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/lit/ - Literature

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2006790 No.2006790 [Reply] [Original]

Think you're as good as Paolini?

Prove it.

Post a piece of your fiction and /lit/ can decide if you really are better.

>> No.2006806

bad author photos: never not funny

>> No.2006809

What the fuck is up with you guys and Paolini lately?

>> No.2006818

I guess /lit/ doesn't have what it takes.

>> No.2006828

Things no author should do in a photo:

1. Hold his own book
2. Mix cheap fashions
3. Squint
4. Stand in front of a mall-kiosk rural background

And in the interest of playing into the troll, here is a sample of fiction better than Paolini's own:

I once read a Christopher Paolini novel and found the prose to be intricate and well-balanced, the characters to be full and compelling, and the plot to be original. There was no smack of pretense or satisfaction, and I felt that Paolini had proven himself a worthy successor to the writers of times past, truly coming into his own as a creator of fantastic places.

>> No.2006899

>>2006828
Barring the fact that this paragraph is as dull as its poster, it's not fiction, because fiction has nothing to do with opinions, only fabricated stories, worlds, and characters. When you muster the mettle to post your stuff, get back to me.

>> No.2006921

>>2006899
I made a world and character that don't exist (a world in which I [the character] actually enjoy reading tripe), and I told you HIS opinions, which is, believe it or don't, something that happens in fiction. I dare say I did it with a touch more panache than all Paolini's works combined.

When you wrangle up an actual understanding of what fiction is, get back to me.

>> No.2006934

I enjoyed his books and somehow overlooked the innuendos and didn't mind the purple prose. Ill be picking up Inheritance when it comes as cheap as fuck paperback.

>> No.2006939

>>2006828

Your prose sorta sucks bro. Nice try though.

>> No.2006947

>>2006790
Did he write Brisinger? Never found out who wrote it while I was busy selling it for $1 at a remainder book store. We sold three boxes of it in 2 hours... Not bad for a distrobution mass of aproximatly 100,000 people over a 100km radius.

What the fuck is it with Fantasy authors bitching about the low intelegtual esteme they get amongst a literary crowd. FUCK YOU all, the two fields have completly different functions, FROM THE READERS PERSPECTIVE.

Every time I visit this board, I see an image of Ludemilla looking at me. Now Calvino is more my type of fantasy author. There are hills and apparitions all through his work.

Is that a sufficient review?

>> No.2006990

Anyone here willing to actually take this challenge?

The only person to give it a shot didn't succeed.

Surely someone here can pull it off though.

I mean, you guys have claimed to be better than Paolini in the past.

Put your prose where your mouth is.

>> No.2007006

omg he's crap

>>2006990

Ok, let's give this a shot. Please allow for a little preamble, then:

John had closed his eyes, hoping that would be the end of it. But no matter how many times he tried to leave the envelope behind, to forget it, he always came back. He had sealed it to protect what remained of the smell, setting it aside against some future dark into which she might or might not come walking. Even now things escaped from that imbalsammation, for she was already become a ghost, and no mere lick of sap could contain her.

How did I do?

>> No.2007010

>>2006990
There was something about the texture on the page that made me pick up the book and start eating. I wasn't hungry. And now I am, well, on the way to the doctor with bowels stiffer than a pumped porn stars, well penis. I don;t know how else to describe it, I mean, last time I looked in the mirror I didn't have fur like a dog. So there was no reason for me to have eaten a newspaper. So I stuck with penis, there was a chance of that.

Last night was the night of the nights, we dressed up for the ocasion in damselet frocks and danced to the raising of an orange harvest moon... I put so many penises in my mouth that it is possible I swallowed one. Or all those cocktail weinies...

"Well" said the doctor "bend over"

>> No.2007012

>>2007006
>imbalsammation

Confirmed for shit writer.

>> No.2007015

>>200701

Why u mad tho?

>> No.2007019

>>2006990

You posted a thread challenging people to write better than Paolini. Obviously you are a Paolini-fag with a grudge, and your bias will obviously lead you to point out how anyone else's prose is disappointing compared to your waifu's. We get it. No one loves you and no one has the same appreciation for true "art" that you do. Fuck you. Fuck you thinking you have the ability to judge writing ability at all, and fuck your small-minded challenge; you're nobody at all. What have you written? Nothing. Fact is, you're most likely still in grade school and have placenta hanging off your ear. In the end, no one gives a shit about how good your prose is, and no one cares if Paolini is a hack or a literary giant. The one question, the only question- is it a good story? How can any one of us match a story that spreads over hundreds of pages in a single paragraph. How can a tricycle be compared to a formula one car? Your whole premise is fucking ridiculous, and you are a failure of a human being. Goodnight.

>> No.2007022

>>2007010
I like this, but I wrote it. THere was fragmentary time and alusions to rituals and animalism in humanity.

>> No.2007026

>>2007022

Dude it's retarded. Did you skip all of middle school when they taught commas? Read more.

>> No.2007030

>>2007026
Yes. I failed my way to ESL (English Second Language) because they were studying Blade runner and listening to book on tape.

>> No.2007037

>>2007030

Well for a second language it's pretty fucking good, I'll give you that. Still, read more.

>> No.2007043

Here's the plot to Paolinis book Eragon

A princess and her guards are traveling with an important blue thing. Unfortunatly, the EVIL EMPIRE attacks. Before the princess is captured she manges to send the round blue thing away, in the direction of an old knight.
The important round and blue thing is found miles away by our young hero. He keeps it for a bit before the Empire finds his home and kills his uncle. Our young hero chooses to leave with an old man as his guide. The old man is actualy a knight with amazing powers and skill, who trains our hero. The hero and old knight then quest to join a rebelion against the Empire.
Before they can reach the rebelion, they learn about the trapped princess. To make a long story short, our young hero saves the princess but the old knight is, unfortunatly, killed.
After mourning the loss of his teacher and friend, our hero and his new companions flee the empire. Using the directions from the princess they reach the rebel base. But OH NOES! The Empire has followed them there!
A big battle happens, but our hero, with a little help from his friends, saves the day. YAY.

Do you want me to do the sequal, (Star Wars: The Empire strikes back), too?

>> No.2007050

That line yesterday about the ocean was nice, but still waiting for OP to give a one-para character-related emotional reaction (theirs or mine). Any example will do.

'mon then

>> No.2007067

>>2007043
That's the plot to star wars, not eragon

>> No.2007075

>>2006809
>2011
>seriously overestimating the number of people who comprise /lit/
I seriously hope you guys don't do this.

>> No.2007091

>>2007067
This post is incredibly hilarious

>> No.2007100

>>2007043
looks like the plot of the movie "The Ten Commandments"

>> No.2007112

>>2007019
Boring rage-rant, and no better than Paolini. Try again.

>> No.2007116

>>2007006
I genuinely like this. More?

>> No.2007123

I'll give it a shot:

People always wondered why I loved Roxanne. Why was I in love with her when she set my car on fire? Why was I in love with her when she said I raped her? Why was I in love with her when I was told she had herpes, AIDS, crabs and used to have genitals? Why would I love someone who (allegedly) had hacked into the world's financial markets and caused the crash of the economies of China, India, Brazil and Romania? Why would I love some someone who had caused (allegedly) millions of deaths in India, Pakistan, and the Koreas? Why was I in love with her when that meant it was just us on the run against seven billion people?

>> No.2007124

>>2007123
Was it her zany attitude to life? Or did she have the keys to the host from blues clues' dildo safe?

>> No.2007130

>>2007123

Trying too hard. It's trying to make the reader interested in the "Roxanne" character, but after the third "why did I love her when..." thing, we stop giving a shit.

>> No.2007136

>>2007123
used to have genitals?
she doesnt have any genitals?
shes not a mammal then

>> No.2007138

>>good

>> No.2007140

It's weird, /lit/ is the only board I go to where when people frequently call something shit, the people who defend said shit always defend it by saying 'lol no stfu nub u can't do better!!!'

Say what you will about /v/, /mu/, or /co/, but they never pull that shit.

>> No.2007142

>>2007136

Should of put "male" in there. Too much vodka, Paolini wins.

>> No.2007150
File: 212 KB, 333x452, 333.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]
2007150

I'll never be better than Pasolini...
Oh wait, nevermind. Feel free to continue your lowbrow discussion.

>> No.2007154

He managed two shots and each cackled away mockingly through the wood before he'd fumbled down the little revolver with his chubby fingers. It lurched upon him and anchored its shaggy, muscled forearms with their leaves and twigs and rain knotted in the long gray hair onto the fat man’s broad shoulders, hugging him like an old lover. They danced about for an odd moment, as it fastened its maws to the man’s neck softly as to a plum, and rode him down hard. Bright arterial blood swam about the dog's black ridged jowls as it lifted its heavy head from the fat man's neck and looked backward after its young master, who sat watching dumbly with the brim of his hat sagging over one eye in a soup of leaves, rain and urine.

Shit. But equal with Paolini?

>> No.2007163

Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him by the mild morning air. He held the bowl aloft and intoned: Introibo ad altare Dei.

>> No.2007170

>>2007163
>Introibo ad altare Dei

Those aren't even words. Learn to use a dictionary before you try to write.

>> No.2007176

>>2007150
>Salo
>not lowbrow

whatevs

>> No.2007180
File: 18 KB, 195x257, 220px-James_Joyce_by_Alex_Ehrenzweig,_1915_restored.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]
2007180

>>2007170
You. I want you to fart on my face.

>> No.2007184

*Ardwen - Arwen
*Isenstar - Isengard
*Mithrim - Mithrim or mithril
*Angrenost - Angrenost
*Morgothal - Morgoth
*Elessari - Elessar
*Furnost - Fornost
*Hadarac Desert - Harad Desert
*Melian - Melian
*Vanilor - Valinor
*Eridor - Eriador
*Imiladris - Imladris
*Undin - Fundin/Udun
*Gil'ead - Gil'Galad
*Ceranthor - Caranthir
*Isidar - Isiludir

how many fucking times do I have to post this

also, he was published by his parents

fucking anyone can be a published author if their parents will pay to have their shit published

>> No.2007188

I... I liked the Inheritance books. What's wrong with them? The writing can be hammy at times but it was a fun story.

Then again I read the books years ago so maybe I have rose tinted glasses on.

>> No.2007189

>>2007043
you forgot the part about the hero joining with a dashing rogue (Han Solo/Murtagh) to save the princess

>> No.2007195 [DELETED] 

>>2007188
plagiarism

plagiarism is what's wrong with the books

just look at >>2007188 for fuck's sake

and that's not all of it

the plot and characters are from star wars, the races and names from Tolkien, the magic system is taken word for fucking word from A Wizard of Earthsea, and then there are bits and pieces taken from many other fantasy works (Dragonriders of Pern, Dune, and so forth)

Paolini's writing is as derivative as it possibly could be

because what he wrote was a fucking fanfiction

Eragon is nothing more than a LotR/Star Wars/Earthsea ect ect fanfiction staring Paolini's Mary Sue self insert "Eragon" (an Aragorn/Luke Skywalker hybrid)

and unfortunately for the rest of us Paolini's doting parents decided to publish his shit instead of letting it stay on fanfiction.net where it rightfully belongs

>> No.2007198

>>2007188
plagiarism

plagiarism is what's wrong with the books

just look at >>2007184 for fuck's sake

and that's not all of it

the plot and characters are from star wars, the races and names from Tolkien, the magic system is taken word for fucking word from A Wizard of Earthsea, and then there are bits and pieces taken from many other fantasy works (Dragonriders of Pern, Dune, and so forth)

Paolini's writing is as derivative as it possibly could be

because what he wrote was a fucking fanfiction

Eragon is nothing more than a LotR/Star Wars/Earthsea ect ect fanfiction staring Paolini's Mary Sue self insert "Eragon" (an Aragorn/Luke Skywalker hybrid)

and unfortunately for the rest of us Paolini's doting parents decided to publish his shit instead of letting it stay on fanfiction.net where it rightfully belongs

>> No.2007200

Paolini's purple prose is as dense as it possibly could be

and his writing is full of gems like "Sorry, Brom apologized"

also he inserts obtuse words from the thesaurus as every fucking opportunity so he sounds smarter

>> No.2007207

copypasting this from a doc, so excuse any awkward formatting.

Poloris shed second skin, then third. Things became erect, them looking at one another. Konkle slowly struggled off his boot and out of his trousers, slipped out of his vest and shirt, and said nothing more. Poloris mounted the bed, stretching awkwardly, exuberantly, so that all the parts that needed to be touched could be.
A touch on the wrong place, the place not asked for, turned Konkle’s hazy-gray eyes to slivers. “Just rub. I’m tired.” They went back to nothing.


Poloris obeyed, though took not too much care to keep from superfluous touching. Up and down the hands went across the knotty sole of the yet-well foot. Privates edged slowly back and forth across Konkle’s thigh, stopped when Konkle’s groin moved to respond. His feet were very large and unlike Poloris’ feet.

Over and off Poloris moved, squeezing and pressing against fair calves. They were as fair as Poloris’ own, though far more muscular and far more thick with hair. They were not as big as they once were, though. Konkle had eaten poorly on the ship. His vigor, his full youth had yet to return, if it could ever. -

I've got plenty more, but this is a sample.

>> No.2007215

>>2007207
The fuck is this? Is it actually in the books?

>> No.2007236

>>2007215
I don't think so

Paolini's books do have furrys in them though and shit that is even more awkward than that

like when Eragon was bathing with some man elves, Paolini went to the trouble of describing their "hairless groins"

yessir, when it's not plagiarism and purple prose it's furries and homo eroticism

>> No.2007250

>>2005994

There's a thread I posted earlier with an excerpt from my writing. Criticism is welcome.

>> No.2007252
File: 768 KB, 3000x2342, gil.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google]
2007252

>Post a piece of your fiction and /lit/ can decide if you really are better.

These threads are depressing because I would really like it if /lit/ actually did have threads where people shared bits of their work, got feedback and critiqued each other but every time I come here hoping such a thread exists, it's just as a hook on to a shitty trollfest like this and nobody's really there to do anything constructive. That's the nature of 4chan in general I guess but it breaks my heart that /lit/ is unable to be anything but obnoxious and hostile.

I swear to God everyone on this board is just trying to make everyone else to hate reading, writing, all books and everything associated so that they can be the last ones left and therefore automatically the most intellectual.

you are all bad people and I hope someone puts dirty needles in your asses while you sleep

>> No.2007253

anyone who has one iota of originality is already a better writer than paolini

>> No.2007255

>>2007200
He sounds like Cory Doctorow. But seriously, what put me off the most was the fact that the pronounciation of the words was hinted at in the end... and they would sound so fucking wrong... makes me glad to be German, my mother tongue basically pronounces like Late West Saxon, bitches.

>> No.2007258

>>2007252
My sole purpose on this board is to cause as much sadness and discomfort as possible, so you might be onto something.

>> No.2007260

>>2007252
is it wrong to be hostile to an author who plagiarizes?

let me direct your attention to >>2007184 again

>> No.2007266

>>2007252
Be the change you wish to see in the world. Make the thread, and they will come.

>> No.2007268

>>2007260

Not him motherfucker, I don't care about that copy-pasting dweeb, I hated his shit being all over TV when he was 13 and I hate his shit now. I'm talking one /lit/ user to another.

>> No.2007270

>>2007215
>comparing borderline fapfic with Paolini

are you dense or something? He writes children's fantasy.

>> No.2007285

>>2007270
actually there was a sex scene in his second book

also the the "hairless groins" bathing scene was in the second

then there was the blue furred wolf-elf who emitted a musk that made women horny (I swear I am not making any of that up or exaggerating in any way)

>> No.2007293

>>2007285
no, I've read the books too and I can't remember any "real" sex scene. Refresh my memory?

I remember furguy though. I always thought he was going to be a traitor, but it never happened.

>> No.2007309

>>2007293
well it wasn't explicit or anything

but Eragon's cousin or whatever had sex with his fiance before the nazgul came and kidnapped her

>> No.2007318

eh. here goes.

"Tell me what I want to know", she says, and boom, right there in the kitchen Steve is taken back into a time and place he never wanted to remember, always tried to forget. It was the summer of '94, HIS summer, and until that moment it had only come creeping into his mind on the longest of sleepless nights; a 'waking nightmare', you could say. But the thought was back. In full force this time, and with a vengeance.

>> No.2007319

I only read the first one because I didn't know about the series and there was a cool dragon on the cover. The part where he arrives at the dwarf stronghold or whatever...the purple prose...I was wading in it.

>> No.2007334

>>2007255

you could judge mine:

Hier sollte ich wohl vom Tod des Zaunkönigs erzählen, einer Geschichte, an der ich nur beschränkt Anteil hatte und von der ich erst durch die Aufzeichnungen auf Melissas Computer erfuhr, mit deren Wiedergabe ich aber kaum so lange warten kann, wie ich gezwungen wäre, wenn ich sie in ihrem rechten Zusammenhang wiedergeben wollte, so wie ich sie erfuhr - zu spät nämlich. Ich muß reden, verstehen Sie, oder in diesem Fall: Ich muß reden lassen. Dieses schwache Oszillieren ist für mich Lebenszeichen, in einem Sinn, daß es überhaupt Leben ist, nichts weiter. Wie das Zucken der schlafenden Glieder, das einem für eine Weile den Körper zurück gibt, ist das Wort mir wie ein Zucken des Geistes. Aus irgend einem wunderbaren Grund muß es nicht einmal der eigene Puls sein, der einen am Leben erhält; in diesem Fall: bitte hören Sie nun, was Melissa aufgeschrieben hat...

>> No.2007339

>>2007309
fade to black doesn't count, you tease

>> No.2007370

my favorite part was when Eragon's cousin killed between two and three hundred soldiers single handedly

yessir, a farmboy with no military training using a blacksmiths hammer kills several hundred soldiers at one go

methinks Paolini had been playing too many video games when he wrote that bit

also, a blacksmith hammer, really?

there is a big fucking difference between the hammers craftsmen use and warhammers, what with the length of the handle and the weight of the head and whatnot

>> No.2007374

It was the third night of the hunt, and his food was half gone. If he did not fell the doe, he would be forced to return home empty handed. His family needed the meat for the rapidly approaching winter and could not afford to buy it in Carvahall.

Eragon stood with quiet assurance in the dusky moonlight, then strode into the forest toward a glen where he was sure the deer would rest. The trees blocked the sky from view and cast feathery shadows on the ground. He looked at the tracks only occasionally; he knew the way.

At the glen, he strung his bow with a sure touch, then drew three arrows and nocked one, holding the others in his left hand. The moonlight revealed twenty or so motionless lumps where the deer lay in the grass. The doe he wanted was at the edge of the herd, her left foreleg stretched out awkwardly.


It's not bad, per se, it's just uninspired. At least he wrote complete sentences.

That makes this thread rather stupid; why compare literary ability with Paolini when his most glaring weakness is his poor storytelling ability, not his technical skill?

>> No.2007379

>>2007374
his technical skills suck as much as anything else

>sorry, Brom apologized

and just reread the Eragon intro if you want a look at Paolini's purple prose

>> No.2007390

I reached in my pocket and felt something sticky and squishy and oh god, did my gum melt? but then I smelled it and it was just ejaculate, so at least I still had my gum. True story.

>> No.2007395

>>2007390
Wait, which works better, ejaculate or cum?

>> No.2007426

He came out of the forest at sunset and was thankful for it. He had never liked the forest, especially at night. Even now these childish fears affected him. He tried to recall a previous occasion where his actions had been dictated by an emotion and could not. He thought that his fears had grown to fill the void of the lack of other emotions. But he did not resent it, nor despair. Instead he welcomed it for its sharpness, for its taste. Any emotion or feeling was welcome, for without those (now scarce) rations he was left with the terrible dullness, the dullness that had originally come on the back of his last purpose. Of course there was dullness in regards to that, and he knew why – after this last task he could see no further. If death came so be it. He would not welcome it nor flee from its embrace. He would accept it.

I don't think it's good, nor will I comment on whether it's better than Paolini's stuff, but I don't think it's entirely unsalvageable either.

>> No.2007429

>>2007309

The Nazgul reference made me laugh. I never made the connection until now.

>> No.2007439

Well I don't have a story but I have a pretty funny idea for one.

It's about a guy that goes to school, and everybody makes fun of him and calls him 'tinkerbell' and the kids at school make a porn video with him photoshopped in a tinkerbell outfit. And the entire class laughs at him. So one day he brings a gun to school and shoots up the place.

The kid gets arrested of course and he goes on trial. And the prosecutor gets to presenting the evidence. And they show the jury the video of him in the tinkerbell outfit. So the jury just bursts out laughing. And the judge is trying to keep order but even he is cracking up, "tinkerbell hahahah" So they can't even get the trial under way because they're laughing at this boy who is a murderer, and they're imagining him in a tinkerbell outfit. They can't even take the case seriously.

>> No.2007474

I'll ask again. Is any here up to the challenge of writing better work than Paolini?

I've scoured the thread and I've yet to find it.

>> No.2007479

>>2007474
You forgot this one
>>2007010

>> No.2007486

You guys are fucking idiots.

>> No.2007624

The Government of Gothland was a joke. It was antiquated, absurd, laughable: and it worked.
Master Joseph polished the table of the Second Room. The table was square, with concave sides and sharp corners. From the middle of one side to the opposite side the table measured exactly two yards (just enough to make swordlay impractical) and was made of smooth yellow wood with dark brown edges. Master Joseph dipped into the bowl with his polishing-rag, extracted another gobbet of waspwax and applied it to the surface.
“Round and round, up and down, forward and back... three times a day... every day...every day... round and round and round and...”
“Joseph!”
“My Lord?”

>> No.2007628

2/3
“Do you really need to supply a commentary?”
“No Lord Abraham.”
Lord Abraham filled the doorway. There were gossips among the servants of the other Chambers who claimed to have solid proof that Lord Abraham employed artifice to achieve his impressive appearance: liftboots, hunkers (both upper and front) and legbands had been darkly suggested. What was not disputed, although never directly addressed in public- and especially not in his presence- was that Lord Abraham’s flowing black locks were not naturally connected to his scalp, but had been glued there by a fifth-degree Head-thatcher from Gyorning.
“Could you please refrain from describing our work and simply attend to it Joseph?”
“Master Joseph, my Lord”

>> No.2007630

Is it just me or does Paolini look sort of like the Little Lad from the Berries and Cream Starburst commercial?

>> No.2007633

3/3
“Very well, If we must acknowledge that a lifetime spent polishing one table, entitles you to some courtesy title, we should rephrase our request. Would the most exalted, sweet, noble, and worthy Master Joseph kindly get on with his work before we split him in two with a yodding great horse-mattock!”
Lord Abraham’s last words were bellowed across the chamber with only slightly less force than a North Channel thunderstorm, and really ought to have been sufficient to bludgeon a strong man into instant, bowel-liquefying terror. Master Joseph, however, merely hesitated, glanced up at Lord Abraham, down at the table, and continued his polishing. Just before the moment when his failure to speak would have become intolerably insolent, he glanced up again and replied:
“Yes, my Lord, I will”

>> No.2008840

Still nothing.

If you guys are ever up to the task, do drop by and give it a shot.