Critique Thread

[Anonymous No.10589149]

No tripfags allowed.

[RealTedy !9XPsY8ZmoE No.10589169]

Always knew I would get the benzo, I pull up on you tell me how you feeling
Had the vision since I played Nintendo, i'd have pussy options I pick out the litter
Smoking out the roof it's like a chimney on the interstate I get the whole city lifted
Ope told me that I'm intercontinental they go know you from Belize to Sacramento
Yah like Michael Vick in the whip, call audibles when I see pigs
Mothers approached me and said I inspire they kids, I know they get high to this shit
All in one year but pardon my French but fuck the anonymous hating they patiently waiting
I slide out my lane and fall of my wave
This my Kelly Slater impersonation, having seen my homies since we graduated
Last thing they told me is you better make it
Now my wallet getting thicker everyday, it's looking like the casket of Benjamin Franklin
Slowing it down a little bit
Sipping Moet and lowering my stress levels, then I listen to my competition and it relieves me of all pressure
Look at me now read all the shit that I've written, this shit has been scripted, I'm tryna get momma out of prison, then cop her a Benz then cop me a
Bentley, then get a Da Vinci for the crib she living in, all the old chicks now feel the kid
Play UGK track number eight, all the shit just changed when I got the 'cedes

[Anonymous No.10589189]

>>10589169
>benzo

Stopped reading here

[JDCK No.10589201]

>>10589149
I guess it's about time I learn how to tripcode

[Anonymous No.10589205]

pennis

[JDCK No.10589208]

>>10589201
well that didn't work

[Anonymous No.10589215]

>>10589208
Fresh in from reddit huh

[RealTedy !9XPsY8ZmoE No.10589306]

>>10589189
Jokes on you, pleb. Future generations will admire my rap lyrics as the genre's literary awakening.

[Anonymous No.10589373]

Edith Byrne sat in Isabelle’s apartment, across from Jennifer, the girl of Isabelle, who ate the supper Edith made her: egg on toast. The room was temperate, the window obscured by rain. Half-empty bottles of gin were set at the legs of the tatami table, which they sat at, and low-volume laughter from the television made Jennifer smile and laugh. Edith read a dog-eared pulp book, her hand rested on the tabletop beside a pencil which she picked up, and underlined a sentence she found interesting, she subvocalized it:

On the beach, she saw a far-away lightning

[Anonymous No.10589385]

>>10589306
Maybe try being less of a predictable scenester in the meantime

[Anonymous No.10589439]

Selective Service at the Powder Puff Ranch
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Ihjp_Go7nEQuECE2BO07NCzcZrvU6TOxNwLFIkt7gw0/edit?usp=sharing
"When Emily was drafted into the National Prostitution Service, the last thing she expected was... pleasure"

[Anonymous No.10589461]

>>10589385
get woke, kid

[Anonymous No.10589477]

>>10589373
At first I was annoyed by your frequent use of commas, but after reading it again I warmed up to it. Your passage has a nice rhythm to it. My only complaint might be that you are packing a bit too much information in each sentence. Try splitting some sentences apart if it doesn't break the flow.

[Anonymous No.10589497]

If I cant shit out something impressive in every one of these threads it eats away at me more than I'd like to let on. I can hear someone mocking me in the back of my head everytime I phrase something awkwardly, and imagine them laughing when I spell something wrong. They won't stop watching me. Or trying to correct me. They show up in my dreams, and poke fun at the way I wake up screaming. I'm not schizophrenic, or psychotic, just plagued with an unfaltering panel of critics who live to pick apart and study my every mistake. Some of it is constructive, most of it is intentionally deteriorating to the psyche, all of it is patronizing. If I shot myself in the head tomorrow someone would see my obituary and ask why it took me so long.

[Anonymous No.10589542]

>>10589439
My suggestion is to cut out everything before the sex scene and replace it with some brief exposition to establish the scenario. You know why we're here, get to the good stuff.

[Anonymous No.10589564]

>>10589497
>that was actually bad
how did you make an ironic meta boring and predictable?

[Anonymous No.10589594]

>>10589564
I think it was bad on purpose (assuming it was ironic). Not really worth critiquing, though.

[Anonymous No.10589603]

>>10589594
I hope it is, it's still bad and unfunny. Irony or no. Hope it doesn't become some shit copypasta.

[Anonymous No.10589617]

>>10589603
I doubt it will, it's not memorable enough.

[Anonymous No.10589711]

>spent the last 15 minutes drafting this into the comment box

Out of generic hot pockets head to HEB
Running through the 10 items or less line with 15
I barely talked to other people, to make up for it I'd read
And I'd listen to podcasts at two-times speed
Didn't leave my home, I'd spend the weekends alone
Never opened my mouth so I just breathed through my nose
Stayed in the closet studio, the home inside of my home
The closet studio: the home inside of my home
Pissed in water bottles to avoid my roommates
Fuck toothpaste, brush was too electric I avoided the noise
Pizza boxes stacked where dirty dishes hide
Roaches everywhere and I ain't talking bout the swisher kind
Living out in Riverside, this was just a different mind
Lying on the ground made the ceilings feel high
Agoraphobes don't have time for summer skies
If you ain't getting busy then you're getting high

Cause all illness is physical
And all weed is medicinal
The mind is the brain
I don't fuck with the spiritual
Everything is material
Everything is material

Brown recluse: feeling like Spider-Man
Found refuge, needed healing from a higher plan
I was dying, man; living had me tired
Busy brooding, seeking quarter-life retirement
Needed God or Buddha (mom or father)
Saw neither when I closed my eyes so fuck it, never bothered
Turned a desk into a cesspit, never ate guess that's a diet
I was desperate, reeling, hearing voices, in a spiral
Thinking if my songs are fire I can make a vine and go viral
And if not I can end it all the week before finals
No bible, growing up I was my own idol
Mood cycles had me wishing that I owned a rifle
I know it sounds stupid, Melodrama had me crying
My mind a liability, chemical instability had me eyeing death
Cliched and clunky, because cleverness comes from hope
Mania makes you crazy but depression ain't no joke

All illness is physical
And all weed is medicinal
The mind is the brain
I don't fuck with the spiritual
Everything is material
Everything is material

Is my sobriety depriving me of cure for my anxiety?
Caught between filial piety and vital need for privacy
No religion but aimlessness carries piety
The type of kids who quietly wallow in dirty irony
Carpal tunnel from strumming guitar and jacking off
Happy when I'm slacking off, at least in some ways
Skipped all my classes turned hump day into Sunday
Visions of closed garage and running my mother's Hyundai
Too weary to rhyme, but too obsessive for free verse
Haven't changed for a minute but too dirty for clean shirts
Maintenance guy wondering how I live like this
Well, under my bed is kief crumbs and pills: my fix
Tripping off of poorly settled serotonin levels
Grandmamas call it devil, and dualists call it a vessel
Body be a temple for the soul is substance mental
Nah, the mind is just the body cause the brain ain't special

All illness is physical
And all weed is medicinal
The mind is the brain
I don't fuck with the spiritual
Everything is material
Everything is material

[Anonymous No.10589721]

>>10589149
Posted this a week or so ago, not sure about it but still keeping it. Basically the idea was to write a story within 1500 words or less. This one takes place in three time periods with three writing styles: before, during, and after the Spanish Civil War, with the bridge the constant thread between them. Still haven't finished the third part so keep in mind it's unfinished.

1/3
There is a bridge in the town. It arcs above banks of baked sandstone that hold the sun in their veins. A river runs beneath.

It was a Sunday in spring, and the air was drowsy with the fragrance of orange blossoms. The sun was a lozenge melting on the tip of the tongue, shedding its colors upon white cloudbanks. Those long spring twilights instilled in us a sense of lethargy and urgency at once, like a ripe fig drooping on the branch. And so we all rushed out of doors—but did little else but pass the time, measuring the hours with coffee cups and bowls of chocolate at the Café Ernesto, strolling back-and-forth across the bridge, throwing stones at the storks high in their belfries while the bells chimed and the pale streaks of cloud revealed their tooling of gold. That day I had my first cigarette, and the white vapors flew up to meet the evening moon.

When the dusk had come and gone and the last bells had tolled we perched ourselves upon the bridge’s stone rail and watched the stars. She wore a cloche hat and a ruffled floral dress. We talked about the future—she boasted of the wedding gown her mother had worn that all of the town’s women had sown together, and the mantilla that had been crafted with such precision that it spanned the exact length of the bridge and not a cobble more. I kissed her then, for the first time. She tasted like smoke. She laughed, and I begged her to stay. But her mother wanted her home—she said I was a rabble-rouser, and she was probably right. Luck had it, however, that we lived at opposite ends of the bridge, and so our dalliances were always played out of the sight of peering eyes. “Dream of me!” she called out from across the bridge, bathed in the gilded light of a streetlamp, her face obscure. Then she was gone, and the bridge was quiet beneath the stars.

[Anonymous No.10589732]

>>10589721
2/3

There is a bridge in the town. It arcs above banks of baked sandstone that hold the sun in their veins. A river runs beneath.

It was a Sunday in spring, and the air was drowsy with the fragrance of orange blossoms. We were awoken by the booming of the bells. “Up you louts!” the captain hissed, “God be damned, it’s already past nine!” We mumbled in protest, dusting off straw and blindly grasping for our carbines. One of the militiamen pressed a flask of rum into my hand. “Courage,” he said, and I drank. The warmth spread all the way to my toes. Still rubbing the sand from our eyes, we readied ourselves, and, at the captain’s signal, we burst out into blaring sunlight. The clacking of our boots on the cobbles bounced between the overhanging balconies and chipped brown shutters. The streets were empty. “The bastards are all in church,” the militiaman said, “Let’s pay our respects to the blushing bride.”

There is a church before the bridge, and a plaza with a stone cross at its center. The belabored strains of the dusty old organ filtered out from the cracked door. We approached on tip toes, ducking behind walls and columns, scouring the court for any sign of the enemy. None appeared. Finally we surrounded the church. The stench of incense filled our nostrils. The organ was deafening. “You,” he mouthed, gesturing to me and the militiaman. Then, he pointed to the ground. The captain unholstered his pistol, motioned to the others, and crept inside. Three shots rang out, immediately followed by a flurry of screams, stamping feet, and discordant notes. “Outside! Now!” the captain bellowed. The screams didn’t stop. “Father! Oh Father!” they cried. “Oh God! Oh God!”

Soon they dragged the churchgoers out into the plaza. A group of women sobbed over the corpse of the priest, who had been shot in the eye and died. We beat them. Heaps of firewood were stacked against the walls and set alight. Smoke began to rise. “Look there,” the militiaman said, “they’re finally bringing them out!” The captain, with his cap doffed in reverence and a broad smile on his face, led a procession out of the burning church. In his hand was a basket filled to the brim with fresh blooms. Every few moments he held one to his nose, took in its fragrance, then tossed it to the flagstones with a sigh. We laughed and laughed. Next came the groom dressed only in his cufflinks. His face was bruised and bloodied. His eyes were cloudy with tears. A white rose, fresh as dew, was wrapped around his prick. We hooted and howled.

[Anonymous No.10589737]

>>10589732
3/3
Last came the bride. She wore nothing but the mantilla her mother had worn. Her face was bruised and bloodied. Her eyes were cloudy with tears.

She was beautiful.

The captain, leaving a wake of flowers, led them to the bridge. We followed.

“Up! Up! Up!” the captain cajoled, coaxing them with his pistol. They mounted the bridge’s stone rail. They could hardly stand. They held each other.

“Do you take this woman as your wedded wife?” the captain asked.

“I do.”

“And do you take this man as your wedded husband?”

“I do.”

Then they fell. The mantilla that had been crafted to span the exact length of the bridge floated languidly down. The light revealed its arabesques of lace, its tender blossoms and sweet fruits. Suddenly it began to ascend. It flew up on the wind, up and up, high above the town. It danced and twirled and made pirouettes, it made arcs in the empty sky. It soared towards the eastern horizon where the sea shimmered like a plate of hammered bronze, and the brown-faced seamen on their white ships raised their eyes to watch its passing. Up and up, higher and higher, grazing the bellies of clouds and the wings of eagles. The winds raised it on their backs till the world below was only a marble.

Then, finally, it was lost in the light of the sun.

[Anonymous No.10589746]

>>10589711
>>spent the last 15 minutes drafting this into the comment box
Oh good, now I know it's not worth reading.
Come on, asshole. Some people here have been working on their stuff for days. Don't waste everyone's time with this crap.

[Anonymous No.10589761]

>>10589746
I don't post finished work in here. I figure a critique thread is the perfect place for a draft so I can get some general feedback before revising. Sorry if I broke some unwritten rule.

[Anonymous No.10589814]

>>10589761
The unwritten rule is DON'T WASTE PEOPLE'S FUCKING TIME. If you didn't put any effort into your post, then don't expect anyone to put any effort into their critique (if they even give you one).

[Anonymous No.10589821]

>>10589814
>don't waste people's time
>on 4chan
All y'all do is waste time, ya cunt. Nobody's writing here is a masterpiece nor even worth a dime. So stop being an ostentatious dipshit and dial down on the austims.

[Anonymous No.10589825]

>>10589821
you should never put effort into posts on this site they'll all be recorded and mined for their value by giant data analysis firms in the near future

[Anonymous No.10589831]

[Anonymous No.10589864]

>>10589814
Just read the guy's writing and say what you think of it and move on. Who cares when he wrote it.

[Anonymous No.10589887]

>>10589721
I enjoyed this a lot anon, I hope you realize you have essentially taken on the the style of an epic poem. It reads like Milton (but I'm sure we both agree, not nearly as great.) A few suggestions: I'd remove any unnecessary spacing, especially in part three. I understand the intended effect, but it almost always feels cheap to me. Try to create space without breaking the flow of the text.
I would also recommend eliminating some adjectives and letting your nouns stand alone. For example, I don't think the contrast of white ships and dark sailors was necessary, as nice as the sentiment is. It is too specific in the context of the paragraph. It's just some general tidying for such a breif story.
Finally, and this is not to say you did not, but it might help if you employed active voice just a bit more. Using 'was' and 'is' can sound really repetetive and dry.
Again, overall I enjoyed the story, very pleasant read and you seem to have accomplished your goal.

[Anonymous No.10589894]

Tired of the internal debate thats been raging in my head for the last few days. Considering leaving my job but am not sure. So I put some of my thoughts into words. Sorry to inflict it upon you guys. I read, not write, as a general rule.

There’s something beautiful about the work I do. It is hot, dusty and dangerous. There’s no glamour or prestige. Just a simple work that keeps the country rolling. But there is a beauty to it. The sweat stinging your eyes, the sun burn and the hot air scorching your throat leads to a certain understanding about your place in the world. I do a job that very few people would be willing do. The sacrifices made to earn a pitiful wage, the long thankless hours that build the bosses bank account leave most dumbfounded.

The bloodied arms after a long day putting up a fence, torn skin and sun burnt arms, leave a man exhausted, yes, but with the knowledge that for the next decade that fence will stand for all to see. A monument to your hard work, dedication and skill.

Perhaps it’s the feeling you get when you successfully slow the death rate of cattle during a severe drought. Hours spent cutting mulga trees for the cattle to eat. The sweet stench of a rotting carcass barely 20 meters to your left. Or perhaps the sadness that strikes as you pause, a tire lever raised above your head, as you take aim, resolved to offer mercy, before bludgeoning a calf to death. It’s never just one hit. Hardened as I may be, it’s painful when your boss asks about the blood splatters on your face some 7 hours after the numbness in your hands has resolved. A product of your repeated blows to the thick skulled young calf.

The long days and confronting nature of the work is relieved by the adrenaline. There’s something beautiful you soon come to recognize about death. Not the starved beast that finally drops dead, nor the young beasts you kill with metal or rock or wood. But your own. Wakening to the fact that today you are one mistake from death.

Chasing after a wild bull, a scrubber, until it tires and turns. Snot and foam covering it’s mouth as it stares at you. Stepping off of bike or horse, your mate beside you, waiting for the bull to charge one of you. Teasing it, aggravating it, he suddenly charges. Hundreds of kilograms of muscle, horn and killer intent focused on one task. Taking out that which angers him.

But soon as its charged, all thought disappears from your head. There’s an internal silence which I’ve never been able to find. I either step around it or I die. The one not being charged has the harder job. Grabbing a bull by the tail, swinging it at the exact right moment so that it falls to the side. Failure isn’t really an option you want to consider. Better you die than the man beside you.

[Anonymous No.10589900]

>>10589721
I feel it's a bit too quick and cliche. Boring even... florid without substance. Just another youth love story. Reads like a chopped up YA book. End critique of part 1.

[Anonymous No.10589917]

>>10589732
Although confusion may be the intention, it is not engaging. There is little reason for what is happening and it is not graphic enough or raw enough to evoke anything. It's just mere descriptions of events and the cliches return once more to riddle this already drab prose. End critique of 2nd part.

[Anonymous No.10589924]

>>10589721
>>10589732
>>10589737
This is very good. My only complaint is this line:
>There is a bridge in the town. It arcs above banks of baked sandstone that hold the sun in their veins. A river runs beneath.
I know what you're trying to do here, but I think if you want to have a line that you start each period with, it should be something more compelling. Honestly, I wouldn't even do that if I were you, as I find it a bit gimmicky, and you have a rather small word count to work with.

[Anonymous No.10589926]

thank you everyone who helped me fine tune this over the last week. still not perfect but I definitely got where I want it to be emotionally. the second couplet still bugs me but i went ahead and put in a print order.

I hope he likes it.

[Anonymous No.10589950]

>>10589737
Part 3: a hamfisted ending and I know you said it's unfinised but this is the worst of the three parts. Once more this is trying to ride on emotions that are not present, not established. It says this and that and expects me to feel something from it but I don't. I just feel bored. Now, since this is the last part I will say there is potential with this. It's got potential even with these cliches. Extend it, make more of a past. Have more build-up to the middle, making the end better in its attempt at emotional story-telling. There is stuff here, just needs more, a lot more.

[Anonymous No.10589980]

>>10589831
Why would you put the text on that background image if you hadn't even fixed the spelling errors? (or at least disabled the red lines). Maybe you could provide some context on what the text is even about? I didn't get it.

[Anonymous No.10589994]

>>10589831
I can barely get past the first paragraph due to the obnoxious photograph. Seems pretentious anyway.

[Anonymous No.10590002]

>>10589980
Better? That is just the background to my Word Processor. It's not like I arranged it like it is some of art installation. Most of those words are spelled correctly anyways. I don't know why they are highlighted. Homogeneous was the only unintentional one.

[Anonymous No.10590073]

>>10589894
I really enjoyed reading this. Although considering the context you might want to qualify why you're considering leaving the job.

[Anonymous No.10590105]

>>10590073
Context? Weeks of isolation. No phone reception, internet or land line. To go shopping is a 2 hour drive each way. I can't simply forget to buy something. If I crave chocolate milk, i;m fucked.

But the camaraderie, the adrenaline, the simple beauty of the out back. Living a life that so very few people will experience. It's easy to get pissed off at the little things, but throwing all the good things away terrifies me. Maybe I just need more consistent sex. But few women can handle this life style.

But thanks. Someone enjoying it means a lot. I don't write. Mostly as I feel I have nothing worth saying. So it's encouraging to know I'm not a complete bore.

[Anonymous No.10590106]

>>10589894
'Sunburnt' is one word. Other than that I don't have much criticism to offer. I didn't really get a sense of direction for where your story was going.

[Anonymous No.10590135]

>>10589926
I quite like this. Nice work.

[Anonymous No.10590164]

>>10590135

thank you. its my first time working on a poem (if it can be called that) and I hope he likes it too. Its littered with personal moments but it would be really embarrassing if he just didn't make the connections.

[Anonymous No.10590166]

>>10590002
>Word processors can have wallpapers.
What program are you even using? If you say Microsoft Word I'm going to feel like a real dumb ass. Also, are going to explain what the text is about?

[Anonymous No.10590167]

>>10589926
> AA BB
Ew

[Anonymous No.10590168]

>>10590167

i do enjoy AB AB but this is how it came out. perhaps for the next one.

[Anonymous No.10590213]

This is the first short-story-like thing I have ever written I am sorry if it is awful.
context: two weird private school boys first meet

The students’ reposed posture parallelled that of the seats, their head hung on their stiff necks, and their faces deliberately painted with decrepit concern. Abel admired the Ego that was glazed over the students, brimming and spilling to the deepest crevices and folds of their uniforms. How prideful they were, and awfully obdurate. The unsleeved coffee all held between the students’ legs allowed each reluctant sway of the bus’ springy core to urge the bitter nectar an escape.
An “Old Soul,” their grandparents would snob-about proudly, but all knew the orison had lost its original freshness long ago. He observed the Vonnegut covers that decorated the interior, such diligent care was there to face the proud bold-yellow-red-shit-coloured cover outward, and the eyes that danced vigorously with those around in desperation for any, O any attention at all. Had their parents praised them for their dilettante “literary mind,” this could have been all avoided; however, that was not the case, especially not for the West of the city.
The classic jingle played and one by one the White Elephants followed one another, getting off their stop with a single, routined turn-and-step. To most, the jingle was like an olive from the rotting Garden of Gethsemane but they picked and nibbled at its taste with sour faces. As far as the boy could understand, the reaction was akin for all students- even the Adults. Some quickly rested their half-sipped coffees on the ground, others held it close to their face like an accessory and so they went. The bus now moved at ease, no longer a drunken snake.
He looked across only to face another uniformed boy, irresolute in the patterned chair and analyzing the cars that passed. Through his parted lips he mouthed words to himself.
“2002 Toyota Corolla, 1992 Honda Accord, 1999- No, 1998 Chevrolet Silverado 1500,” the dissociated boy murmured.
Abel, now fascinated, moved his soft, effeminate shoulders to an erect position and watched the boy, who, at closer examination, had a diminutive yet beautifully sculptured face.

[Anonymous No.10590230]

>>10590213

>gay autistic erotica
>minus the erotica

started strong but burnt out fast. sometimes less is more.

[Anonymous No.10590260]

Familiar is where the sad and happy collide, the comfortable and anxious, the charming patterns and disdain for banality. Familiar faces mark familiar memories, cascading nostalgia and perceptions of size. The boundless mind does nothing to appease ones sense of confinement, though many have tried and deluded themselves into feeling otherwise. Into the abyss of immense thought one only emerges, not long after, with a reinvigorated desire to be home, immersed in that with which the mind can be at ease, ‘just be,’ go through the familiar motions of familiar actions and feign familiar reactions to familiar events. The bedrock of familiarity is a deceitful game, a promise of pale content if only you submit, and submit to submitting. The vigor’s gone, and that’s okay.

[Anonymous No.10590265]

>>10590213
Man this sucks. I can't exactly pin down why I hate it, other than that it seems really amateurish (too many unnecessary adjectives? No rhythm to the sentences? I don't know). My advice to you is simply to write more and maybe read some books.

[Anonymous No.10590267]

>>10590260
What is the point?
Is it an essay?
If not this has little context, if so, it has even less value for being rather self-absorbed. Stuck in the mindset of familiar and what comes out is familiar, nothing special.

[Anonymous No.10590273]

>>10590267
I agree completely. I have no creative writing experience, just academic texts. I read a lot and am trying to figure out how to craft compelling sentences, but everything comes out sounding absorbed and satirical. I need to learn how to write like I think..

[Anonymous No.10590277]

>>10590230
Yes, I think i may be trying too hard...
>>10590265
is there a particular way of learning rhythm? Its a shame to say that ive read quite a lot and failed to learn anything from them writing wise. thank you though! will continue to try

[Anonymous No.10590282]

>>10590260
Well, the writing good, even if it doesn't quite make sense to me. I'm not sure why the familiar would have a disdain for banality; is unoriginality not familiar?
>>10590267
Like this anon said, I think it may help to have some more context to this.

[Anonymous No.10590283]

>>10590277

its not that bad, it just reads like a first draft, and it definitely reads like something that has no point.

you said its about two weird anons meeting for the first time but its not. its about one weird anons general location before suddenly seeing someone out of the corner of his eye.

unless this was just an excerpt from a bigger story, in which case its a little unfair to ask us to judge it based on a few paragraphs. that lengthy opening doens't feel so lengthy when its in the context of five pages.

focus on getting out a complete draft with a complete idea behind it, or even just an excerpt or a 'scene' with a complete idea behind it.

writing is more science than art sometimes. when you know what the 'point' is, suddenly all the details between the beginning and middle are easier to fit in. you realize that you arent supposed to just randomly describe coffee, but rather whatever item will foreshadow or parallel the bigger point you are trying to make.

a good example is TV or movie writing. because they don't get to sit around and masturbate with words and descriptions the quality of writing is based solely on the structure. if you watch a good movie there are no useless scenes or useless moments. things that seem casual in the beginning of the episode later turn out to be relevant to the journey or arc. you know at the beginning of the episode you might show people just talking about 'random' shit having a good time, but it turns out to play an important thematic role later on.

apply that logic to writing in prose and you'll find that its not just about adding nice sounding descriptions to things. what you describe is just as important.

[Anonymous No.10590286]

>>10590277
>is there a particular way of learning rhythm?
Some anon posted this once.

[Anonymous No.10590293]

And I was stopped by a young woman as I walked down the hill. She couldn't have been older than 25. She wore earmuffs over her hair which stopped just above her shoulders. Her glasses sat well over her petite nose and cherry chipmunk cheeks. Even though she wore a thick red sweater, I could still envision a slim body underneath. Hmm... C cup I surmised. Her tight blue jeans did well to highlight her lower half. Not as voluptuous as the Brazilians, but with hips like the Lebanese and legs like the Koreans, it was an easy decision to make my move as the snow came down.

"Excuse me, but aren't you cold?" If she wasn't standing in front of me I would have guessed she was in grade school by the sound of her soft voice and curious tone.

I replied, "Baby, I never get cold feet. Once I see what I want, I pursue it; like a tiger." She looked at me puzzled. She didn't get it. She just kept staring at my face, as if I had spilled some mustard on the corner of my mouth. I tried to recover.

"Sorry, let me introduce myself. My name is Cake. I work at the nearby kindergarten. I actually just got off work. If you're free let's have a chat at that nearby co--"

"What about frostbite?" I was interrupted. She looked at my feet, then returned to my countenance. "Aren't you afraid of catching frostbite?"

I wasn't sure how to respond. Should I correct her by saying you "get" frostbite, not catch it? Should I ignore the question completely? She just kept staring at me, waiting for an answer. Her eyes glowed with curiosity. I couldn't resist.

I took a step back and withdrew my phone from my pocket. I extended my arm and showed her my screen. "Am I afraid of frostbite... NO! BUT YOU SHOULD BE!" As I cast my spell she barely caught herself from falling back.

"Cake no Baka!" She screamed, and ran off. I was about to pursue her, but my feet became unbearably cold. Thus, I retreated to the nearby Lawson.

[Anonymous No.10590307]

>>10590283
this is surprisingly encouraging! youre absolutely right on this, i did not plan for anything. i really wanted to write something for the sake of writing and simply bundled a variety of ideas together into something that did not have a point at all. godspeed
>>10590286
thank you!

[Anonymous No.10590312]

>>10590286
Was mine ok for this... too samey?
>>10589373

[Anonymous No.10590317]

>>10590282
yes, I just opened this thread and thought I would sketch out something that was on my mind, that's all the context I have, it isn't part of a larger project. To your second point I was just thinking that one can accept and feel comfort in routines, but on a deeper level feel a sense of unnerve that there is no development, growth or experience going on. Just a safe space

[Anonymous No.10590319]

>>10590307

that happens man, i think when it comes to prose writers thats how a lot of good things really start. you sit down and you just got a 'feeling' you want to explore so you throw it out. in this case its two weird young boys noticing each other. and thats actually a good start. the idea behind it interested me, though im a bit of a homoromantic guy that likes stories of dudes bonding, i find it to be more on the rare side these days.

but now that you got that initial splurge out there its time to think about what you REALLY want this to be. a beat sheet can always help even in a short story.

good luck anon. i hope you repost it or link to it if you expand on it later.

[Anonymous No.10590323]

>>10590312
Yeah, you could stand to break up a few sentences.

[Anonymous No.10590327]

link: https://www.fanfiction.net/~sucknbig1z

thinking of getting back into writing, lemme know if you guys wants more


The Unbearable Hardness of Being

The aural disturbance of a rusty door hinge was no match for the deafening silence that accompanied the shared stare between Arthur Read and his sister DW immediately after she entered the foyer of their family home and found him atop a long, narrow ottoman in the living room, knees to his chest, methodically pumping a semi-flaccid penis while straining to read the reviews of his latest x-rated Sonic and Mario at the Olympic Games fanfic on an iPad lying on the floor beneath him.

This unforeseen test of his deeply-practiced Slow Stroke technique was admirably handled by Arthur for several seconds, maintaining his metronomic pace with the discipline of a third-week yoga student until he fell backward onto a couch and began searching for an excuse to even be doing something like this in the first place.

"Faggotry is a social disease!" DW shouted, dropping her backpack full of pain pills and cock doodles and scrambling to find any device connected to the internet so she could inform the tight-knit community of Elwood City of her brother's relapse into ungodly sexual deviances.

~6 MONTHS EARLIER~

"Y'ever wanna just grab Buster's and ears and use his dumb rabbit teeth as a nut massager?" Brain inquired to the rest of the lunch table, upending the stale conversation about whether or not outer space was real and living up to his unusually divinatory name with his innovative suggestion for a new way to victimize the most exploitable member of the class.

[Anonymous No.10590332]

>>10590327

(cont'd)

"Me and Buster used to rub hands on mad dick area parts back in the day yo", Binky impulsively divulged, stealing a glance at Arthur to gauge his jealousy and get a mental snapshot of any arousal that might reveal itself and jerk off to it after school.

Francine squirmed in her chair, hoping the integrity of her Oshkosh overalls would hold up against the furious throbbing of her secret penis. Binky had changed a lot. At some point in the previous year he had seemingly rhino-charged his way through an army surplus shop in a desperate attempt to not look like a guy who wanted some dick in his butt 25/7. Despite the ridicule he endured for his fashion felonies, she somehow found herself unbearably craving the swampy patina of his vinegary ball sweat.

Meanwhile, Arthur was paralyzed with uncertainty. The crippling anxiety of losing his best friend's sexual validation to someone in his social circle had poisoned their relationship over the summer. He knew his growing addiction to the masterful hotfics of Timmy 2016 were a symptom of a deeper psychosis, and in the faces of his compatriots he could see only the likenesses of a certain fictional hedgehog and a fat italian plumber who sold him shrooms at the Brokencyde show last April.

Under his sock, Arthur hid a shameful stack of napkins on which he'd jotted down his ideas for scenarios where the plumber and the hedgehog might plausibly have a steamy rendezvous while Arthur watched from afar, jelqing his meat under the cover of the bleachers at the Elwood City Community Center's track and field complex.

[Anonymous No.10590333]

>>10590327
>>10590332

linking is enough. this thread isnt designed for critiquing big stories, if it cant fit into a post, just linking is fine if anyone wants to take a read, but don't expect much.

[Anonymous No.10590343]

>>10590327
>>10590332
>fanfiction.net
Goddamn it.
http://www.4chan.org/rules#lit

[Anonymous No.10590350]

Wanted to try to do a quest but have no experience, so i made this draft


'ahhh goddamnit' you thought as you were dragged back into the land of conscienceless from the blissfulness of sleep

Or atleast what you thought was sleep, felt more like playing a drinking game with horse tranquilizer

As the fog in your mind began to clear, you realized something

You weren't in a bunk bed as your fellow squad mates loudly snored away

No this was a much too familiar feeling, the feeling of being facedown on a ice cold laminate floor in a pick black room

An old memory reared its head, all those nights spent sleeping in the bombed out ruins of your old home town
desperately trying to stay out of sight of the Russian soldiers patrolling the area

You quickly suppressed that thought as you heard something slice through the silence that had built up in the room

drip the sound of a dripping faucet. After every drip the echoed through the room like a German singing on a hilltop

You lay there still on the hard floor, not moving a single muscle

wat do?

A. Try to search your memories for an answer to how you ended up here
B. Open your eyes, have a look
C. Caution to the wind! You were being too paranoid, it was time to get up
D. This could be a trap, it would be best too bide your time and wait for any threats too make themselves apparent
E. Man fuck this you were too tired for this crap, you were going back to sleep

[Anonymous No.10590366]

>>10590343

sorry famalam didn't see that. i'll keep it in my pants next time.

[Anonymous No.10590410]

>>10590366
>fan fiction
>it's Arthur porn
>didn't read the rules
>Apu Apustaja
>famalam
I'm feeling pretty triggered right now.

[Anonymous No.10590428]

>>10590166
not him but I'm 99.99% sure it's FocusWriter

[Anonymous No.10590441]

>>10590428
https://gottcode.org/focuswriter/
Yeah, that looks right, thank you.

[Anonymous No.10590442]

>>10589831
lmao. im not reading this but it made me chuckle nonetheless. keep memeing bro

[Anonymous No.10590455]

>>10589926
>printing garbage
you might as well gift someone toilet paper

[Anonymous No.10590470]

>>10590327
>>10590332
i thought it was pretty hilarious. best to keep it short. there are only so many ways to describe deviant sex. that being said, you do a good job of keeping it fresh. keked hard at "the most exploitable member of the class"

[Anonymous No.10590519]

>>10590213
>The students’ reposed posture parallelled that of the seats, their head hung on their stiff necks

>I am seated in an office, surrounded by heads and bodies. My posture is consciously congruent to the shape of my hard chair.

i know it's at least reworded a bit, but if i noticed it then i think a lot of people would

also it's 'paralleled'

[Anonymous No.10590674]

>>10590293
>Hmm... C cup I surmised.
Are you a girl writing what you believe to be an average man's thought process? Holy shit.

[Anonymous No.10590719]

>>10590350
You didn't even edit this. It's fucking double-spaced even. It's trashy, unfunny and the swearing kills any potential immersion.
>E. Man fuck this

[Anonymous No.10590890]

>>10589617
Quit jerking each other off you sadist taintlickers

[Sange !lUgBf04Eys No.10590903]

>>10589149
>No tripfags allowed.
IS that for me, bitch?

I'll be back later to throw some knowledge down later when I'm not busy. Respond to this post with your writing and I'll do yours first.

[Anonymous No.10590922]

Beginning at her shoulder his eyes followed her arm, natural contours formed hills and valleys in a breath-taking vista. His gaze slowly descended towards her fingers in an attempt to visually quench his thirst for her skin. As he reached her painted nails he noticed the other person, wearing a white t-shirt and sporting a fashionable hairstyle dancing beside them. “I’m going to chat with him for a bit to find out his intentions and whether or not he’s bothered by my flirting with you.” She smiled, nodded and went back to swaying her lithe, almost cat-like body to the beat.

He turned to the friend and held out his hand as a gesture of goodwill, “Hey there,” he said as they shook hands. “Do you mind if I flirt with that girl? If you have your eyes set on her make your intentions clear and I’ll back off.” Unable to properly word a response, Friend nodded, usually a sign of agreement, but he didn’t seem happy at all.

Ash turned back to the girl and whispered into her ear, “I think he likes you, but I’m pretty sure I like you a lot more.” She laughed inaudibly and placed her hand on his arm. The barely perceptible weight of her touch made him curse the leather of his jacket, wishing it would disappear leaving nothing between her hand and the naked skin of his arm. He cursed all clothes, wanting nothing more than to exist in a world where his flesh would be free to touch hers. As this thought took place, Friend reappeared beside the girl and protectively put his arm around her, his touch polluting the perfect landscape of the limb he had previously admired.

[Anonymous No.10590981]

>>10590293
>And
Why start with a conjunction? I can understand starting a sentence with one, but an entire...why?

>She wore earmuffs over her hair which stopped just above her shoulders.
comma after hair, it sounded like the earmuffs were what stopped just above her shoulders

>everything else
Is >>10590674 right? I'm seriously curious.

[Anonymous No.10591054]

>>10590719
Thanks for taking the time to criticize man, I'll work on presentation, try to be less unfunny and remove swearing.

[Anonymous No.10591148]

"January 2018"

Tanks growl; gas wafts;
a Kurd digs
another grave.
Smoke rises from the schoolhouse,
rises from the chimneys,
rises from the barrel of a launcher.
A shell draws another line on a formless sky;
at its crest it glints—it winks—
the keening breaks off:
the battle stops:
the tanks halt;
the flower, half-crushed,
lives on.

The woman lets down her launcher
and picks up the keys to the combine:
here there is always a mouth to be fed.
Every other kernel is born scarlet;
every sheaf is a checkerboard;
the fields are a plain of blood.

The men and women of Rojava
eat their scarlet bread and grow strong:
to lift a spade, to break red soil, to plant
steel rods, steel beams, steel frames, trees,
and flowerpots in graves.

[Anonymous No.10591195]

>>10589894

The last 4 paragraphs are confusing about what you want to convey. It's particularly difficult to distinguish between the hypotheticals and the concrete event of killing the calf, mostly due to the disordered chronology of events. (You have killed a young calf, your boss asks you about it, then you chased a bull and started killing the bull. Not sure if it's the same animal being referred too.) It's very hard to keep track of.

The use of second person is odd but works. The switching between first and second person does through me off a bit however.

>But soon as its charged, all thought disappears from your head. There’s an internal silence which I’ve never been able to find.

'I' or 'you', who is being spoken about? I feel like you switch it too much.

[Anonymous No.10591247]

>>10589169
If you pulled up to a cypher with this shit I have no doubt you'd get crunched

It s cool what your doing, with the metre an all, but you really should say your bars outloud/to a beat in order to get the flow right

A lot of sparesly related allusions with no real cohesiveness, it sounds like you just copy and pasted randoms lines out of genius

3/10 overall, some boneified trash rappin

[Anonymous No.10591928]

>>10590455

if only i were as cool as you.

[Anonymous No.10592984]

I'm unsure about the puntcuation

[Anonymous No.10592998]

I wrote these as lyrics to this song:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GSa8EhAR6n0&index=10&list=PLuIhfiqEcF8osLtaXGjRWXnGd2o1D0094


>As winter turned to springtime and the daytime turned to dreamtime I once more thought of something best forgotten.

>Thinking, and thinking, I almost had an inkling till’ you called me from in front of my apartment.

>Woe, oh woe, why do you hurt me so? You throw a jacket in my face. Next thing I knew we were on the chase of a party that you swore would last us a lifetime.

>Just a minute now and it is 4 o’clock. A fellow’s strewn out naked on a table top. And my head feels heavier than a ton of rocks.

>But will you remember me?

>Someone has smashed the Roomba with a baseball bat. And I’m sure that I am wearing someone else’s hat. The hostess can not seem to find her tabby cat.

But will you remember me?

>Champaign Wine: We were drinking it out of a stein. Can’t find my way home. And I’d never want to let you go.

>And all that’s left of the parlor is a smashed up chair. A couple in embrace lie on the spiral stairs. The cat I mentioned still can’t be found anywhere.

>But will you remember me?

(Piano Solo)

>The sun soon will rise. I should probably shower before I part. Why, oh why! Must I leave here with a still broken heart?

>The bathroom sink is filled with drunk sangria cans. I decide that I should steal myself a bedroom fan. I stumble out and mortify the clearly clean-cut garbage man.

>But will you remember me?

[Anonymous No.10593005]

>>10590922
>Friend nodded,
>Friend reappeared
Is 'Friend' a name?
The last paragraph strikes me as melodramatic, in particular:
>He cursed all clothes, wanting nothing more than to exist in a world where his flesh would be free to touch hers.

[Anonymous No.10593047]

y/n was laying on the bed, clad in sexy (your favorite color) lingerie. gnomeo walked in after a long day of helping his mom with the toilet flower and flexing his sexy muscles. upon seeing you, he let out a deep smexy moan, his hat popping up erect along with his meatstick. “gnomeo-kun…” you purred, shaking your hips seductively. “no babe not tonight im boutta piss” he groaned out. you gasped and bit your lip, craving the blue boy’s sweet, sweet pee pee. you slithered off the bed, army crawling to his feet. you tugged off his boots, holding back a moan at the sight of his yummy toesies OwO. you slurped them all up, moaning as his big ol donger got larger. you finally released the beast, salivating at his massive porcelain dongey. you slorped that up too. ur eyes rolled to the back of ur head as gnomeo finally released his delicious amber dick liquid down ur throat. ur belly felt so nice, you wanted more. you grabben gnomeo by his head and put him down ur throat, sighing as he slipped his way down ur esophogas, landing in ur lovely pink tummy. you had a good meal.

[Anonymous No.10593094]

>>10592998
Wow this is obscure. Are you crossposting from /mu/? It's rather silly for poetry but it might work in a song. I can't hear it in my head though, and I'm not about to sing it aloud. I'm mostly wondering why you even wrote this. Is this for practice? Or do you actually intend to cover the song?

[RealTedy !9XPsY8ZmoE No.10593097]

>>10591247
Because I am the greatest rapper of this generation, I have no use for the advice of a pleb.
Thank you anyway, because I'm sure you and your peanut brain had only the best intentions.

[Anonymous No.10593154]

>>10593094
I came across this album on Spotify while listening to different versions of this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PSWHL7IRPhk

I really got into Barrett's original songs, I mean, almost the album is original pieces, and I just felt like coming up with some lyrics about a crazy party to one of them.

[Anonymous No.10593173]

She smoked in the rundown backyard. The dog was barking. The sun was setting. The rent was due. $1200 to be wired out of Susan’s account by sundown. $1200 she did not have. The anxious minutes and tireless seconds dragged her down. Each tick of clock was a fresh notch on her back. The monotonous song of grasshoppers reminded her of childhood, and of how life seemed to start anew right at the moment of collapse.
“There have been many difficulties,” Susan said inconsolate and placid, “There are many more to come.”

[Anonymous No.10593228]

>>10589149
This is the opening to something I'm working on. I feel like there's something wrong with it, but I'm oddly kind of attached to it anyway. Tell me yr thoughts

>Tonight the bus window only reflects its insides; either night-fog or something like night-fog snuck inside the glass panes on its left row. And so the world was invisible.

[Anonymous No.10593256]

>>10589711
Hebs are only in texas noone else will know shat youre talking about

[Anonymous No.10593294]

>>10593173
this is some decent kmart realism

[Anonymous No.10593440]

A half-caught glance from a woman's face, burnt-orange by electric luminance behind the fogged glass which, dripped with rain and imprinted with the outlines of children hands, is hazily mirrored onto the wet pavement directly beneath the window of the cafe you wearily pass every evening from the subway. You hadn't glimpsed her expression's start, when the mouth shows tightening and curls upwards, revealing the edges of teeth between parted lips, flushing red this time of year, and neither had you caught the corners of her nose, sharp and small, beginning to gently flare as the cheeks rise, curving inwards at their center stressing dimples, nor the pupils dilating, expanding her—from what you can tell—rings of hazel intermixed with her short twined hair, diffuse and scattered in slits along her forehead, coiling along her edges and ears as though a tired building's vines. You had only seen the apogee, receiving, so you think, her completed stare into your own; her head starting to return down to her book, open below her on the widow-seated table. Your step undoes her reflection underfoot as you pass along these quarter's streets and passages.

Yes, you think, continuing down these familiar pathways homeward, there are certain things that only happen at night.

[Anonymous No.10593605]

>>10593173
Too much blatant edge. Read more Delilo

[Anonymous No.10593651]

Bump

[Anonymous No.10593694]

There was a time when I never knew to fear the box and the long suffering which came from being isolated from all that lay outside of it.
I was placed in the box shortly after the loss of my right arm, which had been yanked off by the child whose keeping I found myself in.
I do not think the child meant to cause the permenant loss of my limb as he showed great despair once he realised he could not simply push the broken plastic back in place, like he must have assumed.
Whilst I did not feel any pain from the severing of the limb, I did, for the first time, become acutely aware of how fragile I was, and have since been able to comprehend the notion of fear for my own wellbeing.
I knew the feeling of loss before losing my right arm, as I had once been wrapped in a flowing piece of black plastic which formed a cloak and hood (the child having taken the cloak off never to put it back on again).
I did not find the loss of my only article of clothing to be worthy of concern since it appeared to be removable with ease on the child’s part.
Since the loss of my right arm my standing in the eyes of the child in comparison to the other toys considerably lessoned.
Like most of the other toys I knew a brief moment in time where I was the object of the child’s affections, playing my part as villain in the stories the child told himself in the quiet of his bedroom.
I quickly discovered my appearance is considered villainous by those which brought me into being.
I have the appearance of a human without the fleshy living parts. I look like a human in decay, a combination of fused plastic imitating the appearance of bones.
Ironic considering I am very much like a human which has ceased to be alive.
I cannot move in the slightest. I can see but I have no eyes. I have a mouth and teeth, but the plastic is fused and I have no vocal cords, or lungs, or any living material to imitate those that are truly alive.
I have thought long and hard about what I am and what it might mean for the humans if they knew I could think freely.
I have come to the conclusion that I am unique in my ability to think, outside of the severe impossibility of such a thing occuring.
I choose to believe this not because I know conclusively, but because the thought that every other toy in existence is stuck in this helplessly dependent state is too terrible to dwell on for long.
I have come to hate the time I must spend in the box for this reason. Only toys and books are placed haphazardly inside the box, toys on top of toys.
Most of the toys have been under the possession of the child for much longer than I have. Some never leave the box.
Sometimes I find I think loudly and with great intention, the harder I think the louder the ghostly sound rings in my mind. How loudly might they be thinking now? Dozens of them in the box?

[Anonymous No.10593900]

>>10593154
This is a nice song. I like this song.

[Anonymous No.10593955]

I could write a proper critique, or I could do this:
>>10593440
see >>10590286

[Anonymous No.10593997]

>>10593955
Good advice on the overall structure, but how did you feel about the sentences as setences?

[Anonymous No.10594007]

>>10593694
This is what would happen if someone wrote a literary adaption of Toy Story that took itself way too seriously. The writing is ok, but the concept is just ridiculous.

[Anonymous No.10594041]

>>10593997
You mean the content of the sentences as opposed to their structure? They're fine I guess, but it's difficult for me to really appreciate the word choice when the whole paragraph doesn't flow very well.

[Anonymous No.10594083]

Poem I wrote/read at a memorial for a close family friend and fellow rider. I don't really care for critiques, since I'm not changing it—I just wanted to share.

[Anonymous No.10594094]

I've been advised not to post my writings on 4chan; but I want to show my work

(dont bother trying to steal it; I have proof of authorship publicly online)

[Anonymous No.10594102]

>>10594094
>anon thinks hes great because he was published locally

They don't want you to post online because they're a business and own your work. Its not something to be proud of—you are an artistic slave.

[Anonymous No.10594123]

>>10591148
Jesus holy fuck, this is amazing. Can I save this to my folder for poems I found online? I won't steal it and try and publish it, but holy damn I want to keep this.

Do you have any more?

[Anonymous No.10594133]

>>10593173
I do not like this. Short, choppy sentences. Read one-thousand two-hundred dollars aloud.
>Each tick of [the] clock was a fresh notch on her back.
Is the clock whipping her? What the hell does this even mean?
>“There have been many difficulties,” Susan said inconsolate and placid, “There are many more to come.”
“I hate this,” Anon said inconsolate and placid, “fuck you.”

[Anonymous No.10594154]

>>10594102
no, i put it on medium so if I found out someone stole my shit, I could prove it was me

[Anonymous No.10594157]

>>10594123
Dude just save it without permission. It's gonna be in the archive forever anyway.
>>/lit/thread/S10589149#p10591148

[Anonymous No.10594210]

some raw unadulterated shit

[Anonymous No.10594229]

Working on the structure of a new book.

A pair of miners somewhere in the west (Maybe Nevada?) are trapped alive but deep underground by an explosion/cave-in. Rescues are attempted for weeks above ground but fail to contact them. The two men are eventually declared dead, and the mine permanently sealed off.

Beneath, they're still alive, but are running out of supplies and sanity. Near the end of their rope, on their rounds about the portion of the mine that they've been surviving in, they discover a new passageway that hadn't been noticed in the past. Deeper and deeper underground, with more oxygen, and an electricity source. They descend to such levels of tunnels, stairways, and corridors that they suspect they're actually dead, maybe as far back as the initial collapse. The weaker of the two men doesn't want to believe it, and turns back, believing he can now find a way to surface. The other, more of the main character, continues downward, now miles under the surface, reality setting in that he's either dead, or discovered something that shouldn't be seen. Too far down and remote to be an unknown government facility, and no signs of life.

This main character, Miner A, has mentioned that he's in an unhealthy relationship with a woman from the mine company, but otherwise doesn't have much human contact, no contact with his family - including a brother who served in the military and was cast aside from society after a mental breakdown.

Still underground, he comes to a shallow, flowing river, and wonders if he's on his way to hell. He follows the river, wading a long distance until it reaches a sewer-like doorway, guarded by a new man. He tells Miner A that a man matching Miner B's description had passed through recently, before him, and agrees that they're probably dead. The doorway is for those who have been forgotten. The guard was adrift in the Pacific for a month during WWII, the lone survivor of a plane crash, and eventually discovered a similar place himself.

The guard explains to Miner A that through the doorway is a place of comfort to work through penance with others that have been forgotten, but that it isn't a heaven or hell. He can either enter, or turn around and face the world again with a second chance - though scarred from the experience. Miner A decides to leave the doorway and retrace his steps, this time finding that the way back has changed, and only minutes later, emerges out of a gutter, into the mining site's surface. The collapse has never occurred, and the past year has been erased. Miner A spies the woman he's been seeing, and she doesn't recognize him. He goes to a phone, and calls his brother at the VA.

[Anonymous No.10594244]

>>10594083
>I hope that there's highways in heaven,
>freshly paved over with gold.
I don't even care that this is part of some "heaven for bikers" theme. It's just too stupid. It might work for a song if it was about rock and roll heaven or something. Someone must have done that before.
>google searches "rock and roll heaven"
Yup they have.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9IEemZ6-LZc

[Anonymous No.10594260]

>>10589149
https://pastebin.com/1CKyFBv6

[Anonymous No.10594263]

>>10589149
Standing in front of Lydia's apartment door Hans had an acute feeling that he was wrong. He had stolen everything from the French, their opinions, their interests, and his dissertation. Now he was going to plagiarize their sexual practices as well. She opened the door and any clouds of doubt were dispersed by the petite body that was framed by Lydia's long black hair.

She was wearing a maroon choker neck dress, with lipstick to match. The pathetic green stone that hung on her necklace paled in comparison with her shining eyes, and it's only call to attention was convenient location between her pert little breasts. She'd clearly put more effort into this affair than him.

[Anonymous No.10594329]

>>10593900
A couple of other sentimental tracks I like.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1j3mtjLTLCc

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sou5zBQZ1VY

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bh851Nts2ZU

[Anonymous No.10594330]

>>10589894
Damn, this was good, I thought it was fictitious, you are a good writer and you expressed yourself well and interestingly.

[Anonymous No.10594361]

>>10594263
boring. the first reads like someone who hasn't read enough. By the end of the third sentence we've lost complete interest if there is any. "Paled in comparison" is pretty weak.

[Anonymous No.10594377]

>>10590105
>Someone enjoying it means a lot. I don't write. Mostly as I feel I have nothing worth saying.
You shouldn't feel like that, you're obviously a man, and we need writers like you.

>>10594361
I know it's pathetic, I hate clichés, usually I notice them as I write them.

[Anonymous No.10594385]

>>10594361
I laughed at the sister bit, and the bit about the the parents not being obvious with their love.

[Anonymous No.10594398]

>>10589149
The cart passed.

Lassen still stood there, that inscrutable, dragonish look on his face.

"Do not think that I won't find you, if you run."

Something in the way he said it told her that he didn't mean to follow immediately. He meant that he would track her down and find her later. Well. They would see that. She'd outwitted him once, without even knowing what she was up against. She would take that chance again.
But her feet didn't move.
"What are the Cloudlands?"
A smile split across his face like a ship's mast cutting through harbor fog. A knowing, secretive thing.

"Come and see."

[Anonymous No.10594404]

>>10594377
sorry if i was harsh. Keep reading and writing, anon. You'll get better if you do.

[Anonymous No.10594511]

>>10594329
Thanks man, these are great.

[Anonymous No.10594555]

>>10594210
Do I even need to say it? Type it up first you doofus. I can't even read this shit.

[Anonymous No.10594564]

>>10594555
it would cease to be raw an unadulterated

[Anonymous No.10594588]

>>10594564
>Well you would cease to be a faggot.
Ugh, that's really trite. Whatever I'll post it anyway.

[Anonymous No.10594591]

What makes a good writer in the english language in your opinion? Is it more about how you choose your words and structure sentences Or about the meaning of what you're trying to communicate? Is it something else?

[Anonymous No.10594600]

>>10594564
thanks for the exposure

[Anonymous No.10594627]

>>10594591
All of the above. The big secret is that all academic literature is based around trying to understand what makes a piece good. There are some vague ideas, but nobody knows.

[Anonymous No.10594648]

>>10594600
hitting on it

[Anonymous No.10594664]

>>10594564
>>10594588
>Ooh, I came up with a better one.
Is the image flipped sideways because it's part of the experience?

[Anonymous No.10594666]

>>10594123
Thank you!
Sure, I don't mind. I'm glad you liked it enough to want to save it.

Here's another, if you want to read it.

"Picasso’s Guernica"

Anguish crystallised
into quaintness. All eyes open,
rapt with something black-and-white
memory has lost. A bawdy punchline
has startled them, frozen puppet-faces;
stocking-beasts, eyes bemused, emerging
like rude gags from the blast.
A painted candle stretching
the swing, the creak of a door,
the mummer’s still leg
dragged to her horse-fallen confederate:
a mural, an exotic village play.

How blood clots, lava
cools; sheeny paint dries to
grey on a pale stretch of canvas.
Screams stagger to laughs; pain
that signalled war in past
stalls for a few forced minutes
in a museum, then lets go.

[Anonymous No.10594676]

>>10594664
you are quite there

[Anonymous No.10594681]

>>10594591
Yes.

[Anonymous No.10594692]

>>10594627
It is definitely a cryptic subject. Thanks for your input brother.

[Anonymous No.10594700]

I'll give a critique of someone's elses if they do mine, just be sure to link to yours when you reply.

. . .
“Alright Cynthia, what do you have to share with the group today?”
Cynthia spuriously smiles and stands up. She looks around at those gathered for the monthly poetry slam, titled “Your privilege and how it oppresses me^3 ”
. . . .
The sun is blazing and beating down upon Dave’s dome, his scanty hair offering sparse protection against the radiation. The perspiration cascading over his face gives the effect of a river, springing from within the skeletal pine boughs upon his head.
Severely stoned, he is scavenging for some sustenance to sate his stomach. Just up the block, a hobo wearing a pink cashmere bathrobe holds a Magnasign^4 on a stick that reads, “I need money for more drugs, help a lost soul reach paradise.”
As Dave approaches, something within him feels a shared brotherhood with the miscreant; More than likely the shared love of dope. He pulls out his passé leather card-holder, and gazes inside. A grand total of $4 stares back at him, Dave considers the onyx abyss and asks what the Hobo’s name is.
“Milton,” the answer came breezing by with a barmy grin, followed by a bow. The rapscallion stands up straight & cocks his head inquisitively. “and What be yours stranger?”
Dave stammers for a moment, “E-el,” he pauses, looking around bewilderingly buffaloed, “Elrondo.” He coughs conspicuously.
Milton shrugs and simpers slyly, “El Rondo eh?” He peers at El Rondo’s Pachydermic Paunch. “A very fitting name to be sure.”
The sweat upon Dave’s intelligence intensifies at the insult. He squares his shoulders,

3: Sometimes the direct approach is the best one. Sometimes blaming other people for your problems in a passive-aggressive way is even better.
4: Remember Lite Bright’s? Well, a Magnasign is essentially one of those but with an apple logo on it and sold for several hundred dollars to voracious hipsters with too much money. God knows where this hobo got one. Don’t ask me, I don’t know.

[Anonymous No.10594716]

[Anonymous No.10594728]

Poems, are peons born before blue
I found my hue, and it hun, you are the beautiful one

Me and you, we stick like glue, I say onto you, what is my hue, Can cum Into you? I see your eyes look deep into me, as I stare at you.

We sucked, we fucked the rythm like the jews down into the oven, despicable and vile, the ones voted who also booed

[Anonymous No.10594734]

>>10594728

[Anonymous No.10594740]

https://pastebin.com/raw/aCkqcRWU

[Anonymous No.10594739]

>>10594734
Whats that supposed to mean anon? I look nothing like that guy, I am blonde hair and blue eyes.

Are you a stupid fucking girl???????? Your probably pink and wimpy and weak and boe tied at your knees, bow down before me

[Anonymous No.10594749]

>>10594740
Its pretty bad anon

Check out my blog

>>10594530

[Anonymous No.10594750]

>>10594739

[Anonymous No.10594751]

Jewish Fictoun

If it will interest you: much of the action takes place on a desolate steppe in the midst of an oriental wilderness...

https://pastebin.com/raw/pTGqREgL

[Anonymous No.10594755]

>>10594749
There's a huge fly in my room. It's January. How is it even alive? How did it get in? Anyway, I'm having chicken for lunch today. I already made it even tho it's 9am. I used to wake up in the afternoon, so now I eat lunch when I wake up.

[Anonymous No.10594758]

>>10594749
jeez really? well at least give me something constructive, then I'll post something in your STUPID thread

[Anonymous No.10594761]

>>10594750
??? Ur a sicko creep
>>10594755
Haha why u so ranDUMB? XD.

[Anonymous No.10594763]

>>10594700
It seems a bit... too obscure and adjective ridden. The numbers seem uneeded and was the "Milton" supposed to be a name drop... I hope not.
Here's mine (not much better):
>Jennifer Etolin waited at the entrance of Arrowhead Middle School. Her classmates carried on by her and several were couples, holding hands. She cupped hers before her mouth and blew warm breath into them, the gloves she wore were thick but to her they were thin. Rainwater puddles mottled the gravel entrance path. Eyes downward, she moved to and fro on her heels, humming to herself a song of her childhood: the name escaped her and she stopped humming. She sighed and thought about it.

[Anonymous No.10594764]

>>10594758
Post first please :(
:(
Please just read my thread at least, I at least read that thing.... ;(

[Anonymous No.10594767]

>>10594761
Remember to like and subscribe if you liked this video. If you could support me on Patreon I'd really appreciate it. See you guys next time

[Anonymous No.10594769]

>>10594761

[Anonymous No.10594772]

>>10594764
you're gonna need to explain it more clearly, I don't understand those randomly capitalized words

[Anonymous No.10594790]

>>10594763
It's supposed to be "obscure," as it were. It's largely a comedy (although not exclusively nor without a purposeful plot).
The adjective laden descriptions are meant to make it also somewhat surrealistic in terms of descriptors, as if you were being described the scenery by someone on drugs (a large plot point). The "numbers" are actually footnotes, but I can't properly utilize them on 4chan like in my document.

And no Milton wasn't supposed to be a name drop, it's the first appearance of the character, and so far, the only.
The other guy is the main character.


Yours isn't bad, but not much about it grabs me. Some awkward phrasing is my biggest gripe.
Such as.
>Her classmates carried on by her and several were couples
It could be cleaned up a little, though it isn't terrible.
> holding hands. She cupped hers before her mouth
Maybe I'm in the minority but I would rather see the usage of "palm" or something similar than using the word from the previous sentence into the next one.
> thick but to her they were thin.
Nothing heinous here, but the phrasing seems a little juvenile to me, maybe re-wording it would solve this.

There's nothing bad about it though, it's not bad by any means, it just doesn't capture my attention based on the information given nor the story telling.

[Anonymous No.10594792]

>>10594767
>>10594769
>>10594772
Check out the blog dummie!

>>10594530

[Anonymous No.10594798]

>>10594210
Can this be any more bad than it already is... hopefully not. The fact you aren't willing to type it, as I've seen you say to another, you are much too emotional. It probably wouldn't transfer well... is probably your excuse since you know without this "raw" format, it's just shit.

[Anonymous No.10594800]

>>10594792
PLEASE DON'T CALL ME DUMB I'M VERY SENSITIVE TO THAT BECAUSE I WAS BULLIED IN HIGH SCHOOL BUT I OBVIOUSLY WASN'T BULLIED ENOUGH BECAUSE NOW I INTENTIONALLY MAKE PEOPLE UNCOMFORTABLE

[Anonymous No.10594803]

>>10594800
Check out the Blog smarty pants! (Or smart ass, is that okay? Or is to far)

>>10594530

Thanks! Sincerely with much love
Through tunnel, of good spelling onto you I send this message with God Speed, through to you.

[Anonymous No.10594813]

>>10594790
I'm reading IJ right now and I never thought such shameless influence would ever cross my eye. It's almost aping and it's very obvious to the point where it can be seen as plagiarizing. It reads like you worship Wallace. Read more or write more, instead of this tracing you are doing right now, for it just wastes space.

[Anonymous No.10594822]

>>10594813
I've actually never read Infinite Jest, or DFW in general.
So you'd be incorrect on that front.

[Anonymous No.10594830]

>>10594244
>tfw I unironically like this song.

[Anonymous No.10594835]

>>10592984
>Photograph of printed text.
Why not just take a screen capture of your document while using your word processor? Or copy and paste the text into your post or pastebin or google docs? Or just use a proper scanner if you didn't have the file on hand? I mean really, the lighting in that image is just horrible. You could have at least fiddled around with the levels a bit in photoshop before posting it. Or just brighten it and crank up the contrast or something? I mean jesus christ, half the image is covered in shadow! You might even have to use a mask just to avoid making the text in the center unreadable!!! Anyway, ...actually I didn't have anything to say other than that. Nice poem btw.

[Anonymous No.10594843]

>>10594666
Checked.

I started reading the poem before I read your initial comment—I knew it was you by line 4. You've got a very distinctive style. Have you ever been published?

[Anonymous No.10594854]

>>10594822
O, sorry. But, you shall be compared to Wallace, were you to be published and maybe even hear the same critiques I gave. It very much seems like aping at the moment. Refine it, a lot, and try to stop sounding so smart with everything. The adjectives don't make it surreal, nor do these situations have enough detail to feel inhabitable. It feels amateurish, especially the bum and dialogue. Too quick even for excerpts, and pointless to the point of banality. The footnotes are useless in this instance. As a writer, you shouldn't have to explain yourself, your work speak for itself.

[Anonymous No.10594857]

>>10594530

Good bread haha, noodles to you!!

~~~ Toodle do
Xoxoxoxo

Black and white, my for ever bay(<3 meow)

I defend you into the night. I am your navy baby,

[Anonymous No.10594874]

>>10594666
Nice poem, Satan.

[Anonymous No.10594883]

>>10594874
Hahahahahahah u got him

Sick burn

[Anonymous No.10594890]

>>10594854
The footnotes are primarily being utilized for comedic effect, and in order to provide a "narrators voice" without actually using it in the main body text.
I appreciate the critique though, I genuinely do, however I'm also writing this primarily for myself (in the style of the kind of book I would like to read myself, which I feel is the most important factor).

I'm trying not to go overboard on detailing the entire scenes, the last thing I want to do is go down the dickens route and take a page and a half to describe a location. I prefer to write in smaller details that relate more to the characters themselves and reflect on their traits and personalities, unless there is a location or item that is especially essential to the narrative.
For instance, this is from the opening passage of the book that has a little more descriptiveness in regards to the setting.

“Fuck,” he says, in between debilitating, body wracking coughs. He finally manages to croak out, “That’s some good weed^1.”
Whilst dragging his fingers through his dispersed ashy hair, he mindlessly sniffs at some nasal drip coming out. The mucous clotting in his right nostril, resisting the antagonization of gravity. He settles backwards into the large pseudo-suede armchair, letting it adjust to his asymmetrical architecture. The Smartmatter™^2 creating a low atmospheric buzz as the seat morphs around his form.
Drugs are his own personal diabolatry, the amoral rite he comprehensively fulfills upon waking. Glassware, empty prescription bottles, lighters, and baggies with red cartoon mushrooms on them form a diminutive jungle atop his coffee table.
A mysterious high pitched moaning suddenly begins to gestate. “Fuck me Jerry, fuck me like you’ve never fucked before.” Jerry, our very own stoner, begins to writhe around in the chair, shoving his arms underneath himself, digging into the chair, which creates holes for him as it adjusts to his touch. Like some fucked up fever dream, soon he is plunging into his recliner elbow deep while the sexual wails continue to assault his ear drums.
“Where the FUCK is my god damn remote!”
Finally, after more plunging and thrusting, he finds the hard-black phallus of the device enveloped within the folds beneath him.

1: Weed, also known as “The Devil’s Lettuce,” is the pastime of the Unemployed, Unemployable, and Artists (What’s the difference between the three anyway?) everywhere.

2: Smartmatter™ was created by renowned entrepreneur Don Zizek in the year 2032, originally designed for use in Military Body Armor. However, Ikea quickly found a use for it in the form of self-assembling furniture. Gone are the days of unfathomable instructions designed by obsessive Swedes.

[Anonymous No.10595128]

>>10589711
The flow's okay but there are SoundCloud rappers which go into more philosophical depths than this without making it so blatantly obvious that they're trying too hard. 6/10

[Anonymous No.10595133]

>>10595128
Hello

[Anonymous No.10595365]

>>10589926
Don't title it. Not when you've written it personally for him. Other than that it's pretty cute.

[Anonymous No.10595369]

>>10590265
That's gross even for a meme chart. I hope no one takes those things seriously.

[Anonymous No.10596041]

>>10594229
No comment other than that you might get more replies in the novel ideas thread.
>>10591884

[Anonymous No.10596081]

>>10594260
OH GOD. It's another first-person angst dump. FUCK! I HATE this shit.

[Anonymous No.10596106]

>>10594263
>plagiarize their sexual practices as well.
Right, because other nationalities don't know how to fuck.
>The pathetic green stone
Well, obviously if the stone's pathetic then her 'shining eyes' can't be much better.

[Anonymous No.10596853]

I am writing a short story under the following idea:
>society exists in a post automation workforce, service and labor jobs having been replaced
>most people live with basic income and societal wealth gap has reached almost comical levels
>the rich are essentially bronzed suoerbeings
>the main character is a waiter at a high end (think above three michelin star level fame) restaurant that still employees human workers
>short story about his life in this society as he works an essentially meaningless job and is constantly exposed to the great and good while he himself lives a generally just above poverty lifestyle
>society is currently undergoing an upheaval, but he himself is uninvolved and only sees it in a detached manner
>he is far more concerned about keeping himself occupied with work to forget things

how shit is it?

[Anonymous No.10596952]

>>10596853
Sounds pretty interesting

[Anonymous No.10596960]

>>10596081
Fuck u i worked hard on that

[Anonymous No.10597025]

>>10596960
That's the issue fag, you're trying way too hard. Relax a little, or, a lot.

[Anonymous No.10597375]

>>10597025
he's not the writer, I am. But can I ask how is it angst?

[Anonymous No.10597427]

>>10589831
>>10589831

i liked it.more plx

[Anonymous No.10597550]

>>10597375
>But can I ask how is it angst?

>working from one low-minimum wage job to the next
>trying live an honest life with my daughter
>Ten years since the death of my master
>lived there until seven-years-old which my family got killed
>hearing my family die convinced me that there be only one end on that road

How can you be so lacking in self awareness?

[Anonymous No.10597589]

>>10596853
Repost it here:
>>10591884

[Anonymous No.10597665]

>>10594740
That's pretty good. All it needs is an editor to take out some redundant commas. Good job.

[Anonymous No.10597694]

>>10594263
it hung on her neck, it is her necklace. and
>it was only to call attention to its convenient location
instead

very nice, could have been worse
>>10593694
good it has the erudition of frankenstein's monster.
>>10593440
bad it has the erudition of frankenstein's monster. you makes it too detatched, and the narrator is unlikely to be ugly enough to be talking out his basement window at this "you" who has observed this but doesn't know the phantom of the opera is watching him see it. "I" makes the entire thing stronger. change the last sentence. you ("I") remember thinking that. you don't think it in the present tense and you probably didn't think exactly that at the time either, because you are recounting.
>>10593173
She was smoking. Keep it in tense, it's an active motion she's going through as the sun is setting not all the time. Unless she's only smoking one quick dose, and even then you should have a new paragraph at the tense change.
Susan was probably neither inconsolate nor placid, especially not at the same time.
She might be intractable and plain.
>>10593047
you've a pleasant rhythm but that's it.
>>10591148
maudlin
>>10590922
>He cursed all clothes, wanting nothing more than to exist in a world where his flesh would be free to touch hers
Keep this, throw out the rest.
>>10590260
semicolon's wrong in the first bit. either make it a colon (which you shouldn't do) or learn when to use one. nostalgia implies pain but you don't contrast it with something happy to link it to your first assertions. you're basically wanking yourself to 7th Grade vocabulary. take yourself back to 1st grade and write honestly about things that were familiar to you then.
>>10590213
If Abel isn't supposed to be a Pnin/Ignatius , you need therapy.
>>10589721
The refrain doesn't work. You're trying to force them to unite, and they don't unite. They don't fit within their setting as individual stories either because of this. Write three separate stories, and you deserve to get in trouble and think about your own ruin for saying cloche hat and ruffled floral dress. Why not a green bowler, while we're at it?
>>10589711
>>spent the last 15 minutes drafting this into the comment box
same, fuxk this

[Anonymous No.10597740]

>>10593047
sigh

[Anonymous No.10597745]

A short little story inspired by Borges
https://pastebin.com/raw/VRq3mRLP

If you read the story and didn't figure it out the german words are the computer's log. I don't know if I made that clear enough.

[Anonymous No.10598149]

>>10589149
Dry causality, sticky entrails

Dead ol roach cookin in the sun

Where movement, with surinam concrete

Beckons hunger,

Is not hunger, movement’s sum?

Brown little thing, twitching autonomy, is gone for good

And in goodness for ants, all is one.

[Anonymous No.10598177]

Honest men follow the rules they set. Viktor smoked outside his bar. The snow plummeted from the moonless sky, invisible shards of ice more numerous than the stars they replaced. The wind rendered the portico useless, driving Viktor to hunch beside the door. The ember between his fingers was a lonely source of warmth and he held it close.

At the edge of sight, a snow hill swayed towards him. As it approached, a dim outline began to establish itself. Though obscured by gusts of powder, it was clearly equine, or perhaps equine-like. The growing mound of frost on its back tilted precariously with each step. At last it fell, shining, briefly, into the darkness, and it was this that provoked Viktor to action.

[Anonymous No.10598296]

>>10597665
thanks a lot man, I really appreciate it

[Anonymous No.10598341]

In 1838, during the reign of the final Tokugawa shogunate, a baby boy was born into an impoverished peasant family. At this time in Japan, the northern parts of the country were under the midst of a severe famine due to destructive flooding, many farmers ran out of food and starved.
Kichijuro’s birth had been a terrible burden on his family, as there were already two hungry children, it would be near impossible to feed a third one. Adding to this, his mother had always been of a frail constitution, and her meagre body suffered tremendous damage during the childbirth. She became bed-ridden with illness, and as a result, couldn’t assist Kichijuro’s father in the fields. After many months without improvement, and as a result of the circumstances, but mostly due to the simple fact that she couldn’t bear to watch her children starve on account of her, she chose not to be a burden, and disappeared one rainy night.

[Anonymous No.10598362]

>>10598341
*in the midst
*and many farmers
*birth was a terrible
*and it would
*Additionally, his mother
The last sentence is a complete mess, and the above are simple grammar fiixes

[Anonymous No.10598367]

I can’t wait to feel the pain
The colors running from my face
Visions blurred as nurses pass
I should have known; you should have asked

What are they gonna do with me?
Feeling like Angelina Jolie
What are they gonna do with me?
Feeling like I am Brittany Murphy

I can’t wait to feel the rain
The scattered showers of my name
Streets are flooding but I want more
The rain, the rain, the rain it pours

What are they gonna do with me?
Feeling like Angelina Jolie
What are they gonna do with me?
Feeling like I am Brittany Murphy

[Anonymous No.10598761]

What cage can hold the bluejay?
He who belongs to the sun and sky
And gentile westward wind.
Who's songs run through the aeons
Over the primitive gardens of Earth
Before the conquest of man.

So strong a prison
To contain your flights and songs
I know not of.
For time has brought even the colossus to ruin
And gnaws away patiently at every iron column
Until naught remains but red powder

It is folly to think dust can imprison anything
Least of all the bluejay.

[Anonymous No.10599562]

>>10598341
>After many months without improvement, and as a result of the circumstances, but mostly due to the simple fact that she couldn’t bear to watch her children starve on account of her, she chose not to be a burden, and disappeared one rainy night.
then how is she bed-ridden id she can runaway like a coward

[Anonymous No.10599569]

>>10599562
It's a mess of a sentence... but, I think she died. I might be wrong, I'm not the author after all.

[Anonymous No.10599596]

>>10599569
>It's a mess of a sentence... but, I think she died.
She couldn't have died, The Point of view is third person omniscient, she ran away while simultaneously so infirm that she was bed-ridden for months on end.

[Anonymous No.10599707]

>>10599596
She should have just died.

[Anonymous No.10599728]

>>10594751
A'ight cause you didn't seem to notice immediately I'm gonna post some sexy garfields to awaken you to the fragment of the story, Jewish Fictoun, that I decided to post to you above. thank you

[Anonymous No.10599739]

>>10597745
read it twice and I still don't get it. also you use the wrong "its" twice

[Anonymous No.10599749]

>>10598761
>gentile
oy vey... it sounds like you should read my work, Jewish Fictoun, posted in several parts of this thread. also:
>who's
word is whose...

"I know not of" construction is just awkward, it's not 1813 anymore. same with "naught" and "folly," it's anachronistic. Also, I don't understand what the poem is about

[Anonymous No.10599767]

>>10598367
more lyrics than a poem imo, some of the lines started to sing themselves in my head accompanied by one of those grungie alt rock emotional guitars. could be really good man

[Anonymous No.10599777]

>>10590213
there are less awkward ways to put it

[Anonymous No.10599781]

>>10597694
>you've a
this gaffe invalidated the rest of the post imo

[Anonymous No.10599812]

>>10593440
>dripped with rain
c'mon son

>>10593173
I relate to not having enough money so that grabbed my interest lol

>>10589721
so self-consciously literary it's actually pretty funny. But that's hard to do, and there is some sense of joy that gets communicated, even if I've chosen to read it with spitefulness

>>10589732
dam nigga wtf!

>>10589737
ya this is just ridiculous. and don't look at me with contempt as if I am some hard-hearted person who is merely not sophisticated enough to understand the tender emotions that flow through gentler souls like your own—rest assured, I AM and I DO! And this is still almost comically heavy handed. You just need a lighter touch. You're already hella good though. Better than most in the thread. Talent. You just need to polish this more. Sorry if this makes you depressed, feel free to disregard it and listen to the guy who likes it more if you want. Subjective

[Anonymous No.10599816]

>>10594260
>master
>"she"

was she a futa or....? God save me

[Anonymous No.10599833]

>>10596853
make it a comedy, surprise everyone

[Anonymous No.10599836]

>>10594666
I'm listening to music but this is pretty good

[Anonymous No.10599854]

>>10594700
I'm Sleep

>>10594398
>dragonish look
MEAN
ING
LESS!!!

>>10594229
interesting, but not for the moral (imo), but for the uncanniness of the forgotten depths of the earth. like that creepypasta of those guys who were crawling in that cave. holy shit man.

[Anonymous No.10600032]

>>10597694
>>10599781
>you've a pleasant rhythm but that's it.
>you have a pleasant rhythm but that is it.

[Anonymous No.10600051]

>>10599854
>I'm sleep
?
What do you mean?

[Anonymous No.10600356]

Here's Mine.
Short right now. I was aiming for pulp.

[Anonymous No.10600360]

>>10597694
How do I improve from "maudlin"?

[Anonymous No.10600404]

>>10597745

not bad but needs a lot of polishing (if not a rewrite or two...)

fair amount of redundancies in the first paragraph - i would also have liked it to be structured a bit better (ie broken down to more paragraphs)

>the driver of the car behind me: late for a party.

not sure who this is? I assume on a re-read that this is a hypothetical but it's pretty unclear

would be clearer to say "the driver of the cars parked further than my spot" or something to that effect

I actually quite like the ending (of the computer logging down the narrator's face and noting satisfaction) but how can the narrator possibly know that?

the narrator does explicitly say "unbeknownst to [him]"

>As I exited the parking garage—unbeknownst to me

and finally, I broadly understood that the german words are the computer's, but I don't understand to what effect

>>10594260

I think you would need to post more for a proper critique

the prose style is straightforward and clear enough and it has a strong enough "hook" for the reader to want to keep reading

[Anonymous No.10600793]

>>10589149
My poem is an ass

[Anonymous No.10600869]

if billions of years of evolution produced the "fittest" specimens, why cant my dog wash the dishes for me and why do I still require sleep?Our modern world is an industry of life. Old people, young people, sad people and rich people are the most lucrative markets to make a fortune. But beyond all, its bananas.

[Anonymous No.10600884]

>>10599781
it grammatically correct and iambic. :3

[Anonymous No.10601440]

>>10594666
Your poetry smells.

[Anonymous No.10601586]

>>10600404
Thanks for the critique. I guess I should have written the ending in third person. I'll take your advice about rewriting it and clarifying things.

[Anonymous No.10601604]

>>10600884
ya but it sounds aspergic in the precise sense that no one in real life would ever utter that collocation of words. Now that’s not necessarily bad, but if by deforming a sentence with a conjunction you actually move it away from the vernacular... perverse practice! Also obviously your crits are still valid

[Anonymous No.10601606]

>>10600051
I stopped reading at the tedious privelege straw man

[Anonymous No.10601747]

>>10601604
STOP USNIG LANGAGE IN WAYS I DONT LIKE!!!

[Anonymous No.10602503]

>>10593228
Well it doesn't make sense, for one thing. The world being invisible is ok, if a bit overused, but I'm not sure what 'night-fog' is, and I know it doesn't sneak inside glass and make it more reflective. You know that polished glass is reflective on its own, right? You see a reflection when the stuff behind the glass is too dark to see, it's how a one way mirror works.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/One-way_mirror

[Anonymous No.10602519]

>>10601604
>ya but it sounds aspergic
you might be one to talk

[Anonymous No.10602526]

>>10601440
of good things, I hope?

[Anonymous No.10602566]

>>10600869
>>10601917

[Anonymous No.10602987]

>>10602566
>veggietales
The sign of a true patrician.

[Anonymous No.10603258]

>>10601606
Sounds like your own problem.

It's meant to be amusing, and as the story develops there will be elements critical of all sides relating to that kind of political argument, it's not going to be strawmanning the entire book.

[Anonymous No.10604063]

>>10589169
>Smoking out the roof it's like a chimney
>like Michael Vick in the whip
>getting thicker everyday, it's looking like the casket of Benjamin Franklin
If this was satire it was pretty good. I really hope it's satire.

[Anonymous No.10604968]

>>10600356
I found this very boring but I can't figure out why. Maybe someone else can read it and give their opinion. I really want to know.

[Anonymous No.10605028]

>>10598177
>it was clearly equine, or perhaps equine-like
This statement is contradictory; or at least ambiguous. How can the outline clearly be that of a horse, only then to be described as similar to a horse? Other than that your excerpt is fine.

[Anonymous No.10605701]

>>10600356
>>10604968

no, this is very boring because nothing happens and the grammar and imagery is beyond confused
this is actually a huge problem with works submitted in /lit/ threads

[Anonymous No.10606793]

https://pastebin.com/Npe3g0j0

Still fucking around with the first sentence. Not sure if I need "open" before "door" or "warm" before "apartment." "Out of the cold" implies warmth, but I don't see it when I read it without the word there. I also see a lady walking through a closed door when I remove the word "open."

[Anonymous No.10607483]

>>10605701
>nothing happens
Clearly, lots of stuff is happening, I just don't find any of it the least bit interesting. Maybe it's partly because of poor grammar or bad descriptive imagery, but I think the problem is something more fundamental than that.

[Anonymous No.10608186]

>>10606793
something's gone wrong... close your eyes and try to explain what's going on as if you were telling a story to a friend (this will really trim the fat)

some more advice:

You may be forcing yourself to come up with unnecessary details (that soup, aaaugh!) because you've been taught that that's the "literary" thing to do. I really don't think that it is; saying too much just bores people

[Anonymous No.10608191]

>>10605028
I thought it was funny, but that almost certainly doesn't come across

[Anonymous No.10608629]

>>10590293
>>10590674
>>10590981

>Why start with a conjunction? I can understand starting a sentence with one, but an entire...why?

I like the way it sounds. Sort of mimicking the KJV Bible.

And no, I'm a man. I thought it was funny when I read it so I kept it. Ideally I'd like to write a description of breasts that's evocative but not lewd. I'm actually looking for books that are sexually evocative but not lewd if you have have recs.

And thanks for the tip desu

[Anonymous No.10608647]

>>10602503
I know it's reflective. Ergo saying the world is invisible is plainly untrue; there's lots to see in a reflected bus window.

How do I make my reader know that I'm self-aware and merely being deceptive, while not seeming dumb?

[Anonymous No.10608827]

>>10608647
>Ergo saying the world is invisible is plainly untrue;
The reflection, of the inside of the bus, on the glass window, is clearly visible.
>>10602503
Did not refer to the inside of the bus as the 'world'.
>>10593228
>And so the world was invisible.
If the world outside the bus is too dark to see, it is essentially invisible to the passengers on the bus.