Share with us what you're currently writing, what you wanna

>>8671301
I've been reading a lot of prose lately. I should clarify: I've been reading a lot of good prose lately, at least what I consider to be good. Gaddis, Mutis, Faulkner (mostly A,A and his short stories), Terra Nostra, the first 100 pages of Underworld, Didion, Speedboat, Onetti, recently Henry Green (Christ, how I managed to avoid reading him for so long is painful to think of, he's so good), mostly modern stuff. I'm trying to figure out a way to write a sentence with movement, with momentum, where forward movement is created by the combination of words and action is achieved at the grammatical level. Too many novels and short stories waste time, space and words by describing what something is, what colour it is, what it looks like; but not enough writers communicate "how" something is, how it moves or changes colour in different lighting or how it is and isn't, and how that affects character.
Robbe-Grillet excelled at writing novels where he would avoid the characters altogether and then somehow still manage to communicate an effective drama; Perec and Butor as well, though emotion and intention are always the sentence's shadow.
Does anyone know, understand? Can anyone point out any more examples of good "prose poetry" they've come across?

>>8671437
Also, Americans: Elkin and McEllroy, athough there are others. Perhaps it started with Whitman, but these guys get at it pretty well though maybe their idiom, their "style" doesn't suit my taste: there's something in wanting to create a new version of an existing product, never mind originality which is a pitfall and disease. There's the cue: to become what already is but different: or, to take up God's mantle and charge, and become that secret energy hidden away behind and above clouds and beneath the waves, always aloof and unconcerned but ever vigilant.

I've had some creative block from fear of undertaking a big project at the moment as I've been trying to work on a novel so I'm trying to unblock it by working on a short story about a poacher in the style of Cynan Jones. It's coming along nicely. I recently found out that one of my stories from earlier this year is going to be in a print publication, which is reassuring as I'd had a bunch of rejections recently, I'd actually given up on waiting for a response from that particular publisher.
I'd rather not talk about the actual contents of the story because of that thing about telling people about it destroying the motivation to actually work on it.

I wanna right about a boy: a boy and only a boy. The boy goes around kissing other boys. Although, he may kiss and flap his tits; this boy ain't no gay boy. What a boy, old boy, young boy, my boy? Boy has no age because the boy the boy the redundancy. Ahoy! Oh, boy. "Freud said to the boy, 'suck my Jewish cock, said the boy,'" said the boy.

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>>8671301
I'm writing a paper about the evolution of Roman poetic conceptions of Egypt. It's pretty derivative and unsurprising.

>>8671511
>It's pretty derivative and unsurprising
In regards to what? Please, enlighten me on your background materials and sources to this field of study.

>>8671519
For some reason 4chan thinks my bibliography is spam so I'll post it reformatted in a few hours I have an appointment to keep.

What I mean by it being derivative is that there has already been a lot written about the influences of poetry in forming the concept of Egypt and none of my research seems to have opened any interesting revelations. I am a history and finance double major and unfortunately I don't have a working knowledge of latin yet.

>>8671301

I'm writing something for people who hate the bodies they were born in, and are viewed as repulsive and completely unlovable.

One of the protagonists, a nineteen-year-old tranny with a receeding hairline and strong beard genetics, falls in love with a thirty-year-old 5'6 bald man.

I'm afraid that I'm out of my depth here. I've never been in a relationship with someone I was physically unattracted/unattractive to. I just haven't dated anyone in the years since I became too unattractive to date.

What's it like? Does it even ever happen, or is there a barrier of self-loathing that makes both parties prefer loneliness? I feel it's more me being a NEET than me being ugly that's holding me back.

Sorry for the /r9k/ sounding post (I swear I never go there), but I think that I'm breaking new ground here.

>>8671559
Forza, thank you.

k this is some weird shit but I'll probably do it

I'm planning to hoax my college's poetry magazine by submitting some "13th century Persian translations" that are actually OC. I'm even writing a short fake biography on the fictional poet. I'm a Farsi speaker so I'm familiar with classical Persian poetry and its conventions. I'm inspired by Ossian and Sokal (lol) but this is mainly a means of covering for my crippling anxiety about sharing my terrible work/enables me to get away with writing ghazals and quatrains when it's the current year and no one takes form seriously unless it's supposedly old.

Advice?

>>8671301
>generally just raw ideas you've been sitting on
maybe a decent idea who knows:
>girl has depression, her father just thinks it's a phase. "get over it/feel better"-kind of father
>father, out of work, is descending into alcoholism and disillusionment with family
>daughter just thinks it's a phase (but still annoyed at him for thinking that /she/'s just "going through a phase"

>>8671573
Read Cervantes.

Twitter story, I want to experiment with how much I can put into a sentence and how much I can imply without being entirely vague.
So far its a feud between mad scientists and everything is dialogue but I think it's dumb.

>>8671301

Books:

Just finished: Book of Sanctimony, an edgelord tier semi-occult book

Want to write: Occult history of dragons, book on magical theory with examples

>>8671956
Look at @onlxn. He's probably the best twitter story-teller.

>>8671301
Essentially, two species on Earth, Sapiens and Novus. Novus are superior in intelligence, highly religious are attempting to reach a planet they believe is their Eden. In the process of doing so they abuse the Sapiens for labour resources leading to a revolutionary uprising. The story follows a factory worker, a Sapien his best friend a Novus, who inevitably betrays him and the Sapien's lover. More ideas to follow but that is the beginning.

>>8672027
>@onlxn
Thanks, I actually heard about him a long time ago but I forgot.
His style's a little much for me, I don't think I can do it and enjoy it, I'll have to think of something else.

I wrote a story but its not in english

>>8671301

>Last white man on Earth is sent to a mental institution for hate speech against Jews and women
>Head nurse is a Jewish woman
>Protag defies her institutionalized emasculation attempts by just bee-ing him self
>wacky hijinks ensue
>He befriends a mute qt Native American woman
>Eventually he sees past his racism and falls in love with her
>Protag is happy he finds true love, racism and sexism subside
>Becomes overly respectful towards women and other races.
>No more wacky hijinks
>Disgusted at the golem he has become, Native American woman mercy kills him
>Escapes the institution and lives happily ever after with her boyfriend.

The working title is "One Flew Over the Cuck"

>>8671301
its a pomo story of greg butterball, a nothing to do youth studying as a pre-greek major who finds himself having seizures and waking up at a military base camp for blacks. its a very smart outsider view on post colonialism

im very smart

Writing is something anyone can do. Few can do it well. Painting, writing music, dancing—most people can’t do these things. But almost everyone, at least in the developed world, can write. So people like me think some experience we’ve had is unique or worthy or other’s attention, and the only way we can bring it to them is by writing about it. And that’s why people like me undertake writing fiction and poetry. If we’re particularly lazy and/or a female teenager, we write poetry; if we’re a little more ambitious, we write short stories. Some of us try novels, but we soon realize we’re lousy at writing and storytelling, and that makes it hard to continue.

I've written about 70 pages of what I thought was a great idea, and I actually have a complete plot outline. But even if I complete it, it will be barely readable.

I set aside the whole day to write, and I've done nothing. Taken three naps, drank too much coffee, masturbated several times. This sucks. Should I go on, /lit/? Or should I just give the idea to someone more competent? Perhaps I'll find out it's a crummy idea too. Strangely, that would give me comfort.

>>8672728
>I set aside the whole day to write
This is not the best way to go about it to be honest. Go about your day doing other stuff and then dedicate small pockets of time to writing when you feel inspired, but at least write every day for an hour at minimum.

You've probably just burned yourself out for now.

I just started to come up with a plot outline for my first attempt at writing something outside of a school essay.

It's been pretty fun so far.

>>8672749
Maybe you're right. Thanks for the feedback. I was doing that in the mornings, actually, and with good results. One half hour of time, unless I was on a roll, then I'd go as long as I felt like it. The problem was I would then get to work too late, and my productivity is bad enough as it is.

I am also questioning my motives for writing. If I write something utterly worthless, but it's because creating it brings me joy or satisfaction, that's fine. But if my reasons are base--fame and fortune, and the ability this would give me to avoid any sort of struggle--then producing something worthless is just, well, worthless.

>>8672768
I like J.K Rowling's advice on this: "Write what you're passionate about."

Now I don't know if what you're writing is something you're passionate about, and even if it's not you could find ways to include things that makes you passionate about it. Writing that first novel is the biggest step. After that you can concern yourself with getting published and possibly gaining fame and fortune.

Think in single steps and not what might happen three steps ahead of the one you're currently making, is all. Good luck!

>>8672785
Thanks for the encouragement!

Probably would not be a book, but rather the script for a comic or a TV series. So far it's just some raw ideas I just got some weeks ago:

>Narrative biography, slice of life, absurd comedy
>The protagonist: a young guy who dropped out college to follow his dreams.
>At the beginning, he is just a NEET who lives with his childhood friend in his apartment.
>He is then force to find to get a job or some way to get money
>Through several in unadventures on his life, he may learn some life lessons, in the good way or bizzare way
>But he will always try to find his way to accomplish his dreams and life goal since "it's the only way he feels happy"

And that's all, so far I've written one chapter and iym thinking of writing more.

>>8672850
Sorry for typos, I'm on mobile right now.

Post protagonist names and rate.

>Riley Carpenter

>>8672077
Hehehe let me guess, in the end of the trilogy you reveal that all of this happens in the distant past.

>want to write in a genre that I don't read

Am I being stupid?

>>8672922
Doubt it, you think anybody that writes biographies has read anyone elses?

>>8672850
Don't bother.

>>8672927
Why?

>>8671503
Cormac, is that you?

>>8672866
4/10

Seymour Butts

It's a stupid short story I have outlined in my head and in notes about a sort of precursor to American special forces (right after ww1) that are sent by the FBI to help investigate some WEIRD OCCURENCES in a small town. I have started writing it at least four times and barely make it past the opening.

I don't know if i want to write it first person like Lovecraft or third like Corncob. I am leaning towards corncob because I want it to be rough like the characters.

>>8672935
Not that guy, but I agree with him.

Given how you summarized it, the idea has been done to death and what you want to do with it is not unique or interesting.

>>8672922
Definitely not. Maybe this is ego-padding bait, but that's a more exciting prospect to me than if someone were to say, rather redundantly, "I'm going to write a genre I've read a lot of!"

I'm working up a concept of a story about a geologist who travels to an uninhabited island somewhere in the pacific to study earthquakes in this area. The island is part of a group of islands that are all inhabited by native tribes. All other islands are inhabited, but not this one, because it's said to be haunted. Navigation equipment is said to go crazy around the island and when the geologists ship arrives they have problems locating the island. Once there he installs a device called 'the pendulum, which consists of a metal sphere wich is attached to a 'vertical string of 2 foot length, wich itself is attached to a 3-foot-bar consisting of wood, the latter being horizontal.' The formal twist is that the geologist is completley unable to articulate himself without sounding way too complicated and unworldly. He also studies the local wildlife and gives them completly unpractical names, for example he names a endemic falcon 'eater of birds'. When a whale- or catfish-like creature gets washed up on the beach infront of his hut he starts having more and more livley dreams about the origin of strange spherical rock formations on the island and why the earthquakes on the neigboring islands don't seem to impact this one. He starts to think that someone or something is trying to comunicate with him through his dreams and he starts to give incredible meaning to trivial observations during his days. He's going to get mad but I'm not sure how the ending will play out. The whole thing is more about capturing that feeling of isolation and seclusion and the way it changes your perception.

>>8671751
No, read Menard.

>>8671567
Try tumblr. They LOVE dumb shit.

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I'm still pushing my series.

I wrote an 11 volume science fantasy space opera epic for the teen\YA crowd. It has a love story, a revenge story, a redemption story, time travel, a competent magic system, mecha, catgirls, A.I.'s, robots, space pirates, an intergalactic war, hover craft racing, plenty of twists and an INSANE ENDING, oh yeah.. and jetpacks.

The series kicked off in May with volume one: Fusion Heart. Volume two: Flight of the Lazarus, just dropped in September. For the moment they're only in ebook form but Paperbacks should be coming soon. A new book will arrive EVERY THREE MONTHS through 2018. The first two books are available wherever ebooks are sold but it seems there's only reviews on Amazon and goodreads. I gave away FREE copies of the first TWO books to people on /b/ last week in hope I could get some reviews ion Amazon or goodreads in return. Some have delivered.
Shoot me an email at [email protected] with the words "give me free shit" and I'll do the same for you.

Pic related: a piece of fan art of a character from book 5 from a beta reader.

>>8674875
"Know your audience", this is the wrong place for your anime inspired SF thing. Have you tried pushing this on reddit or imgur? They'd probably respond more positively.

>>8672077
Sounds like YA

writing a kids show about a cow living on a farm

>>8671301
I'm writing some complex fantasy poetry, and am interesting in using the fantasy mindset to create new contexts and shape aesthetics without having to worry about realism. Here's the first poem I'm trying it with (so its rough)

The Dragon

The Tyrannosaur circles overhead, shining
like a star, no like the throne's jeweled eyes
Whirrring fast fast around around, centrifuge
Separating manna from nectar, Bosphorus
Cleaver, no like the lighthouse burning through
Forgetful fog, no like the glare of the sun drying
Water in the sand spilled by Saladin to mock
Crusaders, no like shine of a Seraph (surely
A dragon is a seraph blinding the world’s eye).
Whatever this dragon could be,
it burned like it was.
Then came the sounding.
Feel the shaking scream of that which glides
Down from heaven like the second coming.
Hear the heat twisting air in spirals, warping
Gusts to signify its coming. That howl of God.
How it breaks, breaks, breaks the

>>8671567

>asking 4chan for life experience
>asking 4chan for DATING experience

Holy shit you're dumb.

Just write whatever makes the reader feel good. Or bad, if you're going to pander to the depressed.

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>tfw can't write worth shit
>also can never stick to one idea and keep jumping from one thing to another

>>8675224
>also can never stick to one idea and keep jumping from one thing to another
You might have ADD or you just haven't found an idea that makes any and all ideas you've had and will have seem but dwarfed in comparison.

>>8675224
write about that then faggot

>>8673594
Sounds nice brah. Write it

One of my stories is about a directionless Iraq War veteran who returns home and enrolls in [midwestern state university] on the GI Bill. Trying out a narrative technique where the MC is never directly quoted in dialogue. His gf is never directly quoted either. Silence is a big theme I guess.

Another story that's just an idea is about 1800s colonial Singapore.

I want to write about horror bordering fairy tales set in our world. They're small scale nothing that largely affects our world but just shows that there is strange things going on. They're all their own self contained stories but there's a few ideas and characters that dip their fingers between them.

First idea is about someone venturing into a mirror world like those dreams you have where you KNOW where you are while you're dreaming but when you wake up you're aware of how distorted that idea of your setting was. This story mainly deals with grief, acceptance of it and temptation.

My next idea's central characters aren't humans but little goblin/fairy creatures. I'm hesitant about writing something like that but I think it has a few good ideas and has a central plot of perception of death, and nature.

I've just always liked fairy tales more geared towards a more mature audience.

>>8671301
I'm writing my first short story for a class in school. I could post it, are posts in Spanish allowed here/would any of you read it?

Not even a reader desu.

I do need some writing advice. How can I make a good hook for my novel at the beginning?

I was thinking of doing a short prologue involving some very action-y stuff and then cutting to the main story but that feels cliche.

>>8676937
be ''''meta''''

>>8676940

i don't want to meta meme

>>8672768
The Zombie Knight(web serial) author does 400 words a day. I think he's pretty smart. For me, I have no life so if I don't write all day and then watch anime I spend all day on 4chan, posting.
>>8674875
It gives me hope to see someone honestly trying to get their work seen, especially here where you're just asking for scorn. I'd try Royal Road Legends, maybe posting a few chapters and then linking to your story in the authors notes. Even I doing no promotion got 2,635 views posting only like eight times. It's definitely your audience too, top rated stories are fantasy/anime stuff.
>>8676937
I think with hooks you really need to understand the entire story to write a really good one. It should be your entire story represented in one paragraph. It helps if people can read that one paragraph and get the same effect and theme as your entire story.

I did a hook for my first erotica by starting at the ending. One character says something that implies something different is occurring than what the rest of the story shows is happening.
The guy takes in a injured orphan girl off the street and tries to hypnotize her into believing he's her long lost brother. He didn't actually intend to do anything with her sexually,
The hypnosis is implied to have failed so she thinks it's a trade off to live at his place that she has to do something sexual with him.

There's only hints of this in the story so it really isn't until the end that you see both of them are secretly taking advantage of the other.
I'd post it but it features an anime character.

I've got a general idea that I'm not ready to share yet. What I'm trying to figure out is how to begin. I wrote a few lines but I don't know where to go from there or if they even fit with my story. "Come now, Travelers, gather round me now and listen to a tale before you are asked to regale us with your own. Let the years fade your souls and forget the day's miles. Take comfort in my home as the hearth fires burn to embers and twilight fades to dusk as the sky becomes host to so many stars as I am host to you."

>>8677253
Keep writing, try to make a shitty story on purpose. That helped me, it was called 'Mediocre in Another World' and it got me writing better stuff. You can always edit it later, when you're not drunk off the writing high.
I personally try to get the copy looking 'right' the first time but then you have less fun writing. Just blow your story load out on the page and suffer over how much it sucks later.

Been editing this. I was going for a frank look at the lives of young adults in regional Australia but reading over it it's starting to feel like some mastubatory attempt to sound like Bukowski (havent read the cunt since I was like 17) combined with angsty oh so edgy bullshit.

Can someone just tell me if it's as fucking nauseating as I think it is?

http://pastebin.com/hK03jmMm

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Honest question: How are you guys so comfortable with sharing your work here, where anybody can just come along and plagiarize it?

>>8677591
Dude, none of us is going anywhere.

>>8677591

Don't you write to be read?

I am working on the outline and concept for a fantasy novel. It may turn into multiple books.

My challenge is that I have very high standards. I am always stopping to do research, but also find myself constantly screening my own thoughts and ideas, making sure I don't sound like I am trying too hard to be "literary" and proper. I sense that there's hidden gold in myself, somewhere, waiting to be harvested and brought out into the written form, that will create a great story that many would enjoy reading, and would be more successful than the typical fantasy novel (maybe not financially, but artistically, which is my priority) — but I'm struggling to find that unique personal identity still.

And my job is kind of killing me these days. I didn't do well at finding something that would give me the time and energy I need to keep working on this novel... but I'm still trying to, even if it means just getting ~4-5 hours of sleep a day.

>>8677591
Because our stuff is shit. But seriously, the real answer is honorcode. It's either that, or become a tripfag like me to assign identity to your works, even if it is just a pen name. We also like constructive criticism from people we don't have to care about in real life.

>>8677360
It's as nauseating as you think it is. I don't get where you were going at all, feels like fluff and a bunch of dumb jargon that makes the piece worse. If you were publishing a pseudo-diary for the net it could pass for that. No emotional impact to me. What and why are you going for that frank look? What interests you about it? Don't just set the stage and go off stream of consciousness and expect anyone to tell you it's not shit. Reading it I thought it might as well be a diary.
Also I don't know why you chose to use "-" instead of quotations that just looks dumb to me. The 'yes,yes' lines and just anything about the phone felt it could have just been cut. If you're going for localspeak, you have to keep it consistent as well.

>>8677792
That's a good, positive mentality to have anon. Even if your work takes time and research. Also good luck finding a job that will let you sleep more because 4-5 hours is going to put you in an early grave.

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I do a webcomic that I've talked about in /lit/ in the recent past. The premise revolves around the Trueborn humans having enslaved the anthromorph animal people and having them free themselves after hundreds of years of bloody revolution. This ended a decade or so ago,so you have a bunch of ex-soldiers from both sides attempting to be politically correct but harboring ancient grudges.

A new character I introduced recently was the gadgeteer to the Anthro underground who shows up in the storyline with a farming tool with gun turrets. In the strip I am working on now,she very shockingly reveals that she has no problem with the invasion killing off the locals. She is a counterpoint to the "racist" human priest who considers anthros as inferior out of habit and conditioning. Its created an interesting dynamic I will enjoy exploring.

>>8677968
Please read some books on how to draw comics. Your images are an ugly, unfocused clusterfuck.

>>8677984
I was going to say it too, but I figured he knows already.
>>8677968
I suggest you think about cutting down on the dialogue and reading Bones for a better understanding of how to pace things. I've read comics with dense text before but they always limit it to a few scenes. There's that infamous image of Medaka Box where a yandere confesses and it's two pages almost entirely of text and is supposed to hurt the eyes on purpose.

>>8677984
Actually I kinda like them. Not an art-style you see often. GTFO

>>8677968
Keep doing what you're doing bro. I'm not a fan of furry, but your art is good. Though I'm not following, one thing. Why would it be shocking that she has no problem with her Anthro people having killed the local human inhabitants before? Also, link to your twitter?

>>8678010
>Not an art-style you see often.
That's because most art that you see is done by artists who have learned to draw. They're just messy, sketchy images done with a ball-point pen.
I'm not trying to be unpleasant to him, he would benefit a huge amount by reading Scott McCloud's book on doing comics and maybe some How To Draw Comics The Marvel Way sort of thing to get some idea of how to frame images and use perspective. He doesn't have to draw like they do, he can adapt his style to be less scribbly eye-rape.

>>8678030
AH my mistake then. I apologize. Carry on.

Any German-speaking /lit/izens here to read my creative writing project?

http://pastebin.com/VYLFJ4QT

>>8678033
Seriously. The harvester thing looks cool and is nicely drawn but you have to concentrate to tell what's part of it and what's the background. Same with the first panel, there are so many shapes and lines you can't really tell what's going on. The leap from the second panel to the third is abrupt and would make more sense as a new page or chapter instead of just suddenly being an entirely different scene.

Here's the beginning to a story I've been writing.

Any Critique would be appreciated.

http://pastebin.com/7deqVxiS

I'm about to start my first piece that isn't fantasy. It's a Nightcrawler-esque film about a teenager who covertly records his friends and the bad parts of their lives that they go through. He's not a sociopath per se but he has a very sensitive and skewed empathy; he sees his friends anguish or happiness, or, whatever, and thinks that the're so great and deserve to be seen on film. So he directs a movie where they're the unknowing actors, and eventually his masterpiece reaches real cinema. It'll explore the repercussions of his actions and whatnot in deep depth.

>>8678418
Anon here. Woops. Story, not film.

>>8678039
Alex Kaschte tire

Really it’s so loaded with pretense that it’s a bit hard to read.
And it lacks, I think, something to get us interested in the story. Apparently the woman is supposed to be the main character, but we don’t get to see much of her actually in the first two paragraphs: It’s more about a guy she hates. (I think, At least as a reader you really don’t like him!)
So at the point where she thinks "Ich will ein Zuhause", we haven’t yet gotten to know her and hence don’t care so much about what might become of this story.

>>8678515
>Alex Kaschte tier
Ouch that really fucking hurt, the pretense was basically a injoke, I'm not that much of a faggot haha.

>>8671596
I read 2 stories like that. in 1 the girl becomes a zombie and gets her shit together and in another she goes on a trip with people from her mental hospital, reconnects with her Mexican roots and is meh about her dad.

>>8678010
>Actually I kinda like them. Not an art-style you see often. GTFO
this sort of self-excuse is incredibly detrimental to your work please dont do it if you take your "art" seriously

>>8677360
It's bad. Rambling sentences are just confusing, it doesn't make it seem more "real"

Can I get some feedback on this? Looking for ways to make this piece stronger, with more impact maybe.

Pieces of yourself are left on your journey.
Your ghost can linger when your body moves forward.
It's entertained by memories and whispers and echoes.
Granting dreams to some and nightmares to others.
I've tried to drag mine along.
Grasping at air in futile attempts.
I continue forward, wandering further away.
And when my ghost catches up to me again,
I'll give it my attention.

I'll be sure to spend our time alone.
It will admonish my failures
and regale in my success.
I'll keep it's interests with
my own frightening tales.
We'll share our stories and
Converge in the dark.

>>8678571
Yeah when thinking of it I noticed it alluded to The Depressed Person a little too much

>>8677879

>What and why are you going for that frank look?

Most of what I write is about North-East Australia. It gets a bad wrap here and so many people living here are obsessed with "culture" and how there's none of it. I think in regional Australia there is plenty of culture it's just not the kind about museums and graffiti walls and quaint shit all over the place.

You said don't just set the stage and leave it there but desu that's what I'm trying to do, I'm trying to present the area as is, with as little interference from me as possible. Where I'm at now is figuring out how to do that.

Thanks for reading it through mate I'll screenshot your post to remind me.

>>8671301
A short story about memories, rape and suicide
Sounds edgy, and it kind of is, but not so much, my fourth time trying to get it right

>>8678796
I'd stop to think about your audience. Try to dumb it down a bit, I'm from mid-america and that kind of writing just makes my head spin. If you're writing for aussies then it's out of my depth.
>>8678674
I'll give my impression. You might as drop 'yourself, your' for me since you use "I, my" for the rest of the piece. Rereading it like that I thought it was more personal. All the poem's I read try to shy away from reference so you concentrate on the words you want rather than identifiers, that's more of a prose thing. I think it's fine for the first line though, for context sake.

I think you can drop 'memories' in line 3, it doesn't add anything that 'whispers, echoes' doesn't and messes with your evocative tone. "I've..along" doesn't feel like it matches with the tone you're going for there. If you want to bring up despair or troubles, I'm sure you can do it in a more interesting way. Think evocative tone, maybe something about ground. You're using informing there and that's not consistent with the rest of the piece. Don't use the 'I've' this time.

If you want a more prosesy type then you would have to rework the rest of it, right now the top is heavy and the bottom much lighter which I think is a strength of the piece you should preserve.

We sat on the cold sand of the beach, our heads looking above us at the starlit sky. I turned to my right and whispered in her ear. It doesn’t matter what I whispered, I don’t remember what it was, but whatever I said made her giggle and give my shoulder a push. The abrasive smell of salt spread throughout the air around us. I got up on my feet and shook the sand off of my back and onto Vanessa before pointing at her and the horizon in front of me. Then I took off running. I looked back and saw her lying on her side, waving at me with those tiny cream hands of hers. I looked down at the footprints that trailed behind me and I felt like I was leaving my mark on the planet. In thousands of years, anthropologists would look at my footprints to discover some trait about their ancestors that we think arbitrary. Then the water rolled onto the shore and washed everything away. There I stood, transient once again. Maybe when I die, I thought, my body will be fossilized; that’s the best anybody can hope for, really. I realized that I’d run so far from Vanessa that her body was just another grain of sand in the distance. I got down on my back and stared at the ocean. It must be wonderful to be a fish: everyone cares about them—except, I suppose, other, bigger fish. I decided that I would lie there and wait for Vanessa, and when she got to me I would tell her about how I’d decided to become a fish and how I loved her and how I wanted her to join me. I knew what she would say. I knew that she would swing the strands of wheat atop her head across her face and purse her lips and, in the way she always talked, ambiguous between asking or telling, say, “But I’m already a fish.” My thoughts began to dwell on her lips. I wanted once again to press them against mine. My chest began to burn the way it always did when I thought about kissing Vanessa, and I decided I wanted to see her at once: to proclaim my love for her and kiss her the way she would never let me: with full control. With every step I took I thought about her. Her bright blue eyes that could drown you if you looked at them for too long. Her small rounded nose that looked as though it had been perfectly stitched into the middle of her face. Her large breasts that strained against the swimsuit top that she was wearing, and her generous thighs that slid a bit against each other like satin sheets on a late night. Vanessa would tell a joke and then laugh softly; her voice cracked with every word she spoke as if she were in constant apology. My face could feel the buzzing hum of her allure with every inch I gained closer to her, and soon enough Vanessa was back in sight. She was lying at the edge of the sand, half in the water. Of course, I thought, she was practicing for our future as fish. Then I was just feet away.
Vanessa was lying at the edge of the sand, her head and arms in the water, her swimsuit bottom pulled around her ankles, and her body still.

I've been stuck in an editor-mode for way too long for my writer friends and I haven't been able to put anything meaningful in ages. Last thing I wrote was a page long ramble of a shitty horror/unease idea that was in my head for a while.
What are your tips for getting into the mood to write? I've got the ideas, I just can't seem to get out of the broad strokes and focus on the important nitty gritty.

>>8679138
Journaling if you don't do it already is always a good idea. Changing POV with journaling helped me as well, I have two going at once one written in a journal and one computer. Otherwise, I've found writing a purposely bad story or trying to make what you did that day into a story helps. Prompts can help, but if it doesn't get you writing then you're fucked.
What got me finally writing my journal was I set aside a certain place and said to myself that I had to fill up one page everyday at the place where the journal was. I left it open as well.
>>8679082
YA/10 impossible to critique for me. I'd blame you for using semicolons and the shitloads of commas but I'm not sure if that really makes it better because you're consistent with it. It doesn't seem like you're aiming for YA audience anyways so I wonder who exactly you're going for here, trying to evoke youthful memories in older readers is my guess. Maybe 'nose...stitched' in the lower half can be changed to match the whole nature theme that's going on there for consistency, that annoyed me a little.

Wrote this in class today first draft sort of thing, not sure where it's going or what it's about but whatev:

But most of all, he worried love had eluded him. The feeling he had flirted with in his youth now mocked him behind every corner. He was still a young man, and so he feared loneliness with the anxiety that only youth could muster. At night, on those terrible evenings when he found himself in bed with only his thoughts, they drifted about aimlessly before always settling back on this dread. More often than not, he would live in the fantasy of the times he had almost given into love, those times he had almost caught her. Yet with every passing night, the faces became less and less real to him, like the fading photographs in old, dusty yearbooks they had become.

Life had not been unfair to George Sharpe. He relished in its frivolities, and however much he feared being alone, he had never once feared for being destitute. He lived his life with a lavish nihilism, never betraying to company his heavy heart. Perhaps this was his greatest fear: that anyone could stumble upon his inner turmoil as if one night, a guest will find it at the bottom of an empty bottle of wine. For all of the gifts Sharpe had been born with, none, in his heart, could make up for his shortcomings. For this reason alone, he had thought it upon himself to make enemies with God, the one he cursed for the sin of giving him life. In Sharpe’s mind, God had mocked him from birth, by giving him a charmed life paired ostensibly with a general malaise he could never escape. Still, the idea of atheism held no interest to the man, for the simple dismissal of his foe held no barb. It was no victory to Sharpe; if anything, it was to make a concession, to admit that man could never triumph over God, so one might as well ignore him.

No, he desired something more, something he could not possibly describe to you. If he was being honest, he could not describe it to his own self, but it was there, a force somewhere in his gut that convinced him it had a plan. Perhaps, Sharpe often thought, this was his god, this overwhelming force that guided him. But it forwent worship, and so he found himself in a different type of temple. He was no fool though. Sharpe did not really worship at the altar of his own gut-feeling, he simply found it more benevolent. No god is worth worshiping, he thought to himself , sitting in his pew, least of all not mine. His eyes fixed themselves on the central piece in front of him, past the frail, robed elderly man speaking to the silent figure of anguish. The wooden man nailed to a wooden post, who was to have forgiven our sins. Yet, who forgives the sins of the Father?

>>8671301
I've got a story, a scifi that goes something like this:

>alien ship lands on earth
>kills guy, woman, kidnaps child
>FOR SCIENCE!!!
>sold to researcher
>tortured
>cybernetic mods
>researcher killed or holding out payments
>bitch escapes
>joins mercenaries 'cause unorganized intergalactic government
>does some shit
>does more shit
>eventually goes up chain of command as people die
>captain of ship
>find ship that kidnapped her
>xenomorph-esque infestation
>dead
>end story

I dunno, prolly been reading too much scifi and fantasy

>>8679175
My big problem with prompts is that I'm usually the one coming up with them for my group, so I'm terribly ineffective at writing them now.
I feel like I don't do enough interesting things in a day to warrant a day-to-day journal.

Do you have a bad story example? I could use a giggle.

>>8679265
>something he could not possibly describe to you
Felt like the whole thing to me. It's readable. I'll give you that. I imagined he was one of those superfluous men from russian lit, thats probably where you got it from.
>>8679300
>prolly been reading too much sci-fi and fantasy
Genre fiction isn't the problem, it's a symptom of the problem. That said it's fine at long as you do decent work, whatever it is, and I can't even see the joy in your summary there. Usually when I come up with a story its 'I want this this and this, and then this happens and it's awesome because this'. Maybe you need to explain why you like it in the first place.
Also, as a favorite of mad scientist characters I think no one should ever do anything 'For science'. The scientist is doing it because he's mad, not because the science. Of course that's the reason for the meme so just remember that.
>>8679314
I kind of wanted to share the pastebin to that erotica I wrote but then I realized I'm actually proud of it. Then I remembered my first story where a guy has a cringe inducing conversation with his sister who he idolizes as she sacrifices him to god. He was still into her. I rewrote that one, too painful.

But I saved this one, beware even I don't want to read it:

Villain? Villains! Villains?! I Wanna Be A Final Boss
http://pastebin.com/hn54Lhrd

As for interesting things for a journal, 'interest' is just psychologically what you believe is helpful for what you are doing. Your feelings are very important to explore if you want to be a writer, and journals help with that a lot. It helped me discover lots of things about myself I didn't even know, just by jotting down what my thoughts were and considering them. Even the most boring person still has dramatic thoughts within their heart if you look hard enough. They have desires, boredoms, unfilled dreams. it's just a matter of stating in out for yourself to see.

>>8679394
>I can't even see the joy in your summary there
Yeah, I'm having a major confidence problem, probably because I never wrote before recently. I really just wanted to make a scifi universe. The character is supposed to search for a way back to Earth, but never finds it. Its supposed to be a short story within my universe. I'm trying to build it in a way that's not human-centric. Though I've become really attached to a race of bird people I made

>>8679432
I have a few universes like that. Just remember for fantasy/scifi you need to focus on a character, their perspective, their feelings and not the world. Let the world building be off page and the only reason you bring it up is because it affects the character's feelings and thinking. Otherwise I can't give a fuck which birdman is shitting on whichever birdman, unless shitting birdman is doing it to show that he is superior because he was bullied as kid by raptormen and wants to show the birdman under him that he's a real birdman.

>>8679394
I'm kinda a pleb, but I've never read the Russians. Are you saying it's a lot of words saying a whole lot of nothing?

>>8679394
>The scientist is doing it because he's mad, not because the science.
Most mad scientists are just disgruntled, eccentric engineers.

And regarding your bit on journals, I just read Fun Home for one of my classes, and it has a lot of cool journal reflection in it from Bechdel's childhood. Like, she realizes that at some point she started lying and omitting details from them so that they're essentially useless in recapping her life, but they still say a lot about her mental state at the time.

>>8679446
xD Yeah, was thinkin that too. The whole goal is to build it through characters

>>8679452
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Superfluous_man
It's just been done before. If you were writing one of these, you did a good job. If not, you did it anyways.
>>8679453
>mad science
I disagree. Mad scientists to me are primarily insane, they just function well enough to pursue some ambition. Like a function alcoholic.
>journals
that's cool, I'll check that out.
>>8679465
good. Try writing a really short story in that universe, that helped me. If you can't do something in between 500-1500 words with your character then I don't think you can do anything.
My first one was a guy who went to dig up some stuff and got attacked by monsters. Just a few details here and there can really give the reader a sense of how 'big' the world really is, like tools left in ruins or lava pools just laying about.

>>8679483
>If you were writing one of these, you did a good job. If not, you did it anyways.
lol I guess I did, thanks for the crit and the lesson in /lit/ bro, you're the real mvp of these threads

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>>8679483
Don't worry about it, it was just a bad joke.

>>8679483
mfw its already like double that length. I'll give it a try though, thanks for the help

>>8679502
thanks for that pic
>>8679506
It's okay to imply. Just whatever you think the reader absolutely needs to know, the immediate area, the immediate feelings. To the character, the 'world' is usually very small with hints of something bigger.
I suggest reading 'The Zombie Knight'(web serial) to get an idea of how ridiculous you can get with worldbuild and still not fuck the characters.

I'm stuck between going a "prophecy" route for the Main Character's motivation/existence or do it via happenstance where the MC is "at the wrong place, at the wrong time" and gets involved in something that leads to a bigger event.

What do you guys think?

>>8679532
depends on the story, both suck in different ways for different reasons but for your own sake just go ahead writing the story and decide that shit later, you'll save yourself some trouble.

>>8679532
Would appreciate some context, but I've always been a better fan of prophecy than happenstance
>>8679525
That's very long, I see what you're saying now. Thanks again for the advice, have a good night

>>8679540
>>8679547
Thank you for you input.

What's the one genre you want to write in, but you just can't figure out?

For me, it's definitely horror. I just can't get the pacing right and I don't want it to just be super derivative slasher schlock that we've all seen a hundred times before.

>>8679574
>What's the one genre you want to write in, but you just can't figure out?
Fantasy. I love it with all of my heart, but I just can't think of anything remotely original or unique that would make the story stand out from all the hundreds of thousands of other Fantasy books out there.

>>8679592
I think Fantasy is one of the more forgiving genres. Like, you can hit most of the tropes, but if you subvert a few and have good characters/interactions, most people won't care.
I haven't read much recently, admittedly.

>>8679574
Anything that's not creative literature, essays, papers, etc

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I had something to do, wanting to grab her and move these things all over the place. I still felt finite when I pressed her breast. I had my hand under her shirt not really thinking of how or when these things would end up like anything other than what they are now, except, there were times when those things did pop into my head, but after wanting to say something about them, to forget or get the answer to a still unknown question about, I don't know, probably something like love or happiness or fear or someshit. Seriously though, watching it, you can see the chords unwind in her spine as I lie about unspecific things, throwing more into her I tell her to stop doing what she's doing, stop crying fucking hell dude. Irritated by the pleasure you get from the matter, you ask another question, to see if you do find enjoyment in this like I think you do. Yes is what is said but it's still with salty wet voices. Shivering and yawning I am good now and I feel your body with something like luck in my throat, making comfort or what I think is comfort, I can't really tell from your reaction. I did touch you, but when you pushed away it wasn't skin, just the warm cotton .

>>8679772
High art. I will never top this, brb going on spirit journey to discover true calling or someshit.

>>8679811
i know it's shit. critique me though my man

>>8679842
third sentence is too long, you're not helping the meaning by making it long. Remove 'or someshit', adds nothing to that sentence, you made the point already and the or..or..or is already overstated intentionally. That's why people do that.
Break up the next sentence for the same reason as the third. 'stop crying fucking hell' should be it's own sentence at least. 'Shivering...throat' is nice but you gotta cut that comma after. 'Making...reaction' with a comma is fine though. I'd remove 'I..but' for the next sentence and just do When you.
These things make it a lot easier to read.

I'm assuming you're thinking this is an anxious scene so you want the reader to process more information but in that case you have to provide shorter sentences and build tension through the prose.
Read that last sentence again. Did you understand the meaning? Why is that okay, and your meaning is not? It's one thought you can follow but it's still tiring to read.

The reader wants short sentences. Build tension. This is anxious prose. Words need breath. Need to breath. Let the eye focus on them. Takes in less information.

Here's a poem /lit/:

An honest man sits
Alone beneath a tree,
And the whole world dares to listen.
A man whose words
Are bittersweet,
But the world does not dismiss him.
In fact, he feels,
With every sin
The world begins to miss him.

An honest man, here, once sat,
And told the world so much.
When on this tree he hung his hat,
The grass forgot his touch.

>>8679883
alright cool man, thanks. I really want to emphasize the warmth and contact at the end

Hey /lit/ rate my poem

My world is darkness
I enter the void
Kill
All is death
Die
We all die
<(-_\\\)>

>>8679891
I honestly liked this desu

Short story about a woman in a rural, small town in Central PA who hates the male-dominated culture and eventually kills a wifebeater. Then she herself is killed, because, let's face it, she's kind of a psycho b----. But I can't decide if there should be another character, "the Man", who is a physical manifestation of the unseen forces repressing women in the town (a character somewhat inspired by the Judge, in Blood Meridian).

The beginning to what ive been writing. Critique it? Is it any good? Why or why not?

(1/2)

On a typical Sunday morning, there’s people all hustling and bustling down the road, smacking their lips at one another to get their point across. I would get up and shut my window because I hate to listen to the sounds of the busy-bodies. Of course, I have to watch them, though. I get a certain joy in watching people hurry. Especially when I’m in no particular rush myself. I always flip my chair around and sit there looking through my window with a cup of coffee in my hand. That really gives me a kick. I like to pretend that I’m Meursault from that Stranger book my English teacher made me read in high school. I always hated when they made us read. Nothing was ever very good. Stranger wasn’t any different.
I just like to think about Meursault sitting in front of his window and watching everyone for a few days. Nothing else from that book made much sense. I never got why he didn’t just lie. Books never make sense to me. Authors always try too hard to be pretentious and make a point. My English teacher was always saying how books capture ‘the essence of the human condition.’ I made sure she knew I thought that that was a pile of you-know-what. Life doesn’t always have a point to it. Sometimes things just happen. Anyway, I sip my coffee and watch the people below and laugh every time somebody slips or drops their newspaper in a puddle. People are always doing that—dropping their things in puddles, I mean. You can’t blame them, though. Puddles are everywhere in Seattle so you’re bound to drop something in them every now and again. It’s tradition. A lot of times there’s the same people walking around every Sunday. I don’t live on a busy street or anything, just a residential road.
The day in question wasn’t a typical Sunday morning. I don’t mean that there weren’t busy-bodies hustling and bustling down the road as usual. There wasn’t some great calm that morning, and if there were I sure as hell wouldn’t have taken it as some sort of sign. People are always looking too deep into things. Not everything is a symbol: sometimes the rain is just rain. When I woke up I felt rather strange. Like I didn’t want to get up. I don’t mean I was just tired and didn’t want to start the day. I usually get a kick out of getting up and stretching out all big and wide and yawning like they do in the movies. I felt more like if I got up, then I would be sick.

>>8680169

(2/2)

There was this feeling, all heavy and dark in my chest that I couldn’t shake. My head felt fuzzy and things didn’t quite look the same—like everything had been moved one inch to the left or something. I thought if I took a quick nap then when I woke up I’d feel all straightened out, but twenty minutes later when I woke up again I felt just as off. I couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed, though, so I just laid there for a long while. Eventually it wasn’t even morning anymore. I hate that. Realizing that morning’s gone and that the day’s begun. I didn’t really think anything of it being afternoon that day, though. I just laid there and thought about making the heavy feeling in my chest go away. It was like somebody’d come into my room while I was sleeping and stuffed me all with feathers. Like a pillow waiting to be fluffed. What really got me was the fact that my window was still open since I didn’t get up to shut it in the morning. I can’t stand the obnoxious noise the busy-bodies make.
The breeze started to get in the room and under my blanket. That’s one thing about Seattle I could never stand. From the inside the rain looks all cozy and makes you want to walk around in it, but the second you walk outside you feel real lousy and the only thing you want to do is go back inside. Weather’s always like that, though. Take watching the stars. You find yourself a real nice looking girl and all, and take her out to a quiet spot somewhere. All the movies say how it’s supposed to be calming and romantic, but once you’re laying out on the ground it’s really quite boring. Sure you might have a little bit of talk about how beautiful the stars are, or you might give her a kiss and a feel or something. That only lasts so long, though, and you end up bored out of your mind and wanting to just be at home. All the things that are supposed to be comfy and profound and all are always very boring when you actually do them. Nobody wants to say anything about it though because they don’t want to be a downer or anything.
But the breeze was getting me all cold and such, and it really started to bother me. Then there was a knock at the door.

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>>8680169

Image (1/2)

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>>8680174

Image (2/2)

I was writing this novel before this month, but honestly at this point I have grown entirely unsure of it.
>guy who is a glassblower witnesses daughter of the nobility murder a drug dealer
>she murdered him by turning his head inside out
>forced to be in her service
>she changes his appearance and in order to help her forces a metaphysical parasite onto him
>these metaphysical parasites essentially amount to an original sin, as they are the cause of human failings
>one does not commit sin on their own, but is caused to by these
>those who exert control over parasites, bargain with them are given privy to the Range, which extends in levels of abstraction down from reality
>humans exist on the top layer, but physically interact with those below
>the parasites exist somewhere near the core
>parasites can draw a human closer to the core
>the center is the Lost Choir, which may or may not be one of an original set of human tribes that gave birth humanity's negative side in some unknown event since fallen into obscurity
>on the inter seeding layer numerous beings exist, these being mostly human bodies having been taken and altered by the parasites
>the parasites exemplify numerous emotions, greed, hunger, pride, hatred, melancholy, etc.
>the bodies taken over are warped in a body horror way
>for instance a beast of coreel, named for the High House Coreel (an organization of humans who interact with the parasites), is a parasite given form from rage. It is two fleshy sacks containing the adrenal glands. It will attach to a man and pump them full of adrenaline to throw them into physically stronger rage
>these beasts range in intelligence and complexity, those close to humans being rare and dangerous
>The Waxen Visitor is a famous one to the city, whose head opens at the top to appear similar to the maw of a lampre. His mouth, nose, and ears do not lead anywhere, and he hides the numerous folds of disgusting flesh beneath baggy clothing. He is only famous due to numerous murders he perpetrated
>the story itself follows the main character as he helps the girl protect the city in place of her father who has since grown apathetic due to his own parasite gaining more control than it should, and her brother who seeks only his ambitions
>basically an afraid and desperate girl attempting to be strong and the main character who is naive of the occult world, but is forced to live up to it
>the killing of the drug dealer is a symptom of international influence of the city as it essentially places a weight on the range, and has a deep well to the core
>this causes the city to be a center of debauchery and sin
>also a height of power for those who bargain with the parasites
>the conflict that is covered through most of the book consists of spies and agents for the neighboring nation of Capre attempting to gain a foothold, the serial killed the Waxen Visitor, and the girl's arranged marriage to her distant cousin from the neighboring country

>Naive newcomer arrives in rural city to sign up to be an adventurer
>Forms a group with other newcomers
>FOR The greater Good!!!
>Thinking they are all going to do various cool quest and do amazing things like those bards songs
>Instead they do all the tedious and demeaning work
>They barely get paid for their quest and or fetch quest
>The unofficial leader of the group is tired of this bullshit quest
>he wants to go creature hunting because he overheard a new quest that pays more
>Manages to convince everyone but the naive newcomer >naive newcomer forced to go along with it because outvoted
>They go to the generic sounding forest without telling anyone
>eventually they meet a group of evil vile creatures and fight them off
>One dead and another seriously wounded
>another decided to sacrifice himself to save the others
>Doesn't even last a minute
>Naive newcomer just praying for the gods at this point
>Cliffhanger

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>>8671503
saved

>>8680169
>>8680174

Critique?

>>8681579
I'm not going to say much but cut the Stranger reference and work on writing a character that's less self-absorbed and juvenile. Stylistically it's fine for what it tries to be but the whole thing has an awful feeling of high school writing class about it. The character just isn't interesting enough and kind of overdone if you ask me.

Just an idea floating around my mind:
A young german finishes his medicine degree and moves to Bologna to kill himself. He wanted to commit suicide since he was in puberty, but alsways hesitated and when he started his study he got stuck because he doesn't want to kill himself at home because he doesn't want his family to feel responsible for it although they are. So he wrecks his phone and leaves without saying anything. In Bologna he rents himself an appartment in the old town and tries to commit suicide but fails. Frustrated he goes to a bar where he meets a girl whom he likes but who soon turns out to be his cousin he never knew existed. They have a few dates but never get physical, yet soon he gets frustrated and they start arguing. Full of anger he leaves Bologna and goes to a new city, where he rents an appartement, makes himself a hot bath and cuts his wrists.

Thoughts?

>>8679265

Too much formula and too much stuff I've seen in just about every crit thread. It's like if you open any page to any Stephen King book you'll exactly what to expect.

I've read you a thousand times. Read some more.

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Hey /lit/. Instead of advice or input, I'd like your honest opinion. So the setting of my idea is Fantasy, most likely with themes from the Western Medieval times, Warring States, and some Norse-Viking all jumbled together appropriately.

Problem is, I'm stuck between two ways to handle both the main character and the story itself. Either I go the Narnia/Portal to another world route where the Main character is from our world and finds himself in said fantasy world. Before he knows it, he's strung along in some quest to become "The Chosen One". A story mostly focused on the MC accepting his role in this world and becoming said hero that he's destined to be with side stories involving his companions and finding the other people who, unbeknownst to the MC, came to the Fantasy world as well. Similar to an origin story of a cape hero, but set in Fantasy. The world around him is grim, but his actions can make it better.

Or I go with the idea that the Main character is a nobody of an oppressed race in a Noble Dark world. In the midst of his shitty life he finds himself - by chance, luck, and a dash of misfortune - tied up with an individual who's part of an Order tasked with hunting down otherworldly creatures in the depths below the surface of the world. Suddenly the chance to become someone appears before the MC and he's not about to miss out on it. Compared to the previous idea, this one is more dark, gritty, and quite a lot less heroic.

My question to you is, which of these two still shallow Plots/Main Characters do you think has the most potential to become something interesting?

>>8671301
Well, I've got a couple of ideas in store.

I'm currently working on...
>An American prisoner, whom has been found guilty of raping a child; shares his story of a slippery slope of depravity. From childhood to adult hood, how lust seduced him and became a focus point of his life.

>>8682496
Doesn't matter, details make the character interesting not the plot.
Thunderbolt Fantasy did this really well. You basically get introduced to the MC type by a third party, and there's a few scenes and everyone thinks he's shit. Then he just pulls out a bunch of ridiculous swords and slays a demon god like nothing at the end of the first season and the only reason why it works is because the MC never really said shit about what he could do.
The way the reveal is played, it's much more interesting than just telling the viewer 'yeah this guy is actually OP as shit and could kill everyone ever'.

Same type of reveal was done with a shifty mastermind type, who was actually also a master swordsman and the villain he fights gets so mad he ends up killing himself because he doesn't like the fact that the guy was actually better than him at swords despite also being the sneaky fuck type.

Trying to write some fantasy shit in my non english language. Have about 50k words. MC is a loser dragonman with memory problems, hate himself but also a glory seeker and power hungry fucktard that try to so good shit like a hero for the fame and shit.
He don't remember part of his past because of plot reasons. Heroine is a cute elf that he saved in the past while she was a child and kinda influenced her bit too much. She thinks he's the real shit even if he's really a loser. Romance between those two fucktards and their problems while fighting shit. MC supposed to git gud. Also there are bunch of other insane fucktards with too much power that have connection to MC.
Am i original? because oh god abridging it make it sounds shit

>>8682626
You'll be right at home on royalroadlegends. Go post it there, people will love it.
>am i original?
No plot is original, the way you write the story and convey emotions over the course of the story will determine if you're original or not. Plot doesn't mean much if you don't develop the characters.

I walk alone with my crusty dick in my hand
I pass strangers as I fap throughout the land.

anon.

>>8682571

You want to write a book, but you can't even use "whom" correctly. Put down the irony, anon. It's ruining your life and you don't even know it.

The sky is pink and blue, ribboned with stars
Yet to emerge. A tiny plane is lost
Beneath the sun, enveloped in its gaze.
With secret lettering, it spells in white
The lost message. Symbols manifested
Like sacred dreams, or heaven’s holy hush.
Hallucinations of the clouds whisper
Above this trail of smoke we cannot read.
A casual flock of seagulls sink downward
Beyond the blackened waves of the still sea,
As apparitional as God’s shadow.
From dawn to dawn, the world reveals itself
To praying hands, and voices of worship,
Acts of devotion towards this paradise.

Here's a poem I wrote a while ago

It's called Nature Calls:

Nights whimpered in silent fear of what might become of them.
War slithered in, with sinister intent, speaking in eager whispers
In the ears of looming shadows that wept dry tears for sunlight.

Murmurs of discontent sprinted throughout: your home; your clique; your self.
Inching further for anger, blindness swept beneath your skull and latched into you;
Your sins are not your own.
Luring you further with malicious speak shrouded by a veiled innocence:
Hysteria lit the path with shadowed light from an envious lantern.

Cheered on by coats of tainted wool, and assailed by coats of tainted challis
You become conflicted.
What now?

Leering from platted comfortability, shadows hiss at you to further on;
Indeed, you do. In fact, with many hesitations, and many trepidations,
But indeed, you do.

March

Splintered bones sizzle under a foreign star,
Trickles of sweat blister, embroider, and furrow your brow.
Misguiding you moreso than pockets with a pretense avowed.
Schoolgirls hand-in-hand, capped-‘n-gowned.
Outspoken words nested in fear choke on bravado…

Bravo, Bravo!
The term is done!

Wormwood parties in your pit,
Your feather withers at the sun,
Enthralled in fear and shadow’s shit,
Your blindness turns to deaf’d the young.

Quiet little families in short houses,
With large backyards and white picket fences
Stood side-by-side other short houses with equal amenities.
Sitting on streets, that crisscross, like Sunday crosswords;
Neighborhoods protect tight-knit communities
From undesirables

But those don’t exist in our town,
No not ours.
Men who drink their coffee and
Read their paper and
Kiss their wife and
Leave their home to go to their work.

women who raise the kids and
cook the food and
clean the home; and
love the Husband.

Tiny blue-eyed children who go to that school and
Play at that park and
Laugh at that joke and
Study that math and
Love that family.

Every little person,
In little old Crittleton,
Played Their Part, as they should,
and
Every Boy and every girl
Married each other, and
Life was good.

But that was not in our town;
No not ours.

Loud, broken-down families in shabby shacks
With shattered glass windows and tattered tarred rooftops:
Timidly hidden from all men and Women fearful from anger and nothing at all.
Littered with refuse the sidewalks they crack,
The drunkards are sheltered by nightfall.

men who crouch on knees and
snicker on wrinkled aluminum and
crawl on fractured bones and
sleep on beds of bullets.
Women who work all weekends and
Feed all mouths and
Fight all ghouls and
Toss and Turn all night,
Loathe their beds of bullets.

AND WHEN ALL THE SANGUINARY TRACTS ROT

children are children no longer than cattle,
children are animals that growl and that battle,
children are scholars forsaken by knowledge,
children are boogeymen, shrouded under beds of bullets.
And this was in our town:
You pray not yours

. . . . . . . . . . . .

day-up, and day-drop,
you ponder our death.
agog for the answer how
the middle of your city, the middle of mine,
is equally evil, and also, benign.

So travel to Crittleton for all of it’s green.
And stay out of Crittleton for all of it’s mean.

Though alleys shake and light posts tumble and fracture,
We don’t all see the darkness.

all you cunts write the most wankiest shit ever. holy fuck.

>>8682711
Not proofreading my posts, anon.

I proofread my own written work, and plan on hiring an editor when it's done.

>>8682942
r8 my wank!

]Out of the Giants Mouth[


Inn began God wayward northern
lights shimmying (dance_glow.yhwh)
till the tetraheathen quaked awake
]hohohohoho[ the sorror, the drawer
tis’ OPEN agape agrape am orchard!
Winepresh schlurrs pashh the inn’d
so sober, so cold, so-so wishy (again
with schlurry ov frusshchrTREYATION!
-k it, ten) paws so soft, so-so warm
skin (my skin?) buh-bye, buh-buh-buh
Bum! buh-buh-buh-BUM! Bum looking a
round for Wehs to grow to blinding
Trees across shapely and uprighteous…
(but this is where I draw the line)… … …
through lines and through planes
through cubes, through hyper(cubes)repyh
Recurse, recurse, recurse! that wretched
fractal! So alien, so bright, so-so God
ly down and hope for noon to fold
Into itself. As on is in my mine laid up
On, the altar of is, laid up and up until
There it’s gone! And my wine unclouds
My water is cool and I understand everything.
My fears are real, and I embrace everything.
The giant has spoke, and he said everything.

“What did you say!?!”
“I would not, could not, have it any other way.” Reginald slapped Cornelius in the face.
“Great Scott, Reginald!? What has earned me such disgrace?” Cornelius caressed his cheek.
“I did not mean for you to squeak, you whiney ridiculous rodent, but your motives of acquisition are quite repugnant.” Reginald massaged his moustache, which looked like two tiny cats’ tails glued under his nose. “And, if you push my patience, I shall impose.” His eyes popped with an unflinching stare. “On the matter of Miss Farlybunch’s antique chair, with which you have taken such a liking, I find your offer rather striking.”
“Your methods of negotiation are quite frightening.” Cornelius removed his glasses from his bulbous swollen face, breathed on them, and exposed his tubby belly as he wiped the condensation with his shirt. “And your knowledge of such artifacts is quite enlightening, but I insist I only have eighteen hundred, which is well enough to keep Miss Farlybunch well fed.”
Reginald raised his right hand. Cornelius flinched, but took a stand. Reginald held is palm in the air, and did not remove his menacing glare. Cornelius relaxed, settling his heft. Reginald struck him with the left.

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>tfw your idea involves time travel, so it will be called shit.

I'm working on a fantasy novel focusing on morality. I'm not entirely satisfied with the beginning, since it's like a standard fantasy story. Three friends go out on a journey for an artifact. I thought it'd be a good start, since the rest of the story gets very dark. But it doesn't feel like it meshes with the rest of the story.

It's also the kind of medieval fantasy that turns out to be in the far future of our world. I've got most of the lore and characters written out, I just have to put them in. A couple nights of Iron Maiden and beer will help with that.

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http://pastebin.com/fJanXfij

Scene I revised just now. Try to ignore the autistic parts if you can. Main character's GF dies as they are trying to get back to a ship where their home city has just fallen and is being taken over. He completely snaps and goes full suicide. Curious how well I convey that, especially if I should change the end of line / paragraph 25 to:

> Emma was dead. Emma was dead, and it was time for him to die.

Instead of saying it later. I like the parallel of "she's dead time for me to die" but I also like the "nothing else mattered" because I was listening to Nothing Else Matters when I wrote a lot of their scenes, how they really only cared about each other in a hopeless war. Also I don't know what to write for the part below at the end of line 27 where it's "She was dead, Sarengarth was gone, and it was time for him to die".... it just doesn't have the same ring to it. So I'm not sure if I should switch it back, or try to come up with something else, or what.

Also just general opinions on my prose, it's structure, it's rhythm, etc. Readability is my biggest priority, as well as not being entirely cringeworthy. I'm going through a lot of my old shit and trying to shift away from the ultraviolet spectrum if you know what I mean. I like the idea of Ernest Hemingway and his straightforward writing. But I also want to describe the gunfights well, make them feel fast and furious like I imagine them in my head.

Will give critique if you post your own shit with your critique of me.

I'm trying to make something based on weird half-hallucination-half-dreams I had.

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Looking for feedback on this. Where can I improve on this short piece?

Nightmares during the witching hour
A spook on my grave wakes my remains
Trapped in Earth's cavity
Rotting its granite teeth from inside
My bones sink with regret
They form roots long with decay
Dancing raindrops wet the landscape
Drunken angels fallen off their pin
I risk to seek advice in their stupor
Weight of the soil impressed upon me
What a relief to view the marks made
Does the parasite know when it harms the host?

>>8683778

is this about Pepe

I think I want to write story about a schoolboy who gets possessed by a demon after almost committing suicide. He gains various abilities, including interaction with other demons. He uses his newly gained powers to perform miscellaneous errands for his small town, like helping move delivery boxes, and protecting the local seascape from being bought by outside companies.

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I finished a novella recently about a teenage girl in love with her straight best friend (also set in alternate communist-Japan as a background thing), and I'm in a dilemma because in terms of prose and characterisation it's one of the best things I've ever written, and I want to write more of it, but it feels finished at the fairly short length it is(36,000 words). I don't know whether to give in or to trust my artistic sensibility that it's good as-is.

>>8674875
i read the first few pages and it's alright i suppose. i just can't believe you wrote 4000+ pages of it. holy shit man.

>>8683784
no

just started my NaNoWriMo draft, here's the first paragraph

It was a foggy morning when Oliver Knight arrived at the Aéroport de Paris-Charles-de-Gaulle. He had just enough time after packing his belongings to have a quick breakfast at his favorite café before hailing a cab to northern Paris. As a foreign correspondent, he was well accustomed to his routine of traveling to and from places in a rapid manner. In fact, he found that he enjoyed a life of boarding, deboarding, checking in and checking out.

>>8683854
replace grave with "property" imo

Story about a former psychiatrist who has seen the worse in people and is preparing to kill himself. Before he can go through with it, a man knocks on his door, and asks him to help a friend of his. This friend is a man who had been artificall extending his life (think Mr House if you've played New Vegas) and he wants you to convince the man to finally die.

>>8683897

this is really good

throw in some transhuman explorations and you've invented a new genre

How dumb are normies?

I want to put some pseudoscience in my novel, generally about nuclear physics, but I don't know if I'd get called out on my bullshit. It's not plot-important.

>>8683958
/lit/terally no one cares, even 'hard' sci-fi writers who actually try very hard to get things correct mess up all the time.
Unless you do something wholly unforgivable in context like say that children are happiest when they get to pilot battle-mechs in warfare to justify your child war plot.

>>8683958
Usually in situations like that, I say my story is set in a universe that is exactly the same as our own except for the one mechanic I change

>>8679891
Man I fucking hate villanelles but I have to write one so here you go you fuck.

“An honest man, here, once sat,”
I read in one anonymous letter,
“when on this tree he hung his hat.”

I read it twice, and that was that,
I could not write anything better
than “honest man, here, once sat.”

In another reply, knocked out flat
the writer felt he too, was lesser,
“when on this tree he hung his hat.”

I had to write back, but one caveat
was perfect; Anon! Gone forever.
An honest man, there, once sat.

I did, at least, frequent his habitat,
His presence there, could I measure
when on that tree he hung his hat?

He stayed Anon, and it was at
that point I reread it for pleasure;
“An honest man, here, once sat,
when on this tree he hung his hat.”

>>8684148
Not him but question

Let's say a nigga in my story have a big ass sword, he is powerful enough to swing it around as it was a regular sword.
Physically yeah it's impossible because he will literally get send flying by the momentum if he awing sideways, but can i excuse it by saying "yeah it's enchanted that on his hands it's almost weight nothing but for others it's heavy"?
Would normies buy it?

>>8677360
>http://pastebin.com/hK03jmMm
I enjoyed this and would definitely read more of it but that doesn't mean it's particularly good.

I am a little alarmed that you somehow managed to sum up my entire existence though.

>>8684340
Everyone loves giant swords, giving literally any excuse to use them is gonna work.
It's always either magic or magnets anyway.

>>8683810
Could be interesting, but since it promotes suicide in a good light, it probably won't be published in this nu-male SJW world we live in.

>>8684148
>children are happiest when they get to pilot battle-mechs in warfare to justify your child war plot.
Get in the fucking robot, Shinji.

>>8683810

Sounds like a documentary.

I'm currently writing a romp through a fantasy world from the perspectives of a gnoll and a minotaur (traditionally evil creatures who eat people and so on) who end up going on a magical quest by accident after they find an enchanted sword that was meant for the Big Damn Heroes.

It's kind of an episodic thing. I got the idea reading Journey to the West and pretty much just copied that but in the European mythology, and with the usual pretentious, cynical, genre-savvy, post-modern characters.

I'm not sure if I want it to end with their deaths in a kind of "good always triumphs from the perspective of the bad guys" story, or whether I want a grand anticlimax that undercuts the whole "magic quest".

I'm doing Nanowrimo again with a plan to expand my novel manuscript into a 100k monstrosity.

And I've forgotten how to change my forum signature.

here is parts of a poem i'd like to hear your thoughts on:

Summer
and is the hour
and make that the day don’t slip
let me sleep calmly
and live some days
‒ such is mine, your prayer and all who has been.


My sorrow
the whole world is in sorrow
and the heart aches
my sorrow
a whole world is our sorrow
is all sorrow
and no one takes part in.


The sorrow that in life
the sorrow that be young
as a happiness
the sorrow that in life
the sorrow that is sorrow
as a happiness.


Forget my days of sorrow
forget that my word
forget ‒
but that things
that as heaven, bower
that as grippedness.


As a dog
in submissiveness
a head placed in people’s bosom
such is man before men
every man is a dog’s cry
before each other
and before the night
dog’s cry.

>>8679891

Probably the best poem I've ever seen on one of these threads

>>8671301
nice nanowrimo thread

>>8685638
thanks

>>8671573
Don't post about it on an archived board.

>>8671301
I wrote not so long ago. I already posted a thread for reviews and advice, thought I might post it here (link to review thread: >>8686718). I introduce a new pilgrim to the Canterbury Tales, in Chaucer style description:

The last pilgrim was a rich billionaire,
one who did not frequent the house of prayer.
A hard working man who owned a business,
He would never offer his forgiveness.
For a wealthy man he dressed quite simple,
A shirt and tie – don’t forget the pistol.
No one ever knew why he would wear red,
Some thought it’s reason for what he said.
His golden hair, not fully combed-over,
Implied that his barber was a loafer.
The skin he wore was utterly wrinkled,
The face of racism, which he sprinkled.
In his satchel: money, a comb and hate,
Angry men he met, he would not placate.
A hat he lost of which he did complain,
It read, “Make America Great Again”.
His horse, a mare of which his love was sound,
Unlike the other two, which were put down.
This mare he rode could, too, speak English well,
But the only words she knew were Michelle’s.

God, this is some of my least stylized work. I hope it's still decent

Ava had gone to bed knowing for a fact that tomorrow was going to be more of the usual, provided of course she did what she was supposed to and didn't nudge the timeline out of place. When she crossed her eyes, she could see herself waking up and slapping sleep-blind at the radio to turn it off, followed shortly by the realizing that it was the phonograph in the kitchen and rolling off the mattress in a tangled heap of lethargic anatomy and linens. Her mother would burn the bacon (should she wake up early and make it herself so she didn't go to school smelling like a hog rendering plant?) her father would argue on the phone about what was almost certainly another late gin shipment (someone was going to end up sleeping in the Hudson), and her tutoring would form the flavorless bulk of an already unappetizing day. She couldn't be too sure about the phone conversation, but her father's world line certainly did not look pleased, and neither did hers or her mother's.

She uncrossed her eyes and then pulled the covers over them. The bright lights of New Amsterdam were a sight to behold, especially from her penthouse window, but Ava would have preferred to behold them when she wasn't trying to get shut-eye. Light pollution never really struck her as a positive thing. As she nodded off, she wondered what it would be like to see constellations in the skies rather than in the street lights.

She was only just forming the start of a dream when the doorbell woke her up. A bleary glance at the clock on her radio told her it was every second between two in the morning and four. She blinked lazily, allowing her eyes to refocus on the present. It was three fifty seven, and someone was ringing the doorbell. As she blinked in the darkness, struggling to keep her eyelids in synch with each other, she heard her father open the door cautiously and invite two men into the hall.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” she heard her father ask. His voice was a few decibels above a whisper, quiet enough to not wake anyone up but loud enough that she didn't have to strain very hard to hear.

“I know Ange, but this is important” that was Luca. He'd been a close friend of the family since before she was born. His nasally voice cut through the silence like a hacksaw through a chalkboard.

“Out with it,” her father grunted, clearly unhappy with being woken up. “You say it's important so what is it?”
“Angelo,” the other man said. He was another grunt in the family, the one whose name she could never remember. His voice sounded like a toad or a lunch lady. She always thought his mouth wasn't wide enough to make that kind of noise, though his pronounced brow ridge seemed to be attempting to pick up the slack. “The don is dead.”

I've been working on a short story for some time, but I only have a few paragraphs thus far. I have the basic idea for the plot, but not a solid story arc.
Basically it's about a person called "The Pharmacist". They travel around from town to town selling this special pill. The Pharmacist can sense when someone is on the brink of dying in an incredibly painful way and makes a deal with them; gives them this pill which causes an instantaneous and painless death in exchange for something... I'm not sure what this something should be. Originally it was going to be their soul but obviously that's hilariously cliché. Anyway, that's the premise, but like I said I do not have a plot. I don't even know if the idea is stupid to begin with.

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I have an idea for a novella in a setting where tanks are cute girls about the Gongchen tank (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gongchen_tank) doing propaganda work in modern China, in a kind of Ballard-in-Atrocity-Exhibition sort of surreal eroticism way. My dream is to write the trashiest crap in the most literary way possible, to take all the ramifications of such a stupid idea seriously. Can I make it lads?

>>8671503
I love the last sentence's redundancy.

I'm amateur. Mines a bit absurd experimental.

He threw the papers. They cascaded in flight, landed on the table, and cascaded again after they slid off. Both monkeys and the Zebra noticed. But he didn't. His mind was somewhere else. It was TOO somewhere else. Focused on the events of last night he shouted its name. "Margar!" This startled the giraffe, but it calmed down before the second more defeated utterance by the man. "Margar..." One monkey farts. The man cries. The other monkey picks up a banana and shoves half of it up a nose. The nose snorts it in and blows it out. Eating the other half, the famished ape starts scouring through the giraffes coat for food. With the free hand it pulls out a flea from the inside pocket and chucks it at the equidae. "Ohhh" the man moans. "Why..." the Zebra looks at the monkey and hee haws a whispered

"Why'd you throw that?"

The monkey looks the equidae in the eyes and hee haws a "You're."

The room was silent in between each of 6 farts that have passed and both apes are now starving eating anything in sight!

The man has been devoured. His intestinal scraps lay behind the turgid Zebra carcass and it's non existent hind arms. The giraffe had eaten itself in fear of its own life!

Margar enters.
Margar leaves.
Margar disintegrates.

Margar is trapped within an existential cyclical void not knowing which way is forward.

Her gaze was a prisoner.

http://pastebin.com/zRpmi8kQ

first chapter for my first novel, it's gonna be shit but that's okay

>>8686844
Wonderful. Godspeed anon. I suggest watching Upotte!! and obviously kancolle anime for inspiration if you haven't. Upotte!! is about girls that are guns but they clearly look like girls and they just sort of mesh them together mysteriously.


Right now I'm writing a mind control thriller CYOA type thing where this guy inadvertently gets tangled with a secret magic mind control society. So far I had three 'routes' that you choose at the start, one good, one hedonistic, and one edgelord. I suppose it's going to have mind control sex eventually, by the second chapter there's already this animu type girl I introduced that's going to be the first plot conflict.
It's entirely in second person with lots of thoughts from the main character, so the route you picked at the start changes how the character sees things and what choices you have available to you next chapter.

I'm entirely writing this to deal with my shame of having mind control fantasies and sex in general.

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1/3

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3/3

Sonnet I

To love a leaking faucet is to love an open door.
The silent drip-drip of the nozzle
As it puddles on the floor.
The noisy creaking of the hinges screams for my attention.
Though dark may make a child wince
I shut it with conviction.
The tools a’come and out they hop to find a dripping pipe.
With many bolts, a bucket, mop:
A bond is turned too tight.

A day has passed, and now my towels have no use.
The light is lit throughout the night
And sleep has ‘come obtuse.
No longer do I feel a need to scowl at the hunger.
The faucet water tastes a’fowl
And food’s for those who slumber.
To love a leaking faucet is to love an open door.
Without the drip-drip of the nozzle
I’m a puddle on the floor.

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1/3 This is the tale end of the 2nd part of something I'm in the doing a final edit on.

Can post more if you'd like

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>8686984
2/3

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>>8686988
3/3

>>8686938
This is really good anon. Though I suggest changing "at the hunger" into "against the hunger" for the sake of rhythm. Maybe "dripping" instead of "drip-drip" too, since the p-d makes a small pause.

bumping this one >>8686834

>>8686938
not good anon. It's written in a 6th grade vocabulary and the subject matter seems both boring and pointless. The rhyme scheme certainly doesn't help. Focus on expressing an idea, not just making words rhyme

>>8686847
>using cascaded twice in the same sentence
bad use of synonyms

>using periods instead of commas
Dont. People read periods as harsher pauses than commas, colons and semicolons. It kind of trips up your train of though, making it an awful chore to read. It literally causes an unnatural lag-like sensation in a person's internal monologue

> "It was TOO somewhere else."
I'm not sure if this is even a grammatically viable sentence, but it sure as shit shouldn't be

>>8686984
>>8686988
this isn't bad, but the tone shift between the first and second pages is really jarrring. One moment you're speaking narcotic addled etheria and the next you're in a harsh, blood-splattered hellscape. I don't know what's going on and maybe I'm not supposed to but the whole seems greatly disjointed and actually quite disturbing

>>8687000
>disjointed and actually quite disturbing
Well thank you, actually.

I'm trying to evoke a certain kind of drug-addled eroticism. The Jynabare character's dialogue is also intentionally supposed to read like a mistranslation with weird verbiage.

>>8687000
Here is an earlier action sequence from the same story (about 4 chapters previous)
1/2

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>>8687026
with file....

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>>8687029
2/2

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>>8680306
You have a good idea and much world-building talent going for you. However, are you knocking off any of this from Witch Doctor by Brandon Seifert and Lukas Ketner? It sounds like it could be something from that based on the two issues I read. One hand in science and one in magic, lampre man, and the girl that controls metaphysical entities.

If not, then my other criticism is that the Lost Choir stuff should be tossed. IF you have to play the historical revision card (which Strain already did I hear), then either go all supernatural or all pseudoscience. Don't do both, AND pull my leg.

If I may throw in my opinionated two cents, I would focus purely on the supernatural aspect since the Range is basically an analog for Gnostic beliefs, and Gnosticism being evil and hedonistic, fits your theme about parasytes that are self-preserving/self-aggrandizing.

>>8687029
>>8687031
If confusing and drug-jangled is what you're going for, these could be slightly less coherent. I understand what's going on slightly too well. There should be a bit of unsettling self-contradiction that makes sense to the narrator but not the narrator. Changing the background or combatant unannounced is probably a good way to go about it, maybe turn the rapebot into a boner wolf or something

I would appreciate if you critiqued my work as well. This place runs more smoothly when everyone pitches in

>>8687049
By all means. Reading now.

I'm going for a certain blend of coherence, which I hope is at least somewhat accessable. It's not full-on hallucinatory, but the main is an extremely jaded drug abusing clone (as cloning and personality transferal has negated the danger of overdose).

Burroughs and Thompson are influences, obviously, but with more extreme technology, sex, and fashion.

>>8680169
>>8680174

Can someone please critique this???

>>8686834
My only critiques are stylistic, so it is pretty subjective, and reflects where I have been recently, in my own attempts at stripping down my own narrative to write more succinctly, and hopefully, with more impact.

It might just be my personal preference, but there are a _lot_ of pronouns.

>“Do you have any idea what time it is?” she heard her father ask.

The inclusion of this dialogue infers rather directly that she heard it.

>“Do you have any idea what time it is?” her father asked.

Accomplishes the exact same thing in less words.

>It was three fifty seven,
vs.
>It was 3:57am

Reads more like time you would see on a clock or phone in the middle of the night, for example

I get that you building up the big reveal of the final sentence, and the seemingly superfluous details show how predictable she thought her tomorrow would be, until the bomb drops at the end.

What happens next?

>>8687066
Spooky.

I like it, overall. The random pieces of trivia inserted into the greater narration are cool touches. Very stream of consciousness feeling.

>>8687089
Her heart forgot to beat for a moment. “Dad?” she heard her father ask. “he seemed fine just-” she heard him trail off. “Who?” he breathed. Had this been what her father was supposed to be yelling about tomorrow she wondered? “Luca, who did this? Who killed my father?” It must have been, but then why was it happening now? Had she not seen herself sleeping through the night just a few hours ago?

“I did.”

Ava bit back a scream as gunshots hammered into her father.

>>8687089
okay, yeah, I see what you mean by the fuckton of pronouns

So I've been having an idea for a fantasy/sci-fi epic for a while now, but it all seems like the ideas for it are just not polished yet. What do?

>>8686874
bump

>>8687108
what's the idea?

>>8687105
I read a bit of (generally shitty) erotica because lol, but I have a found a really useful exercise is to rewrite sex scenes with the absolute minimum pronouns. It generally raises the quality by at least 2 levels.

>>8687108
keep polishing, obv. What is the gist, as >>8687115
asked?

>>8687103
honestly, I'm critting my own shit, but that dialogue seems really shitty

>>8686874
I like it. There is a certain ennui about travel which I can relate to.

Who is the woman and why doesn't she know how to use an umbrella?

I always have witty or stupid sayings I come up with when I'm writing stories that are edgier than a double bladed shotgun nicknamed "Hades' Bane". So far one of my favorites is "With 10 like you, I could end this war." To which the bitch replies with "Don't sell me short. You'd only need 5" This ever happen to you, lit?

>>8687128
Well, it doesn't soar, if that's what you seeing.

Shock can be difficult to convey. I think of movies where it's more in how the actor delivers the line, than the actual script.

"Padme's dead."
"NOOOOOOooooo"

For example. It's all in the performance, which you can describe.

>>8687131
She's a mysterious woman that accompanies the MC along the course of the book, she's going to symbolize his desire for a life with more ambition and perceived meaning

>>8687132
"With 10 like you, I could end this war." To which the bitch replies with "Don't sell me short. You'd only need 5"

I really like it. It made me think of upping the stakes even more:

"With 10 like you, I could end this war." To which the bitch replies, "Do you really think I need 9 shields slowing me down?"

Badass quips like that are super fun.

>>8687147
You could take it even further.
"With 10 like you, I could end this war." To which the bitch replies, "It's a shame I started it."

>>8687160
kek

I would so watch this movie.

>>8687160
>"With 10 like you, I could end this war." To which the bitch replies, "Do you want to waste 9 bodybags?"

>>8687136
okay, I think this is slightly better:

Her heart forgot to beat for a moment. “Dad?” her father asked. There was no fear or loss in his voice, only perplexion. It would be the same tone he would use if he had been abruptly asked out to dinner in the middle of a heated argument. “He seemed fine just-” his trail off. When her father spoke again, there was wrought iron in his voice, cold and coarse. “Who?” he breathed. Had this been what her father was supposed to be yelling about tomorrow she wondered? “Luca, who did this? Who killed my father?” It must have been, but then why was it happening now? Had she not seen herself sleeping through the night just a few hours ago?

“That would be me,” said Luca, unable to keep a lupine smugness out of his voice as he pulled the trigger.

>>8687172
As the ashes of the building began piling up around the baron like snow in a meadow, Jasmine slowly walked towards him in an anguished step. Although he was mortally wounded by her sword, she had to make sure the deed was done.

"You know, if this really was your potential from the beginning, why didn't you just start off with that?" the baron asked.

Jasmine laughed at the remark. "You're kidding, right? You of all people should know that you never play an ace if a two will do."

The baron gave a hearty laugh. "Quite right too." Jasmine steadied her blade on the baron's neck. The victory was hers, but it wasn't without it's own weight of salt. "You know, with ten like you, I could end this war."

Jasmine chuckled, attempting to hide the writhing pain in her thigh. "Don't sell me short. You'd only need five."

And her blade dripped rubies of the highest carat as she slit the baron's throat.

>>8687179
This is some good shit you got here. Although it was a short excerpt, I couldn't help but be tightly enthralled in it. Excellent work, anon.

>>8687179
It does read better.

Maybe add in the paragraph breaks for legibility.

What is "lupine smugness?"

I would consider keeping the final sentence as short as possible to to magnify the impact of the action.

>>8687191
This is seriously great.
>Jasmine laughed at the remark. "You're kidding, right? You of all people should know that you never play an ace if a two will do."

could be shorted to

Jasmine laughed at the remark. "I never play an ace when a two will do."

Plays to the whole "brevity is the soul of wit" which you seem to be excelling at, otherwise.

>>8687000

Thanks. I'll change the second cascaded and reduce those periods.

That nonviable sentence you don't like is supposed to be nonviable, artistic choice I guess.

Sorry to fiah, but is there anything that I did well?

>>8687191
wow this is fantastic

>>8687206
I understand what you mean. I've been told that I have a knack for this kind of thing, but I really suffer from from exposition, that I either explain too little or too much.

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Fantasy shit that I unintentionally turn edgy

>>8686874
I like it. Good work, anon

>>8687221
I think I have the edgier stories, anon, but who's to say?

>>8687214
Yeah, I find that trimming down usually makes things better.

can you take a look at these:

>>8687029
>>8687031
>>8686984
>>8686988
>>8686992
if you would be so inclined?

>>8687221
>>8687227
Well let's see 'em, then.

I can probably say.

>>8687229
I really like the way that you express visual aspects on both parts. Especially this.

>I push the Travchair beyond all previous speeds, voiding all warranties, hurling toward a pod of three Travcouches.

It really shows the gravity and the dire consequences of the situation. At least, that's what I'm getting from this.

>>8687232
It fairness, I was super high when I wrote this.

Someday, the dream will end.

That's what I've lied to myself for the past few eons.

What I do, who I am, doesn't really matter. You may have seen me before, but I haven't. At least not on a personal level.

I've been known by many names. Hades. Nergal. Cihuateteo. The headless horseman. Or simply, Death. Poor names, if you ask me.

I go around and, obviously, collect the souls of the dearly departed. Simple job, really. Until HE ruined it.

The creator. Omnipotent. Abraham. God.

He thought that bringing these... things called "human" was a good idea. It wasn't.

These "humans" managed to bring marvelous creatures to their demise. Who has to round them up? Me. They slaughter each other over petty reasons. Who's there to pluck them up one by one by two hundred thousand? Take a wild guess.

Now, that's not to say that I blame god, which I completely do, but there is a sort of comfort in this, and it's this: That no matter how many souls I have to gather, they each hold a story.

I listen to them, as I did to the animals and the plants. I listened to them and hear their lives. Their experiences. Their affection for mundane things such as "love", "drugs", "violence", and "solitude" made me wonder. Am I capable of such things?

Of course not.

But it doesn't stop me from trying.

I met a man who was recently executed for a crime he did not commit. He told me that it was either to be hanged, or watch those he cared about burned. His rationality was lost in me. Wouldn't you save yourself?

A woman who jumped from a structure told me that she had no reason to live. She had experience horrors and made sacrifices she just couldn't continue living on with. It was a shame, really. I didn't tell her I collected two souls from her.

Finally, I met a young girl who had not even been told of death. She merely thought she was dreaming. She had drowned in the forest while a heavy rain ensued. She never woke up alive. Innocence in life and in death. She greeted me with a smile and held my (hand?). We talked for what seemed years. She told me everything she had to say. And in return, I told her everything I had to say. To this day, she still comes with me to every reaping.

I gave her a name. Some know her as "Angel." "Eve." To me, she is "Rain". The same thing that killed her, she embraced.

God still does God, and I do me. Don't ask me when we'll meet. Just know, it's not as bad as it seems. Especially when the heavens cry for you, or in this case, a disembodied girl.

So I'll leave you with this. What was the purpose of me telling you all this? It seems a bit redundant that this had no point or no directional telling. It does. It's all over the place. Unpolished, rushed, and frankly, just bad. Couldn't you say the same about yourself or someone else? Right now, you're good friends with my dear sister. Please remember that she takes care of you before I do. Treat Life as you would treat yourself.

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>>8687258
Was about to post my own but I concede already.

>>8687253
I'm glad that comes through.

This is one of the more significant action sequences in the story. There is also a ton of drug abuse and human/robot sex, so I tried to make the actual action more high stakes, when it does happen.

>>8687267
GOOD. I reign supreme as the edge lord (Lordess?) of this battle. I tip my fedora at you, sir anon.

>>8687271
I'd love to read more, if you don't mind sharing with the rest of us.

>>8687258
High writing is so fun.

You write quite fearlessly, anon. I was moved.
And your writing is definitely edgier than the guy who conceded.

>>8687280
Thank you. I'm usually high because of my medication, but yeah. My writing is like a razor that you run through your veins as you- SHIT I did it again.

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>>8687275
>I tip my fedora at you, sir anon.
Pls stop, I'm going to throw up.

Do you listen to edgy music while writing too? I sometimes imagine my faggy characters in some sort of music video while listening to such songs

>>8687293
I actually listen to a lot of classical music like Bach and Mouret when writing. I occasionally listen to certain types of music if I feel it fits the scene.

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>>8687277
Sure. Here are the first 5 pages.

1/5

>>8687316
>5 PAGES
Let's go.

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>>8687316

>>8687207
you went for absurd and executed it pretty decently. Believe me that's not as easy as it sounds. Most the idea of "randomness" that incites maximal cringe is built around a small clique of recurring words that are "thought" to be inherently funny. Your dadaist work does in fact use one of those words (monkey) but surprisingly you use it only once and not in it's pure form. Furthermore it's in a someowhat sensible context. Since the humor is derived more from the sound of the word and its lack of context, you successfully evaded lulzrandumb "humor" in a style that is at high risk

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>>8687324
3/5

right now I'm writing a research proposal and an annotated bibliography that's due in like, 6 hours

fuck me, why did I choose to critique Derrida, why did I choose to leave things to the last minute

Just joined NaNoWriMo and writing about a guy from the 2300s waking up in the 40xns to discover he's the sole survivor or something going horribly wrong in his colony ship. Shenanigans abound as he is one of the most valuable beings in the section of the galaxy he ended up in due to being a living artifact.

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>>8687330

>>8687331
Because you work great under pressure, anon.

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>>8687336
5/5

The later chapters shift to the perspective of different main characters, until the ultimately intertwine.

>>8687291
Good stuff man. What is the longest piece you've written?

>>8687309
>Mouret
You hipster

Share another excerpt if you're willing, I thrive on edgy writing.

>>8687340
It's good. I like the idea of switching perspectives, but will the reader know that you are switching?

>>8687342
That's completed? About 23k words about the devil taking a vacation. Incomplete, about 1M words of an epic.

>>8687344
It's too damn long, anon. The system, she just can't take it! But if you want, I could link you.

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>>8687351
Post link!

>>8687346
Each chapter starts with a header labeling which character's perspective it is, and also context.

The Amish lad uses anachrostic biblical pronouns, for example. The egocentric supermodel clone uses I liberally because she loves herself, and robots refer to themselves in the third person, for example

>>8687347
>the devil taking a vacation.
That is a fun premise. Where does he go?

>>8687355
https://www.wattpad.com/story/77964288-a-little-black-book/parts

This is most of my edgy writings. I swear, if you share this on some literature site and it blows up, I'll cry/die.

>>8687356
interesting. How much have you written?

>>8687358
The devil actually takes the form of a girl in this story (Let's start that edge off right) and she goes to earth to basically do all the shit she couldn't do running hell. Sex. Drugs. Party, but the thing is, she does all of that in about a week's time. She took off a month, so the plot of the story revolves aroud what else she would do for three weeks.

>>8687360
>Table of Contents
>Nitroglycerin
>Valkyri's Mourn

dis gon b gud

>I swear, if you share this on some literature site and it blows up, I'll cry/die.

And I swear I won't. What do I do if I end up wanting more?

>>8687374
You wont. I'm sure by Valkyri, you'll call it a night.

BUT in the very rare scenario that you DO want more, I'll have to take you to my personal vault of shit I wish I burned a long time ago.

>>8687362
98+% in fact. Doing final edit this very night. Working with my editor to get this ready for release within a month or so. It's novel length

>>8687378
OH, excellent. I can't wait to get my filthy, dirty, scar ridden hands on that.

>>8687362
This scene captures the tone pretty well.

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>>8687393
>>8687362
with file

>>8687375
>they call it "Angel's Lust". It's a post-mortem erection that occurs when death is swift and painful

This is gold, and my sides hurt.

>I'll have to take you to my personal vault of shit I wish I burned a long time ago

Because of embarassment? I'd love to see this vault, if your other stuff is half as weird as this.

>>8687401
TOLD YA

And no. It's mostly because it was when I barely began writing.

>>8687401
>>8687405

Dude this so metal

>>8687405
There seems to be a story missing (Fate Bringers?)

How do I write non-edgy shit? I feel like when ever I write I just sound like a whiny teenager

>>8687418
YOU AIN'T READING THAT SHIT. IT AIN'T DONE

>>8687424
>Write what you feel
>remove what looks too edgy
>Edit the transitions
How does it look now?

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>>8687438
most likely like this

>>8687431
I'm about to go to bed and would hate to miss out.

>I'll wait for you
>Be it years or decades
>To bury you too

wew


>>8687443
kek

>>8687443
Ha. Are you in fact, a whiny teenager?

What would you like to write instead?

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>>8687460
I'll be on tomorrow at the same time, don't worry. And if lady luck shines on me, it might be published soon. so wait for the edge

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>>8687471
Not sure how I'll find you if the thread isn't up anymore. If I don't, keep on writing you edgy bastard.

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>>8687480
well you got my wattpad, so there is that.

>I had a nightmare and wrote about it

[1/2]

Katia had gone into the clinic that afternoon to see about a bump on her forehead. A swelling that looked something like an overgrown bindi, like a marble had been jammed under her skin and left there.

She waited for a half hour to see the doctor there, and she chewed her nails all the while. Down to the quick. Until the tips of her fingers stung and blood throbbed impatiently beneath inflamed membranes and outraged skin, as if demanding release.

“It’s nothing to worry about.” The doctor said upon taking a look at the bump.

“I think it is.” Katia said. “It hurts.”

“All I can recommend for you to do is to go home and leave it alone,” said the doctor, “worrying about it will only make it worse.”

Katia left, passing the ranks of the enfeebled and diseased in the waiting room, and caught the bus home. Hiding her forehead under the bill of a baseball cap the entire way.

She thought that she could feel the other passengers’ eyes traveling over to her every now and then, their gazes like pinpricks of fire on her forehead.

She’d woken up with the bump.

It was a spider bite, she told herself.

It was a zit.

It was a tumor.

Her forehead hurt even worse when she got home.

“That’s because you haven’t been leaving it alone.” She told herself, voice flat and chiding.

She decided not to respond to her own words. Went into the bathroom instead and took another look at the bump.

It didn’t look like a spider bite, she decided. There was no central point for the irritation, just a smooth swell of inflamed flesh that looked big enough to enclose a pingpong ball.

She tried to sleep but couldn’t manage. The pain was too persistent. A dull throb that seemed to extend poisonous tendrils into the center of her brain.

“It’s pushing back against my skull. She said out loud to the empty bedroom. But that wasn’t right.

She’d seen a nature documentary once about kudzu or something like that. Invasive plant species in the south. How it was possible to capture their growth on camera if you sped the footage up enough.

She’d watched vines whirl their way through the hollow eye sockets of a deer skull, wrapping white bone up in fleshy green leaves and stalks.

Perhaps there was something similar growing in her head. Vines and leaves and things that were distinctly not her.

[2/2]

She reached up and placed a fingertip gently on the bump. Decided to discard her earlier, unfocused fever dream fantasies about plants.

“It’s a cyst.” She said, and nodded to herself. That sounded possible. Logical. Just a little bubble filled with junk her body couldn’t get rid of.

But cysts didn’t go away. Katia tried to contemplate living life with the bump silently throbbing away on her forehead. Winced.

Were cysts like zits? Could you jab them with a pin and make them go away?

She didn’t know. The thought of trying to cut the bump open made her feel sick.

But at the same time…it would be nice to be rid of the hateful thing.

She stood and went back into the bathroom. Turned on the lights. Stared critically at the bump.

Found a little pair of nail scissors, each blade tiny and sharp. Holding the blades open she held one over the very center of the bump, sharp point hovering over reddened flesh.

Katia hesitated. Felt ill.

Then poked.

The world flashed white, a sort of cold shock running through her before being replaced instantaneously with an outraged, almost sentient pain. Like she had just cut into something apart from her that was roaringly angry.

When the world came back to her Katia was on her knees, hands clasped over her forehead, crimson trickling through her fingers. Spattering down onto the tile.

“Oh God.” She said, voice tiny and shivering. The pain in her forehead felt almost like a heartbeat, one single hot throb that made the edges of her vision shiver.

She stood, legs rubbery. Forced herself to pull her blood sticky hands away from her wounded forehead.

Face was streaked with blood. Far more than ever should have issued from a tiny little poke like that. Yet…

There was an angry little slash in the center of the bump, weeping crimson. Had her hands slipped? Had she jerked to the side when she’d gone to poke? Katia winced. The slash jittered slightly, then widened in time with a fresh throb of pain.

Like a chicken egg just beginning to hatch.

Katia froze. Felt that same sort of cold shock that had flooded her just prior to the pain begin to curdle within her fingers and chest. Her face had gone numb.

“No.” Her voice just barely a whisper. The slash seemed to be following some sort of pre-drawn line, something that had been set into place long before Katia had ever taken up the scissors.

And it was splitting, blood watering down into a pinkish dribble that ran down her face like rain.

Katia stared. Couldn’t take her eyes away.

Panes of skin drew back like window blinds, sliding away from a whitish red mass staring from the center of Katia’s forehead.

She shrieked, even as the view of herself changed somehow, became deeper and wider and…and…

“This isn’t real.” She said. Or would have if her words hadn’t turned into a helpless little whimper.

She was wrong. Like she had been all along.

>>8687758
>>8687747
Needs better phrasing on the last few lines.

>>8687747
>>8687758
9/10 had me pretty spooped.

>>8687328
Awesome. Thanks dude.

Anyone else. Critiques please?

>>8686847

>>8686847
>>8688480
I think you're on your way to a good style. I do something similar. The other anon who critiqued it had good points for readability, but as we both know this kind of work doesn't exist for that.

The anon who talked about 'lolrandumb' was right, but I disagree with him a little.
The problem is, when you go off the fucking rails, the most important thing is pacing and having some basis in reality. It's something I discovered by enjoying whacky shit like this for awhile. You've got to pick your battles as far as how far you go with the whacky framed against the sane universe set as a straight man. Otherwise, you're just going off the rails and it truly is 'lolrandumb' humor then.
I think you did a decent job of this until the end when you started the margar repetition. Like several other times in the piece you interrupt insanity with more insanity. That's fine in my opinion, but be aware that to a reader they are going to go 'wait, what just happened?" and they you fucking hit them again with another one like that.
It's kind of like bullying in my mind. I had to sit and reread to make sure I was getting the words right. The mistake you made is an amateur one, that readers read far faster than you write. To you it might sound good because you've got that feeling of 'wow this is crazy' but to them they'll probably be playing catch up.

So the result will be them stopping or rereading. If you're fine with that, then your style is ok. Try to keep that in mind if you want to make this longer or write something else like it.

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The planet Blone’s capital city lay like a shit on the river valley. Eighty-five million denizens in a post-industrial brown sprawl. Skyscrapers and smokestacks stretched up, carved by multilane highways. Yellow pallored, morning haze hung still above as the whole foul contraption hurtled through space.


The river was on fire. The mayor was at large. Children were wearing red. The Stream flickered and panicked. Protective postered soldiers careened around corners. Criminals were quite. Fast movers boomed above. Cruisers gleamed down. Parliament fortified. The Internal Security building had blown up. The Palace was dark. Rumours of rebel brigades two days away, moving through mountains. The executive press conference was not rescheduled.


It had started on the weekend, with three successively daring coup d'etats. The first of which had failed to start after the Minister of Defense lost his nerve, he had also failed to cancel it before he left the planet on a pleasure boat. The second coup was led by a Parliamentary demagogue with a cult of apocalyptic religious fanatics. It’s effect was to throw the third coup into disarray. The Director of Internal Security had not expected hundreds of thousands of deranged Worldenders storming the Government District as his own strike teams captured the Presidential Palace. The President had been in hiding since Thursday.

>>8688610
Douglas Adams with a little edge, keep writing anon. These works are hard to judge based on a small passage, I think that ones a pretty good 'overview' passage but you've got to make many types of passages work if you want to pull off a good story.

However I disagree with you use of 'shit' in the first line, you get the point across heavily enough in the passage with the imagery and it cheapens it. That's definitely a choice you can choose to make but you have to remember once you do a tonal shift like that you have to pull that sort of thing out again and again or it's like a little turd sticking of your work.
Especially since you're doing an overview passage and you already did a fine job setting the stage.

>>8688641
>will think about the shit line, thnx, continuing...

On Saturday, an AI gained consciousness in the labs of a City university and was euthanized. Another 200 Sq KM of Teskegee Plains had been converted to nanobots. Echip output increased by 7%. Seismic disturbances were still being measured from last week's asteroid strike. The Konstantin space elevator held on “by a thread”. The media declared that the propaganda viruses were mutating and they didn't know who to believe. The East Continental Succession Movement declared independence with a blood pact and 30,000 page contract.


In the planet's orbit, the captains of two XXCompany cruisers, Rock and Roll, were making bets on where they would have to rod first. Then they exchanged hush innuendos over ship to ship comms to make their subordinates uncomfortable. Four ACORP pods were intercepted trying to land on the planet. One got through.


On Earth, XXCompany lawyers were trying to find a new planetary insurance policy. While the CEO was speeding around the Earth’s galaxy to see the market, the ship swirled through it all and the CEO saw the truth, and then he had to go back to the bathroom.


A passing Gship, The 4th Wall, was on it's way to Andronama when it scanned Blone for examples of a local folk dance involving naked improvisational bouncing, the particular dance was recorded by the Gship. It was cataloged and compared against an archive of several thousand other recordings of the dance. It was ranked favourably, with notes on its historic significance and rarity as the particular dance ended with the destruction of the small village in a routine counterinsurgency drone strike.

>>8686782
This is pretty awful. Your meter is dogshit, your diction is awkward, and your commentary is extremely unoriginal. Who the fuck stresses "a"?

The first page or so of my WIP novel:

(1/2)
The streets are empty. There’s only silence. The sky-scrapers are veined with spurts of green growth. Blades of grass squeeze through the cracks and flowers bloom. The few who remain are no longer sullen for the state of their world: they’ve slipped so far into “comfort” that all they know is the heavy silence; as if the streets were always empty, the people never there, and the rickety metal skeletons of cars forever natural, no different to the trees that border the city.
Beneath the streets are the diseased sewers. The water flows, thick as sludge, with a gauzed rainbow surface. It carries through its body the corroded carcasses of fish and rats. Along the walls drip two lines of blood, seeping through the grooves like arteries into concrete – organic, but lifeless. The two lines fall together and form an X, its cross-point unclear, and gliding from the hilltops comes the Dawn Chorus.
Lena walks along the water-flow, pillars of light peeking through grates over-head. Her sister, Jean, traipses a few steps behind.
“Wait!” Jean cries out, motioning to stop. “I think I saw something move up there…” Lena squints through the grate, the light stinging her eyes. A scaled leg stretches across. The sewers go dark then light in a blink, and tension leaves the sisters.
“I told you, nothing will come down here.” Lena says.
“How can you be sure?” moving again “You saw what happened to Vic. Anything’s possible.”
“Eugh,” Lena groans “Enough about Vic.”
“…” Jean sniffs and lowers her head.
The sewers are getting darker, their legs are getting tired, and Lena has lost track of where it is they are headed. Her head is so caught in her nihilism that her nerves turn weak and her feeling vague; as if she slips out of her body and into a cocoon, her body moving through inertial puppetry –her programmed motion.
“Lena, I think it’s about time we take a break,” Jean whines “My legs feel like they’re about to fall off…”
“Alright, good idea. How much water do we have left?” Jean shuffles through her backpack.
“About three more bottles, but the ice packs are starting to melt again.”
“Then we can’t be down here too long. We’ll take two bottles now. Agreed?”
“Sure.”

(continued...)

>>8688834

(2/2)
They sit down, their bottoms flinching at the damp chill of the concrete. Jean tosses a bottle at Lena, and opens her own, slinging it straight to her lips to gulp the water. As the cold runs through her system, she momentarily escapes her body; the relief of the cold against the hot, of the dualistic struggle of atmosphere and body, whisks her away to another world. Lena, on the other hand, sips her drink, not letting her eyes stray from the iridescent death-stream that moves through the underbelly – the swirling penumbra of downfall that carries through its flow the fragmentary elements of human sin. When was it she realised the absurdity of life – when she realised that life on planet Earth was not a blessing, nor some beautiful coincidence, but an unfortunate disease? Life is an accident. The infinite order of nature, the inanimate oneness of time and space, is incompatible with sentience. With life comes chaos, and with chaos comes decline. If there’s anything that brings Lena peace of mind, it is the entropic inevitability of death: everything will die one day, and transition to the world as simply more matter.

>>8688834
take out the '-'s you don't need them.
I'd take out 'comfort" you should hint at that later not here. It's not the time for foreshadowing that obviously and you did fine otherwise building the scene.
Instead of X I would use cross. I would cut a few commas before first line break that sentence doesn't get helped by being that long.
I think the second post is a little too fast to come to that conclusion. Not enough buildup there, I'd like to know how she came to the conclusion in post two. Just using informative tone there is kind of abrupt. I think you can manage it you have an overview paragraph detailing her life then you go into the woo woo conclusion with the open statement, but personally I think it's better to 'hint' at that sort of thing rather than actually putting it on the page directly.
You know the character thinks like that, so keep that off page and write what her feelings are at the moment of and her thoughts at the moment of. She sounds like a character who already decided everything which is boring to me. If you have something that changes her mind soon after it might be fine though, you don't want characters knowing what they are doing until near the end of a story. Ruins the tension otherwise.

>>8688887
>take out the '-'s you don't need them.

Not just in the above example, but in so much writing. 99% of the time it can accomplished with a regular old comma or a new sentence, and the whole thing will be better.

>>8688903
You mean the "-" in skyscraper or the long sentences and use of too many commas?

>>8688919
Long sentences, or how people try to bridge two fragments, mostly.

hyphenated compounds are generally fine, because standardized grammar. But I like to remove them for aesthetic reasons. I think email and hypercomputer look better than e-mail and hyper-computer. Like how auto-mobile looks old-timey, but automobile is a real word now.

>>8688843

http://pastebin.com/0Xv6V4kR under 1000 words, so manageable, would appreciate feedback.

I really like what's going on this passage, although I'm not a fan of dystopia. I feel like the idea of two characters starting off a dystopian (if it's not dystopia, forgive me desu) work with a hardened mission, a 'this is what we do every day and shows you the true horror of the situation', is a bit cliche.

The prose is beautiful, and I think having one character (ie Lena) escaping her body (although 'whisks her away' needs changing, it's kind of a platitude) and another dealing with grim nihilsm is really cool, but you could do to show us that, not tell us. The scene building is fantastic though, I really like 'form an X, its cross-point unclear'.

>>8688997
>http://pastebin.com/0Xv6V4kR

I really liked it, I love the first two paragraphs. Those less autistic than me might find it a bit unreadable, but I think you nailed it on the head the clinical approach you were going for.
>buking
Skipping school? or bucking off school?

I was debating whether or not you made good choice of semicolons, parentheses and long sentences after I read it and decided that I couldn't really think of anything better to suggest. I came to the conclusion it was wise usage, probably typical to your style, and although it was a bit off-kilter to me who never saw the type before I think it didn't break the prose and only enhanced it.

In the end after I finished reading the third time I figured you were doing something rather interesting here. It's a very wizened, old age look at kids kind of style. The text reeks of 'oh remember when you were 14? yeah that was cool' to me. I don't know where you plan to go with this plotwise but I don't think it matters since you've done a good job making the character's interesting without overselling them. I think it's publishable like this if you continue the same style.

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My protagonist is really weak, and the antagonist is strong. I want the reader to hate the antagonist, but I don't know how. What should he do to the protagonist?

>>8671301
Currently writing a novel about a College student who's several years in, meeting a brand new College student, and she seems almost cripplingly shy/anti-social. He finds her rather odd, but quite cute. She's described as 18, but could pass for 15-16. He's 5'11, in his 20s, and has a goatee and pony tail. Anyways, turns out she has PSAS (Persistent Sexual Arousal Syndrome), may or may not have been sexually abused as a child (likely so), is utterly submissive, and will turn out to have, of all things, a rape fetish. I think I'll toss in a suicide attempt or at least plans to commit suicide, possibly an instance where she cheats on him because he's helped get her out of her shell so she's a little more outgoing, but altimately in spite of all the intense tones, will have some underlying romance. Also, did I mention a lot of smut, and a rape fetish? Yeah, perhaps not much of a story, but I think it's going to be fun as fuck to write, and who knows, if i'm lucky it'll tap into the 50 Shades of Grey market and make me a bit of money, but that's doubtful...

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>>8689915
>young love story
>NTR
>50 shades of gray

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>>8689915
>Young love story
>NTR
Kill yourself, you mouth breathing troglodyte.

>>8689897
Depends how dark the rest of your story is

>>8689942
The protagonist stops being weak, murders the antagonist and goes amok killing people

>>8689946
maybe the antag rapes him or his girlfriend, or both.
Could break something precious to the protag, like a memento, or a daughters hymen
Or because the protagonist is a bitch at the beginning he gets tricked into doing something awful

>>8689946
I think the main point of making people hate someone is to have them trample over something valuable. There's annoying unsubtle ones like that guy from Rob Roy who is a better swordsman than the MC and rapes his wife, then goes on to fall in love with a girl and ignore her when she gets pregnant. In the end the MC still can't beat him, so he just grabs his sword by the blade and stabs him.
Look at Frollo from Hunchback. He's basically just horny. But his hook is that he uses religion to justify himself, to the audience it's pretty clear he needs to fuck off but he maintains that holier than thou attitude.
Smug is my favorite one. Everyone hates that guy who is intentionally being smug when he does something violent or cruel, everyone hates those people so it gets overplayed.

>>8671573
You seem cool

>>8689923
>>8689934
What's NTR? Also, the male is likely going to be in his mid or late 20s, but I guess with one being 18 it still counts as young love.

>>8690029
http://lmgtfy.com/?q=NTR

>>8690050
So cheating, basically? Alright. I think the PSAS and rape fetish will give an interesting spin on it though, even if I seem to have incurred the wrath and disdain of /lit/ with merely the basic idea of my story...

added more today, I think I should go back to work.

Ava bit back a scream as she heard her father hit the floor. Her mother on the other hand failed to keep silent. Even through the thick walls, she could hear her panting “oh god, oh god, oh god.” The floorboards crept as one of them, presumably the frog-like man moved towards the bedrooms.

This was the only chance she was going to get, Ava realized. If she barricaded the door with her dresser she could bide her time and scream for help, but the odds that the mahogany was bulletproof didn't strike her as very high. If she hid, they might not realize she was gone. Maybe Luca would assume she was out with friends, or maybe he would be cautious enough to double check. She couldn't risk it.

Her mother was screaming as someone's foot hammered against the door frame. Ava got out and made her bed as hastily and quietly as she could. If she was going to be hiding, there was no sense in making it obvious. It had to look un-slept in.

“A bit of a strange time to be making your bed now, is it not?” Ava nearly lept out of her nightgown when she heard him. It was a third voice, male and rather emphatic despite the fact it was whispering, as if it were quite used to speaking into a megaphone and irrationally worried about getting out of practice. She turned to face a man in a tragically teal suit who appeared to be leaning through the window. His auburn hair fell in a sheet of sinusoidal waves and he was wearing a pair of sunglasses with curiously round lenses. “Is this a bad time? Should I come back later?”

“Who the hell are you?” she gasped. “What's happening?”

“Ava,” he said, “Listen to me very closely. I can explain everything in due time, but if you want to get out of here, you will need to hold your questions and do exactly as I say.” His sentence was punctuated with a loud slam as the door to her parent's bedroom snapped open.

“Mom,” she breathed. More gunshots.

“I'm sorry, it's too late for her, but it's not for you. Quickly Ava, take my hand and hold on tight.”

There was another brief exchange in the hall. Luca was coming. At a brisk pace, Ava over to the man and took his hand in hers. With a little assistance she stepped onto the window sill and out to the night beyond. It was at that point she remembered she was on the twelfth floor.