REAL CRITIQUE THREAD If you don't rate another anons and

>>8981349
Then I'll go first

Title: To The Amateur Guitarist

Two birds were speaking colloquially
Saying squall-words in tweeting tones
Positing oraculars upon the sparrow bone

Too much in love with the silvered windowpane
The girl against the self in glassy splendor
Wondered about bird-speech and twittering

Felt herself to be on the cusp of a rhythmic thing
That was the sound-mask of bird tones
Hiding, as they were, the first song of the season

Could you have been a bird-brain? Too late
To smell the first forms of weather
On your breath, and flute it into tune

Too late to wish yourself to be a feathered thing
Hanging like a globular plum from the skies
Too late to be the minstrel of your tune

And the jealous girl took the song to heart
And she became all tail, and shadowed the songstress
Pulling herself at the back of nature’s bend

To push yourself forward again, my girl
Wishing you were birdsong, you wished the world
Could have been dimmer, to your loom

To the guitars of these peckish fingers
Hungrily pulling worms from the brown frets
Wishing for their charmed spells

And, in unknowing so, you have made
Yourself as a goddess of the season
And you shall rise now: the highest lark in the clear

I am being compressed in this room. Hundreds of voices echo into my ears after bouncing off of the blank canvas these walls are, only to create a color in my mind. Windows place a beam of sunlight upon my face, highlighting the dust that is likely a formation of everyone’s dead skin.
I would not doubt that everybody in this room is dying.
Situated upon Rufter’s Avenue, Locken’s Memorial Hospital is a grey palace for the ill. The town’s lively culture never seems to break into this hospital, but hundreds of patients surely do every single day. The front desk will be faced with an array of “customers”: A broken arm? Check. An overdose? We’ve got that too.
But hope?
Four confetti-poppers strike fly my way, and, walking past the balloons, I am welcomed to an assorted bunch of children who couldn’t care less about where they are.
Mrs. Fort came wobbling around the corner with a tray of cupcake, and the kids rose at once.
“You can only have one. This ones--”
She paused to take largest cupcake out of the plastic basket and with a large inhale approached me. “For the birthday man!”
I am thirty-two years pass having birthdays.


>>8981360
I actually like this. Really well done. Only thing I see is there's clumsy rhythm after fourth stanza.

>>8981385

I see what you're trying to do but for me the narrative voice is really stilted and awkward

>Hundreds of voices echo into my ears after bouncing off of the blank canvas these walls are

try reading that line out loud to see what I mean

>>8981385
Thanks!

With regards to your prose, I somehow feel like that flat sarcastic but poetic style is overdone. And some of the jokes are cliches, like the 'we've got etc.. etc.. etc.. but etc...?". As well as the 'looking upon happy people and then making a comment about their ignorance'. Maybe, this kind of style can only be livened up if you make the voice a bit more frenetic than flat, although I can't really think of any examples (Vonnegut maybe?).

>>8981411
Thanks. Suggestions to fix that without losing the tone?

>>8981438
Thankfully o only have a chapter done, so if it's really that cheesy I'll probably just switch some things here and there

>>8981740

>Hundreds of voices echo into my ears. Bouncing off of the blank canvas walls.

This isn't perfect of course and I'll admit it neuters the voice a little BUT you can see that it's easier to read.

Faulkner gets to ramble on for pages you don't yet

oh yeah here's mine

http://pastebin.com/X9m2CtR7

>>8981915
Didn't post in this thread just here because I'm feeling nice

I think you have a good idea of descriptions but it's a lot of nothing happening. I feel like you, the author, are soulless writing this

But maybe I'm just a picky old man. Also, bruised water?

>>8981385
I love it. Like the previous anon said, the canvas line reads odd but use his correction. Would read
>>8981360
Not good with poetry but to a layman like myself it looks decent

Is this actually going to be a decent critique thread? Way to go lit

>>8981385
Seems like your prose is inspired by the first few pages of Infinite Jest. Not to patronize you or anything, just something I noticed.

>>8982038
>bruised water?

I thought people would see it as the water begin a dark blue/purple. My bad in that case as most people in these threads have picked it out

It is a slow burner but that's on purpose, may I ask how far you got ?

>>8982181
I've never read it. Is it seriously that similar? And if so, should I start over?

When it comes to a first person narrator, who narrates in past tense yet is neither omnipotent nor living in a far off future where he knows the end results of the story, is it acceptable to use present tense for things that are an ongoing thing? As far the current events in the story go, that is. For example: The narrator explains "This is a technique I use to hypnotize people." instead of "This was a technique I used to hypnotize people." The former implies that he is still using the technique to the current day of the story, where as the later implies he has stopped using that technique.

>>8982683
I think what matters is whether getting to "now" happens, and if so how it matters to the story.

The Big Obvious Example is Holden Caufield. He tells his past story in past, but makes remarks on the events in present. Which all makes sense when we find out that the whole story is him talking to a therapist/analyst the whole time.

The other One is Humbert - we discover he is writing his memoir (first frame) while awaiting trial (second frame) which is the document we just finished, whose "author" an "editor" tells us has since died (third frame).

The trick is keeping it all straight, and if there is is ever a reveal of when "now" is. In Catcher, "now" is Holden's "now" when he speaks the last line. In Lolita, one "now" is when Humbert finishes the memoir, and the last "now" is some time after Humbert's death.

>>8982730
Well, as far as the story goes, that line is technically from a flashback. The story starts in "now" and progresses along until its climax, and the protagonist/narrator at no point stops using the technique he explains to the reader during the flashback.

>>8982851
SO something wireframe like this:

I am now walking down the street.

But I remember back when you and I were eating, and I said "This is a technique I use."

But now I have arrived at my destination. I go inside.

and etc.

Do I follow you?

>>8982894
It would be more like this:

I was walking down the street.

When I remembered how I had ended up in this current series of predicaments.

-- Flashback --

*Protagonist uses his technique*

This is a technique I use to etc, etc.

-- End Flashback --

It was awful to remember.

Having arrived at my destination, I put that memory behind me and went inside.

It's a weird sort of narrator, in all honesty. I'm charged with editing a narrator so that he almost always speaks in past tense, yet does not know the future, like I mentioned earlier. Essentially the narrator exists one step ahead of the protagonist, who lives in the "now" of the story.

It looks sort of like this:

Past > Present - Protagonist > Future - Narrator > Future

Where the future the narrator exists in is basically one step ahead of the protagonist.

It's a kick in the teeth to comprehend because often times the narrator will have to utilize past tense terms when the actions that are going currently on the story is persistent in the "now," atleast until a certain point in the story, the narrator does not know that however so he ought to not be privy to speaking like he does.

I'm sure I could pull up some better examples, but I'm suffering from a fever at the moment and have an awful headache.

>>8981360
i feel bad for your mother

>>8983016
What I read there is:

> I was walking down the street [but right "now" I am not doing so. Right "now" I am somehow communicating the past event of walking.]

>Flashback [yeah, that's fine. I get it.]

>Having arrived [back then when I arrived, but "now" I am back to somehow communicating this already happened event to you]

I have to admit, I don't really get it. By what mode is the reader supposed to believe the narrator is communicating? Holden is talking to his therapist, and we are eavesdropping by machina means. Humbert is writing to us. How is this narrator communicating the story?

>>8983069
By a narration of current events that just happened to him or are currently happening, atleast that is as far as I can figure out from this. Mind you that most of this narrative was originally written to be present tense, and now the guys in charge want it to be all past tense. I just don't think that works out as well as they possibly conceived because it doesn't read right.

Mind you this is the first two lines of the script and already I feel like something off by making this past tense:

The setting sun's scorching red light dyes the train station scarlet.
In the midst of a crowd of tired workers leaving through the ticket gate... there I stand.

to:

The setting sun's scorching red light dyed the train station scarlet.
In the midst of a crowd of tired workers leaving through the ticket gate... there I stood.

I think that having it be present tense instead gets the point that it is happening in the "now," none of these things have finished happening, so there is no need to speak of them like it was something that passed. The sun is no longer dying the train station a scarlet, the protagonist is no longer standing in the crowd of etc, this is all happening right "now."

>>8983118
I think I have to agree with you. Now I am trying to imagine the people in charge's argument, or reasoning.

If I were to narrate, verbally, to a companion, the events we are "currently" engaged in, it would be the case that by the time we could speak it, the event would be over. Kinda.

"We are walking down the street right now."

"But we have already walked this far down the street."

"I am buying an ice cream."
"But now you have bought it."

Or, I can imagine a movie voice over:

EXTERIOR:STREET

MAN walks down street

VOICEOVER: I walked down the street.

MAN enters ice cream store

VOICEOVER: I bought an ice cream.

So we view the events as now, but the voice over is simultaneously telling them in the past tense. Somehow I can resolve that.

bump for all

Charls Carrol? Yeah I know him. Hell, I worked with him in Korea. He had a different name, though. Back then we called him 'Gook Gutting' Carrol, because he never came out of a tunnel without a scalp, an ear, or covered with blood.

Most would call him insane, but that is why the green berets trained him. They saw potential. It wasn't until they learned his methods that they truly realized what a monster they created. You see, most guys that go tunnel clearing take guns. Not Charls. No, he took knives, hatchets, sometimes nothing but his bare hands. After a few missions I got a chance to talk to him, in the mess. He was wearing his blood stained hat, sunglasses, and combat fatigues, smoking a pipe and drinking johnny walker black. It was contraband, but you NEVER told Charls what he could and couldn't do.

I asked him why he never took guns with him. He lowered is head and took a long slow draw from his pipe, pulled off his sun glasses and looked me right in the eyes, piercing my soul.

"I do it out of respect. Respect for the white race. These slant eye'd scum bags don't deserve the mercy of an American made bullet, but the slow torturous death of the hands of an American man!"

In a flash he pulled out his weathered, but razor sharp knife and stopped just short of sticking my gut. "The look in their eyes when I slip this baby into their swollen, rice filled bellies is reason enough. To see the last lights flick off in their heads as they see a real killer work."

>>8981385
this was kinda comfy desu

>>8981385
I would remove the quotations on "customers" to make the statement strong in its realism rather than being tongue-in-cheek. Also, I'd change up the wording somehow of the sunlight/dust. It could right now be interpreted as the dust being on the narrator's face.

I think some slight delicacy in the way you introduce this dead skin dust could makes the transition to talking of death even stronger. Perhaps take a look at the way Proust or Woolf use flowery language, to talk about mundane things to really sell you its hidden beauty and symbolic value, before reaching the sentiment "I would not doubt that everyone in this room is dying."

I think the premise is interesting, but the way you introduce the narrator in a switch is what really struck me as beautiful, would definitely read.

>>8983563
Damn son, that's intense. You're really selling the vibe right. Would read, but nervously.

>>8983602
t-thanks

>>8983563
go back to /pol/

>>8983648
You go back to /pol/

>>8983563
Lmao dunno if this is a joke but I found it legitimately engrossing up until the contraband line.

>>8983673
you are right, it kills the flow, thanks for the critiqué

>>8983563
I like it. Grimey. Would read if I was a military tough guy sort

>>8983571
Thanks for this. This is pretty helpful.
Post something yourself?

The flaw with this thread is that there is no one giving critique without posting their own everyone is too everyone to be harsh and truthful in case it causes the recipient to come down on them

>>8983763
thanks for the input

>>8983763
what are you talking about? If there was shit, someone would point it out.

This thread's just pretty decent. Nobody has posted pure shit yet

>>8983563
horry...

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76KB, 540x810px

Here's a little something something I put together. It's a fairly short poem. I still suck at good meter. But I'd love input on how this reads and how well the imagery works with the thematics.

http://pastebin.com/U8mkz8V4

>>8981360
This has nice form, has been edited, and was certainly written with care. But being a piece if musicality, you really fall short on what could be a really tight and contained piece. I would highly consider a rhyme scheme. And maybe try paying a little closer attention to the flow of your words. The piece changes voice a lot, shifting in and out of smooth flowing and choppy prose.
Give this a few more edits, really pay attention to how the lines read altogether and not individually. The best way to do this is to get rid of any words that's do not effect the piece while there nor do they help it.
This can be great.

>>8983563
This isn't bad. It's not a fantastic piece of prose. But it reads well, follows character, and invites the mood well. Make sure your use of jargon and lingo is well researched for Vietnam. And with all war stories, please consider the long term goal of the piece. War is a massive tap of metaphorical imagery, but it is well tapped in this day and age.
Keep grinding.

The Universe is my goddamned will...

>>8984047
Blah

The sky be screams and shouts. I am run from everything. I am run from the eyes of angels. I am run from the final forever. I am run to a place where I can shave my head, change my face, and be again a nothing. It need be done true quick, for I know come sunlight the angels will have seen my face, and the angels will have found me, and I will have no haven. These neon monuments and their gutters, the trash roads where the porcelain mannekins walk—this place it be no home. No place in the Saint’s Metropolis where I be gift a bed or shirt or spoon. I rush toward an airy nothing.
The storm be a warm and heavy one, the kind Raj would call a ‘primordial cleanse’ and laugh. Now he be dead forever. I have run all night and end now west of Sunset City, near the ocean. Nearby somewheres be the cracked wall with the mural of the ugly laughing man, and chance be there Comus too. A trash hope. Above me, the sky machine flashes a false lightning with a cold consistency, and its sweaty rain falls slow. I count the time beneath my breath, and every thirty seconds I hide my face from the flash, and it be stay hid until I hear the thunder. Then I run again.
The streets be lonesome and everywhere I see Rita’s face on advertisements for Xamata and KamaDream. E smiles at me, and I tremble. I be a sweat machine and my clothes they be mad heavy. Both feet throb with a painful heartbeat. I listen for the laughing man, but the rain be too loud for me to hear nothing.
All around be unlit buildings, curving over me like cliffs. A lonesome light flickers on, high above me and cyclopean stare. I cower against the wall. I crawl towards an alley. This be it, this be it, this be it. They see me. A rat splashing in a puddle. There be a dumpster in the alley and I drag myself to it mad quick. I hide. I am stay hid. An aircraft rumbles in the heavens.
I stare and stare at the light up in the tower. Then a second light turns on, and a third. Morning comes. There be no time. Soon the rising crowd will be everywhere and the Angels will have their eyes. Under the dumpster I find a pair of broken sunglasses, without the left lense. I put them on. I push the wet hair from my face. No, wait. I change ideas, and instead pull my hair over my face to hide better. This will work. Twenty eight, twenty nine, thirty. A blast of thunder pounds through my chest.
Again I rush into the street. The howl of the storm now be slowly decreasing, and my footfalls are become louder. They echo off the cliffs of steel and glass. I turn a corner. Right. Left. Forward. The laughing man be nowhere. In the distance I hear a siren wailing. They be carrying a body to the Factory. They be take my body soon too.

>>8984111
shit i forgot an edit. should be "A lonesome light flickers on high above me, piercing me with its cyclopean stare.

>>8983563
This has potential. Feels like real story telling. Verbal, natural tone. Remove 'piercing my soul' though, schlocky cliche.

>>8981360
This needs punctuation badly. The vocabulary is needlessly dense in some parts. 'positing oraculars' sounds neither nice nor natural. Your line breaks are arbitrary and the line lengths are all over the place.

>>8983962
gah. the couplets at the end of each stanza just do not work at alllll. You've got spondees fucking up the rhythm hard. Also 'appetizing', stresswise, is /--- . There's no fucking way you ever fit that word into any type of rhythm. It feels like youre trying to force the meter unnaturally. Try to use fewer gerunds and mess around with different verb tenses to change your rythms. For example: "fillling encrusted lowlands" can easily be "that fills encrusted lands". Lowlands being a rhythm-killing spondee.

>>8983563
The last sentence in the first paragraph ends awkwardly, but the hook is interesting.

In the second paragraph, the word "truly" is unnecessary. Switching into second person POV at the end, directly talking to the reader, is distracting. You don't need a comma in front of "but razor sharp" in the fifth paragraph. See...see in the last sentence. Try to come up with something more creative than see, maybe "witness."

My submission:

Dasha’s house wasn’t far from the sinkhole, and the warm draft when Annalise stepped in came as a welcome relief. Photos dotted the walls. The mannequin in the corner had her mother’s latest kooky fashion design pinned. Warm pastel colors and their brick fireplace with wood just waiting to ignite validated the inner peace she’d experienced.
“You’re sure your mother won’t mind? I know she’s weird about me…”
“She can get over her racist attitudes another day. She won’t be home all weekend. Besides, she forgot to lock the liquor cabinet.”
Annalise chuckled.
“I’d prefer a mixed drink to shots, if you don’t mind.”
“Vodka? Jack? Comfort?”
“Vodka. Got any Mountain Dew?”
Dasha grinned. “I’ve got grenadine too.”
Dirty Temples were Annalise’s favorite drink, when she was dumb enough to imbibe. After the commotion tonight, why not?
“Hey, Dasha?”
“Yeah?”
“What would happen if one of us made that deal? It talked to all of us in private at the end, so none of us have any idea what happened.”
“What do you mean, in private?”
“I mean, it can talk in our heads, like you say, but it can read our thoughts too. Like it knows all of our doubts before we can say them. It told me to speak that way after you left. Offered to rig the election for me.”
“Is it really a win if it’s rigged?”
She handed her the frilly drink, vodka still swirling at the bottom of the glass. Annalise stared at the abstract patterns it formed, not daring to meet her friends’ eyes.
“That’s a hard one. On one hand, it’s against everything I believe in about free will and choice. But the chance to effect change?”
“Isn’t it better if you earn it though? Like, by rallying people around your cause? Isn’t forcing your will on people fascism?”
“If it’s what’s best…”
“Careful Anna. You didn’t, did you?”
Fear and concern shone through her friend’s gaze, and Annalise choked back her tears.
“No, but I wish I had.”
“No, honey. Trust me. You don’t.”
Dasha walked over to the fireplace, piled newspaper on top of the firewood. The rapid reduction of kindling to ash before the fire caught transfixed Annalise.
Like inspiration, or rebellion. A flash of feeling, then a slow burn. Inspiration catches, and it’s up to the one inspired to fuel it. Could I fuel a revolution alone?

>>8984200
So, I should just not focus on poetry too much right now. Because each word there is so very keen to painting the desired picture. DESU, what if I just gut the stanzas and line breaks and turn this into a piece of prose:

Peach and pumpkin skies settle into boysenberry eve laid top an earthen mantle -rising ravenous moon's gleam consuming such sweetly glow- who's homely stove fades below. Childish flames lick breathlessly the empyreal delights, clacking whispered recipes about its kindler's guise -unassertive, aimless descants filling encrusted lowlands. Perched, eyeing the savory stars, just before a peripheral frame, a faux dome of delight chars. Copper wire, concrete blades conduct bites cut from the peace-ful treats appetizing dreams and sleep.

Does this read better, and does the imagery still work well even if it's designed for poetry?

>>8984234
It's too dense IMO. You don't need all the flowery language you'd use in poetry for fiction. It doesn't build up to anything, confirm anything, paint a full picture. It just is. Even poems need a point.

>>8984251
If you think this doesn't have or come to a point, then it makes it difficult to accept your criticism as legitimate. This most certainly brings up and states a very clear point.

>>8984251
If there's a point in there, it's buried. That's what I'm saying.

>>8984234
a d j e c t i v e s

>>8984234
this reads like the trappings of imagistic ability without any of the actual ability. past the first sentence, it's just a procession of lyrical words with absolutely zero metaphorical weight, until it's as a mushy and overpowering as a 2 dollar bottle of extra sweet riesling

>>8984295
T H I S desu

>>8984278
It's a scene of a man sitting out in the rural plains. It's dusk, and he's sitting near a fire watching the sunset and the moons rise. In the dark, he sees the light of a city on the horizon darkening a portion of the sky. He realizes how simple and whole he feels watching the night sky, and how detached and removed the city is from it all. Irs why I use phrases like 'kindler's guise', since kindler's literal meaning is of someone who is anarchistic (in layman's). It's why the fire whispers recipes while the city steals slices. The word choice is key for interpreting the feelings here. But interpreting words=/=buried meaning.

one one one
who am I
who are you
touch the sky
kill the dew
who is to know
what we should do
despite we try
to go for you

I can't read
you fucking cunt
get out and go
and smoke a blunt

>>8984295
>zero metaphorical weight
>obviously not well read

>>8984325
>his poetry sucks
>people tell him
>"you just don't understand! i'm a genius!"

>>8983563
Sammy Hydeee/10

i have about a third of a short story based on bluebeard finished, but it's too long to post

>>8981360
this is in blank right? i agree with the other anons it needs a regular beat
it's really nice though
>>8981385
this isn't my type of thing, i think it's clunky (no offence)
>>8983563
i legit thought this was a pasta, like the ones on /mu/ about panda bear being a white supremacist

>>8984222
Work on your narrative sequencing. That very first sentence is confusing, mentioning two different characters and two different locations, but the first ones mentioned are not the focus. You also don't make it clear there are two people there before you begin the dialog, so i don't know who is talking to whom. It would have helped to have dialog tags at the start of the conversation too. You shift into the first person at the end.

The dialog and narrative are fine. Maybe a little plain but thats not a bad thing. It's intriguing at the very least

>>8984333
Nah, I know I'm not good. But I know it's not as incoherent as you lazy readers make it out to be because if someone's writing on here makes you think for a second, it's bad or pointless.
I'm saying its not good. But I'm saying you're underselling it because of its short comings.

>>8984360
It's in the middle of a novel, so I can understand why the first sentence would be confusing. The first person is in italics to denote thought, but I can't do that on 4chan. Thanks for the thoughtful critique though, I'll work on clarifying the first sentence.

last time i post this before revising. i critiqued earlier in the thread and will come back for more in a bit

You forbidden center and puncture
around which many revolve.
You, hiding behind awkward slant rhymes,
broken meter, forced latinisms and clarifying footnotes.
Often spoken of, by others, in terms of reverence,
known by biographical detail,
triangulated by translations and vague appraisals.
Scintillating, decadent, bruise colored and beautiful, somewhat holy.

I have not your structured history,
your dead memories, the limpid pleasures and pains.
More importantly, I was not lain to steep
in past glories of form or bred in taste,
made to swallow my vegetables of western traditon
until my whole consitution contained the rules of a civilization.
When I first drew myself out of my past
and squeezed myself in mind's palm for material
only this came out.

I admit. Often have I wanted and then felt you,
just in a once, a low and far off tone near the stomach.
At night, about asleep
I touch with my fingertips
the imagined taste of rat poison absinthe,
obsidian skipping stone on green water.
All this ungraspable, later, on command.

A journey to know you would drastically undershoot
these violet pregnancies born to your shadows.
They only appear to belong to you. Mine are that damp sidewalk,
that black 2004 Honda civic carelessly drenched in blueing moss,
rain rising around above, poking holes in stormclouds.
These perfect structures of metal and screen, with
Humming and snapping wires beating mystic patterns
sidereally regular. The steely glass in the distance
grown taller than you knew, strangling the dimmer, dimming stars.

>>8984370
those connections that you claim are there just aren't there. you may have thought that whispers recipes/steals slices shows how detached the city is but it doesn't except through muddy layers of signification only accessible to you.

>>8984355
When you say not you're type of thing, do you mean mine in particular or the general style of writing?

>>8984395
>you're
Sorry, phone posting.

>>8984395
my bad really it's unfair to offer you that vague and half assed response, ill try to explain

i dont want this to sound harsh but i also want to explain myself properly

"not my kind of thing" - doesn't work well for me personally but might float boats of others. not sure if the excerpt is from the middle of the work (i hope it is) because i have no investment whatsoever in the character and am not ready for him to be so neurotic from the get go. "hundreds of voices[...]" onwards reads like bad woolf
"place a beam of sunlight upon" - clunky, the word "upon" very often makes u sound like a high schooler, i avoid it unless it needs to be there
"situated upon" again just sounds like u want to be wordy, for me its pointless
fun town / depressing hospital contrast is fine but using "break" is counterintuitive because nobody actually breaks into hospitals
"A broken arm? Check. An overdose? We’ve got that too." is just weirdly flippant i'd modify
"welcomed to" doesn't work
"couldn’t care less about where they are." nebulous, which if on purpose is fine but otherwise slightly confusing. are they patients or visitors?
>She paused to take largest cupcake out of the plastic basket and with a large inhale approached me. “For the birthday man!”
that part i like

i assume ur fairly young and that u speak more than just one language because there are a few little things that stick out to a native

anyway good luck with the rest

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>>8984370
>no, it is the READERS who are wrong

This is the wrong attitude to have, anon. You made the conscious decision to post in a criticism thread, so be an adult about it. Multiple people have said (and rightly so) that your writing is too dense and flowery. If you're looking for a food analogy, that passage about "Peach and Pumpkin Skies" was like caramel fudge brownies: pretty good for a couple bites, but it's much too rich to make an entire meal out of it. I don't think I could stomach reading more than a few pages of a book written like that, and it's not me being lazy, I'm just allergic to verbosity.

>>8984382
And I'm saying that it's a pretty basic food image that follows theme well. I may be biased, but I'm usually a fair judge of self and am more than certain the point is clear.

>>8984222
Nice trips. The piece could be a bit more direct, even accounting the atmosphere of mystique. Some may disagree, I'm not a fan of being in SO in the dark. Third sentence feels gimpy. More personally, I don't like fleeting references to occasions the reader wouldn't have otherwise known about. 6.5/10 too wide, but for what it's worth one of the better things I've seen on here this evening.

>>8984234
You could have explained all of that in one sentence. These dudes are right; it's not actually stimulating, it's just a task. Arduous at that. 3/10

>>8984321
You're the cunt

>>8984373
Didn't read the whole thing. It's mostly a condescending ramble, but I can tell you were pulling from somewhere in your soul. 3.5/10

r8 my r8

>>8984453
ok carry on being bad then pal

>>8984456
1.5/10 you noticed the trips

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>>8984456
You're pretty much confirming the way I felt about every post you replied to, so I think you're a pretty swell guy

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Is the Daily Boob a good satire journal?

>>8984442
Well that's just it, I aim to write just sort of short images and stories that paint a 'skit' that which has a clear message. But the scenery of the skit and the images in the writing try and tell and reveal an underlying statement. Like a painting. This is literally all the piece is. It's why I try to write poetry, but I still suck at meter, and hence why it started as a shirty poem.

>>8984435
Aw man I feared this. I thought the tone was executed pretty well but if you think it's clunky then I'm going to seppuku.

It is the very beginning. I'll try and tidy it up but I have 25~ pages of the relative tone and style so this worries me.

I'm native English. Feels bad

forest haiku

the smell of a brook: dirt rubbed between your fingers -- sandy, staining brown.

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here's one of mine, pages go left to right obv

this is mainly introductory stuff, the action of the story is the character meeting a witch and being turned into a bull

>it's full of pseudowords you faggot
yes, i like them >:[

>>8984487
i'm not some arbiter of prose man like i said other people will dig it and there are people in this very thread that do, those are just my feelings on it and i'm nobody

just keep writing the only person you need to satisfy with your work is yourself, crit threads just let u escape the claustrophobia a bit i think

When the river falls
out over the bay
I look down the halls
of my new stay.

When out by the door
I see a quick smile,
a triumphent whore,
standing all the while.

With a rasp in her voice
and a glint in her eye
she sounds a rejoice;
we're both really high.

With clumsy fumblings
we get into bead,
we bumble and tumble
and my heart fills with dread.

I wake with a start
and stare up at the celing
with a fluttering heart,
a familiar feeling.

I search to and fro
to my left and my right
when I feel a warm glow
a jolly good night.

>>8984510
Missing punctuation makes it difficult to read. Seems interesting. Does suffer from mistakes similar to most pieces posted in these threads, those generally being lack of brevity, but at least it goes somewhere. 7/10

>>8984518
Doesn't do anything for me personally. Seems somewhat decadent/superfluous. Why do I need to know you're both really high? Why does your heart fill with dread? It just doesn't add up.
3.5/10 at least the shitposts are becoming more readable.

>>8981349
I refuse to post in these threads because I don't hate myself enough

>>8984594
>fears outside opinions
>doesn't hate himself

>>8984594
These are the best sorts of threads because everyone's honest and can be as shitty as they want. If you have a good work, you'll know. If it sucks, you'll really know

>>8984594
2.5/10

>>8984619
You're not wrong

>>8984608
>I don't hate myself ENOUGH

>>8984619
what's worse? being told youre shit, or getting zero responses?

>>8984692
it depends on how funny the criticism is

Wow a real thread for once, free of memeing and one word responses. bout time.

>>8984111
I'm not sure if this is an excerpt or the first line or anything. I like the simpleness of the POV's words, and you made it so that they didn't come off as really confusing and they didnt kick you out.

After reading your edit the cyclopean line fits better.

It raises the question of who is this person, and who are the Angels they are running from? I'm getting a feel of a more futuristic cyberdark feel, of a city at night with the blare of neon lights, and the main character fleeing from anything that would reveal him to the Angels that are hunting him. He feels like a renegade cyborg or something artificial. It does make me want to know more.

The thing is, I read some of the lines in Heavy Weapon Guy's voice from TF2, mostly after the "I be a sweat machine" lines.

So, the Factory and the Angels are one and one, correct?

>>8981915
36 "his focused was stolen" slight error here, On the part between 35 and 36 when he goes underwater, I'm not sure why he went down there yet (maybe you explained it already but it didn't click in my head yet), and if 36 cuts off abruptly, or you just didn't put a period. And on the data sphere object, is this a modern piece of equipment or future object?

"He hoisted her onto his should" and "he away parts of his usual proportion" are other typos? I think. You should capitalize on the development on line 48 with the knocking at the door. There isn't that much attributed to it, and it seems like it was swiftly addressed and the feelings and reactions of the keeper and girl are skipped over. So after reading the whole thing I realized who the little glowing girl, the pureblack fish-eyed boy and the wife were meant to be, kind of like Sirens who tempted him from his duty, enchanting him into forgo his duties as the keeper to acquire the family he lost? I think in the beginning you should dig into some more of his normal routines and flesh out his loyalty to the old gods that the sirens dislike, and his loyalty to his role as the keeper. So eventually, when he does give up the lighthouse for them, it makes a more dramatic impact.

>>8984807

Yeah spot on with the siren/temptation.

Also thanks for the input and massive thanks for pointing out the typos.

>>8984807
>a more futuristic cyberdark feel, of a city at night with the blare of neon lights, and the main character fleeing from anything that would reveal him to the Angels that are hunting him. He feels like a renegade cyborg or something artificial. It does make me want to know more.

Awesome! yea that's exactly where I'm going with it. It's the opening. The Angels & everything else will be explained later or thru flashbacks. Basically, the angels winged agents that work for the Department of Birth - the Factory is where people are born/reincarnated. Our protagonist knows too much.

>>8981385
Reminds me a bit of Lovecraft. Not sure if that's what you're going for but it feels like this is the setup for something dark.
>>8983563
I honestly don't know if I like this or not. It's well written but the setup seems really ham-fisted
>>8983962
This reminds me of comfy midwest autumn nights so if that's what you're going for I'd say you've got it.
>>8984222
Good Characterization
>>8984373
Feels a wee bit melodramatic, but genuine

Here's the intro to a short horror story I've just started: http://pastebin.com/2FYZ8kGh

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This is all so fucking shit.

>>8985390
Not really, there's some good work in here.. You're heads just shoved so far up your own ass

>>8985206

one thing I'd say is you should decide on a firmer narrative voice. Or at least double check it.

Because sometimes its not clear if its the grandchild narrating or if we're in the the grandfathers past.

I like that it's sparse of too much verbose language keeps it feeling like a story you'd tell in the car. And I'm intrigued to read it in full

>>8983952
I wantu moro...

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This is a translated short story, I think it's good but my english is not perfect. Took time to translate, hope you guys appreciate it

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1yNjMymqgSwhuzXQ-NxzzRmJ_dq5AVVYfxj4skdV29nc/edit?usp=sharing

>>8984321
I like the rhyming, but one could, with a little imagination, replace the "dew" with a more historically and culturally interesting word. Think of the context, where we are right now, and how it could get some laughs out of lots of folks around here.
Otherwise nice meme

>>8984510
I like this, I've never been to Spain, but this reminds me of the mediterranean sea
Only thing I'd change is when there is the part where the man "stamps his feet song-crazed and love-crazed", wouldn't it be better "stamps his feet crazed by song and love"?
But yes, it made me very nostalgic, wish I could see the sea again

>>8983563
kek'd at this being the post with more (You)'s

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http://pastebin.com/KDsYJ3Gr

muh crappy purple prose fan fiction
if you don't like warhammer most of this won't make sense to you

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>>8985574
>You're heads just shoved so far up your own ass

>>8981360
oh dear. The phrasing is convoluted, as is the vocabulary, and it is not at all musical or nice to hear.
>saying squall-words in tweeting tones
>Positing oraculars upon the sparrow bone
>the girl against the self in glassy splendor
>Hanging like a globular plum from the skies
who the fuck told you this was ok?

Read some Lorca, Keith Douglas, Ted Hughes, Borges, Auden, and try again.

>>8983563
I think the conversational style here is a little cliche, like it's how you think people speak, but you've seen too many action films.

>Charles Carrol? Yeah I know him. Hell, I worked with him in Korea.

Charles Carrol? Gook Gutting Carrol? I worked with him in Korea. Guy never came out of a tunnel without a scalp.

>>8984111
This is great. Reads like bipolar maniac's thoughts.

>>8984373
What distinguishes this from prose?

>>8984518
The rhythm here is awkward.

Elegy to a Blossoming Danseur

Glissading brusque youth; in autumn’s garland of bay,
Proudly prances and struts, with the lithest of hearts.
But in the fainting of stars, it withers away;
And with one last pirouette: – He gently departs.

My tears will not rain; they shall not fall on the pall,
For all has but vanished in one wasting breath.
I shall strew it with petals of spring’s finest fall –
Let the fragrance of flowers dance twain with thy death.

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>>8985923
stop me from writing purple prose lads PLEASE

The screen sears my eyes and it hurts like a fire but trapped inside me and it hurts and he abandoned me again but I know that if I can fix this then it will never hurt me again and so I call him again and he doesn't answer so I call him again and leave another message and I forget now how many times I have called but I know that he will pick up and then he will come back to me. He is my perfect seraphim, my angel, my precious baby and I love him more than anything and everything in the whole world and the world is big and scary and wants to rip us apart but I know that nothing can come between us because our love is stong and sometimes it feels like it isn't but I promise you it is strong but when he is confused or sad it feels like scissors. He is unblemished and sheerly and I wish that he would message me back or answer a call or something to show that he is there and he wants to make things better and maybe I could wait until morning but by morning I will disappear into smoke and ash and bubbling tar and I will sink down into a deep and dark hole that I dug with my fingernails. My fingernails are soft since I took a shower this morning and I fell asleep in the shower thinking of you but I bit my fingernails tonight or last night or both and I remember swallowing the fragments. I call him again and he doesn't even hang up this time it just rings and rings and rings and rings and the tone of the ringing is screeching at me with hate on its voice. I would never hate him. He can fly on his perfect angel wings up into the blue sky and I want to fly with him in the blue sky but I am tethered to this pit by a chain or a rope or nothing at all in a fetid pool of my mistakes and if we can't fly together I can clip his wings with my scissor feelings and use the feathers to build a house in Oregon with dark oak floors and a cozy fireplace. We don't need kids because we will have each other and our love is strong tomorrow but today I am sad and scissors and empty like a big lake but without water and the fish in the lake flip and flop and flap on the arid lakebed but they can't bring the water back and what I mean is the water is our love and the lake is our love and I don't know why you haven't picked up the phone. You know that I love you and I know you love me but it is really easy to be confused sometimes and other times it is hard and impossible like when you know something like I know that I love you. I know that I made a mistake all that time ago and I still think about it every night. My mistake is snipping scissor feeling and I'm so sorry that it snips and snaps you too. My fingernail is too short now. I am sorry. I want to be pretty for you but it is so hard when I ruin my body like this. (Continued)

I know I don't do enough for you and I wish I knew what to do and I'm sorry. I want to drive to your house and hold you and let you know everything will be okay but I know that if I drive I will get lost and then we can never be together. I'm sorry for what I did and I'm sorry for not loving you enough. My stomach is being sliced to pieces by the scissors and fingernails and every mistake I have ever made and I wish I knew how to fix it. I do know how to fix it but I wonder if you will read this and I wonder if I will read this and I I know I have to love you more and I love you with every fibre of my being or fiber I'm not sure which way to spell it but I love you. I remember the day we met and the day you first said you loved me and the day we kissed and it is all blurring like water mixed with blood and rain but I remember that I was happy for the first time in my life and not the happy when you have to smile because people are worried or the happy when you wake up and didn't disappear but it is a pure happy and and that was because we were together and I wish I could help you stop being confused about things and I wish I could do so much and I wish you would feel better. I love you. My beloved. I wish that these things wouldn't happen and I wish you wouldn't avoid me and I don't know how to make you see that it would be easier for both of us if you just picked up the phone. I know you hang up when you hear it ring but sometimes you leave and let it ring and ring and ring all night and I am alone and that is very scary for me because I am alone with myself and my scissor feelings that snip and snap. I know that in the morning you will be less confused and I won't cry as much and then in the evening I will call and call and call and then you will get annoyed at me because you are confused and it will happen again and we can't do that okay? I love you and I can't let you get hurt or be on your own because I know it would hurt you even if you say otherwise. I owe you this. You saved my life and I owe you all the love in the entire world and I just want you to be happy and even if I have to make you see that you are just confused somehow it is all because I love you more than life itself and all the things in the world and anything and everything. I love you so much Frankie.

-

>>8984497
This is a good haiku, you should write more.
>>8984518
This was okay, I liked the third stanza.
>>8986003
This is cozy but hard to follow.

I can recall a day in dark December
when the sky wept grey into an empty quarry
and I wept too, for the cruelty of the world,
tears mingling with rain in the stones.

I can recall a day in proud May
when the sun shone over a forest of flowers
and we walked through them, laughing,
our smiles lost in a riot of red and green.

I can recall a night in cold November
when the chill in the air sparkled with moonlight,
when I sat with friends and talked for hours,
our words carried on the frost of our breath.

But far better than these do I recall a day,
I know not when or where,
I sat frozen under burning sun
neither alive nor dead; I felt nothing.
No laughter was there, no tears, not even
the bittersweet despair that once I knew so well.
There was no poetry that day,
no music,
not the slightest of sounds; all was still.
And in my stillness I cried out silently
for rain, for flowers, for frost, for anything. Anything.

I heard no answer.
Just tell me I don't sound too much like a middle schooler hanging out at Hot Topic. That's all I need to hear.

(Also, it needs a title.)

>>8986300
Shit, formatting fuckup. "I heard no answer" is the last line of the poem. The bit about Hot Topic is a request for criticism, not part of the poem at all. There were meant to be a couple lines separating them but I somehow screwed it up.

cringiest thread of 2017 so far

>>8984510
good stuff, but some punctuation was missing. the spanish and english is pulled off decently, similar to mccarthy, but a bit overdone for such a small piece. I think there might be too much of it, but that might just be me.

short story I wrote. all critique welcome.

http://pastebin.com/raw/pFS37xGT

. overall enjoyed.7.5/10

>>8986311
Not saying you're wrong, but I think we'd all appreciate some slightly more nuanced criticism.

Standing between two mirrors and I see
endlessly.
I feel alive for once,
it doesn’t make sense.

Endlessly
I cry about lovers from past lives.
It doesn’t make sense.
This place was never real.

I cry about lovers from past lives,
their love is deeply missed.
This place was never real.
Was that not the original world?

Their love is deeply missed.
Standing between two mirrors and I see.
Was that not the original world?
I feel alive for once.

>>8986369
The image of "standing between two mirrors" is a strong one, but I think for a structured poem like this you want to have a more consistent rhythm.

>>8986311
There is a substantial exchange above about narrative perspective with respect to time frame which is actually constructive, in that it at least reveals a vocabulary of narrative technique that I think we could all use more of.

>>8984510
this is good prose
>>8986300
this is definitely teenage but i like it. get rid of the repetition of anything

>>8985206
>reminds me of comfy midwest autumn nights

Literally exactly the image I was painting here. Thank you for the input

>>8986311
no u

“What’s wrong?” was always asked but
I would say nothing. As far as
I knew there was nothing wrong. I just
don’t smile. I didn’t know
it was a crime.

I didn’t feel like there was much for me
to smile about. Maybe I will someday.
That glorious moment when the clouds
stop haunting my walks and when some
heavenly force decides to look after me.

I see now that there were quite a few
things Wrong.
That’s what my little tower is made of.
Each of it’s stone blocks stacked over the years,
each one representing something wrong.

>>8986629
i like this, but the meter is weird

>>8985658
Thanks for the feedback! It's the first fiction I've written in some time so I appreciate it.

>>8986006
Read Hemingway.

>>8985923
Ya man this is way too purp for me.

I recommend getting a gf or something so that you don't feel the need to prove yourself with writing...

You're a writer, so you know how paradoxical the world is right? Why don't you live that. Try to write simply, try to chill out and be yourself.

If you be yourself and write casually, you'll actually gain xp.

I know you're nerd kid so I can give you an example:

Borderlands 2. If you try to fight over-leveled enemies, you'll waste your time and you won't enjoy yourself. You might get extra xp if you ever kill them, but you probably wont. For the most part, it'll be a waste of time and you'll feel like shit.

Now, fighting regular enemies. You want to feel like a god emperor of the written word off the bat. But you gotta fight these guys. It's FUN, man, to do that. Then eventually you'll be leveld up with golden armor.

You know?

>>8986341
to my knowledge this story is about a brooding milktoast guy at a construction site that fuckin dies violently and then the blue collar guys laugh? not only is this unrealistic I find it rather cruel. and I don't care for the main guy. stop tryin so hard m8

sorry 2 be dick but your guardian angel sent me for the sake of honesty so take it up with them

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>>8985758
3 pages can't be too long for you people read, can it?

>>8987004
Why don't you pastebin it, m8?

By the way, while you're there you can check this out:

http://pastebin.com/raw/KxdgWYAW

I don't have time for this, I have a videogame to program

>>8984111
As much as I would like to give you criticism on this, for the life of me I can't seem to find anything jarringly wrong with it.
Really managed to capture interest in this and the setting. The grammar simplicity you have their triggered my autism a bit, but thats neither here nor there.
Bretty gud

---------------------

Typically speaking, on the average night I would find myself here at this window, staring at the city, and my accomplishments thereof. Tonight however, Nature conspired to steal the world away from me, and so there was nothing. Nature, I learned a long time ago, largely creates unfortunate, unchangeable realities.
Either way, to their existential spite of Nature, Fritz and them were roaring in the courtyard, which was unusual for this hour. Normally speaking, the delivery cart of carcasses would arrive, they would glide through them like wet soap on oil, and their lust tended to be sated. And yet, here they were, hyper-primally howling as I once knew them to do so, lust dripping from each guttural vibration. Of course, due to the weather, I could not see them, but perhaps that was the point. So they could revel in their inhumanity without having to see it, or their own monstrous figures.
Of course, out of all of us, Fritz and them care the least about their inhumanity or their appearance. I know this simply from how long I’ve known them. They gave up on achieving that dream of humanity a long time ago. To be honest, everyone involved gave up their humanity a long, long time ago, though it could be argued that the Colonel and the Captain embraced theirs’ like it was a dying relative. Still, time has made us perfectly content with this fact, and our actions. But, when you are in the position we are in, a certain humane nature is required. Even if I carry the brunt of it for us. In the end, even if it was in the embryonic stage like Fritz and them, we were all human at some point or another, and that does come with the strings of emotion attached to it.

http://pastebin.com/X9m2CtR7

posting mine again but will crit some more stuff un return

>>8987233

>staring at the city
>due to the weather, I could not see them

I assume you mean that the character is look at the skyline of the city in distance. But it might be worth clarifying that just so the reader doesn't have to pause.

Other than that you could probably drop a few words to make it run a little smoother

>we were all human at some point or another, and that does come with the strings of emotion attached to it.

>we were all human at some point, which comes attached with the strings of emotions.

or


>we were all human at some point, which came and left us attached to the strings of emotions.

feel free to disregard the last suggestion, that's how I'd write it but if it doesn't suit you that's fine. I do hope you can see what I mean however with with getting rid of small phrases like " at one point or another" to keep the prose lighter.

>>8987302
Hey mate I advise sanity checking what actually happens.

Here's what I see:

Lighthouse guy surfaces, spits, wind blows it back on himself, he swims back to the lighthouse, catches fish and a ball of data (?)

Someone left the door open...

>Slamming the door on the black troubled sky.

M8, FRAGMENT!

Ok the pipe smoking scene is bretty comfy I gotta say.

>With each step getting closer to the door.

m8 fragment


>His voice rumbling in its disuse like a dusty organ.

m8 again with the fragments... how about "rumbled"

Ok desu mate this would make a good movie or video game cutscene, but somehow it doesn't work in prose form as it is (for me). Sorry, just painful to read for me.

Maybe its just your prose style. Many of your sentences seem awkward to me, like this one (though I can't say why):

>The rain assaulting them they ran into pathway made from two jags of rock and into the lighthouse main door.

Also the fragments! There must be at least a dozen in there.

Sorry m8 I only got to VII. Not my thing sorry

>>8987233
You use a lot of empty phrases like 'to be honest" and "normally speaking" and " typically speaking" and "of course" and "in the end"

You've got a decent voice and the narrative is intriguing. Don't feel the need to fluff it up. The simple sentence is a powerful thing. Avoid adverbs.

>>8987422
>>8987233

Oh right. In case this wasn't obvious. Those empty phrases? Cut them entirely. They serve no purpose.

One more thing. Don't use the 'would find myself' or 'would arrive' - try using active verbs more often, like so: "When the delivery cart arrived, they would glide through the carcasses like wet soap on oil."

>>8987382

thanks for the input. Yeah writing in fragments in a vice I picked up a while ago and can't seem to shake.

>The rain assaulting them they ran into a pathway that curled around two jags of rock, and into the lighthouse main door.

does this work better ?

His copper tongue cannot bear
The sanguine thickness of awful vinegar
His suspension of body
Purged blackness and foggy
And pierced the veil
Where serpents dwelt
Numbered six in form
But how can one tell?
He fed both their own blood
The Sun and the Moon
You’ve seen a secret, therefore
If one can endure

>>8987469
You're still using "assaulting" instead of "assaulted", which is a bigger problem than sentence fragments. At the very least, say "With the rain assaulting them, they..."

>>8987501
Spicy

>>8987019
It's obviously some sort of parable, because it's written at a high school level, but it's message remains unclear. Is it about how ordinary business is hellish, and devils are just doing their job the same way people are?
In addition to the theological mistakes (people in the afterlife not having bodies, demons being in charge of hell instead of imprisoned in hell), it's not clear if the red guy in your story is THE devil, or a generic devil, as you refer to him as both.
If you want to read about how every day life and work is brutalizing and macrabre, check out
>http://archive.slowlydownward.com/library.html

>>8984111
My heart really goes out to this poor 18th century pirate.
>>8983563
fucking book readers falling for the bait.

>>8986341
Its got some nice groundwork. You get a feel for the narrator's unhappiness with his life. Although, the problem is I don't know what he wants. Does he want a woman, one like the pig-tailed men he slaves away for? Does he want to build sky-scraping masterpieces, or to be commemorated for applying his everything towards the erection of one?

I am confused near the ending though. Is he the blob? was his leaning against the skyscraper that caused him to be killed? What was the cold steel? He watches the blob explode, but is this blob the person dying or the elevator? When I read blob I assumed human body.

It's kind of a "he's there, and he dies" story.

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>A young man on the verge of suicide finds new purpose when the ghost of Robin Williams sends him on a spiritual journey to kill an anime director.

http://pastebin.com/WjX5PgpJ

>>8987573

it seems like the first law of crit threads is that the elaborate shitposts are the most entertaining to read.

GG 10/10

>>8985923
Non4K reader here, I have no idea what is going on. The POV character's name is Jaqat though!

One thing that could help reduce the amount of prose is by highlighting the skeleton of the story in your words, and then highlighting the prose.

Which is hard, but if go with the "Synopsis first" route, and then build your prose around it, you can easily clip out the unneccessary bits and apply them to different parts of the story. not only do you get to save beautiful words, but you can place them into parts of the story where they can matter more.

>>8987573
>http://pastebin.com/WjX5PgpJ
>The City That Never Sleeps (With You) oh lordy that made me laugh.

Wow I haven't been this captivated by a 4chan orientated story in forever. Is Good. More wanting is had!

>>8986629
I like the reversal of the biblical motif of "stones as memorabilia"

>>8987573
>http://pastebin.com/WjX5PgpJ
I really liked the gritty realism of this work. I think it illustrated well the paradoxical nature of homophobia. If you didn't intend that, then that makes it all the better. We can't always be aware of ideology.

----------------------
here's a text by me:

It was Sunday School, and we were figuratively sinking our worries by writing them all in the boundless ocean adjacent to an impervious steamboat. As if possessed by a demon, I rushed my pencil over the words my neighbor had written.

He forgave me, as a priest forgives all the masturbators at confession — a tear twinkling in his right eye, murmuring: "Jesus died for this".

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>>8985152
>>8985200
Glad to have been of any help!

>>8984807
Here was something I wrote I needed help fleshing out with fresh perspectives. Forgot to include it in the OP.

http://pastebin.com/TthTej18

“Of course I want it fixed today, if I wanted it fixed tomorrow I’d have brought it in tomorrow!”
There was a man standing in front of me, in my garage, holding a block of red iron oxide that may have at one point or another been some sort of shotgun. His body type gave the impression that while his physical strength might be decent, he drank excessive amounts of beer. He was wearing a sleeveless denim jacket, with patches of our state and the Confederate flag. I thought this was weird considering our state didn’t join the Union until after the civil war. He also wore a belt and suspenders at the same time. I don’t remember his name.
“Sir, when was the last time you fired this?”
“Oh well I suppose it would’ve had to have been last time I went duck hunting.” He said with the expected amount of consonants missing.
“And what did you do with it after that?”
“Figured I’d just leave it in my boat for when I needed it next.”
“Did the boat sink?”
“It was a little leaky when I got back to it, why?”
I took a few minutes to explain to him that his firearm was more than likely in no condition to fire, and it’s structural integrity was so compromised by rust that if he tried to it would probably explode. He told me I didn’t know what I was talking about, and if I wouldn’t fix it then he’d find someone who would.
Over the course of that day he called me back twice. Evidently, he came across my phone number in two different places while looking for my replacement and neither time did he realize it was me. The second time he told me he’d leave me a poor review on something he called “Help”.

>>8983962
Honestly it reads like something you'd be forced to explain for a middle school assignment

>>8987550
>http://archive.slowlydownward.com/library.html
kek wtf is this garbage?

>>8988040
odd, kafkaesque, and somewhat lewd

>>8987550
No, it's not meant to be a parable. It's a story about a man and a devil in hell. I just want to know what to do better. I've since changed it so that he's just A devil, and not THE devil.

My excuse for the theological errors is that it's more of the hell you see in the Far Side than the "real" hell.

I'm sure I make a lot of big errors. Is there anything you can tell me about how to start to fix them?

Regards,

Jary

>>8981349
i feel bad because all this people write better than me and despite that they get somewhat harsh critiques.

how do i start
how do i improve
help me
lit

>>8988547
read bitch nigga
read philosophy
read the bible
read marx
read fucking whatever books
read john green for all i care
then write
fuck u dumb bitch

>>8988395

Kind of vauge,and not really that great of a hook other than depicting a man converse with a stupider man. Very plain. Very readable.If this was in the middle of a book I'd be ok with it though. I have also seen you in other threads.

chapter one
The sun,though so sheathed by the vapors above,did shew her light upon the ruddy earth. The light,possessing in herself that quality of illumination,did reveal upon the earth a countenance well-worne,and did shew all her peaks and valleys,and the creatures which dwelled within. In onesuch valley,there went a miserable party of ten inside a dumptruck technical,flying down a dirt path laid in the mire. Inside that truck,a conversation ended.

>>8981349
How do I write without being super self conscious, /lit/?

>>8988736
By not going on /lit/.
Seriously

Don't forget to join the unofficial 4chan writing discord:

https://discord.gg/6AwKHGF

We do critique discussions pretty much every time somebody posts something.

>>8983563
pasta
>>8986189
>>8986198
irritating to read

Here's mine.
**************************************************
An Open Letter To The Burgeoning Psychonaut

Witness the molecules rushing and breaking
open in laughter to wash you away
The tide will return, stronger again, to find you lost
each time that you wanted to stay
You pilgrim, you infant, you cragsman so boastful
To think that you have it all filed away
You’ll be flayed by the nexus between what lies under the fabric
and your own sweet naiveté.

>>8988736

Nothing others can say about your work, will be harsher than what you already think of it.

You fear being mocked, or thought of as plebian by strangers. Why? You are your own worst critic. Just post it in hopes of something nice being said. If they shit on it, oh well, shitting on valuable work is basically a meme here.

You will never know if we are shitting on you because we're telling the truth, or we are being ironic or jealous. So just post it.

>>8988757
the third line is jacked as fuck. doesn't fit the rhythm at all

>>8988757
I can see how it might. It was train of thought vent writing not meant to hold poetic value.

>>8988547
a glowing praise is fucking useless. the 'somewhat harsh' critiques are real contributions. the critics are not appraising your value as a human being or artist or whatever the fuck, they are imply judging a piece of writing. If they say it is shit and unsalvageable, thats fucking great. You get to throw that piece in the trash and stop wasting your time with it, and can move on to something else (that is if you really want to write). If you want someone to tell you your writing is great, go ask your mother for a critique. If you want to actually improve, stop comparing yourself to other people and focus on your own writing.

You are looking at the top of the staircase saying I cant climb 5 million steps it's too hard. But you can climb 1 step, can't you? The real question is whether you have the determination to climb 1 step 5 million times.

>>8985758
Finally, a real critique. I was posting >>8984321
forever, and you are the diamond in the ruff. I wrote this when I was off my medications, and it turned out to be simply beautiful. Maybe I could replace "dew" with "sniff some glue" or "poo" or "screw" or "jew" or something along those lines.

>>8986006
Read Cormac McCarthy.

The Road is pretty accessible and shows off how not to be purple

>>8986629
Meter is sickening to read, like riding in a car with really touchy brakes.

>>8988547
It isn't about brutal critiques or fluffy sugary critiques. It's just about fixing what is wrong.

Some people will look at your edgy killer fic and go "Pffff gay get over that teenage bullshit" while another will see you capture every single emotion they have bottled up, and felt like you captured their existence in its purest literary form.

Both of these things are useless.

The thing you should be looking for is becoming a better writer. That means a lot of things, but most of all, it means getting the fundamentals down.

1) Decide an audience. If you don't know who you are going to write to, you'll just confuse and repulse everyone. Find a group of people you want to impress, that you want to have read your story and take good things from it. Genre lit has this easy. Typical Philosophy has it harder. Young Adult to Mystery readers, you need to know what they expect, and then you deliver it to them, or deny them it, and make them appreciate it.

2) Make sure your basic english is high grade. Word processors and error checkers solve this, but you need tor macedonia sure your knot usenet the wrong words. Typos that pass by spellcheckers kick people out of your writing.

3) Decide what you want to accomplish before you write. Do you want to invoke emotion, or thought? Do you want to just spew masturbatory garbage onto pages for people to read? Do you want to piss people off, or make them think critically? Decide the goal of why you are writing the thing you have.

4) Get varied opinions. Contact experts, contact plebs. Contact normies. Contact weirdofucks. If you are publishing something for the consumption of others, get input from others. Alpha readers, assholes from 4chan, whatever. As long as you get an outside perspective.

5) Read other people's stuff, and find out what they did wrong. Find out what they did right. Use their successes in your own stuff, and shun the failures they wandered into.

>>8986006
This >>8986871
And Steinbeck.

File: 1484593142581.png (228KB, 421x389px) Image search: [Google]

228KB, 421x389px

http://pastebin.com/Hqb7V4KT

Just the first two paragraphs from a little chapter about a company picnic.

>>8988858
Gunning fog: 11.54

OK, KID.

>>8988866
I don't get it.

>>8988866
not him, but the first chapter of moby dick gets alternatively 12.31 and 10.74 on two online tests


.............. KID!

I honestly consider lexical diversity to be a more useful metric. much as I hate simposter, I think he's right about that

>>8988858
At first I thought this sucked but now I see what you're doin ...

ok punctuation is kind of weirdly flat and fucked up all over the place but the voice beneath that weirdly fucked up punctuation is good. heavy....

god those weird little errors though. I swear that everyone posts here is usually good except for one achilles heel.

Read everything out loud and fix that fuckin punctuation so I can reread it, I have good hopes for this one and I honestly haven't seen such an easy clean up job here or elsewhere anywhere before. Get to it

>>8983962
The imagery is clearly very thought out, but unfortunately doesn't seem to convey much in the way of coherent meaning. Reading this though as a series of images is quite nice. I can see you have potential to convey an emotional space and set up a theme but then you don't really take advantage of it to the fullest potential.

Maybe try adding in different narrative or thematic element to give it contrast? I just seems really samey.

Those are just some raw thoughts.

Short poem:

The cold wind and car
engines drown out my
thoughts.

From up here.

Repeating in my head

From up here

Do my pencil scrawlings
transmit to the universe?

Does the cold light of
The water tower give
me any warmth?

Can I really see anything
From up here.

>>8988999
I like it. I feel if you found a way to restructure it to give it meter it could really shine. It also seems like you need a question mark at the end, if you're ending on that sort of note.

the short stanza "Do my pencil scrawlings" could benefit from simpler language; when poems are more concise they tend to be more powerful. Using the word transmit just seems blocky here

and here is my writing

//

The dark bled from me, and one day you noticed.

You wanted to help, but the words you utter beat my heart into submission and fill my body with dreadful radiance. I don't know what to think about it, so my mind screams music (the song is yours). I think there may be harmonies to be found somewhere, but my deaf ears would never understand.

I enjoy what little I have, but I cast away this inner feeling that I know to be true. The more I shun it away, the more it grows, and I feel its pull every time I see you. I know some things will never happen. I take that truth and use it to bottle up my hope. However, every time I hear your laugh, the glass shatters, and I must piece it together again.

I question whether I deserve some part of it, whether certain pains are reserved for certain people. Coincidentally, it seems whenever I am on the cusp of well-being, someone has to come along and pace circles in my mind, smearing themselves aside the blood and dark.

I want to burn away the memories of you, yet there exists an equal desire to dwell on these fleeting moments forever. You wanted to help, but you wouldn't yet know that I confront both comfort and misery with your presence.

I would live make-believe in an instant even if it meant the rest of my heart was lost to you. I am pathetic, and some people never change. I hope you to be one of them, unfaltering and bittersweet.

//

>>8983563
I could swear I've read this before somewhere... I like it, it's a bit over the top but it's good. The contraband line seems out of place though... Sorta takes you out of the story.

>>8986003
Your second stanza falls short to your first.

>>8988757
Recite your poem a few times; you'll identify the problems with your cadence.

Rate my poem lads I wrote it about my ex a few days ago

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

>>8989130
excellent poem, m'lord

>>8981360
>Positing oraculars upon the sparrow bone
Nice rythm and pace to it all. Relay like the fluttering between birds, sounds, sensation and reality.

Very enjoyable to read.

>>8981385
I was surprised by the end.

Alright I critiqued stuff, please tell me what I'm doing wrong here.
If only I
could stretch the night
I would lose to sleep with grace
And not lose sleep to fright
If only I
Could stretch the night


I would the sins of day
Toil to boil away.
In reflections of thanks
I'd find respite
If only I
could stretch the night


A month to opine the day
And a year to plan
From finders height
If only I
could stretch
the night


If the clock were broken
Yet its time remained right
And stars who stould still
still burned bright white
I'd loose the hurry to bed
And be unmoored from mornings bite
if only I
could stretch the night


Perhaps as death lives in me
So to the chance
I one day just might
Exist and persist
in that long goodnight
A chance to hold times hands
And dance
with the guilt of life
And the time I'd have before bed
I'd spend
sundering my spite
T'would eventually
spring me
cleanly
On to next life
If only I
could stretch the night


May precious time
my sins overwrite,
And hell hold its flame
And keep all its light,
To give me more time
To rend my soul white.
If before my heart
bore witness against me,
I could sit it down
and set it right.
I would if I could,
only,
stretch,
the damned night.

>>8983673
Agreed

>>8989130
Solid 8 m8. Too bad about the ex part ... Try to take her off a pedestal in real life and in the poem too.

>>8989166
Also this is meant to be read slowly with gravity ... If that helps anyone. I don't know if you can pick up on that or not...

>>8989179
it's a poem by Byron....

this is a prose poem, not meant to be the beginning of anything

Your Talent

Your talent, wavering on the sentimental edge of banality, was so naive in its initial, trembling curtsy. But it was also so lovely, so full of gleaming eyes and whispered blossoms and silent moonbeams, and it was quick with brightness at the fact that these classic figurations, despite their general ubiquity, did not arise from anywhere but your talent’s own secret spring and cistercian appreciation of the subjects it sublimated into such sweet images. And yet I fear that, when I looked at your talent directly, addressing it by the name of talent, and praising it as talent, if my words may have in fact bruised your talent, darkening it with the thought that it was a talent, and therefore was potential for greater and still greater talent, and that your tender thoughts of melting dew on the morning bellflower and the limpid light of the moon glancing off stony streets must, by necessity, be judged against other similar images. I failed to remember that you, so different from the nature of your talent, were not, as your talent clearly was, still a young girl standing in a dark doorway (lit diffusely so as to preserve each feature in full), and as such you were too far along to bring your talent up properly, being cruel to it as necessary, imbibing it on the fashions of the times and of past times, fattening it to the edge of bursting on difficult passages, smashing it against steel and placing your palm in front of the sparks. All this effort would have certainly ended a fruitless mistake. You were beyond the stage where the rearing of your talent would have been anything but a deep and painful bleaching of the same, in which you and your talent would have died a grey and rheumatic hand by the willing piano: both wanting, both worthless.

>>8988999
6/10, tear it down to the last two lines and use them to rewrite it.

>>8989187
Fair enough, just in real life then.

>>8989166
i've seen you posting it. i feel like it's fairly banal and boring. it feels amateur... no end of line punctuation, anachronisms (T'would), the line breaks feel 100% arbitrary, some words seem at the edge of readable("rend", "sundering"). I just don't think there's anything interesting about it. It doesn't make me feel anything, it's not of formal interest, and it's too damn long for not being good in those respects

>>8988999
This poem is pleasant enough, it's certainly not bad, but i just don't think it had too much of interest to make it an interesting poem. I think it might have been more interesting in prose with "from up here" in italics.

>>8987501
i feel like this is aimless. also:

His suspension of body
Purged blackness and foggy

is an unfortunate near rhyme that sounds way too jolly for what i gather the context of this poem to be. i'm not sure if it was intentional or not (some other lines have slant rhymes) but i'd say just don't rhyme at all in this poem unless you're willing to commit to it. and again, after line 4 i feel like this is just you thrashing around, there doesn't seem to be any dramatic rhythm to it at all

>>8981349
>>>8989166
>i've seen you posting it. i feel like it's fairly banal and boring. it feels amateur... no end of line punctuation, anachronisms (T'would), the line breaks feel 100% arbitrary, some words seem at the edge of readable("rend", "sundering"). I just don't think there's anything interesting about it. It doesn't make me feel anything, it's not of formal interest, and it's too damn long for not being good in those respects

You think wrestling with your sins every night is banal? The line breaks are the breaks in reading it aloud, and it is 100% amateur. And while it may not make you feel anything, maybe you could tell me how it could? And I'm trying to trim it down ... Maybe some pointers on what to pull? It's for my son...

All too often,
Love sings.


Always shouting forever,
Bellowing similes
Of mountains, oceans or weather
And filling silence
Like a shortsighted tyrant
With some contrived thing.


how long can you really shout,
In the time forever brings?
Concealed to those prose
Is the truth only hush knows.
That having and holding love
are two different things.


Plus, to sing would waste time.
If I need to sing,
Then You're not mine...
But my songs'.
And the ends question quickly becomes
how long?


That as vines grow
in the shady breeze of day,
So your quiet heart
Makes me shake with breathy sway
in silent gardens grow
This love I've come to know.
And in stillness I find my stay.


The fertile absence,
Distilling desire content to wonder.
While leading the fevered pace of day
To afford a small forever to squander,
With a wistful boredom,
A moment
Together
Longer

>>8984510
Maybe too much spanish but I like it because it does not come out as hazy as some books do for me.
>>8986629
Giving it a cadence with the meter even without punctuation is legit but it does not seem to work here.
>>8987573
This was actually fun to read, it seems a cohesive crazy rambling, but not like a teenage throwing a tantrum, there's a method.
-------
"I saw the Matrix", gallantly said the scientist, because he thought himself a prophet, ready to set the minds free of their shackles.
Ironically, without proof if only speculation he had regressed into a sort of scientism, blind to itself, symptoms common to many from all walk of life, still, [...] unwilling to ever believe in life being a mere simulation, did think of computers as an uncanny neighborhood to the human mind and body.

Were computers similar to us because we are to them, or because we built them that way? A question that had faded like a passerby's face, so what could have possibly thrown this reasonable [...] in his folly?

Like those hooked in the circle that is the existentialism debate, he was struck by a harrowing doubt that had escaped out of his narrow life.
"What if it only existed a given amount of minds, what if everyone else was merely able to answer within given parameters and could not process certain prompts or behaviours?"

Just another way to call everyone else a sheep who cannot think of himself, but that train had long departed and to understand any of this we have to follow it.

It all started when this broken clock thought back about some social encounters he had the misfortune to remember.

They weren't high class debates of philosophy, just small talk to pass the time and as many do, he tried to get into the discussion even if with just a minor remark, and what happened had truly appalled him, he recoiled in such genuine fear that it could make someone sorry.

Getting to the point, he enounced his opinion and waited for a response, there was none, but what scared him is how no one had acknowledged him, not a word, a grunt, or even a mere glance was darting around.

He had created silence.

https://www.literotica.com/members/submissions_view.php Here's some fantasy porn I wrote.

>>8989305
Nice link, douchebag. Website only has good incest stuff anyway.

>>8988858

That was nice; good description and a nice use of words as well. I didn't note too many issues, I was more or less just waiting for some conflict. However, since it's just the first two paragraphs, I imagine that'll be something later. Nice read though, GG.

I'm trying to decide if I should use a "Youi" perspective or an "I" perspective. Possibly a "He" perspective, but less likely. What do you guys thing?

~~~~~~~~~

Time travel itself really isn’t that complicated. It has many, many, many, many rules and procedures and precautions that one must follow. The technology itself is complex and honestly convoluted and not worth delving into. Because really, we can travel through time now; who the hell cares how? We can do it now. We, as humans, can finally be liken to gods. We rule over our own history. We can go back and fix our mistakes and everything now, right?
Wrong.
That’s one of the most important rules of all; total buzz kill right? But it’s true. No, you cannot go back and alter the past. Like, for instance, that time you made a total ass of yourself at the office party by having much too much to drink and then leading the auburn haired beauty Helen into the janitors broom closet because you said you had to tell her something, but you were just trying to hook up with her, but she doesn’t like you like that and told you as such and so instead of walking away you profusely cried like a baby, thus making every subsequent encounter at the office a terribly awkward for the both of you. And then that same night you hooked up with Tom because you were lonely and you had seen the way he looked at you and you knew it would be easy and you were just so damn lonely. Subsequently, this also made office encounters with him awkward too, because just like if you had gotten to sleep with Helen that night, the only intention of the encounter had ever been to get your rocks off, and those baby blues of his seem to hint at him having been hoping for something more.

File: DragonRiderTCG.png (430KB, 472x779px) Image search: [Google]

430KB, 472x779px

I'm currently writing a comedic fantasy novel which can be roughly summarized as "Earth faces a dragon refugee crisis. Politics ensue."

If anybody would care to take a look, that's here:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1dEqYEqJr0dPVM9kwm8k8kwZ_7KL1xLiGRB9y6H0oP5A/edit

>>8989349
I don't like the conceit, but you write at the perfect level of the stuff.

>>8989382
The dragon refugee crisis is not supposed to be a metaphor for the current Syrian crisis, but instead a way to commentate on the idea of a refugee crisis in general. I think the Syrian conflict has so many outside factors that it's difficult for me to make any kind of real commentary on without writing a book that explicitly takes place during that crisis.

>>8989349
I liked it, but the last line was a bit...Meh. I don't know. Maybe think of a better comparison that Hitler? It just kind of fell flat for me; the rest of it was pretty neat though. Nice job.

>>8989392
why approach it like a normie though? you write good, why be like this? you write so goodly yet your conceit seems to me like a r/writingprompts thing...

^above is all my opinion, you can ignore as I freely admit my distaste for the idea is wholly personal

>>8989397
I'll change it. I wasn't really satisfied with that particular joke either.

>>8989400
Well, the idea is interesting to me because I've always been a fan of fantasy. When I was a kid I loved stories about portals to other worlds and the like.

The thing that always annoyed me, though, is that those stories never really explored the wider context of what would happen when two very different worlds collide. I remember spending hours daydreaming about what a car designed for a centaur would look like, or how you would build a house for a snake.

This story allows me to explore some of those ideas, while also giving an opportunity to commentate on the current social and political climate of America. It also lets me explore some concepts in fantasy, as well—most specifically how the idea of the "chosen one" is cheap, and how strange it is that our idea of fantasy is tied to nobility and hereditary rule, something most of us find distasteful outside of that context.

I think a normie would probably write a story about a dragon who hides in the woods and has a cool scene where he and his friend outsmart some SWAT members. In my story they get caught immediately and spend the rest of the story trying to juggle politics and media appearances neither of them are prepared for.

This story is my own special, personalized style of autism. Or, at least, that's what I'm trying to make.

>>8989412
>This story is my own special, personalized style of autism.

haha it sounds like it. well people love that stuff, gj keep goin.

>>8989349
Well it was nice to read, so please keep going.

>>8989412

~~~The thing that always annoyed me, though, is that those stories never really explored the wider context of what would happen when two very different worlds collide. I remember spending hours daydreaming about what a car designed for a centaur would look like, or how you would build a house for a snake.

This story allows me to explore some of those ideas, while also giving an opportunity to commentate on the current social and political climate of America. It also lets me explore some concepts in fantasy, as well—most specifically how the idea of the "chosen one" is cheap, and how strange it is that our idea of fantasy is tied to nobility and hereditary rule, something most of us find distasteful outside of that context. ~~~

________________________________________

Those are some pretty interesting statements pal. I think I like your style of autism. Keep it up.

>>8984518
I enjoyed this, but I feel it needs more to it, to make actual sense. There's structure but then it disappears. I would say add more lines to it, since it's a bit confusing and vague.

She awoke, with fever induced excitement -
but unwilling to leave, her land of fantastical dreams

Dimmed orbs of dark, squinting at the winking light of a newborn sun -
Drowsy fingertips grasping at sheets, flinging them off her naked form

The soft whispers of robes, sliding, covering clammy, goosebumped skin -
A one dimensional protection against the unquenchable thirst of the wind

Seeping, twisting and slipping through cracks of a frozen house, as the world changed around it -
An electrifying shock as bare feet pressed against the icy chill of marble tiles

Soft padding of footsteps down an empty corridor -
Guarded by painted eyes, unblinking as time passed by

That looked away, from the door that led -
Out, out into the outside world.

The whispers of ghosts following her trail -
As she flings the heavily ornamented doors open, yet weak as they crack and bend

Down into her fragrant gardens she goes -
Toes digging into the soft vibrant soil, bursting with life

The tender touch of petals -
warms her blood

As the prick of thorns -
bleed rubies down her once unmarked hand

A blissful smile turns into grimace and sadness -
a head turned in question

Her life secluded -
to the eternal building, she called home


A dainty form, vanishing in and out -
discovering a new thing here, and here and there

The delighted laughs -
and muted whimpers


Always quick to run back to the heavily ornamented doors -
their hinges creaking, quivering as their form weakened

Until one day, she left -
She left, left too far that allowed for no hurried escape

Ending in a shy face, hidden behind a vine covered pillar, among rubble of ancient civilizations -
As a stranger, beckoned

With answers, and questions -
That he freely gave, and whom she freely went with

Years went by -
When she finally visited the house, with corridors of painted eyes

She slipped back into robes from her youth -
Snuggled under the sheets that had warmed her in the coldest of nights

She closed her eyes -
And as she did, fire was birthed into the house that had stood frozen, as the world changed around it

The chorus and singing of flames with their suits of red, blue and orange, reverberated in the home -
their contralto and soprano tones creating a symphony of scorch and ruin

Leaving a skeleton wall and blackened faces -
And the form of a sleeping maiden

As vines and trees creeped in and all other forms of green took root -
Growing and twisting, bathing in the warmth of the sun

A shelter alight with the beating heart of life -
A mass of roots and shyly peeking tendrils

Allowing for gentle breezes from the tenderest of winds -
Yet shielding from the mightiest of tempests, as their leaves shook, bending and turning but never breaking

Stirring in her slumber -
She woke, to find herself laying in a bed of grass

And never went back to sleep


>>8989520
This is my critique for the other anon before anyone says I didn't do my part.

>>8989349
I really enjoyed reading this. Keep it up anon. The dialogue from the dragon seems a bit stiff for me, as well as the characterization of it, but otherwise. It was fun.

File: 1483174775232.jpg (8KB, 250x250px) Image search: [Google]

8KB, 250x250px

>>8988040
Paradoxical nature of homophobia? To parapharase my charicter
>if i'm secretly a fag because I hate fags, then maybe im secretly black or jewish as well.

>>8986629
As other anons have said, the meter is very odd and broken. Perhaps make your stanzas only 1-2 sentences and just make the poem longer?

This is the start of my story. I usually always write 3rd person, never first so this is a new challenge for me. Any critique is appreciated.

She was dead before she hit the ground. Granted, I should have seen that coming, she was shot, point blank. By my own hand, didn’t feel like it though. Sure, I remember pulling the trigger and jerking my hand at the recoil. That was that Paul though. The son of a bitch never does what I tell him to. That’s the downside of sorta kinda being able to communicate with alter personalities. You can talk, doesn’t mean they’ll listen. I guess I should tell you, there’s three of us. Myself, I’m alright. I guess. Mediocre, neutral and hate the spotlight. Then there’s Lily, likes Pinkberry and getting high while sucking off a bunch guys which, in hindsight. Makes me rather gay. At least I can’t remember much of it.
Oh, I can hear her giggling. Stupid cunt. I’m probably going to die of aids at the rate she’s going. Well, whatever. Anyway. The third one. Paul. Likes watching WWE and cooking shows with a side dish of killing hookers. I keep telling him to stop and slow down but it’s not working. I’m sighing at this point, staring down at the reddening pools of blood swirling around at the asphalt. Bright pink tube top, nipples peeking out of a black bra with matching panties. It’s quite pretty, but of course. Lily is judging her over the fact that she’s wearing a leopard mini skirt, judgemental cunt. Says it doesn’t match the pink. Whatever. Paul is silent, probably annoyed at Lily as well. The hooker was pretty, if you ignore the gaping hole in her forehead. My hands feel clammy as I reach down to start dragging the body, still warm. It’s almost nice. I’m still a virgin, well in the sense that I, myself. Have not had sex with a girl. I know both Lily and Paul have but that’s them. Maybe I could cuddle with her before I burn her. Or kiss her red smeared lips. Actually, on second thought. That’s gross, nevermind.
I’ve pulled her body near a pile of dead leaves by this point. Only thing left is to douse her and light the match.

>>8988736
If you know what you're doing that feeling will subside, and you can workshop without being Ralphie from Chistmas Story.

For example: Do you know who your narrator is? Did you make a conscious decision about the point of view you've chosen? Do you know what those are, and can you name more than one? How did you decide where to start, and how to pace through to the middle? Have you excised every word and paragraph that do not advance or enhance the story?

When you can answer those, you won't feel self-conscious anymore, because you will be able to meet criticism with the writer's vocabulary of collaboration.

A good friend died suddenly, very young, and left behind a grieving family and countless friends. He was a person of high intellect and character, but also very outdoorsy. His love of nature, camping, fishing really was woven into his fiber. So I wrote this little thing to frame and put on a table of memories at his funeral service. My wife figures I should offer it to the family to possibly include on the back of the funeral program. I wanted to run it past the internet hate machine for an honest critique first.

>For Anon

>Bacon spits, campfire snaps,
>Smoke permeates the clothes,
>On the skin, in the hair,
>Deep down into the bones.

>Perfect day for fishing,
>But there's no need to rush.
>Pick up that poker stick,
>And stir the fire, too much.

>Bracing breeze, northern air,
>Waves lapping at the shore,
>Calms the nerves, steels the mind,
>Rejuvenates the core.

>Sandals crunch on gravel,
>The tarp comes off the boat.
>No line up at the launch,
>In no time, she's afloat.

>Pick a lure, bait the hook,
>It never will get old,
>Walleye breaks the surface,
>That flash of green and gold.

>He's with me now, I know,
>And when the lone loon cries,
>I'll always think of him,
>And have to wipe my eyes.

>>8988920
I am not the poster. But I would really like to know what you saw that he's doing.

>>8990288
Go read Bishop's anthol classic:
It'll only take a minute or two.
https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/fish-2

This is what I want you to take away: Do not imitate The Fish. Do not add a bunch of details. Your descriptions are fine. The point I want you to take away is that she takes a moment of shallow recreation and, by poetic contemplation, elevates the moment into a divine act of mercy. Those rainbows are straight out of Noah. A promise of life.

That's what poetry is about - meaning beyond the event, more than the act portrayed. Fishing is an especially fraught thing to do in a poem - Christ was a fisherman.

I ask: Is he with you, or with them? Do you feel his presence, or is he in the happy fishing grounds beyond? Can it be both?

It's a lot to process. If you try and feel you're not improving it, just go with this. Consider changing "with me" to "with them" or "with us."

What are some good books to understand the mechanics of poetry? I've never learned any of it and I want to have the option instead of just writing free verse forever.

>>8989428
Thank you.

>>8989476
I shall.

>>8989495
Thanks!

>>8989529
The dialogue from the dragon is supposed to be a little clunky, since he is from a different universe.

If the characterization is off, though, that's an issue. What about the characterization didn't you like?

oh yeah here's a tip for you guys that usually helps me alot. If you get stuck editing and can't seem to spot errors others are pointing out etc. Print your draft out and red-pen that shit irl. It's a good change of perspective and reading your own work on paper helps you feel like a reader.

>>8990350
>Go read Bishop's anthol classic
Thank you. Such beautiful imagery.

>Is he with you, or with them? Do you feel his presence, or is he in the happy fishing grounds beyond?
Not sure who you refer to as "them". His family and friends? But to answer, I feel his presence as a personal companion in that moment, with the walleye and the loon and the horizon where the air and water compete. I would like to invite the reader to take ownership of that personal moment as well, but individually, for some reason, not as a group. So I'm not warming up to your suggestion to change it to "He's with us" or "with them". It could be a shortcoming of my own, being quite benignly asocial, that I lean strongly toward a one-on-one personal experience. Somehow I'm willing to share with any individual this feeling, but not with a group. I don't know if that makes sense. I might need more time to dwell on it.

>is he in the happy fishing grounds beyond? Can it be both?
No, to both. He and I were both atheist. He's with me personally in memory and as I aspire to develop some fraction of the high character that he modeled every day.

Thank you for all your thoughts.

>>8990378
http://www4.ncsu.edu/unity/users/m/morillo/public/prosody1.htm

For dog's sake, don't spend money. This is a google question. The word you're looking for is "prosody."

And remember, these forms and techniques come from an old tradition. A very old tradition. They get tackled early in most writer's training. The point of learning them is, ultimately, to think about how to bend them, break them, or make something new out of them. There aren't many sonnets published in the New York Review.

Here is an example of a master of form, bending a form to effect:

Sleeping With One Eye Open
Unmoved by what the wind does,
The windows
Are not rattled, nor do the various
Areas
Of the house make their usual racket --
Creak at
The joints, trusses and studs.
Instead,
They are still. And the maples,
Able
At times to raise havoc,
Evoke
Not a sound from their branches’
Clutches.
It’s my night to be rattled,
Saddled
With spooks. Even the half-moon
(Half man,
Half dark), on the horizon,
Lies on
Its side casting a fishy light
Which alights
On my floor, lavishly lording
Its morbid
Look over me. Oh, I feel dead,
Folded
Away in my blankets for good, and
Forgotten.
My room is clammy and cold,
Moonhandled
And weird. The shivers
Wash over
Me, shaking my bones, my loose ends
Loosen,
And I lie sleeping with one eye open,
Hoping
That nothing, nothing will happen.

That's from 1968. Form has come a long way.

>>8990412
The other old chestnut is to read one sentence at a time, but starting with the last sentence first. It helps to re-strange-ify each sentence so you are really reading the sentence and not just gliding through the story again.

>>8989523
It's not bad; it's not great. The ending especially was cliche for me, sorry, I know it's predictable of me to say it. It's more the delivery than anything. I'd enjoy it if it were more climactic, or there was stronger imagery. You giving small snippets at a time is interesting, but became dull in places where you didn't make each line exciting. Try broadening your vocab and maybe even fuck around with meter more. Keep at it, anon.

Here's something I wrote today for a short story:

Goose-flesh, as pale as milk, materialises on the floor to the startled, twitching eyes of his sockets. Sapmi? Ropes of matted hair, almost like black kelp from faroff, abominable waters, shimmer over the milky flesh, disappearing sockets and mouths and teeth. She can't speak. The ungodly kelp, covered in brine-stink, is stopping her words. I think she is humming though.
His hands. His hands, they do not move. His hands, they are sedimentary rocks. For some reason, I think of an hourglass overturned. I think of quicksand - the way it swallows anything that touches it. Time is vanishing quickly. Retreating nowhere into a blackhole, a collapsed quasar, perhaps. Now everything stops. Time is frozen in its muddy tracks, to consider all the blood and devastation its spilled and wreaked. Is this the reason why Mr-I mean Dr.- Ranui cannot move his rock-hands?
In stasis, he is, in melancholy and in shock. Like an ice cube, he is. Sedimentary rocks do not move on their own volition. Does this mean Dr Ranui is made of sand, pebbles, dirt and little sharps of glass? The creature of kelp and of milk-meat tos and fros on its dainty heels, an action of seamless ease. She hums, audibly now, that kelp actually hums an old Vinland song:

Ievan suu oli vehnäsellä
Ko immeiset onnee toevotti.
Peä oli märkänä jokaisella
Ja viulu se vonku ja voevotti.
Ei tätä poikoo märkyys haittaa
Sillon ko laskoo laiasta laitaan.
Salivili hipput tupput tapput
Äppyt tipput hilijalleen.

The words, albeit in some foreign Northern tongue, appear in my head as the kelp hums. They appear in small, white symbols that glow fuzzy-like. All I see, with my actual sockets, is Dr Ranui, with head turned down to the floor and chin against chest, grovelling before Sapmi's performance.

>>8990615
Forgot to r8 anon I critiqued. Overall, 6/10. I think it could very easily become a 7 with a better ending plus less fluff. An 8 if you try to play around with better imagery and words.

>>8990431
Yeah, I was planning on finding PDFs or something at worst. Thank you very much I'll be sure to Google deeply

(......She’s playing it off as an insult, but given how she’s backing up she must be self aware that she got too close.)

or

(......She’s playing it off as an insult; given how she’s backing up, though, she must be self aware that she got too close.)

>>8991112
Crit first. Also both sentences are terrible

>>8991173
>Also both sentences are terrible.

Yes, I know that. Can't have much leeway with changing it up too much or I'll end up pissing off some autist because the original japanese didn't sound like what this is. Basically the line is meant to convey that she just insulted him, but her body language right now conveys what she really meant.

>>8991112
>she must be self aware that she got too close
this sounds horrible

>>8991245
What would be a better alternative, sir? Also the earlier line of the script goes like so:

Y-You’re just imagining things... and hey, stop staring at me so closely, sheesh.

(*Insert line of thought about her she's attractive*)

Hmph... what sort of nonsense are you thinking about, idiot?

(......She’s playing it off as an insult but, given how she’s backing up, she must be self aware that she got too close.)

>>8991197
I'm not helping you until you crit, we're not editors of your degenerate manga

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>>8991265
But, I'm the editor...

>>8991263
>Insert line of thought about her she's attractive
>her she's
>Hershey's
you've got more basic things to worry about than you think

>>8991289
Sorry, I was suffering from a fever the other day and noggin' is still dealing from the headaches.

>>8991298
>and my* noggin'

Jesus Christ, brain

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>>8991307
Brain please...

From an unoriginal horror story (you can probably guess what it's ripping off storywise) that I don't plan on finishing (this is all I wrote anyway):
__

Tick, tock, tick, tock, goes the ticking tock of the ticking clock, suspended over the mismatched glass and porcelain stock. A low, morning light sure creeps to blight zebra stripes ‘gainst plaster white; that amber sheen just scattering like light… scattering like light.

Dangling ceramic of color haemic, brightly reflected on brass panoramic. A hanging cloth and a flower pot, imprisoned china in dark, see-through prisons. Above it all, a darkened lamp of scaly glass, not yet shining down on four wood chairs and wooden table.

Beep, beep, beep, an otherworldly tone. Was this for her? A reminder of the mon? A crimson, flashing linger sounding more than ebon finger? This it was not, though she recognized it clearly… She was naked, head to toe, her burnt orange hair soaked, flung and strung. Though she breathed rather heavily, her mouth kept open and still. This phenomena was not common, not for her.

Here she stood, in silence over the machine, the phone now lifted to her ear. Still-borne water had begun to wriggle and writhe down her arms and legs like snakes, or so it felt against her sebum-lorn skin left drying in the cold. For the remainder of her idle time in the middle of the room, not once had an answer come from the other side of the line; nor had one from this side. She finally hung up, gaining nothing and losing everything through no one.

Only another narrow moment slaved itself to the eternal, malevolent time and the woman’s mind came back to the there-and-gone present, lifting her cerulean blue eyes from the void in which they once found themselves. Time never waits, and for her the finger had no intention to make an exception.

And from the back of her mind, she had finally remembered the mon, and so she removed herself… she was gone.

Tick, tock, tick, tock, the ebon finger goes.

>>8989602
Pretty okay, but too many short sentences, try some longer ones to get a flow. But maybe that's just me, since I like reading at a steady pace without many pauses.

Subject matter and the narrator's 'character' reminds me of American Psycho. I know that sentences there are pretty long, hard to pause. Wouldn't recommend that if that's not the angle you're going for but it's something.

I only said this because of the OP and you didn't get critiqued yet.

>>8988787
>>8988567
>>8988838

Thanks for putting my feet on the ground. Will save your advices on a txt and try to learn from them until i find my own path.

we long sleepless hours
and impressions of the tide
of which shall deem
sweet relief from naiad's pearly shell.
and silent millions swept the earth
extinct in splendour of verse
there be the huge vessels, even to consume him
, the ship so spake

I'm a black 8-year-old and it's about suffering extreme and total world-wide white supremacy hellscape dominion.

system-wide sodomy boogie

>>8990441
nice

>>8991338
It's not really disturbing. Victorian is too flowery to be scary in describing horrific events, it's only good for building up a mood of paranoia.
It's somewhat charming in the wordplay, but I'm a pleb.

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>>8987573
This is crap that I wrote today.
>http://pastebin.com/1Dx5Dqe8
The main body of the work is me trying to kill Hiddiki Anno, my roommate in the psych ward. Interspersed throughout the main narrative are vignettes set before my hospital stay (mostly of drinking and doing drugs with Osama) and after moving back home to Long Island (mostly of being poor and republican).
I'm trying to write the after chapters in a more sedated tone then the others, to reflect the fact that I'm on my anti-psychotics and more in touch with boring old reality. The problem with this is that it hamstrings my main strength: being crazy.
The part I just posted isn't done, and I worry like it reads too much like my shitty diary, desu.
>pic won't be related until chapter 4

>>8989166
Large stretches of cliched phrasings and not enough music to match Dylan Thomas. Stuff like "I would the sins of day/toil to burn away" or "May precious time my sin overwrite". Think about how to change the narrative or create twists in the narrative by using more varied images and subtly dancing around the theme, especially since your theme has been done tons better everywhere else as well.

Here's a poem for crit

WAR

As kids Ziggy, Georgey and I played
war in the tenements by Irving Square Park.
Often on treks up broken stairs or rusty
fire escapes we'd step over corpses

or junkies. But this day a building
burped one right out of a second-story
hole. It was a big brown one and it
smiled upside down as it writhed on

the wrought-iron fence plunged between
its left shoulderblade and heart. It
smiled. We smiled. We played war
three hours before anyone came. When

they took it away no one cleaned
the iron post. We liked war.

>>8986300
In contemporary times, you can't evoke angst through the normal kinds of description, especially after Hamlet and some Romanticists. You have to attack from the side with subtlety.

See the poetry of Weldon Kees. For example

The day the fat woman
In the bright blue bathing suit
Walked into the water and died,
I thought about the human
Condition. Pieces of old fruit
Came in and were left by the tide.

What I thought about the human
Condition was this: old fruit
Comes in and is left, and dries
In the sun. Another fat woman
In a dull green bathing suit
Dives into the water and dies.
The pulmotors glisten. It is noon.

We dry and die in the sun
While the seascape arranges old fruit,
Coming in and the tide, glistening
At noon. A woman, moderately stout,
In a nondescript bathing suit,
Swims to a pier. A tall woman
Steps toward the sea. One thinks about the human
Condition. The tide goes in and goes out.

Isaac has masturbated himself into sexual catatonia. He isn’t asexual, per se - he (obviously) beats the one-eyed beast back into the cave a lot, and when he does it’s mostly to women. Admittedly, he’ll sometimes jerk-it to like Ryan Gosling but he’s not sure if that’s out of honest bisexuality or mere boredom (candidly speaking, neither does his psychiatrist). Let’s just say it’s been a while since he’s erected a hard-on from just seeing a girl on the street. The aforementioned shrink is seated across from him, her brow furrowed with comforting faux-professionalism. Her hair is ashtray grey and she’s not interested in wearing makeup. Still, Issac is attracted to her in a broad, non-specific way. She is indeed an older woman, and if she were a Freudian (she’s not), there’d be some sort of joke to be had here.

I peel an apple
It's just a fucking apple
What did you expect?

Is philosophical rambling allowed?
If so I scribbled out a memeish manifesto and am looking for criticism:
Part 1: Anchoring

Emotional anchoring occurs when one clings to an ideal all of which are fundamentally untrue and uses it as the structure for their own happiness. Morality, politics, religion, sincerity, the ubermensch, even hedonism to a degree, etc. are all examples of emotional anchoring. The end goal of practically everything I do is to convert mass anchoring without any fundamental truth (which will eventually crumble in on itself) into mass artistic sublimation. Isolation is not rationally possible, and will eventually lead to complete loss of identity. The only solution to isolation induced loneliness and loss of perceived identity is to anchor oneself in the intrinsic pain involved and filter it out through sublimation, of course proper relationships with other people requires some form of mutual morality, and reliance on the ego as opposed to purely the id (stirner) or the superego (cucks).


Part 2: Anarchism

Hopefully morality would be socially enforced, and punishment for going against what is necessary for a civilized society would be punished by the same ostracization that makes prison so effective. I believe human nature is governed by a lust for acceptance and to take that acceptance away would be destructive to any non-sociopath, and the rare exception of a sociopath would be mentally reformed by some kind of mental institution.
prove me wrong desu senpai

>>8989349
I really liked your writing but the idea didn't click with me. Good stuff though.

here is a short story i wrote.

http://pastebin.com/raw/VTjqGD4g

"You need to write something that sells,"
my fiction teacher yells
dryly, admonishing adverbs,
"so don't write poetry."
"Ok I won't,"
I'd say if I was good at it,
but you're an impossible knot
in a tree turned wood with rot
sliced and bound in nails and shine
forced beneath soles to resign
daily, without recompense,
to eventually seek revenge
in a splintered hole to another place
that humans have not yet named—
and I'm board.

>>8992783
How does isolation lead to a loss of identity? How do you define identity?

>isolation induced loneliness
>sleepiness induced sleep


>Anarchism
>Hopefully morality would be socially enforced
>enforced
>punishment

Do you know what anarchism means?

>lust for acceptance...yadda yadda...non-sociopath

But anon, don't you know that the only acceptance one requires is self-acceptance? And don't you also know that sociopathy is a neurological disorder characterized by a low-acting amygdala and that 'mental reform' is therefore vastly unlikely? And also that your dictum of such mental reform necessarily indicates some form of legal code?


I don't mean to be rude, but the best way I can put it is: your writing makes you appear ill-informed, naive, and, well, stupid

>>8992534
This is surprisingly not terrible. It has some degree of cleverness in terms of prose, but it weakens severely towards the end.

Is this the opening to something, or just a sort-of-amusing paragraph?

>>8992721
4/10 not really clever

>>8992783
The words "memeish manifesto" scared me. Your paragraphs confirmed my fears.

This is childish to an extreme degree. The fact that you actually use the word "cucks" non-ironically in what is supposed to be philosophy leads me to believe that you are an uneducated, likely useless man who believes that anybody with different political views than you is simply following their "feels", because the idea of a legitimate differing opinion is too frightening for you to comprehend. Your paragraph on anarchism is sophomoric and ultimately meaningless.

>>8992825
Slightly overwrought, but a good concept.

>>8992864
I'd like this better if the rhyme scene was more consistent.

>>8983952
ho ho

>>8992895
>implying I used the term cuck not on thirty seven layers of irony

it was supposed to be simplistic, as in a groundwork. I don't actually use the term seriously lol

>>8992893
>How does isolation lead to a loss of identity?

Because your identity is created by how others perceive you.

>How do you define identity?

The idea of the self formed by others and created by oneself to be projected.

>>enforced
>>punishment

Something can be punishment without it being governmentally based.

>But anon, don't you know that the only acceptance one requires is self-acceptance?

I don't know if this is serious, but I don't think that's all that's necessary to be happy.

>And don't you also know that sociopathy is a neurological disorder characterized by a low-acting amygdala and that 'mental reform' is therefore vastly unlikely? And also that your dictum of such mental reform necessarily indicates some form of legal code?

Good point.

My old phone has dozens of saved notes
which I cherished as personal gems—
souvenirs from my own mind, to be poetic—
but like a careless sod given a kingdom—
not to compare my jottings to monarchial machinery—
I cheaply opted to eke without insurance—
eke?—
and saved them not to our cumulative cumulus—
I'm referring to the series of servers dubbed 'the cloud—
but sealed them away in a fate of decay—
for destiny was not their fate—
and, thanks to my destiny, endured their loss
like I shall with the loss of the forgotten sparks of thought
that I'll have had once called my life—
to say nothing of the reaper's earlier tickets.

>>8984234
If this is yours, it's awful. Unreadable, ugly prose. I feel like I'm wading through molasses. You have to work on writing sentences, period. Read Merrill, Auden, or Bishop. Drop your damn obfuscatory pretensions.

>>8992893
>>8992895

The things is, I'm ready and willing to admit I don't know shit. I shitposted on /lit/ to see if I could get feedback, and the reason I did so humorously was to save face. I'm trying to create a somewhat decent philosophical groundwork for myself, one that is probably wrong and can be helped by criticism (and a lot of it was genuine and helpful).

>>8992925
You think human nature is governed by wanting to be accepted? Human nature is governed by two primary driving forces: to fight and to fuck: to survive and to procreate. You could try to argue that procreation requires acceptance by another in order to occur, or that as modern humans we have surpassed the merely primitive existential impetus of 'survival;' but the truth is behind every desire or decision people make, you can find one of these two things.

Also, your definition of 'identity' only works for the formation of identity, not the maintenance. At a certain age one can make decisions about how they form their own identity in such a way that it's no longer solely the subject of others' perceptions (which btw are constantly being filtered by your own perceptions, something that fundamentally can't be altered by others, unless you use a bat).

>Something can be punishment without it being governmentally based

Ok, sure, esp. considering your basic idea of an ideal anarchy. But the thing is, if everyone collectively decided to enforce a morally based rule on others, doesn't that start to look a lot like a democratic lait w? Anarchy is often compared to chaos for a reason; I imagine a people that are nebulously connected, mercurial as a mob (which would as occasionally reap favorable outcomes as unfavorable) and most of all incredibly selfish—it would be hard to imagine a group of people who uniformly denounce government, being ruled in any way, as anything but egoistic. And sure they could be Easy Rider hippie utopians, but that too naively discounts human nature: to fight and to fuck.

>>8992895
>rhyme scheme more consistent
Like, I know that metric and overall schematic structuring is apparently paramount in writing good poetry—words being somewhat melodic needed for their collective beauty and whatnot—but you see I quite like ambiguity. I like the idea that you don't know whether the next line will rhyme or not, that when it does you're surprisingly please by how it sounds in your head, and when it doesn't potentially jarred. I like that because it turns the ordinary into the unexpected. I think things should be challenged, and I think my poetry is so profoundly provocative (and evocative) that it successfully challenges the fundamental definition of 'good poetry.' I like ambiguity. However, I've clearly not executed this well enough with the aforementioned poem, so I'll press start and try again.

>>8992977
Arguments about human nature are pretty impossible to agree upon, I think. They're typically based off of something unprovable. However "fitting in" seems pretty integral to even primitive wellbeing.


> At a certain age one can make decisions about how they form their own identity in such a way that it's no longer solely the subject of others' perceptions

Other than your own perceptions I can't see how. You're probably right but I'm not really satisfied with "grow up," however accurate that advice is.

>Anarchy is often compared to chaos for a reason; I imagine a people that are nebulously connected, mercurial as a mob (which would as occasionally reap favorable outcomes as unfavorable) and most of all incredibly selfish—it would be hard to imagine a group of people who uniformly denounce government, being ruled in any way, as anything but egoistic. And sure they could be Easy Rider hippie utopians, but that too naively discounts human nature: to fight and to fuck.

This is based off a pretty cynical view of human existence, one that I don't think the government necessarily helps with. Anarchists would argue that government in itself is a crime, and the motivation for crime would go away with it. Ostracism as a social punishment seems very effective in dealing with people who harm for the fuck of it, and the government is too given to corruption or inept to be of benefit when dealing with more average criminals.

>>8981349

Requesting comments on my style, do I sound like I'm inserting too much of my own self consciousness as a writer into my vocabulary choice, etcetera. The sample is meaningless and I'm not developing it.

A small boy strutting with a kind of a Rick Jamesian lilt to his step, in his hand the creased paw of a stuffed rabbit of enormous proportions. His mother, or is it his mother, leaning cross armed against a fencepost brushes her hair from her eye in a kind of mechanical tic. A surreal, technicolor je ne sais quoi settles comfortably around the whole scene, but there’s something elusively amiss here. In the mother’s eye a guilty discomfort, a shade of memories best forgotten.

>>8981385

I like your aesthetic, very postmodern. The style is stilted and halting, read moar? Sounds like you could benefit from a lot more posting in threads like this, as could I of course... overall good direction my friend

>>8984111
I like the feeling behind this very much. Maybe you're pushing it a little with your shtick.

>>8992977
And to attain those two basic goals spring the immense complexity of culture. Acceptance (as well as fighting, actually) are just offshoots of the desire to procreate.

As Clarence McDonough saw machine gun rounds rip into the corporal of his fire team, shearing off part of his right arm, he realized that he didn't even know himself. He didn't even understand the mechanical apparatus that supported what ever empty spark had illuminated the dark recesses of his fleshy existence. He felt like a previously wet jar, that was now placed into a kiln, increasingly dry, hollow and hardening on the inside that could be dropped and shatter. It wasn't that he didn't feel anything, rather the opposite. He felt too much. He felt thousands of years of primal emotions surging through his tensile ligaments. He felt hormones cloud his judgement. He felt the evolution that he had been taught was separate from him and only for the beasts, rise up from it's organic home in his genes and take over his being. He didn't like what he was now. He wanted to continue living like he had back home. He wanted to live like pure spirit again, with all of the niceties and warmth that came with being a good supernatural being. He felt it float away.

>pls rate, just a segment of what I've got going. I'm such a lazy fuck about writing and i hate it.


>>8992977
>Human nature is governed by two primary driving forces: to fight and to fuck
Sorta. It's kind of like the philosophical problem you run into with biological models of consciousness and the phenomenological experience of them. We can explain how they happen, but it's near impossible to explain the experience of vision, or any of our senses really. So yea there are primal drives, but then how do you explain other feelings like compassion, love, loyalty etc. Sure, they may be driven by reproductive biological means but their experiences is something different.

just schematics imo

>>8992864
intredasting

>>8993061
>je ne sais quoi

m8.......................

>>8993091
How do you mean, their experiences are something different? Do you mean the fact that they are experienced as urges separate from those to procreate means they serve a different ultimate goal? The way they are subjectively experienced is simply a tool to achieve their particular modular ends.

>>8993068
What about this:
Procreation and its minutiae is not necessary to form oneself, but relationships with other people are. It is a part of human nature to want to create one's own identity. In order to create one's identity through other people, one must accept a mutual morality and reality, building upon the already accepted Radical Skepticism.
Anarchism would exist in this realm of already accepted reality and morality, and going against this would mean ostracism, which most would not want to face.

Don't know if that's right or not, but it sounds a lot better to me.

>>8992977
>Human nature is governed by two primary driving forces: to fight and to fuck: to survive and to procreate.
t. frued

>>8992929
I think this would be stronger if you maybe included the saved notes and elaborated.

It's very modern in the sense that the language implies our current time period,

I like the concept of saving notes on your phone, and not uploading them to the cloud as some sort of metaphor for the transitory nature of existence but the whole "collective cumulus" while clever is kind of cheesy imo.

Moribund’s caution would never allow him to leave the house without screwing his head on double tight. His Lock-step reverberations dance dimly along the corridor, staccato clicks of a mechanical typewriter engorge him like a teenager aching for the discipline of drilling in a unit, sweat hot upon their brows, rivulets of blood imagined upon the staunch uniforms of the fallen comrades for whose brave rescue they are lauded by state troopers and toll booth operators and mothers on a rainy drive through an unfamiliar neighborhood, her fingers clenched tight on the steering wheel through a cascade of

>>8993068
I implicitly mentioned as much j. brolin

>>8993052
If you don't think you can make decisions (or have the illusion of making decisions) regarding your own sense of identity that surpasses any and all jurisdiction others have it, then I don't know what to tell you.

>cynical view yadda yadda

I don't think so? All I said was people are self-serving (they just are, it's not necessarily a bad thing) and that they do as much bad as good (though historically speaking, we're still waiting for the ledger to fully balance).

>and the motivation for crime would go away with it

Crime, like sin, can only be defined by a superordinate entity like god or government. So OBVIOUSLY if you get rid of government then crime, BY DEFINITION, goes away. But it would be absolutely absurd to argue that demolishing government would eradicate all murder, theft (what's property?), rape, etc. And again, you can't just expect anarchists to systematically ostracize the 'bad guys;' that implies near law-like coordination between individuals, a socially agreed upon moral code, etc. etc. that I just can't see happening in an anarchic state.

anyway you can reply to this if you want, but the truth is your 'memephesto' is profoundly stupid and i'm beyond bored talking about it with you—you're welcome for the responses

>>8993128
MEH !

>>8993101
>The way they are subjectively experienced is simply a tool to achieve their particular modular ends.

I'm not necessarily denying that but you would have no way of ever proving it. What I'm saying is why would the human psyche have to develop sentiments that are clearly distinct from the fight/fuck response. Why even become conscious of anything more than that? The whole pleasure pain thing could be broken down to a binary scale where pain =1, and pleasure =0. My question is I guess is why do we experience these nuances between 0 and 1 if they are effectively just avoiding one and going towards the other? I don't think egoism and the avoidance of pain is all we strive for.

>How do you mean their experiences are something different?
I guess what I'm saying is that we are meat computer running some sort of internal software. However, that software, while it needs to focus on some sort of means to ensure its survival-the routes through which it does that are beautiful. Sure, people have to have sex and avoid death to ensure that their genes are carried on but why is that bad? Through that we get bravery, art etc. Just because we run on a certain biological model that is driven by survival it doesn't negate the fact that other emotions and experiences aren't real or important.

It's kind of like saying: I'm only eating this burrito to survive. Sure, exactly, but why is that bad? It taste good, you're fortunate to have it. Enjoy it.

>>8993091
My point wasn't that we're merely biological automata driven by fighting and fucking. It was that if you look behind the motivations for any given individual's decision to do anything (note: not behaviors, personal tics are not symptomatic of survival or breeding) you will almost summarily find, behind all of the human-abstraction, a fundamental desire to either survive (an analyst at a large brokerage firm who works 80 hours a week strategically sells out a colleague who was lined up to receive a promotion because he wanted it more, he wanted the larger paycheck, he wanted the larger paycheck why? Money is essential for what? You get the point) or to find a mate (insert anecdote here). These two inherent impetuses don't discount the complexity of human nature, or even the possibility that some transcendental force resides above or within us waiting for our holy communion. It just shows that we do most things out of some desire to preserve the self or the ego, and to have a romp in the sack, to secure one's legacy

>>8993106
it's *Freud, anon

you do know what he'd say about your misspelling right?

Spoiler: I don't, never read him: Spoiler

>>8993154
Because to have nothing but the instinct to fuck would destroy us. Our instincts are driven by their benefit for the continuation of the species, and the more complex organisms get, the more their ability to modify their environment gets, the more evolutionarily apparent it is that. say, this particular mode of interaction results in the best differentiation between good stock for breeding and bad stock. Our secondary sexual characteristics aren't a big plume or a loud mating call, they're owning a fast car and building a tall building. All this owes to an urge to further ourselves, and this can be pretty satisfying, but only to drive a behavior that satisfies the urge to perform feats at the edge of our abilities to display that we're great candidates to mate with. Maybe it doesn't feel like it, but imo that's what it is. I think there are layers of complexity involving how hard something is to attain, the experiences and inhibitions of the individual, etc., but at the end of the day it all points seemingly very indirectly towards that one simple goal.

Simply put, of the urge to, say, drive a fast car, why? Evolutionarily, which is all that matters, why? And nothing comes up. But if you see that it's because you wanted to impress, or to feel powerful yourself perhaps with no intention to impress but simply to engorge your own sense of "mateability" as a meter of self worth things start to fall into place.

>>8993178
I left in the error as an act of oedipal castration

>>8993185
Sidenote: I'm rambling bullshit

>>8993116
Hey, I really appreciate the feedback, though I firmly disagree with one point: I think including any "saved notes" would rob the poem of the ambiguity it so requires to properly spark the imagination of the reader. By putting such a thing in, you're taking out the big-nothing of a perfect vessel for people to fill with what they like. Remember the end of Rosemary's Baby when they showed the baby? Totally burned the shroud of mystery, of curiosity, of babobabosity!

Anyway, I do really appreciate the feedback. Ily anon.

Is there anywhere more unnecessarily verbose than /lit/ on the open internet? Discuss.

yo why do all you fuckin nerds use big words like gat dang hombre use normal people words so the dumb people can understand too :^)


ay

>>8993203
>>8993196

good

>>8993204
dont you mean exquisite

because were all smart and shit so we gotta use synonyms for words instead of just being straight forward

>>8993135
Hey guys, and up and at em' again with another brand spanking new pseudointellectual rant. Prove me wrong, I know I'm stupid, just interested in ideas and their conflict.

1.The self is known entirely through the perspective of other people, which is how identity is constructed.
2.Emotional and cognitive dissociation leads to loss of identity.
3.Radical Scepticism is intrinsically correct.
4.In order to connect with other people, creating an identity, a kind of mutual reality has to be formed, as well as morality.
5. Emotional Anchors other than relationships should be dropped, due to their essential mistruths.
6. Since society is based on fundamental mistruths, it will eventually crumble unless replaced.
7. Anarchism would be based ostracizing those who go outside of this mutual reality and morality. Ostracization would occur communally and naturally, as opposed to systematically and therefore near governmentally
8. There are plenty of other reasons why anarchism would be functional, but that’s not really what I’m interested in.

>>8993185
maybe i'm autistic because while it might be cool that someone sees me driving fast in a car, I'm really driving fast in a car because it makes me feel alive. I could give a fuck if some thot sees me

>>8993196
>unnecessarily
>verbose
hypocrisy!

>>8993194
No prob. I see your point desu.

Funny about the notes though. Used to write poems on my phone when I was drunk. have gone through a few phones now and they're all gone. Wish I still had them.

>>8993213

get a better sense of humor than just saying "hypocrisy!" at another joke you goofball

the painter limns a vernal scene
with verdigris and verde green.
eternal splendor in a scene
where satyrs prowl and nymphs beteem.

Between the handsome glade and glen
toothsome loves are born, and then,
do die, do live again, and I
my querty in my hands, in shade
watch, tickled, as blue evening fades

>>8993211
It's not quite as on the nose as your prospective thot seeing you in the car. Maybe the car makes you happy for other reasons. Maybe you like feeling like you're doing something dangerous. Maybe that's because risk taking indicates that you'd take the risk of defending a family, making you a suitable candidate for mating with. Or maybe, like I said before, it's not to directly influence the decision to mate with you but simply to increase a sense of self worth because you're someone who could /totally be mated with/ right now. Girls hanging out with their friends dolling themselves up is a byproduct of this; even if there's no guy present, they all want to feel like they've got what it takes, and hanging out with other girls who've got what it takes by association makes you more attractive, so you're competing in both groups.

Am I making any sense? Sometimes you have to dive down the rabbit hole. Freudian mic drop.

>>8986930
>milktoast

quit dipping your bread in stuff you milquetoast motherfucker.

>>8993233
I mean I see your point but these are all just grasping at straws.

sure social approval is important, but idk man. This is why i have a hard time taking psychology super seriously. Psychoanalysis is pretty bunk for the most part imo.

Jung btfo Freud

>>8993208
I'm telling you this not because I'm trying to be mean, but because it's better you're told now by an honest person on the internet than later in the real world: you're just not smart enough for philosophy, you're really really not. Please stop.

>>8993233
so even though anon thinks he thinks something, he secretly thinks something else that he doesn't even know he thinks?


ok!!!!


>>8993245
yes I know that's not how it's spelled, but let's be honest, the word is only as popular as it is because it conjures up an image of a skinny, effete boi who combed his hair eating a scanty breakfast of a single unbuttered slice of toast with a tall glass of cold milk to wash it down

>>8993208
>>8993249
>>8993233

can yall niggas stop talking bout your cars and pay attention to me please

>>8993257
god damn do i hate black people

nice get btw

>>8993253
thats just not nice

>>8993208
>2.Emotional and cognitive dissociation leads to loss of identity.

What does this mean? Just seems like a tautology

>3.Radical Scepticism is intrinsically correct.

but how can you be.... CERTAIN?

>4.In order to connect with other people, creating an identity, a kind of mutual reality has to be formed, as well as morality.

You can connect with people without morality, can't you though? I mean you and I are talking and I don't know your morals...

>5. Emotional Anchors other than relationships should be dropped, due to their essential mistruths.

What are Emotional Anchors, and why are they capitalized?

>6. Since society is based on fundamental mistruths, it will eventually crumble unless replaced.

What is society? Why is it based on mistruths? Why not just say "lies?" How could it be replaced??

>7. Anarchism would be based ostracizing those who go outside of this mutual reality and morality. Ostracization would occur communally and naturally, as opposed to systematically and therefore near governmentally

What mutual reality? Are you proposing this as a system? I don't understand.

>8. There are plenty of other reasons why anarchism would be functional, but that’s not really what I’m interested in.

Why is this numbered? What are you talking about? Are you my grandson?

>>8993257
anarchism is shit and is just another commie lie. If humans are animals, inequality exists and hierarchy will naturally form.

there.

>>8993253
All anon has to do is dramatically increase his intake of the right philosophers and take some courses and start writing more

anyone can philosophy

>>8993249
Substantiate yourself soldier

>>8993257
lil nigga

post a coherent point effectively ending the discussion above and we'll talk about your tenure

>>8993278
freud's psychoanalysis is on it's face unscientific.

jung fine tuned it into a more nuanced and realistic theory

>>8993283
not the same anon but im ending this now

cars are fucking dumb and should only be used to drive someplace, shit isnt for 4chan boards. You cant drive anywhere on 4cahn, can you? yeah i didnt think so you feeble minded insect. fuck you

>>8993286
Jung is even more out there than Freud.

>>8993297
yea but freud was a jew.

>>8993296

you should write a thesis

>>8993312
dam it's true

>>8993316
i'll take mandalas and the collective unconscious/synchronicity over freud's "you really want to fuck your mom" any day