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/lit/ - Literature

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1609959 No.1609959 [Reply] [Original]

“Dialogue, dialogue, and more dialogue, don’t you understand?” He said, fingering the hem of his jacket in what looked to be some kind of vain attempt to rub away his fingerprints. “That’s the soul of the work. It’s what tells the reader why the characters have the motives they do, what they want and how they treat the poor fuck who decides to try and stop them. That is of course if the character has any real passion whatsoever.”
“That’s fantastic Bard, shall I grab a notebook and write this down? Because obviously the opinion is that I need to repeat Basic Writing Fundamentals.” I said looking down at the diluted remnants of my drink.
“Damn straight you do. But what’s worse is that that’s not even the biggest issue here. What kind of passion can you hope to inspire in someone if you can hardly muster the nerve to go out and have a sincere conversation? Go ahead and sit there, day after day producing nothing, watching movies and reading ‘classics’ attempting to emulate real life thinking to yourself oh I’m so smart and I’m so talented. Do that and call me when that works out for you.” He said opening the door and leaving.
And now here I am, alone. Wanting nothing more than a clean slate but knowing that’s the last thing I’m going to get.

>Does anyone else find themselves feeling this way?

>> No.1609966

No but that was really well written.

>> No.1609967

Emily dickenson was a rich bitch that stayed in her dad's house and died a virgin.

Or some shit. Writing is very reclusive by nature, and you get better by writing, which you demonstrated nicely.

>> No.1609976

>>1609967
>>1609966
Thanks guys, I was just sitting there thinking to myself how what I write rarely has dialogue or when it does it's mediocre. So I decided to write some experimental dialogue but it ended up taking a very sad and harsh turn.

I can’t write something more than some stereotypical soppy pretense riddled incoherent jumpy fragments of what I would like to believe is beauty. Masturbation of what can’t even be labeled “pseudo-intellectual.”

>> No.1609980

Goethe fucked a lot of bitches. He was awesome, and lived life.

>> No.1609982

I really don't like the way you transition out of dialogue with a full stop and a new sentence. It's often grammatically awkward, and it gives a stilted, jarring feel to the writing.

That aside, you write quite well, and I sympathise with your central point. I often wonder if it's possible - a few outlying cases aside - to write worthwhile stuff without first living a life that is in some sense heroic, extraordinary, or emotionally turbulent.

>> No.1609989

Now it's time for some bad poetry gone to absolute shit.

Beyond the bliss of
Endless Uselessness
For not one soul
Knows of song unrivaled,
Parallel
In Majesty, We
Trot and torment,
Has the sand worn
Folks down? Thin,
Sleeping. Basket and
Bile. Have we no
Holy sanctum yet
To run to?

>> No.1609990

If you read any lit journals you'll notice that there's not so much dialogue as you'd think in the stuff being published. Don't worry that you like exposition more.

>> No.1609994

>>1609989
Beyond the milk of
Endless catlessness
For not one soul
Knows of purrs unrivaled,
Curling up
In Majesty, We
Sleep and sleep more,
Has the world worn
Cats down? Fat,
Sleeping. Basket and
Bile. Have we no
grass to eat up yet
To throw up?

>> No.1609998

>>1609994

I think I love you

>> No.1610003

>>1609998
Then let's copulate. Copulate right now. With our minds.