/lit/ - Literature

please to criticize, thank you

>>8351826
Andy is a bitch-ass name

(1/2)
A PRELIMINARY REPORT BY THE UNIFIED BOARD OF AMERICAN PSYCHOLOGICAL AND OPTOMETRIC STUDIES (UBAPOS)
The uniquely selective and degenerative eye condition of Mr. Lucas Doctorow (a condition which has, for the first time in the history of either profession, brought the fields of psychology and optometry into close collaboration and occasional conflict, necessitating the creation of this board) began during the subject’s second year of enrollment at the Colorado Film School, specifically beginning its onset during Doctorow’s ill-fated final project for a course called “The Nascence of Modernism in Film: A Conversation between Vertov and Eisenstein.”
A survey of his professors, roommates, scattered (and uniformly underage) girlfriends, and classmates has produced our understanding that Doctorow was a student of no particular ingenuity, directorial vision, or talent — indeed one seeming to lack even the most basic personal engagement with the art of filmmaking, being described by the instructor of the relevant class as “lazy and late, loud and stupid and sempiternally stoned. A rancid, racist little [epithet excluded].” When pressed by the psychological wing of this board to give his opinion as to whether Doctorow’s condition could perhaps be attributed to some kind of anomalous hysterical blindness, resulting from a passionate young artist’s over-engagement with his work, the professor proceeded to produce for the board a series of samples of the subject’s prior work for the class, which we will catalogue for you now:
Item (A): An introductory assignment for the class in which students were asked to list for the professor the following facts about themselves: 1) Their three favorite films or directors 2) One or two interesting things about themselves which they would like the instructor to know 3) Why they chose to take the course and what they hope to get out of it.
The subject’s responses to these questions are reproduced below.
1) - The Pokémon Movie 2000.
-The “I’ve Fallen and I Can’t Get Up” commercial
- Citizen Cane [sic]
2) 420 420 420 420 420 420 420
3) Because I heard it was easy. And, I don’t know, a good grade???
Grade: None Given

(2/2)
Item (B): The first major assignment of the course, an essay requiring the students to give a brief (4-5 page) analysis of the Odessa Staircase Massacre sequence in Sergei Eisenstein’s Battleship Potemkin and its significance to the montage theory of filmmaking, as well as to the greater insipience of modernist filmmaking in Soviet Russia. Doctorow’s paper (which the professor produced for the board only after providing a lengthy and highly incensed explanation of the virtuosity of the film’s techniques and the Odessa Massacre sequence in particular [intending, the board posits, to communicate how sacrosanct this particular piece of subject matter is, and thus how abominable Doctorow’s treatment of it should be judged by the examination committee, delivering this polemic despite the board’s repeated statements that our purpose was not to censor or punish the subject, merely to analyze him], at times even wagging the subject’s essay in front of our chairman’s (Dr. Voleman, distinguished sitting member of the APA) face and sputtering incoherently; said paper, when it was finally handed over for inspection, being found to reek strongly of cannabis and to have been at one time folded and used to clean beneath the subject’s fingernails) consists of a single page and its thesis reads as follows:
“In this mastapeace [sic] of transgressive filmmaking, Einstein [sic] hazards his audience with what is not only a fresh conception of time and filmic/narrativistic [sic] emphasis, but also a radically subversive (and cognitivitally [sic] dissonant) character situated as the scene’s emotional core. By placing some kind of weirdo bull-dike as his main POV lens (the screaming lady with the mustache/inexplicable child (like, who even fucked this thing??)) or transsexual or hermaphrodite or whatever, the ability of the audience to relate to this creature is called into challenge, and the limits of our empathy are probed. Through his marriage of the sexually grotesque and the politically violent, of the temporally ungrounded and the emotionally weighty, Einstein [sic] limns for his audience that most essential and demanding of modernist questions: Is this what all women look like in Russia?”
Grade: F (Conference requested/Paper never collected by subject)

>>8351937
You're trying really hard to be DFW.

Don't write for a month. Don't read for a month. And then wrote a very short story. One page. This will cure you.

I've finished my two eggs. Scrambled. With pepper. Two and a half shakes of pepper. I left one bite full on the plate. Have to leave the one bite full on the plate.

I have to turn off the light above my stove. Off. On again to make sure it's working. And off. Good. Everything is good.
I have to make sure the outside is still there. I don't have to. I want to. It's just a joke really. I do it every morning. But still. It's just a joke.
I have to put my shoes on before I open the door to check if the outside is still there. It doesn't matter that I'm not stepping outside. I have to wear the shoes before I can check. I don't have to. I want to. It's just a joke. Really, it is.
I tie the laces tight. Left shoe first. Always the left shoe first. And then the right. I cannot do the right one first, it wouldn't be right. Left. Then right. It's the right way.
Shoes on. I can go check. I unlock the door. I lock the door. I have to make sure the lock is working. I unlock the door. I lock the door. I unlock the door. I lock the door. I unlock the door.
No. No, no, no, no. Did I check it twice? Unlock, then lock, then unlock, then lock, then
unlock? Or did I only do unlock, lock, then unlock?

This isn't good. If I check it again, will it be right, or will I have done it too many times? I have to do it the right amount of times. I can't do it less. I can't do it more. No, no, no, no. Why is this happening? It's just a joke, really. I don't have to....
Twice or three times? This is not good. How many times? Do I check it again? I could just walk away from it. But I have to check to see if the outside is still there. I don't have to. I want to. It's just a joke, really. I have to check, I have to check, I have to decide on the lock.
One more time. I'm sure of it. That will be two. It has to be two. It doesn't have to be. Lock. Was that two, or three? I have to check if the outside is still there. Unlock.
I open the door. The outside is not there. That's not the outside. That's not the normal outside. It's yellow. It's bright yellow space. And dogs. Birds are flying. I think they are birds. They are animals. And they have children in their teeth? Or dolls? It doesn't matter. I checked to see if the outside was there. I did do that. I did check. I didn't have to. It's just a joke, really. I have more pressing concerns.
Did I check the lock twice or three times? I can undo it if I did it three times instead of two. Before I close it. I don't have to. I want to. It's a joke, really.
Lock. Unlock. That's minus one. Is it at two now, or did I make it one? Lock. Unlock.
The outside that is not there is being loud. I have to concentrate.
Lock. Unlock.

>>8351999
What is a half shake of pepper.

You either shake it or you don't.

>>8351995
Too late, Dr. Anon. Do you have any idea how much money I have spent on bandanas?

>>8352010
There is a standard measure of shake, i.e. full shake, and there are submeasures, i.e. half shake equalling 50% of a full shake

>>8351932
I agree with the other anon that you come across as trying too hard.

However, your control of language to me seems pretty good, but superfluous. You can write some nice long sentences that don't crumble under their own weight, which is good. But then you tack on your attempts to be different with your weird structuring. Just write a story and refrain from trying to elevate your writing with weird shit.

>>8352017
Do it.

I promise. You can obvious imitate style well. But know that style hides what makes great works great.

Read something without style. Try Saroyan. Or Pancake. They are pretty effective at writing without style.

>>8352030
No there isn't. Have you ever shaken a shaker before? A "half shake" is still a shake.

>>8352055
He's actually right, a shake is a measure, not sure if scientific, but it's in cookbooks and shit. Half shake

I gravitate towards the back of the room and sit down in the middle of an empty row. The worst part about arriving late to class is having to scan the crowded rows of seats for a vacancy, often only available in the far middle, past a centi-pede of pointed, unmoving, unfriendly knees, against which you have to scrape past, apologizing, averting your eyes as the entire room watches you fumbling awkwardly to the one distant vacant seat, into which you finally collapse with your head in your hands wishing you were invisible. And, now, I take the middle seat, so the students who have begun to spill into the room will not have to squeeze past me to find a seat.

1/2
The little boy had not shit before, but knew that it was expected of him before the elders considered him a man. He had spent his entire life up to this point, 17 name days, excreting his feces the way most children did. Through his sweat glands. But the easy days of shit tinted skin gloss would soon be over. He was about to become a man. He had to shit the way a man was expected to. Through his arsehole.

He understood the mechanics of the whole thing. He knew logically, that all he had to do was keep the waste together in one spot, in his stomach and bowels. Eventually enough would gather so that he would be able to shit it out of his arsehole as a solid piece, or pieces if some of the stories were true, of shit.

"Please let it be solid." he prayed to the old gods and the new. Although a liquid shit from the arsehole wasn't strictly speaking against the rules, it was never considered a manly shit. Especially not as one's first adult shit.

It was now or never. And the elders were growing impatient. The boy climbed the 33 steps to the top of the toilet cathedral. In 200 years, the design hadn't changed much. 33 steps leading to the top of an enormous glass cube. On top of the cube was a toilet. The cube itself was filled with a clear liquid gel, sensors, and current controls. These would all work together, so that when the shit was released from the arsehole, it would be positioned by the currents to the center of the liquid, so the elders could examine it from all sides.

He climbed the 33 steps and slowly walked to the toilet. He tried to ignore the stern looks from the elders. The high priest, his father and mother, the sineater, the butcher, and the accountant were all there, and were all wearing very serious faces at this moment.

He pulled down his britches and underpants and sat on the toilet. He had made sure to eat a hearty breakfast. Blood sausage, hashbrowns, hotcakes, and just a bit of coffee to help the shit flow through. He had even swallowed a shotglass full of corn, just to add a little flare to what he hoped would be his first adult shit. And he had eggs. Although they were queer eggs now that he thought of it. They tasted funny.

>>8352073
2/2

But now he was ready. He felt the shit build inside him, and it came out feeling like a fart at first. "Oh no, " he thought, "is that it? Just a fart?". But the fear was brief, because after another fart he could feel matter exit his arsehole. Solid matter. His first adult shit had not even finished, but he was grinning with pride and looked down at the elders. They were all smiles, and his log was not even completely out yet. But then their faces started to change.

His mother shrieked, and looked away her face in her hands. His father yelled, "No, no, noooooooo!!". The high priest looked utterly confused, and the sineater was clawing at his own face, tears mixed with blood. The boy had a sick feeling, but he had to know what was wrong with his shite.

He looked below the glass top of the cube. He saw what had horrified the elders. SPiders. Thousands and thousands of spiders. They were bursting through his shit log, filling the tank. There were more spiders than fecal matter. Like a legion of spiders, with just a mist of shit to mark that there had ever been a shit in the first place.

The queer eggs! They were spider eggs! The boy had eaten spider eggs, and in turn the spiders had hatched and were eating his shit.

And the boy? The boy did not become a man that day.

>>8352073
>>8352081
Pretty shitty.

>>8352042
Alright, since you were nice enough to make recommendations, I'll read them. But I'm still peeved that you have failed to recognize my genius.

>>8351932
>Andy is a bitch-ass name
It's supposed to be a child

>Have to establish a character's love interest in 1st person
>Never been in love
>Only had two recurring sexual partners
>Both of whom's pants I got into through facebook chat
>Last one night stand I had was a year ago
>Did that by letting a blonde girl call me 'nigger'

They say write what you know and I don't fucking know romance one bit. So fuck my shit up accordingly

___

The first time I figured it was something special was at the graduation party. I’d be lying if I didn’t at least mention how mind numbingly fine she was looking, but that only helped things along. I saw her on the balcony alone, watching the night life of our little canyon city and it’d be another lie if I didn’t say Opa’s generosity with his alcohol hadn’t made me ballsy.

“Don’t jump,” was my opener, and maker the smile it got me. It wasn’t even a good joke.

“I’d be more worried about you pushing me.” I grinned, and that joke was no better.

We talked about nothing and no persuading could get her to touch my drink. Yet, all the while, I remember she had this wicked little grin every time I slurred or stumbled over a word. A grin that broadened every time I tried to sneak a glance at what was going on below her eye-line.

There was something so hack handed about the whole thing. The way she toyed and turned to accomodate my glances. The way she shifted her hair when I wasn’t looking at those twin gems she has for eyes. It was the “You can look, I don’t bite,” that convinced me I wasn’t making it all up. Though with how far gone I was? Who knew.

I just remember it got cheesy after that, real cheesy. But it worked. I ended up meeting her for a ‘date’ the next weekend at the place Opa worked -- heavy lifting -- for the discounts I was catching over the counter. She turned up in this navy blue dress, hair up in a ponytail

___

For the record, this is meant to be a one of a few diary entries that start to eek out the protag's fatal flaw for the short's ending and I have a question.

>Is it cringey?
It feels really cringey. Especially trying to show she's keen.

Also I'll critique one or two in muh next post.

>>8352010
>>8351999
Don't listen to Anon, Anon. Half a shake sounds really good.

>>8352165
No, it sounds dumb as shit.

What do you guys think of starting a story with dialogue? As in the first printed character is an opening quotation mark.

No opening/introductory sentence, no set up, no easing in. Instead, just start with dialogue.

I can't decide whether I hate it, or like it.

>>8352153
Almost gave me a boner!

I don't understand, "and maker the smile it got me."

Is it like a stylized, "Oh God, the smile she gave me."

Here's a first draft for everyone.

------


Clouds and planes crossed the sky like tic-tac-toe in a toddler’s box of baby blue sand. Summer in the foothills. The prairie beside the mountain.
Every forty five seconds or so Todd would notice that the gap between him and the next person in line was big enough to push Gracie’s wheelchair a couple feet further down the cue. He’d say something like, “Alright, here we go,” or “Ohp, just about lost our spot, Gracie,” or “Huf, okay, let’s get this show on the road.” She’d never say anything back because she always seemed to be sleeping. Sometimes the skin on her slightly overelongated right jawline would vibrate or her left chicken wing would flap or her eyelids would pulse, her pupils somehow gone, her eyeballs rolling another direction in her head. Another gap. Another push. Todd tucked Gracie’s blanket under her thighs. “There you go, Gracie. Nice and warm.”
The city was plaid with half empty towers. One way roads were snug with oversized diesel trucks with single occupants and four door sedans and maroon SUVs. Parking lots were full, but free. It was a Sunday, but it was a very special Sunday. Today was the beginning of the Great Relocation. The UN had announced it maybe six months or so. The first step. It was happening all over the world. They were going to move everyone around.

>>8352184 (missed some paragraphs, sorry)
Calgary was barely surviving the fall in global oil price, its only industry, and thousands of people sat at home every day, but not today, learning to paint, watching soaps, recertifying employable skills and finishing up community college diplomas in Business Management. The city was so sad and everybody was drinking and smoking too much pot. They sold tools and bought ground beef. They watched sports.


How’d they do it though? The line. It was crazy long. It didn’t even look like a line. It was just this mass of people, but if you got close enough, you’d see that each vein of the mass was separated by the next with those yellow ribbons that pulled out like seatbelts from one pole stretched to another. A family took two steps and the rest pulse forward like dominoes. Mom unzipped a backpack and grabbed a few baggies of tuna fish sandwiches with diced pickles and President’s Choice mayonnaise. Did they eat tuna fish where they were going? Was there mayonnaise?

>>8352192

Gracie’s chapped lips parted maybe half a centimeter and Todd filled the hole with a straw. Orange juice was her favourite but this was just water. She was happy to be so warm and she liked how it felt being tucked in. Todd probably knew that she wasn’t sleeping anymore but it was just so easy to keep looking this way. And what was she going to do. A bit of small talk with Todd? Fuck that. That wasn’t her. She was already the potato and he was already the saint. That was fine though. He didn’t know how else to act when they were out and about. She’d rather cuss and barge and hate but that never worked out very nicely and seeing Todd go red made her tired. He was so nice to her. And how. With so many fuckknobs and greasy little cunts warbling around. How was Todd so nice to her. Maybe he felt guilty. Maybe he fucked other women. Maybe he thought she was okay with it. Maybe he felt bad because everybody that got to know her hated her but felt bad for her and maybe he hated her the absolute most and felt the most bad. Maybe he was a little psycho. Maybe she was a fetish. Maybe he liked her tight little vagina that she couldn’t feel. Or maybe Todd loved her but how.

>>8352196
Everyone was talking. They all faced the same way. They stared at the back of heads and imagined what the faces looked like.

“You know, I don’t even know why we go to the mountains anymore. The lineups are just too long and it takes so long until you’re actually doing something you know?”

They were getting closer to where an important looking person was talking to people.

“But what do you think this is all about? I mean sure. I guess it makes sense but it just seems a little drastic you know?”

“I’m just excited to see the world.”

“And the new people!”

“You just want to meet a man.”

“Hah, oh shut up Trish. We all can’t have a husband like Terry.”

The man in the uniform seemed to be splitting people up into different lineups. Maybe they were getting close.

“Well I guess it makes sense. I mean. People have been coming here from other places for a hundred years. Guess it just makes sense now.”

>>8352201
“I want to go to France.”

“You know France just seemed to be a little bit too put together for me. I mean, there I was in my beige adventure pants and Don was wearing a T-shirt that said Canada on it. It was just a little too much I guess. I like Maui.”

“Yah, I like Maui too.”

People looked a little upset after talking to him but after a few minutes they just got used to it.

“When are you going next it?”

“Oh well I don’t know. Maybe Christmas.”

“Ooo that’ll be so much fun. What a great time.”

The man walked up to Todd and ask his name. His blue vest said UN.

“Mine is Todd. Hers is Gracie. Grace.”

“Last names.”

“Mine is Nichols. Hers is Brzezkov.”

“Thank you, Mr. Nichols. Could you please walk over to that other lineup up by the corner. It says N. That’s your line. If you wouldn’t mind, someone will be by take care of Miss. Brzezkov.”

“Oh. Sorry, she’s uh disabled. I’d rather stay with her if you don’t mind.”

>>8352208

“Sir, its just for efficiency here. If you wouldn’t mind. You’ll have her back at the end of the line. A volunteer is here to take care of her. Simpson.”

“Yes sir.”

“Please take Ms. Brzezkov to the B line thanks. Careful Simpson. She has special needs.”

“Yes sir.”

Gracie pretended to sleep. The blanket was loose and the orderly tucked it in like Todd did. His hands felt black.

Todd walked to the N line. N is for Nichols. He put his hands in his pockets and then took them out. He checked for his wallet and his keys and his phone. Thank God for his phone. Sometimes he left it in her wheelchair. He started to scroll but started to feel empty when there wasn’t anything there. Just boring stuff. Maybe they’d send him to Egypt. He wanted to see the pyramids.

“I like how Maui isn’t really that hot.”

“Yah that’s true. But I like how there’s more sun in Mexico.”

“I can see that.”

She seemed okay, he thought. He’ll see her at the end of the line.


THE END :)

>>8352073
>>8352081

Lol wtf nigga.

>>8352068
>worst part about arriving late to class is having to scan the crowded rows of seats for a vacancy
>sit down in the middle of an empty row
>empty row

Worst part about this is I was left baffled until the end when we figure out he's actually. I usually give too much credit for quirks like this defining character but I'm gonna assume this was just an oversight. Tell us the room is empty/he's early and that he's relieved he's not late because of the reasons you listed.

Nice though. If I assume it wasn't it's actually a pretty clever way of showing this character is an anxious pessimist beyond the earlier descriptions.

>>8351826
I really couldn't tell you why but this is kind of boring to me. I think it'd work better if you thrust us more into the mind of Andy, maybe.

I dunno. Your muse was missing when you wrote this. Keep it as is and come back when you have that spark I guess.

>>>8352184
Yeah, maker as in god. As for 'got me', I chose that way of saying it because I wanted to give off the vibe that he's playing for her attentions.

>>8352192
>>8352196
>>8352201
>>8352208
>>8352218
wtf is going on lad.

Put it in a pastebin.

>>8352221
Oh. Sorry. I forgot about those.

http://pastebin.com/jveBJXa3

>>8352221
Thanks for the feedback

https://aunthenticity.wordpress.com/2016/07/27/stheno-2707/

>>8351826
A lot of your descriptions just aren't interesting. "Quite an unusual noise" is sort of a cop-out, even if you're going to explain it later. What sort of contraptions and machines surround Andy at the start? I don't have enough info to get a good picture in my head. "Inched closer" is a tired, overused phrase. etc.

You're trying too hard to make it sound upper-class British. "Quite an unusual noise" and "all too eager" are transparent attempts and feel a little forced to me.

Also, I couldn't tell Andy was a kid for a while, just mentioning his mother at the start isn't really enough. Describe his stubby child arms or how he can barely reach up to the end of a counter or something.

THE ALPHA

I plaque of blank
A unique tank of dark
No words
No sound
No where to see
The gifted mind He, God apires to be
Who knows Himself, and knows all
But He doesn't make it seem

Granted he gave the atoms he made
And it's spark began to peek
And little sounds closely shroud
But no other can hear them sing
Brought the magnitude, as more the matter grew
He watched them drown to sink

And his spark of light began to ignite
And dust blew out the rings
A star was made as bright and beige
With life poured in stream
He watched and knew
As the clouds withdrew
A comet was born engraved

>>8352285
>With life poured in stream

I don't like this line. The rest is nice.

I wrote this sonnet this week. I will first post an English translation, and then the original in Portuguese.

Some faces of love

Love: pollen that the rose of the heart creates;
The wheat of friendship forged in carnal bread;
Virus that inflames the soul in honey; the milk of joy;
A tempest in which the thunders have teeth of satin;

A sun that solves icebergs and warms the chest; a narcotic harp;
Human carbon harmonized in diamond;
Drunkenness of ambrosia and cirrhotic corrosion;
Flesh and blood hosting a god as an inhabitant;

Emptiness in the me, in the us infinity; ocean
That submerges in ocean; fruit and thorn;
The coma of reason; desire made tyrant;

The heavens when in the human clay they make their nest;
The oxygen of spirit; the road of roads;
Tender whispers under sheets on the cold nights.

Algumas faces do amor

Amor: pólen que a rosa do coração cria;
O trigo da amizade em pão carnal forjado;
Vírus que inflama a alma em mel; leite da alegria;
Tormenta em que os trovões tem dente acetinado;

Sol que icebergs solve e aquece o peito; harpa narcótica;
Carbono humano harmonizado em diamante;
Embriaguez de ambrosia e corrosão cirrótica;
Carne e sangue hospedando um deus como habitante;

Vazio no eu, no nós infinito; oceano
Em oceano mergulhado; fruto e espinho;
O coma da razão; o desejar tirano;

O céu quando no barro humano faz seu ninho;
O oxigênio do espírito; via das vias;
Ternos sussurros sob lençóis em noites frias.

>>8352572
your meter is fucked

>>8352593

I use the 12 syllable line of the Portuguese language, it is called “dodecassílabo”.

All the lines are in 12 syllables, with variable accent (in the 6th and 12th syllables or in the 4th, 8th and 12th syllables).

In English I just made a literal translation, without concern for the metric.

>>8352603

>dodecassílabo

>dodeca
>12

>sílabo
>Syllable

Do continental languages even try to be imaginative?

>>8352614

The name most used is actually “Alexandrino”, something like “Alexandrine”. But for a 12 sylable verse be called Alexandrino you must follow some pedantic rules that guarantee that the verse will be form of two Hemystichs, two half’s of 6 syllables: 6 + 6.

But this rules are pedantic and have no actual use. Also, our meter is based in syllable count, and not in stresses, like the Latin, Greek and English one, so the names are different. But “iambic pentameter” is also not very imaginative: penta = 5 + iambs: - /, or ta-DUM.

>>8352180
Some great stories start like this and some terrible stories start like this. In this case it isn't about whether it's right or wrong, but whether you can get pull it off.

Go for it, post what you write and then you can answer that question yourself.

Here's a short story I wrote last night, not done yet. Critiques welcome and appreciated.

http://pastebin.com/LHADk1vq

>>8352180
Well, it's been used a lot. You just need to be sure that the dialogue seems natural and maybe that you start in the middle of it. I think it can be tempting to be over explanatory there.

>>8351826
This needs a really heavy edit. Lots of weird sentences that don't make a lot of sense. The construction feels fairly elementary as well.

>>8351932
>>8351937
No.

>>8351999
Not my cup of tea but generally well done. The whole piece feels like one large cliche though.

>>8352068
The text itself feels awkward. Nothing really grabs at me either so when I get to the point that I know he's actually not late himself it doesn't really hit.

>>8352073
>>8352081
No.

>>8352153
Why write about love if you've never been in love? That tells me you want to write just to be called a writer, not that you have something you want to say. Not saying it's impossible to pull it off, plenty of famous authors have, just doesn't seem worthwhile.

>>8352180
"Call me Ishmael"

>>8352184
>>8352192
>>8352196
>>8352201
>>8352208
>>8352218
Dude, stop. No.

>>8352276
No.

>>8352659
Struggled to get through this one. Your voice and tone are all over the place. This needs a really heavy-handed edit.

>>8352967
«Call me Ishmael» is a dialogue as much as «Many years later, as he faced the firing squad» is a dialogue.

>>8352363
Thanks!

>>8352993
np senpai

>>8352967
There's no need to be dismissive.

>>8353099
There is

>>8353116
No yourself, bitch.

>>8351999

I liked the first half. Towards the end it got a little boring and predictable. Didn't like the amount of repetition.

Roland checked the time as he waited on the escalator going down. A wave of confusion took over him and for an instant he felt as though the escalator was taking up, higher - rather than lower. At this moment of pure conflabagasted confusion, Roland lurched his right hand to hold the railing. At first too tightly, making his body go against the escalator but soon he soothed his grip.

He was clearly nervous. 'You don't mind if I bring a friend along' she had said over the phone, 'what the fuck am i going to say to that' Roland had thought. 'Sure thing, sounds good'. It would have been okay if the conversation just ended there, but it didn't. Sure it might have been awkward with Roland trying to hit it of with this girl he barely knew, already a task that proved a goliath.

She had said 'you bring a friend along too, yeah?'. He was sent spiralling, instant sweat - shaky voice. What was he supposed to say? 'No, i have no one but crippling loneliness and my friend Jackson - but Jackson is the busking hobo who sometimes invites me for a beer around the corner because he sees how much I need it'. No, that won't do of course. Roland shaky voice just let out a 'n-now?. Grasping at straws, with a response that made no sense. What the hell was she going to say? What the fuck was Roland hoping for with that kind of response. As pathetic as ever, it was Roland grasping. Think of it as a frog, clinging to the side of a boiling pot, avoiding the hell below. Now imagine the frog had no arms or legs, and was already dead - but unlucky for chef, the stupid frog was just stuck on the side of the pot. Waiting for the chef to grab his spoon and peel him off, dropping the poor sap into the hell below. That was Roland. A disabled dead frog.

>>8352572

I enjoyed the succession of metaphors, a meteor shower of ideas and images. The pic is also good.

>>8353288
>hit it of
In the second paragraph.

In general your tone doesn't match the scene at all and it just feels weird. There's other parts, especially in the third paragraph, where it just jumps all over the place. It reads as if you wanted to sound like a romantic in parts but then falls into 90s mall culture in others.

>>8353223
I agree that it's predictable; but I think the repetitions are crucial.

Actually I need an idea critique myself.

Currently working on a piece about a writer in Paris who gives up the love of his young life to pursue his duty only to eventually lose her to murder. It revolves around this conflict between his own will and his imposed duties. It ends with his torment and distress at not having lived as he wanted and instead accepting the will imposed by outside forces. Generally dealing with light hedonism and why people should live for themselves rather than society. The story largely pulls from my own experience with first love and having left her for my own duties.

My other idea that I'm toying with is a man who runs through a wide variety of sexual conquests in a sort of perverse hero journey. He doesn't seem to be able to find fulfillment in any of these adventures and has different people with different views offer their opinions as to why he is unhappy, generally mirroring the seven deadly sins. Eventually he comes to realize that he was seeking the lowest forms of pleasure and finally finds higher pleasures. This is entirely based on my own experience with depression and how I tried to cope with it.

Which idea should I continue with? I just finished outlining the former but I think I like the latter a bit better.

>>8354202

>It's a "the author gives the reader life advice" novel

Don't do it. Prioritize entertainment, reader affect, and novelty.

>>8354202
>>8354202
Second one sounds better but
>Life experiences
>With sex
Uh huh, sure buddy.

I'm kind of stuck, I don't know if I should continue or not with this form of story. What do you guys think?

https://docs.google.com/document/d/12LomF0c3Q0z4NfODz_Fc3-xgrfQiCiaWy_zJXvBWY4E/edit?usp=sharing

Also, love you /lit/

>>8354202
No

>>8354202
Both of those ideas are fucking retarded.

You don't have anything to teach anon. Nobody does. Just write a damned story with an effective plot and interesting characters.

>>8354305
Didn't even read the rest of this thread but holy shit this is the most /r/writing shit I've seen on /lit/ all day.

This is unrelated. But has gaskun been around? His threads were always kinda lame but I oddly enough miss them. And he seemed like a decent guy.

>>8354450
gaskun is a story himself, but sadly the books will never take off


I was giving blood next to a stranger

Feeling where they stuck me on either side of myself

Two televisions are alive and showing golf

And they hurt me and I focused on that space between the same picture of whatever was happening somewhere else

now

Landscapes lead to topologies which lead to different abstractions of nature by the human

Now shut the fuck up and tell me I'm beautiful

He asked, "will you power it down?"

They did it like the dogs

Brainwashed

On an invisible planet money

The Yangtze, the Volta, and the Ganges: great American pipelines

Exceptional in their ability to electrify the Tokyo skyline

Laying down all the fiberwire

Consistently expanding into the westward sunset

Can't read or speak in the moonlight

Not taking orders

The heat is leaving the floor

The rainforest

>>8354444
Sure. Go ahead. Keep it going with your experimental fiction and your descriptive set pieces and your moody undertones and your really lovely diction. Just know that you're getting cucked.

But you're what, twenty? Twenty five? Fuck off. You don't have anything to teach. Just tell a damn story. And make it such a beautiful story that people want to laugh and cry and then think about it and then you win! See anon. It's so easy.

>>8354507

>replying to shitposters

You've already lost.

Slipping and writhing up a barn wall there is a slug. Banana in color and shape all the way down, she isn't very good at small talk. If you get to know her though you'd peg her as vaguely optimistic, and intellectual.
She's almost at the top too, and the corner is going be the toughest part. Most slugs can do it without much difficulty, and she probably can too, but the thought of being upside down for such a time frightened all of her chunky insides. It was a small stretch, and, how about that? She's there right now, stretching and unstretching in the way her kind do.
But she's stopped, she can't seem to move, her insides fade and grow weak, but she is living, like the other slugs.
One of them, a friend, slugs from the roof of the barn down to the corner, and, suspended nearby, but not quite able to see her, he asks her is everything okay?
She answers that yes everything is okay but she'd like to stay here a while longer.
Her friend slugged back to the roof, perplexed and worried about her.
For days her friend would visit and ask the same sort of question. She would answer similarly and he would squabble sullenly back to the roof. Soon he grew tired of asking her if she was okay and began talking with her about maths, and philosophy, and books they had both read. There was little emotion behind either of their sluggish voices and every night he would stretch and unstretch to his home on the roof.
One day, their talks became too motivated by the emotions of one another, and she decided after he left that she should either return to the roof or fall to whatever was at the foot of the barn, and greet it with fierce new life or promising death.
It was a tough decision, and when her friend would come to visit in the following days she would not answer. One day, during this time, her friend decided that he must check on her, if only to ensure she was still there.
He squiggled his way around the corner and, upon seeing her still there asked her is everything okay?
She decided at that moment to remove herself from the underside corner of the barn and fall into the beautiful mystery at the foot of the barn, unable to cope with what she knew already lived beneath and above its roof. Her friend, confused and delirious, returned to the roof and his wife and his childless home, and clung to the roof of that home so much so that his wife began to worry.

I haven't had to write an essay in a while, tell me what you think of this. Just came to me as a thought.

>>8354684
oops, pic related

>>8352967
>Why write about love if you've never been in love?
>just to be called a writer

I write because I enjoy telling stories. I want to write about love, here, because as I said it ties into a greater part of the story. A basic one, if anything, about the conflict of personal motives and group motives.

And that whole comment irked me. I'm only 20 years old barely, should I not write at all? Or should I do what I'm doing now; make little stories for fun to improve my ability at writing whilst I live life and gain experiences.

If you think neither then clearly you don't write at all.

Furthermore, in this triggered response, the whole nature of the romance is a titanic style fluffing up by one party of what it -could- have been after circumstances go awry.

So now, can you actually critique my attempt at first person with dialogue?

>>8354202
>Writer
Don't do it about a writer. At the least do it about a film-maker or artist.

It just irks me when I read about someone reading or writing. As for the two ideas I like the first one a lot more. If we're allowed, I'd even say he never managed to fully commit to his duties either and regrets not at least doing one otherwise it sounds a bit too preachy(Though I'm sure you'd be able to do the original first idea with out making it preachy).

>>8354655
Kinda liked it, oddly enough. It could do with some editing to iron out the pacing and stuff but this is the first thing in a while on a critique thread that I enjoyed reading from beginning to end.

>>8354696
>Underage b&

Don't put "I think" in an essay.

>>8354770
Yeah definitely, didn't start off as one, more of a ramble. Doesn't fit though.

The prologue to a Sci-Fi/Low Fantasy Novel I'm working at.

Needs Critique, pls. Page 1 of 3

>>8355236
Whoops, something went wrong with the upload.
Page 1 of 3

>>8355252
Page 2 of 3

>>8355252
Ohboy

Right off the bat, learn where to put your commas. Try reading out loud what you've written and think hard as to whether or not you need a comma.

And semi-colons.
And hyphens.

>folding iron staff
Iron's not very strong, especially not an articulated piece, so I don't think a girl would be able to parkour around with it (it's very heavy), nor would it support her weight if she tried to pole vault with it.

>women's thong
wat

>urchin, marrying a fat baron, has a sick folding iron staff.
wew

>discourse
Young missy is an educated urchin?

>fiddle your fingers where they ought not to be
are you my mother?

>miniature bonfire
that's a regular fire, senpai

>>8355278
Page 3 of 3

Give me all ya got :)

>>8355278
>Their gilded steps
What are gilded steps?
>custom made padded soles
Isn't she a street urchin looking to marry for money?

>bah
never write bah

You describe the old man as skinny, covered in rags. Yet somehow this girl managed to hide beneath his rags without making a conspicuous shape, despite the proximity of the guards and their torches, even after they get close enough to kick him.

>stealing bread, has custom booties, cool gambit staff, is fit enough for parkour
Is she Katniss Everdeen?

>>8355296
Your dialogue is YA and cringey, but not bad per se. What IS bad is your attention to detail and lack of realism.

Spend some more time developing what you're writing. Describe something. Make sure all your plot points fit together. Stay away from cliche'd expressions and don't feel like just because your main character is 12 (and I really suggest making her older) that the adults in your world need to behave like brain donors.

>>8355283
>>8355302
>>8355310

There you go, hopefully these will help you senpai. Good luck.

>>8354230
No it's really just about my own beliefs.

>>8354253
>People have different life experiences
>Ree, etc

>>8354288
The perspective is off here. Needs some editing. Even in the first line you have
>inside... within
The former implies the latter so it just adds unneeded weight to the sentence.

>>8354507
Wew lad...

>>8354655
Interesting but not my cup of tea.

>>8354746
>I write because I enjoy telling stories
Good enough for me. The dialogue itself is somewhat weak and flat, not to mention one-sided. I'm not sure if I'd really call it dialogue at all, it's really just a few quips from the narrator. I'd expand on it a lot more and give some actual back and forth, even if the responses denote an indifferent tone there ought to be something there.

The way you write in general though needs a lot of work; It feels very elementary. Continue to practice, it will make you better. But I'd suggest reading a bit more before you really sink your teeth in.

Thanks for your feedback, as well, on my ideas. I don't intend to say anything outright about those topics to avoid the preaching. But since that seems to be the chief concern I'll take another look at the outline and see if I can shift some thoughts around to ensure it doesn't come off that way.

>>8355252
>>8355278
>>8355296
Definitely not reading all of this crap. This is filled with issues from top to bottom just even glancing over it.
>... echoed
Who are they echoing?
Also, white space isn't poisonous. Please use some.

>>8355313
Thanks for the laughs, Kohai.
It's good to know what I still lack, thanks for pointing them out yo!

Did it keep you engaged,though, by any chance? Like entertained or whatever?

>>8355315
White space?

>>8355361
shit don't call me kohai, forgot the stupid filter kills the word f a m

I don't read YA so for me, no, I wasn't really interested. Obviously I'm not your target, though. If I were 16-17 then perhaps. At the very least you managed to provide a hook and interesting characters with a fast pace.

>>8355379
You said something about cliched dialogue, how does one avoid that mess?

>>8351999
This is nice, in one word.

Pace is definitely above serviceable, but like another anon mentioned, it got a little too repetitive at certain parts. At this part specifically

>One more time. I'm sure of it. That will be two. It has to be two. It doesn't have to be. Lock. Was that two, or three? I have to check if the outside is still there. Unlock.

Maybe it'll work better if you were to compress it even more. To use even less words to barely convey what the narrator is thinking? Give reader the impression that they are reading more words than they actually do?

The revelation that the outside isn't actually there at the end was a nice little twist. Not sure how this could be developed into a longer narrative, as telling a whole story in this style isn't very feasible.

>>8352153
>Never been in love
>Only had two recurring sexual partners

not even going to bother

just ree

>>8352967
post one of your own excerpts before critiquing others. Chances are, you are the worst writer here.

>>8355987
One should really practice abstinence when it comes to dealing with tripfags.

>>8355721
I'm black, they're white.

I think to some extent I've always been a sort of fantasy fulfilment for the women I've been with. Both those two became really clingy towards the end and probably did have strong feelings for me but I struggled to get past that paranoia.

I've since learned to get over it but I haven't had a recurring partner since. So no need to ree, Pepe. I am your blood and kin.

/blog

>>8355987
Not an argument

I’m different in it.
I skip details
But it is still me.
I even keep the acne scars
-- so it looks real.

You stay the same.
It is my flaws that
I cannot stand. I appreciate yours.

I focus on the sensations
That I can imagine. The limits I probe.
The caresses and grazes and gropes.
I even keep the dirty aspects
-- to convince myself it can be real.

I say it keeps something alive.
I say it doesn’t hurt.
I allow it – a small thing for me.

I say I think of you
But I’m not so sure.
It’s the “you” my limits can
Recreate – images and sounds.
I even make you talk
-- to let myself think it can be you.

I don’t know
How to get rid of it
Or how to enjoy it
Without feeling guilty.
But I tell myself
I can be aware of this – outside this
Enough to not let it be a prison
-- to make it feel less shitty.

>>8357477
This is incoherent meta-trash.

So I didn't actually write a single word of this. As an experiment, I copy and pasted each individual line from various other poems in a single poetry critique thread a few months ago and ordered them to rhyme and cohere as best I could. Some of you might recognize a line or two of yours. Anyway, I call it:

Freud Writes Frankenstein

Let it be said
the time has come for me to say hello:
The Queen is dead
by blackmagic melodies and mellow

Platonic fiends hovering over Tokyo
made from the clouds in your dream
atop the eons of which we roam
broken only after it seems

their faces, those of gods or dogs,
discarded cutlery in the trash,
planet, tiger captains, and frogs,
pig eating pigs plump with cash

murder my personality
without all the advantages
so take some hospitality
a tumble of shiny images

or not quite anyway, except
that isn't Toni Morrison, silly–
for the sake of what was left
we shiver in this chilly

room with the amusement park attraction;
as days crawl with the impatient impasse
that is probably muddled in abstraction
I watched her wilt as days did pass

like the columnated ruins, dominoed,
for the nuance or the yolk
but in schematic pseudocode
colliding with the herb smoke

reminding us of its presence
Güte gräbt ein tiefes Loch
It makes no difference,
set me up upon a rock

with ourselves at the other end
to say something pithy and smart,
though the view does ascend,
this is really easy to pick apart.

If humanity were an organism
it would be a fly,
social media its eyes.
We buzz aimlessly looking shamelessly
at shit, often also licking it.
Through us disease does spread
and through us we name our dead
words like beloved, good and dear
thinking no more of vomiting on stale bread
and showering in beer
(interstitially praising our ability to persevere).
Clear now it is: insectoid Les Miz
is not what we is, despite what has been said,
for while the sun peaks in the East
misery and it's creatures feature the least
in our man made shed that made man led
to believe what it knows: the weeds, flowers and clothes,
bountiful bovine offering offal and clothes
but more importantly that which we churn to turn
milk into butter and butter into sperm.
Humanity is a a fly,
but the butter comes first
prior to the thirst
to fly like a fly
for we are a butterfly
(in its chrysalis,
not to diminish this).

Editing is for the perfect.

If humanity were an organism
it would be a fly,
social media its eyes.
We buzz aimlessly looking shamelessly
at shit, often also licking it.
Through us disease does spread
and through us we name our dead
words like beloved, good and dear
thinking no more of vomiting on stale bread
and showering in beer
(interstitially praising our ability to persevere).
Clear now it is: insectoid Les Miz
is not what we is, despite what has been said,
for while the sun peaks in the East
misery and it's creatures feature the least
in our man made shed that made man led
to believe what it knows: the weeds, flowers and clothes,
bountiful bovine offering offal and clothes
but more importantly that which we churn to turn
into butter and butter into sperm.

Yes, humanity is a a fly,
but the butter comes first
even prior to the thirst
to fly like a fly,
for we are a butterfly
(in its chrysalis,
not to diminish this
or finish this

>>8351932
I like it but it is basically an excerpt from IJ, also think your use of epithet might not wrong but not what I intuit as being optimal. Like in big 'ole dick the epithet is big 'ole. Maybe I'm just wrong but I like to think of epithet as the adjective in a nominative phrase.

A Practice in Practicing


Emotions are the potential for expression
like voltage for work (in a physics sense)
but I don't have any emotions right now
unless you count shame, frustration and depression
which you only wouldn't if you were retarded
or an amoeba, any non-human animal really
or a non-telepathic extraterrestrial, or a chair
or a fictional character, or a non-English reader,
or a superfluous list of things used to mask my—
feelings are the potential for expression
like incentive for work (in an economic sense)
but I don't have any feelings right now
unless you count pain, indolence or ennui
which you only wouldn't if you had a good reason,
such as the veritable lack of any relevant—
sensory information is the potential for expression
like whips for work (in a slavery sense)
but I don't have any sensory information right now
unless you count pixelated light, crickets and crows
which you only wouldn't if you were like me
contemporaneously dead.

This is my first short story I've written. It's about future technology and loss, and is pretty nihilistic. I'm proud of it but would like to share it and hear some opinions.

There may be some typos out there, it's a draft.

>>8357749
2/3

>>8357754
3/3

Ionospherically high
yet lower than the Earth's core.
Writing writhes me: dearth's chore.
In Oxycodone I am high.

What does bye really mean?

>>8357768

Dear anonymous,

This is worse than New Delhi doody.

Sincerely,

The chap who wrote it

>>8357730
I am pretty sure both uses of epithet are kosher. At least according to my handy dandy webster's app. Though as to which usage is more general I really couldn't say. But thanks for the critique, blood.

A small mound of aromatic ground coffee rested in the paper filter, He shut the lid on the coffee machine and the brew button was pressed. Balanced just ever not so perfectly, the metal spoon was placed on the small container of coffee. The coffee machine slurped, and spattered, and in his mind the sound always reminded him of a heinous public restroom. He wondered if he was vain or idiotic for thinking about suicide in this moment. He stared blankly at the white, stained cheap, coffee machine; which laid upon a white, sterile, and also stained counter. Suddenly, a ring of sharp pain circulated around his vision, so he pressed his palms to his eyeballs. Shapes formed in the black, faint flashing globes of a bluish green rushed to form figures of incomprehensibility. He held his palms to his eyes longer, and slowly he could make out a face, a smiling evil face of blue-green. He let go and the static, swirling grain took over his vision, floating every which way. The imprint of the face still laid in his mind, the spoon slipped off the coffee container and rung as it hit the floor, then he poured his coffee into his mug.

fuck, he said, as he spilled the coffee from his mug. Frustrated at life, he threw his mug to the wall and began to choke on emotions, guarding his eyes from showing any tears. fucking shit, said he. The mug didn't shatter, so he picked it up, and felt death was encroaching. It wasn't, or maybe it was, maybe it felt that way, he tried to remind himself to think bigger, higher, to think about the grandiosity of the universe and the insignificance of the plight of a spilled mug of coffee. He couldn't. He dropped the mug, sat on the floor, and looked at his reflection in the puddle, which was soaking the back of his pants. Now his mind had sucked inwardly to nothingness, absolutely nothing at all. Empty was his mind, and his mug.

Empty, like a deep nothingness before a cosmic explosion. Empty, until something formed, an immense big bang of thought went off in his hollow mind. (I left my car keys at the bar.) A new psychological universe expanded rapidly through the realm of his thoughts, beautiful and spontaneous. Rushing fourth, like a tsunami in a typhoon, crashing waves ever gliding in every direction, galaxies forming. A new man was being born, he jumped up, cleaned the spillage, put the coffee mug in the sink for he didn't need it any anymore, and lept out of his door. He was greeted by a couple, his neighbors, smiling a clean smile, puckered cheeks and all. The waves in his mind instantly turned to stone, the cosmic ocean of his being was yet again unconsciously stagnated before it's time.

WELL GOOD MORNING NEIGHBOR, I WOULD JUST LIKE REMIND YOU THAT WE ARE THROWING A BARBECUE TO CELEBRATE OUR NEW PATIO AND YOU ARE INVITED. thanks. YeP, My WiFe CoOkS a MeAn PoRkChOp! i will try to make it, but i can't talk right now, i have to go grocery shopping. OK, SORRY ABOUT THAT, HAVE A GREAT DAY. No worries, and thank you you to.

>>8358288
Hey. Stop it. You're over describing things that nobody cares about. I do it to. But we have to edit it out as much as possible. Keep what's necessary. I don't care How the coffee rests in the filter. It's not a movie. Don't paint me a picture. Tell me a story.

>>8357749
Don't say abyss. The word is made of garbage.

Don't overwrite. Don't use words like miraculously or undercurrent or consciousness or circumstances.

>chemicals of her mind
Stop it anon.

You really like "of a" "of a" "of a". It reads lousy. Experiment with interesting syntax that uses as few words as possible.

Break up your paragraphs. You'll be surprised how much this helps.

Now do me.

http://pastebin.com/S1CJKQiF

>>8358495
Howdy. I wrote the short story. Thank you for some of your criticism, but I can't say I agree with some of your points but there's something to consider!

Thanks.

>>8358599
Hey anon.

What points do you disagree with?

It was obviously more style relates criticism. I liked your story and I liked that it WAS trying to be a story. I find lots of people here just like describing things and that's so boring.

One final point. Try working some action in there. Dialogue even. Something that's happening and not just explained or described to have happened. I do it too, but I try my best to inject some movement into the piece.

>>8358495

What did you think about the rest of it though, aside from the coffee.

>>8358616
I mostly just disagree with some of the criticism of the word choice, though I understand where you're coming from with it, %100! I also only used "of a" twice... not sure.

It's interesting you suggest to break down my paragraphs though. That's actually something that's really been trimmed as far as my usual output so I'm definitely conscious and workin' on that :)

>>8358618
I think it was boring. I'm sorry anon. Don't describe nothingness. Don't describe the limits of your characters subconscious. Just tell a story. Don't waste a 600 words on what happens before he opens the door. Upu wrote so many words! But all I got was,

Man this guy has some really serious personal problems and it doesn't seem like he's capable of taking human relationships and communities seriously.

>>8358616
>>8358618
Uh, to add to that cause I forgot to reply to your second portion!

I don't feel like I would want to add dialogue to it, it is definitely my intent to keep it in 1st and briefly in 3rd person and pretty observational. What I would hope the story does is explain a very specific anxiety and fear that comes from rumination on consciousness and I think that's a very internal experience, hence me using "consciousness" and keeping it in the 1st person.

>>8358636
Sorry, "You wrote".

Trying to write quickly on my phone.

>>8358639
Nobody cares about your rumination on consciousness anon. I promise. Nobody wants to read about internal experiences.

And about word choice.

Write me an extremely short story that you're proud of that doesn't use a single word longer than two syllables. Just try it.

>>8358495
If you guys could read me story too, I'd really like the feedback. It's in a pastebin at the bottom.

>>8358646
>Nobody cares about your rumination on consciousness anon. I promise. Nobody wants to read about internal experiences.

I don't think that's true. Lots of people like lots of kinds of stories. If it generally wasn't for you that's alright, or if it didn't ring your bell or whatever~

>>8358649
That's true anon.

But just try something else. Play with plot. It's so much more fun. You can do so much more with it.

>>8358648
I'm reading through it slowly. I'm the first short story you replied to.

Did you just by accident read only the first page? I think the story has action to it and I'm worried I completely lost you with it or you just didn't, maybe, see it lol

>>8358636

I was attempting a sense of humor anon. I know my style of writing sounds super corny and wordy but I was trying to puff up extremely simple happenings as a way of mocking it.

My point was being that this man's inner conscious was receiving a new awaking in a spontaneous abstract epiphany that was instantly halted to a stop as soon as he opened the door.

I tried romantically detailing this occurrence to build momentum only to be abruptly stopped by a two smiling neighbors, which were alluded too when he looked at those weird light play shows when you rub your eyes.

I also tried to show similar words being used in context of what happens in the text.

The ringing pain of the eyes, and then the rung sound of the spoon.

I recognize your criticism though and I am too visually minded sometimes and shouldn't be a dictator for the readers creativity.

>>8358654
Sorry anon. I think I was mistaking your story with another. Give me a bit.

>>8358659
LMAO, hope so.... It's 3 pages long, called Seeing Color
>>8357749
>>8357754
>>8357760

Maybe it was who could have got something confused.

>>8358659
I gave your story a spin and I think it's definitely got signs of competent writing! Some comparisons you made went over my head, which may be me or may be worth looking at (e.g. washed away by tomorrow or a few minutes - seems a bit awkward). But you do have pleasant variety of sentence structure in here, I commend that.

Seems A-OKAY ;)

I need someone's opinion on something

What is the most important part of a tragedy?

>>8358689
pain

>>8358691
Thanks

how do I best convey that, if you want

>>8358654
Hey anon. Just finished your story.

I like the concept you have a fun imagination.

But again. I don't like some of your diction and I think you would really gain something by cutting down on your wordiness.

>the apocalypse I was
>dissipating into some incoherent shape
>our nerves exposed and the morning chill

It's just too much I think. Some of the phrases read like a wanker and are kind of silly.

>>8358656
Don't attempt a sense of humour anon. Just be funny ;)

>>8358699
Yep, that's absolutely something I mess with. I KNOW some of the word phrasing has certain cheesy connotation but I feel like it's honest and descriptive.
I'd like to think I use some of that in hopes to maybe elevate it out of that cheesyness with the idea its attached to, but to make you go like "yknow.... I'll let this one slide" is probably a hard task!

>>8358495
The opening is too fast, too much happening, then after that there's just no subtlety in what’s about to go down. We can guess exactly what’s gonna not happen and you haven’t given us an investment in the vegetable or the place as characters on their own. This is a very cliché too. You use a lot of contemporary and date specific terms/brand names with pretty shallow research "G8" "Rolaids" and tablets instead of papers; it’s very unambitious and has a headline news “hot-take” feel but most of your social media etc. is not even up to date enough for present day/2005ish so the tablets stand out even more. If tablets are popular and common why is everything else so inefficient and ancient; does no one have vine or @worldstarhiphop tweets exposing injustice? This story won’t work very well if the world really is a stone’s throw from 2016 and you’re more interested in revisiting a holocaust boxcar. Maybe you can improve the story if you write out a plan or a few ideas that do the opposite of what has been done a million times already in this genre.
The point you’re trying to make gets lost in the prose describing it and becomes preachy and hard to relate to when the narrator just tells it to us. The dialog is not very good. People don’t talk like that. GUESS and KNOW are your ticks for exposition pretending to be dialog. You can fill a whole paragraph with back and forth, multi-sentence conversations. You used a lot of short, quick few word responses and go into narrator mode when you could probably stick with dialog.
This version of your vision is a really pulpy and ham fisted stomp through oppression and dystopia themes that are in vogue atm. I guess if you don’t want to fix it you could just go back and do a straight up holocaust boxcar- but then the bar gets raised and you probably can’t out write what’s already been done there so probably should just toss this premise and move on to another short story instead of continuing this mess.

>>8355252
*record scratch*
*freeze frame*
I guess you're wondering how I got myself into this mess...

>>8357749
>Pope Albert IV
unless if your future universe there has been a very notable saint named Albert, it would be very unusual for 4 different popes to adopt a very 20th century Anglo-Saxon name

>>8354502

this made me cringe. is english your native language?

>>8354696

Sexuality != sexual identity != non-traditional values

Take for consideration the Greeks. The men in their armies fucked one another. These men held very traditional values. They valued the ancient traditions of the Greek city states, and fucked each other.

The idea that sexuality has any set of values is completely modern. Homosexuality = sexual attraction to the same sex. That is all. Gay men are in no better a place to judge masculinity than any other man. The 'struggle with homosexual desires' you write about is again a modern idea.

>>8358288

>Balanced just ever not so perfectly, the metal spoon was placed on the small container of coffee.

this sentence annoyed me enough that I could not continue reading your piece.

>>8351999
This was a really fucking relatable experience of having OCD.

>>8359195
>Sexuality != sexual identity != non-traditional values
That's true, though I approached it sort of conflating the concept of innate natural law with tradition.
>Homosexuality = sexual attraction to the same sex. That is all. Gay men are in no better a place to judge masculinity than any other man.
Indeed, but I wasn't talking about homosexuality in and of itself, but also the homosexual person and his relation to society. Given that there are, on average, biological differences between homosexual and heterosexual men - as well as the difference of status and relations in society as a result of their same-sex desires - I think it's appropriate to talk about the homosexual as his own subject and his relations to masculinity and traditional conceptions of masculinity.
>The 'struggle with homosexual desires' you write about is again a modern idea.
Alienation and feeling different from others is not, however. Especially when it comes to sexuality, which is an important aspect of the human being. Which is why I have to disagree with you on
>The idea that sexuality has any set of values is completely modern
It is not modern, given that sex is regulated or values are ascribed to it in some way in every society, unless you mean that homosexuality itself "contains" certain values, but that doesn't seem relevant.

>>8359157
Fuckin' kek.

What do you think about it, senpai?

>>8359259
Hmm, found it difficult to get engaged. Wasn't excited by the action because I didn't know or care much for the circumstance of the character. Doesn't have to be anything special but a 'hook' to draw me in that's a little more than a thief running away from guards (pretty typical) would be nice. Then there's a sequence heavy in relatively inconsequential dialogue between characters in a situation I'm not really interested in, so that was kind of draining.

>>8359273
Was it easy to read, at least? Like did it look like it was going for a fast pace?

Prose wise? Grammar?

>>8359166
Ha, excellent point. Thanks for catching that.

We were young, strong, and four years without women. So we tried to catch German women and ... Ten men raped one girl. There were not enough women; the entire population run from the Soviet Army. So we had to take young, twelve or thirteen year-old. If she cried, we put something into her mouth. We thought it was fun. Now I can not understand how I did it. A boy from a good family... But that was me.

>>8359318
Sorry for the late reply. Yeah it felt fast-paced, though I'd say the conversation slowed it down a little. Lost a bit of the sense of danger a bit, maybe? As for prose and grammar I can't really say much, I'm pretty poor with grammar I kinda wing it so others are probably better with that. I didn't notice anything too bad.

>>8359361
no prob, good application of the story's concept btw with the pope thing, nice form of exposition too

>>8358963
Thank you so much for the critique. I'll look into changing a few things but I usually just end up cleaning up loose ends, submitting to a massive amounts of Western Canadian literary journals, and then moving on to the next story.

Thanks again. It really helped.

>>8359404
Thank you kindly :)