochila aún puesta y el cuerpo temblando, tratando de mirar hacia arriba y no hacia abajo. En su mochila sólo tenía más alcohol, el cual empezó a consumir ante las súplicas e historia de una pequeña muchedumbre que se había congregado.
Cuando estaba por incorporarse, notó a un niño al lado suyo. Era un niño con la cabeza rapada, vestido de negros, con botas tácticas, y unas cadenas colgando de su cintura.
“Vete a casa, niño, ve con tu mamá” le dijo el joven entre hipos de borrachera.
El niño solo untó su dedo en un frasquito y con una sustancia negra marcó un punto en el piso.
“Este es el tiempo. Es un punto. Todo sucede al mismo tiempo; si estas a vivo ahora, es que nunca estás muerto, pues si estuvieras muerto ¿Cómo podría el tú que esta en el punto estar vivo? Y, apenas hubo terminado de explicar su razonamiento, el niño le dio un empujón.