/lit/ - Literature

[Anonymous No.947226]

Can someone tell me if my writing is good or not?

Note to Self part 1:
Your fucking delusional. Its about time you practiced what you preached and realized that there ain't no skin off her back on this one. Look at you, your beating yourself up, your fucking bleeding on the ground, your PATHETIC. You told yourself this wouldn't happen again and look at you now. Your fucking WEAK. I HATE you. You let this happen, you fool. You think she wants to care like you do? You think she wants to hope like you do? You think she wants to wait like you do? You think she even wants you on her mind to help her fall asleep like you do? Of course not, you moron. Of course not... Why would you ever become so lucky? Do both of you a favor and just... just stop. Face the fact that she doesn't want it...


You tripped, man. You tripped hard. You tripped over your own emotional walls when you let them come crashing down. And when you tripped, you stumbled, and when you stumbled, you fell, and when you fell, you crashed, and when you crashed, you got burned.

Your an idiot, Ostin. Once again you let your guard down and you trapped yourself inside this hole you created for yourself. You know that when you fall, you fall hard, and now your lying motionless in the dirt. To think you could ever lay happy with another at this stage in your life... You fooled yourself, and you allowed yourself to become the fool. Of course, it was always to good to be true. I could taste the bittersweet of irony and reality masked in momentary happiness, tranquility, and intimacy the second my lips touched...

Dreams seldom become intertwined with the dimension of reality because of one sole reason- they are dreams.

[Anonymous No.947229]

Note to Self part 2:

But yet...
There can be hope. It is not at all a weakness to choose to believe in even the most minimal of chances, as long as the light created by your optimism can guide you through the darkest of skepticism.
There can be hope, yes, and I am choosing to grab that hope seldom found. I'm choosing to grab it... to grab it and run wild with it. In my life the common occurrences of doubt continue to rise and never fall, and this doubt beats on my mentality with such a blunt force that I was almost blind with failures that have yet to prove themselves defeats. If I can just grab that hope, just hold onto it, maybe I'll survive...

Maybe I'll smile.

[Anonymous No.947230]

what is thi... you know what? yes. It's good.

[Anonymous No.947242]

>Your fucking delusional

HA HA HA OH BOY

On a side note, this is kind of how I'd imagine the ex-delinquent bellhop from Hotel Dusk would motivate himself in his head.

[Anonymous No.947238]

>>947226
>Your fucking delusional.

I stopped right there.

[Anonymous No.947243]

>>947242
I love that game.

[Anonymous No.947245]

Well, OP. You can't punctuate for shit. Thankfully, plenty of writers have not been able to. Just look at Richard Matheson.

[Anonymous No.947246]

You're writing is great, man. Its really original. Ive never seen anything like it. You should think about submitting to a magazine. Your the best.

[Anonymous No.947247]

>Your fucking delusional.

YOU GOT ME FUCKED ON PCP?!?!!

[Anonymous No.947248]

This is the kind of stuff that creepy guys put up as facebook notes hoping girls will read them.

[Anonymous No.947250]

>>947226
Jesus fucking Christ OP.

[Anonymous No.947253]

>I could taste the bittersweet of irony and reality masked in momentary happiness, tranquility, and intimacy the second my lips touched...

[Anonymous No.947254]

Heres another.

I had a thought part 1:
I had a thought.


I often spend the majority of whatever free time I stumble upon digging deep in my memories, as if I’m searching for some sort of estranged answer or reason to why I decided to, one could say, embrace with my arms wide open, something most sane men fear and dream.

Mortality.

A day like today weighs heavily on the foundation of our own mobile mechanics. Entering my room after being swept off my feet by a monsoon of fatigue and indolence, I viewed my options of entertainment for the hours before the depressing hands of time would tell me to sleep. I used the amount of work needed to access such entertainment as my elimination process.
PS3- turn on television, find controller…. Pick the video game you want to play…
Nope…
Bed- Take off boots…. Hell No.
Bed w/ iPod- Find songs to listen to WHILE laying down with a gay touch iPod so you have to avoid tilting the damn thing sideways or your screen goes to album view.
I was not having that hassle.
Laptop- Well, it’s right there. Already turned on. All I gotta do is flip it open, and watch the porn start streaming. Sounds good to me.

I was reading the news. According to their ‘President,’ Iran believes them to be too powerful for the U.S. to attack. I looked down at my sore feet, which were still trapped in their leather cages, and I thought, “They might just be right.”

[Anonymous No.947256]

Go back to reading Palahnuick and being dissatisfied with your middle-class existence, OP.

[Anonymous No.947258]

I had a thought part 2:

My stomach began vibrating and screaming with an irresistible sensation of HUNGER! Pounds of motivation somehow lifted my dead weight and carried me to the fridge.
I searched and tried to deny myself of such unhappy circumstances, but life thwarted my attempts again, as life was currently empty of the calories, saturated fats, and sugar someone of my standards needs. There was hope, however. There was fruit… Lot’s of fruit. Oh, the peeling and the garbage and the skin… such trifles not needed by my tired fingers. I’m a Marine, I thought. I can… I can eat this fruit.

For reasons unknown to me, I have never truly eaten an orange. I have tasted oranges. I have seen people eat oranges. Hell, I love orange juice. But I just have never eaten an orange.
“We’ll be together with a roof right over our heads, we’ll share a shelter of my single bed…”
I’m feeling the texture of this orange fruit, and I unsheathe my knife to ready myself for the citrus sensation that is about to flow into my taste buds. Not yet prepared for such mundane, yet necessary tasks, I stare almost through the orange and hold this fruit in my hand.
I looked at the orange, but saw a memory.

I was young, probably ten or eleven. The boy scouts had brought me to Nantucket Island for mountain biking adventures. I was alone, unable to find the rest of the boys. I sat and played innocently with the creations of creatures long outliving our immature species. Frogs, salamanders, thousands of birds, worms, insects of all sizes… they all seemed to speak to me in ways no human could ever speak to another human.

[Anonymous No.947259]

>>947243
Fuck yes! I wish they'd make more games like that. It's the only kind I enjoy playing anymore.

[Anonymous No.947262]

I'd bet a dollar that OP likes Trainspotting.

[Anonymous No.947264]

I had a thought part 3:

My scoutmaster saw me, and admired such young interest in things people see today as useless, annoyances. He told me to eat an orange. Scared, I answered, "But I don't know how." He threw me a knife and the orange, and without saying a word, turned his back to leave me lost in the shadows of doubt and challenge. The knife slices my skin like butter, and I cried, but not out of pain. It probably didn't even hurt. I think I cried because the orange beat me. Who knows. But I bitched and threw the bloody orange somewhere into the forest for something with talent to feast upon.


I stared at the orange, this time my vision halted at the rigged surface of the tender, juicy fruit. I began to think... "I think I know why he wanted me to eat a fucking orange."

"We'll share the same room, for 'jah provide the bread..."

It wasn't until I was about the age of seventeen that I had learned my scoutmaster was a Vietnam veteran. I came of age to understand the consequences of men who ask for war, and of men who pray for such mental disasters. Choosing similar roads in this gigantic, continuous experience we call life, I felt as if I could relate to the personality of such a man.

"Is this love, is this love, is this love? Is this love I'm feelin'?"

I think I know why he wanted me to eat an orange.


With much success, I ate the hell out of that orange.
I with that I'm done. I hope you enjoyed this introspective look at my life as much as I enjoyed writing it.

[Anonymous No.947265]

>Your fucking delusional
Stopped reading, right there. Learn proper grammar and I'll give it a shot.

[Anonymous No.947267]

The short answer: it needs work.

You're being overcomplicated for the sake of sounding reverential. Don't try so hard. The simplest communication goes a long way. Also, work on not writing so many sentences in the passive tense. It's very disarming when most of the rest of the stuff is active.

[Anonymous No.947272]

>I think I know why he wanted me to eat an orange.

What the fuck are you talking about?

[Anonymous No.947274]

>Choosing similar roads in this gigantic, continuous experience we call life

Like wtf is this? I'm going to guess you're under 30. Don't play it off like you have a lifetime's worth of widsom. The whole of this sentence is superfluous. Write it in your voice, not in a way that you think a reader is used to reading.

[Anonymous No.947278]

>>947264
Never in my life have I used a knife to peel an orange. Is it that hard for you, really?

[Anonymous No.947285]

[Anonymous No.947298]

I'm really sorry you guys don't really like my writing. Everyone else that's read it has liked it though. I wrote something of an explanation for the orange story I thought you guys might enjoy. I've been told it's some of the best writing I've ever done:

This entry is not about eating an orange, or the events which brought me to eat an orange.
It's all about experiences, man. It's not about a fucking orange, or how I was lazy enough to not even go to sleep because that meant I would have had to go through the process of removing my boots. It was never about how hard my day was, or why I'm pissed off all the time. It isn't about cutting yourself with knives, or trying new fruit. It isn't about whose day is worse, or who has it rougher. It isn't about Bob Marley, or me wishing I had a girlfriend or something to have sex with.

It's about eating an orange. It's about me, Ostin, realizing.... that was one good orange, and I think I might have another one after posting this note.
It's about life, its about your life, its about my life, and its about what happens in our lives. Its about experience. It's about eating a piece of fruit that I just never happened to ever eat, for reasons I can not ever give someone with an ounce of legitimacy in my truths.

It's about eating an orange.

[Anonymous No.947303]

>>947298
hey man I feel you, for real, because I was eating an apple, just an apple, what I got for like a dime
and it was so fucking good, even though it was just an apple.

Totally made my day right there.

[Anonymous No.947306]

>>947298
Stop trying to sound so deep (it isn't working for you) and just write what you think or feel without all the fluff.

[Anonymous No.947317]

once i saw that you were using swear words conversationally as you write,
i moved on with my life.

i like writing that comes up smoothly, not violently.
to begin whatever it is that you are writing with "your (no punctuation) fucking delusional"
just doesn't invite.

i don't feel invited to the rest of your writing, it just seems like you writing for you

[Anonymous No.947316]

>It's all about experiences, man.

okay man

[Anonymous No.947312]

>>947298

Well...Ostin(?) you should probably learn the difference between "your" and "you're." It seems, however, that most of the people are concerned with form more than content. I personally thought the stories offered good insight but that they can be improved with a more comfortable writing style. If you're only 20-something years old, don't try to write like an adult.

[Anonymous No.947323]

Ostin here. I'm 19, but I'm also in the marine corps about to be deployed, so I have my fair share of experience and I've seen some shit that I would never want to relive. So fuck you if you don't like my writing. it's the fucking realist thing out there. I posted it on facebook and got better criticism than this.

[Anonymous No.947327]

>>947298
Were you drunk when you wrote this?

[Anonymous No.947328]

>>947323

Your friends and family will always say everything you write is good. Posting on /lit/ is the "realist" criticism you will get from the real world.

[Anonymous No.947332]

>>947323
>ask for advice and criticism
>get pissed off when it's offered

We're done here. Sage this jarhead

[Anonymous No.947335]

>>947323
I'm going to bite, and give you some more advice. YOU HAVE NOTHING TO PROVE. STOP TRYING SO HARD.

You write like you feel like have to. And when you get accurate criticism, you rage, because that's the way you feel you've been taught, and now the world is telling you otherwise.

Tough titty. Grow up, Marine.

[Anonymous No.947336]

>>947323
Why even post it for criticism, if you're* so sure it's already perfect?

*See? It's not that hard.

[Anonymous No.947339]

>>947323
>posts shitty writing and asks if it's good or not
>whines when /lit/ responds honestly

Your friends and family probably don't know shit about writing or literature and even if they do they'd be far too polite to tell you how much you suck.

[Anonymous No.947345]

>>947317
here again to remark on you here:>>947323

hearing who is behind this writing speak (by way of internet) doesn't surprise me
who are you writing for?
people who like what you write?
why not write something more universally readable

[codespace !ccqXAQxUxI No.947346]

This is terrible, and I hope you stop writing. You're not a writer, you're a fucking butcher.

Fuck.

[Anonymous No.947347]

>"im a good writer!"
>first word in first paragraph
>your
>myfacewhen

[Anonymous No.947353]

>>947345
I'm not OP, nor did I like his writing, but I must take issue with this. There's nothing wrong with writing what you know. In fact, it is essential.

>More writers fail because they try to write about things they don't know than for any other reason.
- William S. Burroughs

[Anonymous No.947359]

>>947353
>Write what you know.

This is bullshit advice.

[Anonymous No.947366]

>>947359
Elaborate.

[Anonymous No.947372]

>>947366
People are boring. You should write what others will find an interesting read and not "lol this is my experience on paper, read it!"

[Anonymous No.947375]

>>947353
sorry for not being clear, i meant the style of his writing not the subjects.
the tone and narration.

[Anonymous No.947397]

>>947372
I'm not advocating thinly-veiled nonfiction masquerading as fiction, but I think you're missing the point. You should at least have some experience or knowledge about something before you try to write about it, no matter what it is. You can't just wander in to what you think it'd be like, that usually leads to mistakes and cliches everywhere.

[Anonymous No.947409]

>>947397

>You should at least have some experience or knowledge about something before you try to write about it

Are you saying what I think you're saying?

[Anonymous No.947413]

>>947372

Not samefag, but I disagree. If you don't know what the fuck you're talking about, your audience will see through it.

[Anonymous No.947436]

>>947409
Yeah, Nabokov naturally knew a lot about being a foreigner in America and the environment of the American suburb and college community, because that was his life at the time he wrote Lolita.

You're just being difficult, but I'll try to clarify anyways. No, he wasn't a pedophile. But you can easily look in the news and see stories that describe incidences of kidnapping or child abuse. I said experience or knowledge, not that you have to do everything your characters do yourself.

[Anonymous No.947448]

>>947436

Are you still saying what I think you're saying?

[Anonymous No.947482]

>>947448
I haven't read Pynchon, so I can't say whether I think he's any good. Sorry.

[Anonymous No.947638]

i love leonard cohen.

[Anonymous No.947649]

>Your fucking delusional.

/thread

[Anonymous No.947672]

>>947448
I've got issues with Pynchon's prose, am I alone with this? It's just... hard to follow and weird syntactically.

[Anonymous No.947819]

>>947672

>Pynchon's face.