/lit/ - Literature

>In December 2011, upon learning that Argentine President Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner had been diagnosed with cancer, Hugo Chavez invited his followers into reflection. What were the odds, he asked, that so many left-wing Latin American leaders would discover they had cancer in such a short period of time? In 2009 the disease had hit Brazil’s then presidential candidate Dilma Rousseff. In 2010 it was Paraguay’s President Lugo’s turn, followed in 2011 by Brazil’s former President Lula da Silva, Kirchner, and Chavez himself. Could it be just a coincidence? Or was it not much more likely that a certain someone, who felt challenged by these leaders, had developed a machine capable of inducing cancer from long distance, and was doing so against those who threatened their interests?

>>21979225

>>21979236
this is pretty good anon.

>>21979236
Very nice. This a short story? Who are ur influences? What's ur process?

>>21979236
What font is that?

>>21979566
Thanks.

>>21979579
It’s a short story yeah, almost finished the first draft now. I’ve had 2 shorts published already. I don’t really know what you mean by my process, but as far as influences go I try to read a short story every day, which helps, and a poem each day. My main effort goes into my novel straight after I wake up for a few hours, but it’s painfully slow.

>>21979585
EB Garamond

>>21979225
I wrote the first two pages like half a year ago and haven't continued.....

more than a paragraph, but they're short so

>>21979604
I want to read ur 2 published stories!

>I'm no longer a singular entity, for I'm complacent to someone I don't even know anymore. I'm in a constant state of work which left undone would result in someone I hate dying, someone I very much want to die, but this sentiment is really just an unfulfilling dream of mine, for my heart still pounds my chest and I feel the air on every breath I take. I will keep doing this until my heart can no longer bear to beat, for an obligation that I have no reason to uphold anymore. The only reason for this obligation that I remember keeping is just by the fact alone that it's something I decided oh so many years ago. A promise like a tunnel that goes to a place I no longer remember or care for, that gives me a goal that I must carry forward, no matter how much I want to just fall and die. This is the only decision I can make for myself, the most important one of them all, it is one that I must keep even when I want to do more.

>>21979604
But are u reading from a specific short story anthology? Online shorts in magazines? Like who are ur influences? What poets?

>>21979659
I mean I guess I’ve always read. I wrote a little book for fun when I was 10, sold it in school and donated the money to charity, I got on local news for it. My degree was in English Literature. I’ve been making serious efforts at writing on and off since I was 19 (now 27). So you kind of absorb things you like and get an internal metronome where you ‘feel out’ prose, is how best I can describe it. I’m not looking to imitate anyone, I have my own voice (though my novel is from the point of view of a very well educated, upper class girl, so I’ve had to construct a voice for that in some respects).

In terms of short story writers I just like - Chekhov, Joyce, Turgenev, O’Connor, Hemingway, Dahl are all great. I guarantee if you work through just Chekhov’s collected stories, Hemingway’s, and Dubliners, you’ll see a big improvement in your own writing. Just constantly read. In terms of prose stylists I’m a huge fan of Evelyn Waugh, Virginia Woolf, James Joyce and Proust. The first 3 are probably my favourite prose stylists in English, and the ones I strive to be like.

US President Joe Biden recently announced that he would forgive up to $10,000 of federal student debt for most borrowers, or $20,000 for Pell Grant recipients (CNBC 2022). While it is not yet clear whether he will be able to deliver on this promise, the announcement alone clearly indicates that funding for higher education is a prominent issue in the realm of politics. Therefore this policy analysis will be highly relevant to the current socioeconomic and political landscape, its focus being on government strategies regarding higher education. Specifically, it aims to answer the question “should higher education be publicly funded?”

>>21979604
>>21979689
If you won’t link your published stories can you post an excerpt from this novel? Interested to see what kind of range you have

>>21979689
Didn't Chekhov write in Russian tho?

>>21979696
I used to post excerpts on /lit/ all the time. I know from experience that any praise I get for my novel here would kill some of my motivation to write it. I need to stay hungry and keep the whole thing away until it’s ready all at once. Shorts I don’t mind as much.

Those winds that were hollered in motion with unmoved cause blew vehemently like the gay ladies of the old glassworks, now merely bones and shards buried to each of their own. Usually silent. Exclusive amongst the concrete fallen could one under a full moon and winds tilling the loose shivers--left for takers--be the starry ground revealed, that old bluster of sulphuric memories.

>>21979708
Yes - by first three I referred to the second list, meaning Waugh, Woolf, Joyce. I dare anyone to read Brideshead, To the Lighthouse, Mrs Dalloway, Dubliners, and Portrait of the Artist without improving as a writer. If someone read those 5 books consecutively, accompanied by a short story each day from either Chekhov or Hemingway, and a poem each day, accompanied by consistent writing practice, that person would improve substantially as a writer. It would take less than 60 days, and by the end of it I think anyone could produce something plausible.

>>21979230
Sounds contrived.

Bit long but...

Harold Meiks had never seen a horse in person. He had never been to New York City or Chicago, where sometimes in the winter there were horse drawn carriages that gave rides to tourists or young married couples. He had never seen a policeman on a horse. He had never been to a racing track, a farm, or even a petting zoo. He had never been to Texas. On his tenth birthday, his father took him to a betting parlor and gave him one hundred dollars to place on any horse he wanted. The place was cramped and smelled of cigarette butts and coffee. There was a small television mounted in one corner of the room which was muted and which had rolling bars of rainbow static rippling across its face. Next to it was an intercom that played classic rock in between the machine-gun commentary of the race caller and the occasional crackly announcement from the booth. Harold placed his entire one hundred dollar bill on Silver Dash. His father smiled at him and held the ticket in his tight fist the whole time. When Silver Dash lost, he gave the ticket to Harold and said “Don’t ever let your mother see it.” They went out for ice cream afterwards and Harold never went to a betting parlor again. Instead, he placed his bets online, using his mother’s credit card. By the time he was twenty-two he had made two and a half million dollars. He owned two apartment buildings, a condo, a small boat (in which he lived) and had now set his eyes on buying a horse ranch. It was on his twenty-third birthday that his father came to visit.

>>21979756
Let me guess he goes poor at the end.

>>21979225
Why first paragraph? Why not best part(s)?

>>21979236
please post the full thing anon, whenever you're done with it. I really would love to read it

>>21979766
Nah, not really. His father's actually doing about as well as he is when he shows up.

>>21979732
I don't know man I think you might just be wired differently. I've read all of those authors and my writing is still shit tier. Though, granted, I didn't do it in such a concentrated dose and didn't read poetry in concurrence.

It's more than one, but pretty brief - A roaring crash echoed throughout the halls of the fort as plates and pewterware came crashing down to the cold, concrete ground. The perpetrator stopped in his tracks as the victim, a military janitor, looked to the man with a furious glare. The out-of-breath man bent down, grabbing the shards of ceramic with his bare hands while letting out a quick apology.
"Sorry!"
The annoyed janitor scowled, then let out a defeated sigh as he crouched down to help with the cleanup. The flustered man swatted the military janitor’s hand away, ensuring the man he’d do it by himself. The man began piling forks together when he caught a glimpse of his watch’s face.
12:35.
Almost 40 minutes past the hour, with little more than five minutes before his effort became null. He shot an apologetic look to the janitor and began to run from the mess he had made, his hurried footsteps and angry yelling echoing throughout the hall behind him.
“You bastard! Get back here!”

I wanted to see how much I could fit into one sentence and if I could start a work with a character description that wasn't boring.
Also I know it's technically two paragraphs, but it's only two sentences and the ending makes it better so bite me. Might break it up into more than one sentence if it doesn't work though.

>>21979236
it's like henry james but without the meandering. modernized but without fluff. very well composed.

>>21980644
I gave it a go while trying to retain your language used. A few corrections implemented to help the flow and remove the rambling bout of run-on. Though the ideas are coherent, mental fatigue will take the reader with force if run-ons remain throughout. A little more referral to her profession with mild sardonicism.

Hey it's probably shit, but was fun to work on. Thanks!

>>21980848
should have said "accentuated," v tired

It was a foggy and mist laden night that reminded Sam Hacklesmith of something which he had seen, through drowsy lids half awake, about how the Ancient Greeks saw black and blue as merely deviations of the same Ideal color. A light rain had come earlier playing in slight whips of his lapel with cold drops, not even the size of a pinhead, alighting on his cheeks. The cold lights on top of poles with caked-on tar in its falling stasis beneath it to shine with fresh dewpoints in a blue-black miasma. Even the camel crush packet he had bought earlier at the Bluesky was a chromatic blue fading deeper in color from left to right over a background of darkness. He shuffles through his pocket to grab one. In the fire’s last exhalation after his light the blue flame lingers above the polished reflector for a brief moment, disconnected from the base of the lighter, climbing its chains of hydrogen in a pallid flight before dissolving into the midnight ether. He swings himself off of the dumpster lid while taking a drag and rounds the corner in a calm mosey underneath the mother-of-pearl alley light at the mouth of the sidewalk. He smartly tugs his cap down in a quick, precise movement before hiding his hands in his windbreaker and, with a puff of smoke like a tugboat pulling off, begins the night’s daily routine. His usual mental journey of the evening begins with simple reminiscence. Parties, drugs, warm evenings indoors with the bitter scent of hops, maybe a fling or two, her simple eyes and trusting smile piercing deep into the core. Usually, it's a struggle in itself to even reminiscence on these things with any semblance of narrativistic quality. They are the scattered fragments which still remain etched on the surface of his cerebrum that the unyielding laws of biology and time have left him. Every now and then his life will provide a certain unique calm in him to sharpen his focus. His fingers will grow tenfold, the sensors exploding in all directions, to reveal the faintest traces of lost veins of memory, reading atomic chasms, hairline fissures, in his lifestone. These readings were always the most troublesome. They usually led to the second phase which was critical examination of his own very ability to recall and even write memory. What didn’t help is that often these supranormative readings were the effect of some kind of drug that he had taken which also introduced the aspect of intoxication to the equation. And, if that weren’t enough, usually he was intoxicated at the time of writing the memory as well, another issue, which may even be beneficial when recalling intoxicated as indicated by that study, but also accurate recall of an improperly written memory is useless unless a third-party can confirm the actual events such that a proper gauge can be implemented with which to judge the error of memory to actual events and there's also the problem of…

>>21979236
Nice. Very nice.
>>21979649
It seems to bumble a bit and the thoughts don’t really flow as effectively or emotionally as they should.
>>21979694
Based sciencefag
>>21979756
Okay prose, I agree with the other guy though that this feels like a bit of a cliche premise: the gambler on his customary win streak before the fall.
>>21980595
The beginning makes it seem that the fort is under attack. This could be a setup for a cute allusion to whatever the man has been sent here to do. Try to establish your sense of place a little more. >>21980644
Some awkward word choices here and there and the want of a comma or two but overall quite a good concept which is engaging on a plot level and thematically.
>>21980877
Good. Very good.

>>21980644
That's really bad. Really, really bad. Opening your story with a run on sentence and trying to cram an absurd amount of detail into it thinking it's impressive is a very amateur mistake. Thousands of unpublished writers do this and it gets so annoying coming across it over and over.

You can reuse some of this description later, but I wouldn't start with it. I would start with something more interesting. Like she's in a makeup room so I assume she's in a theater. That could be interesting. If it's moments before a performance or just after, if she's about to go on stage, that could be interesting. Icy eyes and purple hair and pink frills isn't interesting.

>>21980937
Thank you for the feedback. Something like this? Or, should I try to do it another way?
A roaring crash echoed throughout the dimly lit halls of Fort Kitchener as plates and pewterware came crashing down to the cold, concrete ground. The perpetrator stopped in his tracks as the victim, a military janitor, looked to the man with a furious glare. The out-of-breath man bent down, grabbing the shards of ceramic with his bare hands while letting out a quick apology.

>>21979225
He would have been prevented from finally taking a detailed look at the purple twigs were not for the computer’s instant activation of the lantern at Nelson’s shoulders, completely scared imagining his user falling all the way down to whatever the ground of this biome was formed by. The plants are more dry tentacles than twigs. Amidst the thorny entanglement of thin tentacles, even thinner ones emerge and branch away successively, forming a net of vegetal appendages that in nothing loses its resemblance to a complex system of spider webs. Finally below the artificial ceiling of the forest, Nelson can also finally see the flora in all its details from the top to the bizarre ground.

>>21980972
Hello, F. Gardner.

>>21979225

Short story I'm working on that will probably never be finished.

>>21979694
>should higher education be publicly funded?”
It should definitely be subsidized— the government pay part of the tuition and the rest is paid by the student.

>>21980937
Thanks for the feedback on the cow tool post. I was thinking my stream of consciousness was doing well being neurotic and depressingly bitter. But I'll work on it more

>>21980937
>this feels like a bit of a cliche premise: the gambler on his customary win streak before the fall.
Again, that's not where the story is going. If anything, it's good it feels that way since it makes for a better reversal of that cliche.

>>21979236
That's so good anon. I mean it. I am a very picky reader. I feel lucky to be one of the first who read this.

I can relate to what your character feel. Some of use are just not meant to be and we're mad about it cause we know deep down it's not our fault. And to lose someone fucking forever.... And the coldness we have towards them after the end of the relationship as nothing but defense mechanism so we don't break down and scream

Awesome, man, awesome.

>>21979236
Can you actually post a few more paragraphs of this? Don't have to do the whole thing, but the first page at least would be cool, and if you do it in a screenshot like that it won't come up in the search engines publishers use. Just interested in how this progresses honestly.

>>21981920
>>21981956
Appreciate the kind words guys. Sure, these are the next couple paragraphs - almost certainly won't live up to the (over)hype of the first, I'm sure. It's still a first draft, but will be polishing the rest of this week. I'm pleased with it in general.

>>21979230
Best I've seen here for a while

>Blood rain pelted against his Orca-Humanoid hybrid form as violet lightning danced savagely above the volcano that darkened the sky with its chthonic spew, none would believe the carnage that lay about his feet, the wreck of bodies in mangled piles that set the gut plummeting for the unnatural geometry of broken limbs.

>>21980940
I'll agree with you that the run on is probably not that good, but the details themselves (blue eyes, purple hair, pink frills) are more supposed to show the generic and overdoneness because everyone has them and it's a main point in my story that doing all this stuff to "stand out" is doing anything but. A lot of that's addressed in the following paragraphs thought so I can see how it may seem uninteresting. Thank you for your comments though.

>>21980848
thank you for the suggestions. I will certainly be incorporating some of them. Thanks for just reading it as well.

>The land lay spread out beyond our peripheries, it felt inevitable now. Drawing us in. It’s shores still below the horizon but the dark green walls rising upwards in cloaks mist suggested the coast would be difficult. On this vessel felt safe and secure, we had seen through storms and fair winds now for months. No longer could our stores sustain us. there was no debate, we would confront this place.

>>21980904
Someone give me some feedback pls. Goddamnit. Call it shit if it’s shit. I can’t show this to anyone in my life who would give me honest critique of it

>>21982059
s'aight

>>21982059
It is shit, but that's not to say there are no signs of promise. These two sentences were good, striking a noirish mood and hinting at an intriguing character with duties I'd like to know more about :
"He swings himself off of the dumpster lid while taking a drag and rounds the corner in a calm mosey underneath the mother-of-pearl alley light at the mouth of the sidewalk. He smartly tugs his cap down in a quick, precise movement before hiding his hands in his windbreaker and, with a puff of smoke like a tugboat pulling off, begins the night’s daily routine."

You could literally almost cut everything else, because its largely incomprehensible and about 95 percent overwritten.

He needs to do something or talk to someone. Something needs to happen because readers don't care enough about the story yet to stick around for elaborate descriptions. Those who love elaborate descriptions will not stick around because yours are not clearly written, save a few like the ones mentioned above, and the techicals are unsound from the very beginning.

You strive for heights in your prose, but don't have the fundamentals down. The passage begins in the past tense, then meanders in past perfect for awhile, then settles into the present tense where it seems to want to stay.

Before you can dance you must first learn to walk.

>>21979236
Embarrassing
>>21980789
Retard

>>21979225
The sign is a subtle joke. The shop is called "Sneed's Feed & Seed", where feed and seed both end in the sound "-eed", thus rhyming with the name of the owner, Sneed. The sign says that the shop was "Formerly Chuck's", implying that the two words beginning with "F" and "S" would have ended with "-uck", rhyming with "Chuck". So, when Chuck owned the shop, it would have been called "Chuck's Fuck and Suck".

>>21982059
It's overladen with description. You have to cut the adjetives and get to the point of whateve ryou're trying to say

>>21980877
The best so far

>>21979236
For once an Anon posts his writing and it doesn’t suck.

>>21980877
i'd read this book

>>21982286
Crab, bucket, etc.

Zue was lying on a hospital bed, with a plethora of machines beeping around him. He felt weak and bloated as he tried to move his body on the mattress. It felt like the confines he had never noticed before had started to close in on him.

>>21982279
Thank you, is there anything which you can recommend for me to read or watch or whatever which can help me? I do not have a formal education in anything literary

>>21980904
You need to read more poetry. Try reading Keats and Elizabeth Browning or something. Or just pick up an anthology. Basically, you seem to have a good idea of what sensory qualia you want to express but have no sense of rhythm. It's the equivalent of an orchestra that all know their individual parts well but does not know how to play together.

>>21982543
I would recommend reading something of simple elegence, like The Red Badge of Courage or (to start with a shorter work), The Open Boat, both by Stephen Crane. The Art of Fiction by John Garder would be good, too, if you want to pick up a how-to-write book.

But I meant what I said about those two sentences. Notice how your protagonist is doing something there, even if he's just walking through an alley. He's not thinking or remembering or noticing, which are static and passive activities less interesting to read about.

The little details of the setting and of his walk and mannerisms (mosey is great) you give in that section are all that you need. You want to give the reader just enough description that they can fill in the rest for themselves. Ignite their imagination and your own is relieved of much of the heavy lifting you're doing throughout the rest of the passage.

Take all this with a grain of salt, of course, as I'm only an occasionally published author myself. By my two cents.

"But now another Difficulty came upon me, which I had never the least Reason to expect. Mr. Meredith's Father, who was to have paid for our Printing House according to the Expectations given me, was able to advance only one Hundred Pounds, Currency, which had been paid, and a Hundred more was due to the Merchant; who grew impatient and su'd us all."

>>21979236
Very cool, reminds me a little of The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

>>21981975
>>21979604
>I’ve had 2 shorts published already
what have you published

>>21979225
Any kind of feedback would be appreciated.

>>21982852
Two short stories in literary journals

>>21982696
Are you Charles Dickens?

>>21982837
lmaooo

>>21982974
It's well enough written but pretty dry. Is the story about people or real estate?

>The sun rose obscured by thick, gray clouds cast over the imperial capital. Èlian sat with his sister in one of the palace’s sun rooms, its tremendous panes affording him a view of the sprawling city at the foot of the hill as he broke his fast on buttered rye bread and spiced fruit preserves with smoke-cured fish and pickled vegetables. He washed a bite down with a sip of hot herbal tea infused with a gruit of stimulant roots and looked upon the city awash in a dull gray from the overcast. The only refuge from the muted colors of dawn were the pyres gleaming from the five steeples of the great temple, as well as the smaller pyres from the singular towers of lesser temples throughout the city. It was Fireday, so the temples were alight to call the faithful of the Torch to worship.

enveloped in sensation a world turned flesh toothless nipping pink foam writhing bodies press against the streetfires reduced from sight legs lock into yours frothing your muscles strain and pull taught a thousand hand-passes over your body cold fingers running across your skin lapping something grasps at your wrist , five more hands , twenty more nubs , then more search your body for their place under sticky denim jeans , pulling and twisting your body. weakly they claw for your mouth letting their bodies fall on you . you strain under them the weight and noise and breath continue to smother-numbing your body with their poisoned saliva hot breath sandskin. Squeezing leg in arm. Dread rises and flushness of activated flesh an itching fire burning on all your sides. You lost your trickery and your body in the mass, its spikes stingers and slime falling in and out around you You are now tied in a dark non-world.
Something concrete=Your disc. The Great Malenko where you left it beneath your inner rack of smokes , tied about the neck. glimpses caught of faint glimmer over scratched scraped surface, jostled by the scrotoids. when this world fails you , your mindsigns of notTheres let you rest like cigarette rips behind the eyes -----.

>>21982981
are you not willing to link to them here?

>>21979732
I read Portrait when I was 17 and was absolutely filtered.

>>21983533
Feels like there's a disconnect between the paragraphs, one has virtually nothing to do with the other, unless you plan to space these out with something like "***" for formatting. Otherwise, I would make the intro screed a bit longer/more substantive.

>>21983571
Well, a page or so later, I wrap back around to the theme of the opening, so it makes sense. It's sort of an extended aphorism that guides the entire chapter.

>Leonard unsheathed his rapier and took his position. Despite the heavy downpour, the River Bride’s courtyard was filled to the brim with people, all eyes fixed to the two combatants. Across from him, Sarlesh tossed his tricorn in the air, signaling that he was ready. Leonard followed his example, and the worried chatter around them ceased. The duel had begun, with Leonard adopting a defensive stance from the get-go, his muscles tense and ready to act at a moment’s notice. His opponent had anticipated this; after all, Sarlesh had spent countless foggy nights studying Leonard’s techniques from the very same streets and rooftops that their audience now watched them from.

Seduce the Captain, poison his drink, escape. The plan was simple enough, yet, this was the twenty-seventh attempt. Another sip of wine met my lips. It is not as if I did not enjoy our time alone, but he could stand to be more gentle.
My body tensed, clenched together by instinct or habit — I no longer could tell. To my left, a vial of poison pocketed inside my pouch wrapped around my waist. On my right, a dagger that immediately would be disarmed the moment I entered the Captain's chamber. Once again, it would be a test of endurance, one that would subject me as the centerpiece of desire. Captain Ridley enjoyed watching other men molest me before he took his — claimed it was to prepare me for the night. It was a small price to pay to be close to him. Pushing back my hair, my fingers scraped against the bruise on my neck caused by the last attempt to take his life. Tonight will be different. The clothes I wore were perfect for this job. It was easily removable, but durable enough it would not tear from the rough grabs and pulls from the soldiers under his command.

I'll post the whole first page because it's so amazing.

>>21983799
I FUCKING KNEEL

>>21983799
I read it. The phrase OY VEY is probably said around 100 times in this book. It's fucking baffling. It's not even a comedy but it's the funniest thing I've read in a long time.

>>21982974
I would reduce the usage of the name to one time only (you have it appearing three times in a single paragraph). The first sentence feels too short and I would find a way to consolidate with the next or simply delete it, as the second sentence works just as well (much better actually) to start the paragraph.

>>21983792
>It is not as if I did not enjoy our time alone, but he could stand to be more gentle.

Why not use a contraction? It would sound more natural. "It's"

When are we going to get to read the rest of this juicy story? You've been teasing us far too long.

>>21983994
I can't figure out if I want this to be fantasy, sci Fi, or historical. I've added robots, dead bums, strippers, kings, monsters, environmentalism, and even vampires.

Nothing seems to work.

>>21984113
You should make it postmodern.

>>21984122
I tried a strange neo noir society based of the streets of Tokyo or Hong Kong. But it seems too close to blade runner. Tons of glowing lights, but it seems to fall apart when I add in guns and cars.

I was gonna post but i weawize it suwcks :(

>>21984336
It can’t be as bad as >>21979236

>>21983983
Great points. I think I might delete the first sentence outright, since it accomplishes nothing that the second sentence doesn't also accomplish. That also solves the problem of the overuse of the name. Thanks, nigga.

>>21983101
It's a short horror story about vampires and drug addiction. You make a decent point about the dryness, which I feel is a major flaw of my writing style (I read a lot of dry, scholarly articles in my day to day life and I guess it rubs off on me). I'm afraid the first paragraph is too boring to draw a reader in. Any specific ideas to bring some life to the writing?

>>21984391
nan, but I thought you were writing non-fiction or something. It doesn't feel like fiction. If you are really writing a horror story, then think about your POV characte and see things through that person as they experience it, not through a "scholarly article" lens.

How does one participate in this thread when they’re writing an epic poem?

And the rhyme scheme is ABCDCBA BCDEDCB CDEFEDC…

>>21984391
I don't have any great ideas, but maybe start it out with a piece of dialogue or action. Any beginning that has to do with drugs and vampires would be more on point than Park Avenue Homes and likely more intriguing.

>>21983799
>all of a sudden the Jewish man wakes up. It was just a dream
I’m starting to have serious doubts as to whether or not it’s intentional now. The “it was all a dream” shtick fucking 30 seconds into the novel is siderending.

>>21983440
Not really, all it takes is some weirdo to start spamming the comment sections or emailing the editors spurious lies. If my novel gets published I may shill it here.

>>21982019

It's not much but can someone give me some feedback please.

>>21984436
First two stanzas

>>21979230
>The desert was infinite and eternal; On the horizon, shimmering sable sand met the darkling sky like waves upon an ocean of tar, breaking on diamond-dust stars.

Thoughts? Could really use some unbiased opinions.

>>21979225

>>21986470
come on now

>>21986438
>capital letter after semi-colon
>too many adjectives, going into purple prose territory
>last comma breaks pacing weirdly

The idea is fine but maybe break it into 2 sentences or more, just working on sentence pacing in general

>>21979225
I dont even bother writing the intro anymore. I have a vague idea of how it starts and write chapter 1 after I finish everything else. The intro is too important to have sloppy writing, and I'd rather figure out the story first before wrack my brain with something I may have to rewrite anyways.

>>21979732
Lighthouse was an eye opener. Didnt think that style could sound so good.

>>21986628
Thanks for the feedback.

Is it bad that I honestly, truly enjoy purple prose?

>>21986791
All authors do! It's fun to write, but alas it's not very fun to read.

>>21986809
You're extremely right, anon! Thanks for the reality check.

>>21986628
>>21986809
I am someone who is guilty of writing purple prose. I never knew that's what it was called, but I always had that criticism with my work when re-reading it and seeing multiple adjectives behind everything trying to describe it all. Do you have any advice for toning it down or balancing it out?

>>21986951
I have no great answer for this, but I suggest periodically comparing your writing to "good" authors in the genre you're writing and vaguely emulating until you find your own voice without purple prose.

>>21986975
Otherwise I wonder if I just go through my writing and purge a lot of the extra adjectives to make it look barebones, then go back to it and add only what's necessary. But I think that's all about finding my voice.

>>21986994
Bruv who r u reading fr fr

>>21986999
Currently reading this. I mostly read older stuff.

>>21986951
Read poetry. You'll learn how to harness the purple into something that actually sounds pleasant to read and then people will praise you for it. You'll also learn how to avoid falling into cliched description (which is the real problem behind purple prose).

>>21987018
Any recommendations?

>>21979225
He sat down to take a poo poo but quickly realized that wasn't happening. He let out a little pee pee but nothing more would come. He didn't want to get up, to admit defeat so soon but he knew it was inevitable. Before getting too comfy, he wiped his ass with nothing to show for it, stood up and flushed the toilet. He didn't wash his hands and walked out the door. He did not look back.

>>21987018
Oh god. I am not a big fan of poetry. I took a class on Poetry writing in college and the stuff I wrote people liked, but the stuff I had to read for the actual class just made me wish I was reading a story or writing out characters.

>>21987063
Aye, me too. I've had so much trash poetry forced down my throat I've been soured on the thing as a whole.

>>21987067
God I'm getting flashbacks of cringy kids reading out their "funny" poems to the class and everyone else giggling when they ENUNCIATE a certain word for "comedic effect", and then the cringe ass ritual of everyone snapping after someone's done reading their poem they wrote. Jesus christ.

>>21987028
https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/66619/pg66619-images.html

Don't read front to back, obviously. Browse around. A few of my favorite poems aren't in this volume (e.g Darkness by Lord Byron) but it's still a good overview.

>>21987028
don't listen to this retard >>21987179

>>21979225
>They had tried to destroy the Will, but that proved to be beyond their power. So they broke it, in two ways. It was broken physically, torn apart, with the fragments of heavy parchment scattered across both space and time. It was broken in spirit because not one clause of it had been fulfilled.

>>21987203
Why don't you provide an alternative?

>>21987539
BECAUSE I DONT WANT TO OMG

So if this thread is any indication, every writer who posts on /lit/ is terrible except for maybe two?

>>21987557
Which two? He asked, pathetically hoping that he would be named.

>>21987547
No no no, don't get carried away haha!

According to this thread, everything piece of original creative writing on /lit/ is terrible except for maybe one paragraph.

>>21987564
meant for >>21987557

*every piece

>>21987560
The first one, and there was one where a guy learned how to hide in plain sight or something.

>>21987590
( ._.)

>>21987557
You seem surprised.

>He had been allowed into the monastery as a child and even as he stood wavering on the cusp of adulthood, Gyges realized he was still no closer to becoming a monk. “You must become the cup,” Antine had said, face passive and with two eyes that betrayed nothing, but hung in the smoky air like a pair of lonesome black moons orbiting one another. His hand gestured to a petite tea cup, lovingly crafted, which even now carried a mixture of water and blood. “I can become like the cup, or I can become like the water or I can be the water in and of itself. But I cannot be the cup.” Gyges had said those same words a dozen times. This test was impossibility itself. “And that is the issue at hand,” Antine spoke softly, “I am not asking you to be the cup, I ask that you become it. Show me the pregnant second of transformation stretched out, forever.” But Gyges could not, and in the Summer of 1867 he left feeling fooled and foolish. The monks had given him his belongings, a pack of dried provisions, a water skin, and a cup.

>>21986485
what do you think about it?

There hugs a road heading west a restaurant in which I am sitting at. My eyes are resting on an old man at another table, staring past him, further into my fantasies, there are Japanese women urinating on me in my dreams. One of them has her fangs in my neck. The other has her tongue down my throat. Suffocating me with her tongue, breathing for me via her teeth. The old man looks up at me as blood rushes into my penis. And I am physically making eye contact with an old man. Mentally banging two Japanese demons. As my date arrives and I realize she is not Japanese. My erection deflated.

>>21979236
>>21981975
This is so goddamn good. I really wish you were more willing to shill, though I understand your caution.
Could you at least tell us which journals you plan to send it to?
>>21979712
> any praise I get for my [art] here would kill some of my motivation to [make] it.
Damn. This is something I've realized is one of my biggest problems. I've got tons of ideas, but every time I blab about one, I wind up basking in the praise for a month.
I wonder what the hell causes that. I wish talking wasn't such a temptation. Why do you suppose it happens that way? Do you know any good ways to avoid it?

>>21979225
>The blackened branches shook against the autumn wind. The colorful leaves wavered off and drifted into the cold air— dotting along the grey skies. Flying over the mossed shingles and stoney chimneys in a flock— never to be seen again. They flew under the spell of the ancient flute that surrounded the village, the song it played droned long before the puritans of old England came. One of these shingle capped houses was a tavern. Behind the window panes was the orange glow of the fire place. It illuminated a black stretched silhouette against the chairs and tables and occupants. The flames flickered and crackled on its ashen wood logs— it cooked the hanging black pot above. It was filled with a roast, along with carrots and potatoes and submerged in a broth. An ebony hand picked up the fire poker off a stand and began stabbing the logs. It sprouted out sparks as if he disturbed a hive of pixies. He took a spoon out of his apron pocket and began turning the contents of the Mahogany-colored stew counter clockwise. He sipped it— He began taking ladles worth of the stew into the wood carved bowls.

>Oakwood wasn't known for being an exciting town, but it was certainly a nice place to live. That much wasn't disputed by anyone. While the outside world seemed to get crazier by the day, life in Oakwood chugged along at mostly the pace it had since its founding. In 1827 settlers from Connecticut had moved to the newly acquired Michigan territory in search of land when they found what was then referred to the natives as Wabsoki, or "the swamp". And while it was true that the wet, marshy soil did not take easily to farming, it did not stop the enterprising settlers from turning it into one of the most successful lumber towns in the entire territory. It was in the lumber business that the first rich families of Oakwood made their fortunes. It was these families who decided to officially found the city in 1833, naming it after the tall white oak in the middle of town that the first settlers had slept under. Oakwood had a history that was not unlike most small towns of its country. Pious congregations, petty disputes and gossip, family life and hard work dominated the daily lives of its citizens. But there was one thing in its history that most towns cannot claim, and that is that for a period of over one hundred years Oakwood was home to the largest asylum in the world, the scale of which can scarcely be conceived.

I'm really good with ideas but horrible at making it readable.

>>21988608
*referred to by the natives, fuck

Priore held her lantern aloft, its faint green glow casting long shadows against the trees. On her arm perched a crow with feathers black like tar. You’d be forgiven if you mistook her for a ghost. Even among witches, she had always been sickly.

At length, she made her way to a clearing, where several figures stood waiting for her.

Priore could hear them before she saw them. Coughing and vomiting from the deadly miasma of the First Ring, these were not witches; that much was certain. Unlike Priore, they could not stay in the Hollow for long. Another few hours and they might start to retch up their intestines, making quite a mess of themselves.

As she entered the clearing, the knights noticed her presence and recoiled. Priore could see them up close now. Wearing fancy doublets and wide-brimmed helmets that reflected the hue of her lantern, these were knights sent from the Kingdom of Stars. One knight was noticeably more tall and handsome than the others: the Duke of Stars.

The Duke stepped forward.

“We are looking for the great witch of this region. Might you be Lady Priore, the Witch of Stars?”

Priore noticed that when the Duke spoke, even the trees leaned a little closer to listen.

She curtsied. “What does the Kingdom of Stars want with me?”

The Duke responded with a nod, “What we ask of you is trivial for one of your capabilities.”

Priore neither smiled nor frowned. “You are too kind.” The Duke was only being polite, of course. It was known throughout the land that the Witch of Stars was the least among the nine great witches.

“We don’t wish to trouble you, but a certain someone has escaped the boundaries of our kingdom. Eluding even our noblest knights, this vagabond has taken refuge in your realm.”

“A vagabond?”

“A wily fox, a sly one who kidnaps and eats children.”

“You want me to catch him?”

“That fox has already been sentenced to death. Catch him, boil him, eat him, it matters little to us. All I ask is that you bring him to justice.”

“I am the kingdom’s court witch. I will do as you ask.”

A curtsy and a bow. As both parties turned to leave, (the knights were becoming terribly impatient,) the Duke added, “Oh, and one more thing. Don’t fall for any of his tricks. He is excessively polite.”

To this, Priore did not respond.

>>21988443
Thanks for the kind words friend. I love blabbing too, especially when I'm excited about a new idea or a scene I've written. Best thing is to just tell yourself you're not allowed to share or talk about anything at all until it's all done. Then you get extra motivation to finish the thing. Be strict with yourself. Enjoy the loneliness of creation.

>>21987747
i'd read this book for a chapter at least. good job anon.

>>21988443
>This is so goddamn good
Kek

>>21990716
Go on…

>>21979236
>>21981975

Pure kino.

>>21979756
It looks promising, but your sentences are almost all of the same length Try making compund or complex sentences to improve the flow

>>21987007
skip the last two stories because they aren't really worth (practically teen love)

Do you know what will happen to 100 individuals who start even at the age of 25, and
who believe they will be successful? By the age of 65, only five out of 100 will make
the grade! Why do so many fail? What happened to the sparkle that was there when
they were 25? What became of their dreams, their hopes, their plans ... and why is
there such a large disparity between what theses people intended to do and what they
actually accomplished? That is ... The Strangest Secret.

>>21991848
Fuck I read the op as first paragraph of what I'm reading

>>21979225
>He ached for the touch of her skin. For the sweet smell of her hair. He longed to feel the sting of her skin against his own. For the beat of her heart against his. He yearned for no desire in life but the warm, gentle touch of her flower petal hand on his cold, cold cheek.

Alright, I think I've got it. I mulled it over and revised it to this. What do you guys think? Any suggestions?

*Huff*
*Huff*
Lieutenant Dave Parker huffed raggedly as he sprinted through the dingy halls of Fort Kitchener, the sound of his leather boots clacking along the concrete ground as he quickened his pace. The grey concrete of the never-ending walls was only distinguishable by the varying amounts of moss and grime splattered on them. Lieutenant Parker turned left before realizing he had made an error. He turned back and muttered curses at himself: How could he be late again? It was the fifth time this week! How could he be so irresponsible? Stupid! Stupid-
Suddenly, he turned the corner and came face-first with the front of a janitor’s cart.
“Woah get out of the way-!”
A roaring crash echoed throughout the dimly lit halls of the fort. The Lieutenant careened into the cart of a military janitor, sending a cascade of pewterware and plates raining onto the cold, hard ground. The force of the impact sent the two men sprawling to the ground, groaning in pain. Dave winced as he picked himself up, grasping his head. “Ow…” The uniformed man muttered as he looked over the mess he had just made.
“What the hell, man! Watch where you’re going!” The military janitor scowled as he rose from the ground, brushing dust from his grey apron.
“Sorry! I’m so sorry!” Dave sputtered.
“You-whatever. Just help me pick up.” The janitor simmered up an argument before hanging his head and sighing in quiet resignation. “Just… put them into the bag on the cart.”

>>21981975
It is very well made anon, good luck with your novel!

>>21981975
This is surprisingly good

>>21979236
Uhh based

Here's mine but I haven't written in a long time

>It has been thirty years, to the day, since last the fires in the sky came to us. I have seen them only once, when I was a child, though I can recall them to my eyes in a single wish. The memories from that time have faded; My childhood home is a shadow; My playmates have been lost in growth and work; Even the face of my father, I have forgotten- for he died when I was young- but the sight of the blue and green and white flames dancing in the night still burns within me. It has sculpted me. Tomorrow I begin a pilgrimage to the place from where my people hail. I will see their ruins. I will lay wreaths and rabbits on their tombs. I will seek the long-gods if they still dwell there, and ask them why they've hidden the fires from us. I will see the nightcolors once more before I die.

>>21979225
that's a very nice picture

>>21991891
based romanticanon
Here's mine

>Freckles dotted her pale nose like flowers on a hillside. Her lips- salmon, her eyes- honey; and when they smiled, framed by her cardinal-plume hair, all the winter in your limbs would melt away and leave you undone. She was spring incarnate; My very own Persephone.

I'll never actually finish it and don't care that much about this idea so I don't mind posting
It's a story about a guy who dates four girls over the course of four years but the twist is that none of them are real they're all AI/VR constructs and this only becomes apparent as they begin to fall apart once the simulation gets too complex toward the end, but the signs are there from the start if the reader was paying attention. I would actually need to do alot of """""""""research""""""""" by "dating" gf ai's so that's why I'll probably never write this idea, because I'm too fucking lazy

>>21992926
>Her lips- salmon
stopped reading there

>>21992987
Okay
>skidmarks stained his underwear like jackson pollock earthtones. Anon- retarded, his post- gay; and when he (You)'d (You), memearrowing your post, you would cringe so hard you could feel yourself imploding. He was a faggot; a real cumguzzler