/lit/ - Literature

>>5796259
the stupid man had a stupid face with two eyes, two ears, a nose and a mouth

Why do you want to describe minutiae like that? Are you a chick?

Don't describe physical appearance as if you were looking a picture. Describe them as if you knew them from inside and the reasons they put on a face. It doesn't matter what image spawns from it, everyone will see it differently, but the sensation must have a common axis.

>>5796270
That makes sense but i still can't do it. Just seeing a few examples on people that i have right in front of me would be helpful, as stupid as it might sound. I'm just hitting a wall with this because nothing i write feels nearly good enough.

T-this could be fun

>>5796281
Try automatic writing. Don't stop because you don't know how to do it, do it nevertheless and move to the next. Describe a crowd of 100 people, person by person. Extend yourself in some, just say "some guy" in others, but keep moving. Don't fix it, don't correct it, don't polish it, most of all, don't judge it. Experiment focusing on different things, go physical, go psychological, describe them not as objects, but as lives, bodies that are subjects. Afterwards, read what you wrote and don't hate it, love every single one of those people for being who they are, even the disgusting and evil. Always remember the feeling you have when describing them and keep moving. Trust your instuition, it is, afterall, the first and most important tool we use when we deal with people around us.

>>5796292
>most of all, don't judge it
>love every single one of those people for being who they are

Please take your hack advice and life perspective and leave the board forever.

The man wipes his hands after stuffing his face with snacks purchased from a corner store. He looks down at the ground, woefully wondering where his life went and why this afternoon ritual of a park bench and sweets has become the best part of his day. His ebony cane serves as a constant reminder that his time here is drawing to a rapid close. He exhales deeply, pitying the state of things. His eyes dart to the receipt he uses and then to the hands, worn translucent by the march of time, holding it.

"I wish my wife were here" he thinks. Judy died fifteen years ago.

>>5796295
Judgement doesn't go well with doing it, it's one of the most common reasons people get blocked. This is an exercise I proposed him to practice and understand what it means to write about people. You may judge afterwards, you may read your finished piece and judge it all the most that you want, learn from it and all. But it is essential that you do it and that you do it freely and loosely, not even correcting grammatical mistakes or anything. If you were to write a book in pen and ink and in the most glorious calligraphy, on perfect expensive paper, it would be very heavy to write the next word and chances are you'd never go anywhere. Automatic writing is the sketching of the writing artist, it's a way to study, a chance for the writer to see himself doing it, observe it, learn from it. If you don't do it, there is nothing to judge.

To love these characters is not for nothing. It's a little feeling you get for interesting strangers, like the ones in these pictures. If you estabilish this relation between you and these characters, you are able to see them more clearly and accept things that you wouldn't accept if you had this full blown intention to make them different. If you love something, you see it as a character, even if it is a lamp that you are describing. This opens the gates for new and more lively stories.

>>5796304
Thank you

>>5796281
The woman walks with her 12 year old daughter.
The woman, 45 years of age but presenting a 60 year old visage, flicks her morning's 10th cigarette. She looks at her daughter's skin, a monotone canvas of plump beige, blemish free and smooth as wet stone. The mother, aflame with jealousy, embodies her sentiment with a blood red ensemble.

>>5796286
A handsome woman, Helga pushed the stroller like she would a plough, the strap of her diaper bag separating her swollen teats.

>>5796295
>Indirectly calling Gogol a hack

>>5796264
There are dozens of authors who do it that are male. Hundreds of dozens.

>>5796281
>There’s another meeting she has to be at ten. The cars draw up before her and stop, fuming impatiently as the traffic ahead caterpillars its way forward. She sucks absently at the cigarette in her fingers. She’s running out, she realises. At last the light changes and the sea parts, and she strides forward, letting the slouching teen in the cupcake shirt and the billboard of the bearded man slide out of her field of vision, shielded by the flimsy sunglasses she had bought from the weekend market. The man had called them ‘shades’, and she had believed him. She believes too much of what people say. The good-luck doll, the lucky red outfit, the ‘finest leather’ red shoes that seem about to split just any second—

>Red, like the colour on the street when a speeding bike shot past the crossing at nine fifty in the morning.

You know, I agree. Detailed character descriptions are hard to do. But there isn't anything wrong with that, because half the time they aren't necessary for plot or mood setup. Just write as you do, and the important character details will find their way into your writing.

>>5796259
Are you that guy who posted that one boring short story about coffee and some drug addict in Berlin? Just kill yourself already :-)

>>5796259
Mikael expelled air loudly, his swollen stomach pushing earnestly against his belt. The mild Berlin breeze ruffled his grey-flecked hair and caressed his eyes. Scant images of his children's birth, his aching back, the lottery ticket in his hand and his teenage crush all past through his mind in a emotional maelstrom.

"Old age" he said, almost as an afterthought.

"It's fucking great to be old"

>>5796292
>Trust your instuition

>>5797070
Anon hunched over his keyboard and headed for the 4chan. "I hope I'm not missingout on some great 4chan threads!" he thought to himself. He was. On /lit/ there was a picture of some sad yuropoor with a face that looked like it had been sat on. This is a pretty common look in most parts of Europe. The guy who posted the picture was a shitty writer and he wanted other people to give him some solid tips about describing things (which is like a good 95% of creative writing but whatever).

"Well I'm a good writer," thought Anon, "I'll impress everybody in the thread by showing off my neat writing talents" He crapped out a desciption of the yuropoor and gave him some weirdass thoughts that he probably wouldn't have in real life. Like, do most old men even remember their teenage crushes, let alone sit on benches and look sad about it? Clearly Anon was not an old man, and he had little life experience because of his sexual and social impotence as evidenced by his obsession over lost teen crushes

The editor Tiger Beat was anonymously browsing 4chan though, and he liked the cut of Anon's jib. "Anon, I want you to be a staff writer for my magazine" he said, "We will pay you in iPod minis and Click 5 cds." Anon was overjoyed. He joined the Tiger beat and was able to whine about about how he never got laid in high school for a very long time.

>>5796259
>Sparkasse

>>5797070
This is horrific.

>>5797357
Rekt

>>5797357

Kek you have me to a T Anon, to a fucking T