[QUOTE=Kirbyfactor;40499885]I wrote something, not a fanfic this time, check it out:
[url]http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/Kirbyfactor/1168611/[/url][/QUOTE]
alright, here I go.
For starters, your writing is in one giant block of text. Not many people are going to have the patience to read through that. I suggest you divide it into a lot of paragraphs based on where people speak and where the subject of the chapter changes.
Okay, your actual writing...needs work. You could have taken that opening chapter and made it ten times as long. Right now, its just a long paragraph of jack doing stuff with very little description, insight to Jack, or real reason why the reader should care about what's going on. Every sentence could be a paragraph.
[url]http://pastebin.com/jcSAm3Gs[/url]
wrote this some time ago
i was hopped up on all sorts of shit
[QUOTE=OrionChronicles;40504857]alright, here I go.
For starters, your writing is in one giant block of text. Not many people are going to have the patience to read through that. I suggest you divide it into a lot of paragraphs based on where people speak and where the subject of the chapter changes.
Okay, your actual writing...needs work. You could have taken that opening chapter and made it ten times as long. Right now, its just a long paragraph of jack doing stuff with very little description, insight to Jack, or real reason why the reader should care about what's going on. Every sentence could be a paragraph.[/QUOTE]
Could you give me an example, I don't really understand.
[QUOTE=Kirbyfactor;40512075]Could you give me an example, I don't really understand.[/QUOTE]
One Paragraph:"Cold water was gushing against his feet, the cool breeze went over his body, Jason rolled on his back and looked at the sky. He had hoped that he would see his own roof, but it was just sky." Expand a little more about what he's feeling and doing.
Two Paragraph: "He remembered what happenend, his ship crashed in a storm, he had seen all his friends die on the ship, they were suppose to go to Dragvore to protect them, now the city would probably fall." Expand some more about his memories.
Three Paragraph: "He got up and walked into the forest. There were so many things he had never seen. He looked up and saw all kind of colourfull birds in the trees, they made sounds he had never heard before." Expand some more about forest description and stuff.
Going into detail helps the reader get attached to your world, and it boosts your word count.
been worried of posting before because of plagiarism but here goes
[quote]Burning. So hot my heart is frozen. Can't move. Running on auto. Smoking for the first time in over 8 years. Hands are like ice. Mind is like steel. Can't even move my eyes. Can't take eyes off the ocean. Can't wrap around the fact.
Zee is dead. Bad news. Means my sanity's gonna slip really fast. She was the last thing I had any real reason to live for. Inkim is gone. I've avenged everyone except her. She was my dearest friend, and my greatest ally. And now she's dead.
Can't move. Hands frozen. I can feel it coming from the depths of my soul and it scares me. I'm so afraid. I'm so frightened. I don't want to let myself loose. Maybe if I struggle hard enough I can put a HE slug through my sternum before I get the chance to let my inner demon loose in some mobster hideout.
I can hear the two of them below me. Drug dealing? Don't care. Need to move. Can't help myself. Need to kill myself before I slaughter every last criminal on god's green earth.
But I can't. Her shadow lingers over me and I leap off the wall. I land atop the mobster with a crash as his vertebrae shatter and I'm already grabbing the other's throat. Brittle bones. His head flies into the sky as I pop his neck like a bag of chips.
Flashlight shines at me. Cops. Real cops. Not like what I am now. Not a human anymore. Just automated. Just running on empty. They recognize me and try to approach me. Friendly but cautious. I see flickers of her terrified face every step they make. Never seen her scared. She knew what it was going to be. And she was scared.
That was the worst part. She was scared.
She wasn't killed by some monstrous cyborg asshole or some hired assassin or PMC. She was shot by a police helicopter while helping me rescue some people from a fire on a pier. The crash when she hit the rocks and the sound of the waves washing her away resonate around my skull like the gunshots that killled me three years ago.
My eyesockets are black with blood and tears. I broke windows with the scream I let out when she fell. My name is Alexander Thomas. And I am now a walking nuke. I will kill indiscriminately and endlessly until I am stopped. And nothing can stop me.
The cops gently try to cuff me and I close my eyes as I feel their chicken-bone wrists fracture under my hands. I cuff their broken wrists together and throw them atop the two dead dealers.
It's been six hours since she died.
I'm still crying. I haven't cried in five years.
I feel myself open the door to the pool-hall and I don't stop myself. Armored door. Invite-only. Doesn't stop me. Augmented muscles straining to maximum as the hinges burst. Fatass behind it is pulverized. Knives and guns drawn.
Two 9mm's to the chest. Dermals took the hit. I grab the knife out of the kid's hand. Can't be more than 17. The gurgle he makes as the blade saws through his carotid is on par with hearing the people trapped on that pier scream and choke as they're encompassed by flame. I see Zee clatter toward the fire and roll-jump through the pillars of flame.
I hose down the dock with a fire extinguisher, and I grab a child who is too injured to walk and I carry him to the ambulance.
The police sniper's trigger-finger wavers for a few seconds over me. Then he sees Zee. Obviously he saw her as more of a threat, since she was helping a young mother get her newborn off the dock. I hear the shot and spin around. The sniper wasn't authorized to fire. He was there incase the arsonists were still there.
Zee tumbles backwards, throwing the mother clear. Her last act was selfless. She screams my name and plummets towards the rocks. I watch her hit them. Bones and muscle crash and tear and she falls into the waves below. The paramedics rush toward me but know it's too late.
The paramedics try to tear me away from the pier. But I can't stop screaming. I cold-cock one of them. The other runs away. I pull out my pistol. I blast the chopper indiscriminately then drop to my knees and scream. I vomit and cry. It doesn't help.
Two cops pick me up and take me to a squad-car. Uncuffed. They take me to see the chief.
The Chief is his usual. Incredibly apologetic. I stare at the floor, planning out how long I can postpone my self-detonation. How long I can hold off the walking nuke. It isn't long.
He tries so hard to get me to listen, to apologise. I floor him with a simple sentence.
"If you were sorry. truly sorry, if you were trying to make up any kind of resolution to me. You would have killed me by now. Because I'll end up killing everyone I come across if you don't."
He didn't believe me. Tried to laugh it off. Then offered me a ride home. I refused. Zee's place wasn't my home, It was for a while, but that was her ground. I wasn't going to let it be defiled by someone like me.
They dropped me off near the pier she died at. The ocean spray hits me and I wake up. Everyone is dead. I've torn them apart, blugeoned, cut, shot, and stabbed, in every way imaginable. All scumbags. But they didn't deserve this.
I break the optics at the back of the bar and drop a match. Place will burn in minutes. Nobody will ever know. Ever know how many people I slaughtered. It wasn't even the same bar I walked into when I started zoning out. God knows how many I cut my way through.
I stagger down the street, coated in blood and carrying my sin. Colors flash and fade and blur into insignificance in the dark night. My eyes waver. Visions of the dead everywhere. I fall over in an alleyway. I cry and scream. Video lines shake across my vision. Everything is darkening. I fall through the lobby doors. Zee's kindly old landlady rushes towards me and tries to bring me to my feet. I cry and sob and hug her. It's truly over.
I tell her what's happened. I admit my sins and horror to her. She tries to convince me to turn myself into the police. I elect for a second option. I draw my pistol and spin it in my hand and hold it out to her. Put it in my hand, and force me to pull the trigger. Because I can't do it myself. She refuses, and helps me into the elevator.
My head falls back and I stare at the ceiling, I see the flourescent lights pass me just like in the hospital as she hefts me onto the couch. I pass out in a puddle of my own hatred.
My name is Alex Thomas and I am a walking nuke. And I am reaching impact.
I awake on my feet. I'm on the dancefloor of some nightclub in Uptown. Oh god. No. Think I, knowing that this isn't some underground pool hall or horrible gangmember hideout. This is just some yuppie-hipster hangout.
There's a bat in my right hand. I bring it to bear and I give them a solitary warning, blood still dripping from my coat. I give them a plea. "Kill me now. I can't stop myself."
They don't listen and just stare at me. It's already too late. [/quote]
hindsight is 20/20 and this seems overly pretentious to me in hindsight. it's an extra-continuity non-canonical chapter of a much much larger story i've been working on since about january or so. my writing's pretty out-of-shape and i forget to capitalize I's in a lot of places in this since it's about a month or so old. looking mainly for critique on the noir and stream-of-consciousness elements.
[QUOTE=OrionChronicles;40513098]One Paragraph:"Cold water was gushing against his feet, the cool breeze went over his body, Jason rolled on his back and looked at the sky. He had hoped that he would see his own roof, but it was just sky." Expand a little more about what he's feeling and doing.
Two Paragraph: "He remembered what happenend, his ship crashed in a storm, he had seen all his friends die on the ship, they were suppose to go to Dragvore to protect them, now the city would probably fall." Expand some more about his memories.
Three Paragraph: "He got up and walked into the forest. There were so many things he had never seen. He looked up and saw all kind of colourfull birds in the trees, they made sounds he had never heard before." Expand some more about forest description and stuff.
Going into detail helps the reader get attached to your world, and it boosts your word count.[/QUOTE]
Okay so for example the second paragraph could be:
'He still remebered, the day he heard he was going to Dragvore he was so happy, he would finally be able to see more of the world, he went to his parents and told them the good news, they were also happy for him. After he stayed at his parents for a while he went to his wife, she was happy and sad at the same time, she was happy he got his wish but sad that he had to leave, but a job is a job. Jason got on the ship, the first few days of sailing went great, no trouble. Then the storm started, lightning hit the ship, and it slowly started to sink, the next thing Jason knew he was on this beach.'
EDIT:
I wrote my first 'real' poem, would anyone give me some CC?
[url]http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/Kirbyfactor/1169394/[/url]
Uh, alright, its a little better. Your prose could use some work, I'd advise you read some more books just to see how its done.
I uh
I write poetry.
[QUOTE]
Lock me away in a tower high
Too tall to see the ground, too low to see the sky
Trapped inside a room of unstable comforts
It’s been a long time since I’ve see you smile
And baby you know it’s driving me wild
Nothing left of me but the screws that hold us together
Are we not more or less like bits of glass
Trying so hard not to shatter or fall on our ass
That we’re too afraid of speaking out on our thoughts
We both know that we need to stay together
And that we can push through this weather of weathers
Cause we’re all fucked up with nowhere else to go
[/QUOTE]
[QUOTE]
God, Alise, I’m melting down

In my tears of tin I’ll surely drown

My copper veins drip flux into a mind of silicon

Tinkertoy bones and plastic hair

I’m not going anywhere

I’m simply an automaton for now

Till you fix me up and we escape this town.
I’m hardly ever cognizant

Of myself or of self-confidence

But then you arrived and I’m repairing every flaw I have

My processor’s working overdrive

To interpret why I’m still alive

And how the hell could someone care for me

Cause I’m just a simple robot built to bleed.
There’s little left of my battery

And my joints feel iron-oxidey

A recharge and a repair is really all I want or need

But you keep me going, flying far

My efficiency is off the charts

And this simple minded robot’s feeling fine

And you’re recoding all my feelings line by line.
So as I’m shutting down tonight

And I turn off all my little lights

My RAM is filled with images and soundclips all of you

I’ll restart a dozen times tonight

But as you know I’ll be alright

Because I’m at optimal performance when you’re near

And our interactions are all that keep me here.
[/QUOTE]
Oh, and here's another one I could never figure out how to finish. I'm not good with finishing poems.
[QUOTE]
Staring past the orange stars
Of halogen bulbs and lit cigars
My curiosity spies your timid form
Praying to the stars above
That you’d be capable of love
And not view my broken self with any hint of scorn
I shyly tiptoe close to you
And you come a little closer too
Our eyes meet for the first time in the foggy bar
Two perfect emerald gems alight
Shining in this darkest night
My mind churns as you brush away your auburn hair
A fragile flower, yet to bloom
You traverse the dingy room
Our gazes at each other still unbroken
[/QUOTE]
I'd love some critique on these if anyone was willing.
Also, I have a tumblr where I post all my stuff
[URL="Partlypoems.tumblr.com"]Partlypoems.tumblr.com[/URL]
As a member of the stupid masses I didn't see the connection in your story until you openly stated it. I like to be able to connect the dots easily, because reading the story is already a big part of the choir.
Writing is a funny thing to me. I have a love/hate relationship with it. I loved editing the stories more than having to completely create a new one. But then again sometimes I get seduced by the sirens and disregard an idea, which was in a story I wrote half a Movie Script for and abandon it for a new one.
The best part about writing is that [B]No one wants to read your story.[/B] This is true for two reasons:
1. Everyone has a story they want to tell which involves their metaphorical self as the protagonist, and for your story to appeal they need to be able to relate in some form.
2. They need to know at least partly what it is about before going along with it. I guess it is why films attract you with their trailers.
Story telling skills are hard to develop and I hope this thread helps collectively develop the story telling skills of the writing community here.
[QUOTE=Roger Waters;40513204]been worried of posting before because of plagiarism but here goes[/QUOTE]
Before I read that, I want to address anyone else who might have this concern. In case anyone is holding back from posting because of it:
Your work is not going to be stolen. The [b]more[/b] you post it online and show it to different people, the [b]less[/b] likely it'll get stolen.
The main reason being that the more people see you posting your work around the internet, the more evidence there is that you created it. If you're super-secretive about your ideas, and only show your writing to 2-3 close friends or family members, then one of them steals it and somehow makes a million dollars, you won't be able to prove shit in court. But if you're spreading it around to dozens or hundreds of strangers, and posting it on impersonal sites like Facepunch and Writerscafe, where you cannot falsify publication dates, then you actually have some solid proof that it is your property.
But probably nobody wants to steal your idea anyway so go ahead and post your shit. You're here for criticism, not to get your dick sucked.
[QUOTE=Loofiloo;40533806]Before I read that, I want to address anyone else who might have this concern. In case anyone is holding back from posting because of it:
Your work is not going to be stolen. The [b]more[/b] you post it online and show it to different people, the [b]less[/b] likely it'll get stolen.
The main reason being that the more people see you posting your work around the internet, the more evidence there is that you created it. If you're super-secretive about your ideas, and only show your writing to 2-3 close friends or family members, then one of them steals it and somehow makes a million dollars, you won't be able to prove shit in court. But if you're spreading it around to dozens or hundreds of strangers, and posting it on impersonal sites like Facepunch and Writerscafe, where you cannot falsify publication dates, then you actually have some solid proof that it is your property.
But probably nobody wants to steal your idea anyway so go ahead and post your shit. You're here for criticism, not to get your dick sucked.[/QUOTE]
thank you for the reassurance. i'll probably post more here in future.
Here's a story I've been working on. I haven't gotten very far yet (and what's there is subject to change) but I wanted to know what you guys think:
[quote]The[/quote]
[QUOTE=TH89;40538346]Here's a story I've been working on. I haven't gotten very far yet (and what's there is subject to change) but I wanted to know what you guys think:[/QUOTE]
[img]http://25.media.tumblr.com/5326a64442314f7438f4302ae7e586be/tumblr_miep1inH9e1qhr28do1_500.jpg[/img]
Oh damn that's a lot better-written than mine. I think I'm gonna scrap it and start over.
oh shit lol i found something super old that i wrote and never finished
[url]http://pastebin.com/87dMEP0S[/url]
should i give the concept another chance?
I'm gonna submit an excerpt of a short story written in the POV of a middle-aged Chief living in the Congo.
"I was 12 when I was picking berries with my older sister. I was distracted by a strange ant atop one of the berries; it had a cotton ‘hat’ on its head. He was quiet this time, waiting. We got closer to him without realizing it; he looked like one of the trees. She got close enough; he reached out twice the length of her body and snatched her. I watched as he wrapped his long fingers around her body with each hand, cradling her like a baby then twisted; the bones grinded and creaked until they snapped and she was a twitching mess. He was looking towards me the whole time; no eyes, just two black pits in the wood of this tall figure. He dropped her at my feet and stood over me. I ran never looking back, he didn’t chase me. He was already satisfied. The creaking sounds played in my head every night for the rest of my life; he was a macabre musician using people as his instruments, playing his song."
Would love feedback and criticism.
I forgot we had a thread for this now.
A story I began this morning. Haven't proof read it or anything yet.
[CODE]"Gods above!" the Wizard cried out, hitting the rocky floor with a thud.
He groaned as he untangled himself from his robes. Wincing at his grazed palms
and probably bruised shins, he gathered up his slightly-phallic wizard's staff (he'd
argue that it wasn't*) and untastefully stereotypical hat and looked around.
"Where am I?" he said into the cavernous darkness, probably to himself but possibly
also in the (often misplaced) hope that this unnecessary self-talk would reveal
something that he'd otherwise have to spend a great deal of time and energy looking for. It did.
"Grrngrrnnurrr" a deep rumbling echoed back at him. There was the sound of loose
rocks falling to a distant floor. "Grrngruurrrr". It was coming closer.
The Wizard took a step backwards and found himself in the light from the
hole
he'd fallen through. Suddenly exposed, he darted further back, out of the
light, pressing himself against the cave wall.
Peering out towards the sound he saw nothing, but still the noise came
closer. A rumbling voice. obviously from some huge monstrous subterranean
beast. Slumbering for hundreds of years and only waking to feast on whatever fell into it's lair.
"Grrngrurrurnnn". The sound was so close. His heart pounded. He could
smell the creature, the leathery skin, the decay, the bloodlust. He shut his
eyes tight.
"Hallo!" said a cheerful voice, "Who are you?"
The wizard opened his eyes cautiously. Standing there in the shaft of
light was a boy, and beside him a small elephant. The boy shot him a rascally grin.
Heart still pounding, the wizard darted to the side, looking over the boy's
shoulder. "Get out of here!" he hissed at the child and his pet, "Run, quickly! There's something terrible here!"
The boy laughed and patted his pet. The elephant rolled up it's trunk,
gave a chuckle and then made the deepest noise that any small mammal had ever made‡. "Grrrngruuurrr".
The wizard gasped. His not-a-wizard's-staff fell to the ground with a
clatter as he sank to the ground. As his back slid down the rock wall his
legs slid out into the shaft of light, and warm relief spread through him.
He started to laugh.
Several hours later he stopped laughing. The boy and his elephant
had set up a small tent just beside the spot of light and had a small fire
going. The wizard clambered to his feet, picked up his shapely piece of
wood and sidled over. He leaned in to say something, thought better of
it, then leaned out again. He opened his mouth, bit his lip, leaned in,
leaned out, and finally decided on the best way to approach things.
"Hi," he said.
The boy beamed up at him, the fire playing off of his face, "Hi!". He
handed the wizard a bowl of soup.
Feeling that this had gone well, the Wizard ventured a new-and-improved
sentence, "Who are you?"
The boy stirred the saucepan, "I'm a boy that lives in a cave sometimes."
He filled another bowl and pushed it towards his pet, "And this is my elephant."
The wizard scratched his head. He'd watched a lot of plays at the theatre
before he'd gone off to The School of How To Be A Wizard and he knew as
a fact that this was what people did when they were confused. The Wizard
was a master at Body Languages.
"Don't you have names?"
The boy laughed suddenly. The laugh fell like a stream into the cavern
and echoed around, bubbling off the walls dancing through the darkness
light sparks. The elephant joined him, "Grrnernrnrnrnrn!".
When the echoes had died away, the boy answered. "I don't have a name.
I was born from in the Earth and I will die in the Earth." He pointed with his
ladle at the elephant, "But his name is Irrelephant".
The wizard was taken aback, "Oh no, I didn't mean to be rude! If you don't
want to tell me his name then that's perfectly alright!"
The boy looked puzzled. "No, I mean it's genuinely Irrelephant".
You can imagine the back and forth that occurred now. Let me
summarise.
"No it's Irrelephant,"
"I understand completely don't worry!"
"No; I mean it is Irrelephant!"
"I said it's alright I don't mind!"
"Please listen to what I'm saying; his name is Irrelephant"
"I bloody well know and I respect your privacy!"
OH THE FUN WE HAVE WITH WORDS.
Eventually, through the ingenious use of a pencil and paper, the
misunderstanding was resolved.
"So," the wizard finished his soup and began eyeing the still-bubbling
saucepan, "Why is he called that?"
[/CODE]
[editline]6th May 2013[/editline]
aaaah I was using code tags to preserve formatting but they've coloured all the programming-related words all funny. What's the best way to format?
[url]http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/Kirbyfactor/1171425/[/url]
Tried a new style of writing, is this better?
Two songs I'm working on. I wont re-post what I put in CWTDDAT (what an abbreviation :L)
Constant catch 22 when we fall back on you
chin up heads down stare blank at the ground
a covert facade full it over our face
hold the power in our hearts too
wating for the rise
of a human race
were just wating for you to completly ignore us
because we all know really
you actualy abhor us
you look and you laugh only seeing us cussing
but realisticaly, we are planning on pushing
you out of the room and off the centerstage
push past you, move on to a better place
I belive in the power of positive people
crashing our heads to the sound of the tearful
objectivly fearful
worrying wondering
how your gonna treat them
[chorus]
I dont know what the future holds
if we play our card wrong we could be centerfold
stripped down to the bone
as they stair at us cold
the dead look in their eye is all theyll ever know
as they skip past the plight that they fucking caused
Thats the first and the second is.
After one long week
against it all
ive run out of steam
that hope ran me on
now im a wreak
trained to desire
a glorious prize
at the end of the
mire
worked over sculpted
with hammers and
punctured
by needles injunctions
my attitude twisted by
peoples assumptions
put me under the
mic-
raphone blaring me answers
about religion and government
stances
on aspects of life
where they have no
scope
all sinking faster
determined to float
[chorus]
So why am I unhappy on a friday
[QUOTE=Katos;40542263]I'm gonna submit an excerpt of a short story written in the POV of a middle-aged Chief living in the Congo.
"I was 12 when I was picking berries with my older sister. I was distracted by a strange ant atop one of the berries; it had a cotton ‘hat’ on its head. He was quiet this time, waiting. We got closer to him without realizing it; he looked like one of the trees. She got close enough; he reached out twice the length of her body and snatched her. I watched as he wrapped his long fingers around her body with each hand, cradling her like a baby then twisted; the bones grinded and creaked until they snapped and she was a twitching mess. He was looking towards me the whole time; no eyes, just two black pits in the wood of this tall figure. He dropped her at my feet and stood over me. I ran never looking back, he didn’t chase me. He was already satisfied. The creaking sounds played in my head every night for the rest of my life; he was a macabre musician using people as his instruments, playing his song."
Would love feedback and criticism.[/QUOTE]
It's very vague and abstract. The first couple reads i thought the ant was the one killing her. It is scary though; a Macabre piece in itself.
One thing i noticed, every single sentence starts with He, Her, She, I, The.
I'm not sure if this is really all that good, but I've been working on an introduction to a novel I'll probably never finish. What do you guys think? Too "philosophical?" Pretentious? Awful in general? Try not to mind the errant spelling errors too much...
[quote]I like to compare humans to hornets: quiet and inconspicious until you get them with more of their own kind. The sound of a lone hornet buzzing is akin to a pin dropping. It's not until you include more to its company that you start hearing that infernal sound. Add more and more, and soon the resulting horde is more similar to a factory, workers and all! Not to mention a lone hornet is likely not to harm you unless you provoke it, and even then it isn't likely to kill you unless it has the rest of the day to sting you. The horde, though, is more aggressive than one of those drunk alpha-male types you see jostling bars for a quick drink and fuck. Their collective stinging, too, can be enough to take down a wildebeast!
Take that horde of hornets, give it a home, and you have the city of Ria. A formidable hornet's nest in a world of hornet's nests. Every "hive" in America is just like Ria, buzzing with the sounds of uptempo music; electric aerocar engines; and, naturally, all the bees that live within. All these sounds intermix and curdle into this obnoxious, cacophonous [i]mess[/i] of a noise so loud you could hear it from Alpha Centari! If you're a hornet, it doesn't bother you; you never consciously [i]hear[/i] the sound. But not all of us are hornets, oh no. For those that aren't, there is no salvation from it. None! It torments you day in and day out with little abandon!
I apologize for my digression; I have found it quite difficult to keep my composure ever since I've become aware of that blasted [i]noise[/i]. I imagine I've been hearing it since I was born, but it was only until recently that I noticed it. It's quieter here, thankfully, and it keeps me from being driven madder than some rabies-infected dog. Sometimes, though, I hear it relayed from afar over the mountains, and it only reminds me of my life before. But, I should probably go on.
My life hasn't always been like this, haunched in this old hunting lodge brimmed up on the frontiers of civilization. No, my life used to be much, much worse. Before I was just like one of them, one of those hornets. Living my life for the moment, quickly switching from thing to thing. Not a chance to think, not a second. Hesitate for a second, you're done. Period. Just thinking about it makes my blood rush, quickens my mind, stresses me out. The body has a habit to never forget what it learned, but its ability can diminish over time. That led me to make one of the worst yet greatest mistakes I ever made, the reason I'm out here in the forests in this aging cabin instead of the steel city afar.
But a good story must have an introduction! A rising action! You can't just jump into a story with such brevity (I'm assuming you have the attention span greater than a fly or, more likely, the average American citizen, although if you're really this far into this you're probably not like everyone else), not to mention in my awful rambling I forgot to introduce myself. Partial insanity can sometimes have that effect on you! My name is Nathaniel, as I perfer to call myself, but you can feel free to call me Nat if my name in its entirety is too long for you. I've encountered that problem before. I lived in the city of Ria for the longest time, but length is a relative term when it comes to life in America today. When you can scarcely remember yesterday when you're too focused on today, life seems very short, but my current, say, position gives me plenty of time to reflect, remember. Maybe that's why I see it fit to write my story, maybe inspire you to reflect, but who knows what's going on in my mind anymore? The sound makes it hard to even think straight sometimes, but I digress again.
Ria has its own beauty, when you think about it, but it's not a beauty that you can really appreciate as you're usually speeding by too fast to even get a chance to see it much less look at, much less think about it. Sleek and white, curved and rounded, it's architectual brillance but it's not inspired by aesthetics but instead by a need for efficiency. That's the name of the game. You can't waste. You don't waste. Wasting is the cardinal sin. The buildings are beautiful but they're uniform and undistracting by design, not by chance. Makes it less likely that people will stare at them for too long.[/quote]
[QUOTE=Fhenexx;40591340]Too "philosophical?" Pretentious? Awful in general?[/QUOTE]
I think it's fitting, given that the narrator is pretty flamboyant.
Something kind of interesting is that I just came from another board where people were having a lengthy discussion about introductions and prologues, so I thought it was funny that this one actively acknowledges that same issue.
The thing that concerns me (and this isn't necessarily a negative) is that the narrator is also kind of caustic sometimes. This doesn't make him a [i]badly written[/i] character, but... Well, let me compare this to something I learned in a screenwriting class. My professor in that class believed that it's a necessity to give your protagonist a "save the cat" moment. This is basically a moment where they do a kind deed for somebody, and 99% of the time this puts the audience on his side. Now, again, I'm not saying this is necessary, or that it's sure to be a negative thing, but I'm [i]concerned[/i] that the narrator could alienate some less-interested readers. Something he kind of addresses himself.
To address the necessity of even having an introduction, I think if this one is going to stay a part of the finished product, it should do more to make people like the narrator. At least before he starts filtering out any overly-sensitive Americans who might be reading.
Then again, for all I know, this text is written from the point of view of the antagonist, or some side character. If it is, then [i]maybe[/i] people would be more willing to stick by it.
But I should probably focus more on my own thoughts and less on what I think other people [i]might[/i] think. If this was just an unidentified or nonexistent narrator, I would consider it a little over the top on the use of some adjectives and adverbs. Phrasing like "quite difficult" and "not all of us are hornets, oh no" and such [i]would[/i] be a little off-putting. However, it does make for a pretty engaging narrator. It helps to quickly establish a personality for him, and allows people to make inferences about him not just by what he says, but the way he says things.
I would read more if you've written some of the actual story.
[editline]10th May 2013[/editline]
I need to get caught up on writing posted on the last page. My heart hurts when I see un-responded-to writing. And [i]you people[/i] ought to be criticizing each other more often as well.
To be honest, the whole thing about the "American citizen" was more a joke about the Americans in the context of the story, not the modern Americans that are actually reading the story. This is supposed to be the classic "dystopian society" where society is supposed to be incredibly efficient and multitasking a staple. For this reason, people kind of adapt and their attention spans shorten because they have to be going task to task, something I'd elaborate on further. I'm probably going to remove that line at some point, though, but I'm more concerned about getting my ideas down on paper first before really rewriting it all.
I'm probably going to tone down the sarcasm a couple notches, too. I guess part of the reason is that his intended audience is fictional, like he was really writing to other people in the fictional universe and he sees himself as kind of "above" them and another part of the reason is that I'm just a sarcastic person in general so I have a tendency to write sarcastically, but really I'm just writing this as I go and getting the ideas and plot down first since, to be completely honest, I haven't really gone past the introduction yet. I probably should have thought about how incomplete it really was before I posted it but hindsight is 20/20 I guess.
Still though, I'm definitely going to keep your criticism in mind, try to make him a little bit less of a dick. I definitely know I'm going to end up rewriting much of the introduction once I get a bit further into the story. If it's not too much trouble, though, I'd kind of like to see that discussion on introductions you were talking about earlier. I have a bit of trouble when it comes to introductions, especially since I have a tendency to ramble a tad bit, so maybe what they're saying might shine some more insight on the issue, I guess.
All right, I'll PM that link to you.
So I guess the concern I mentioned is due more to a lack of context than any larger problems with the writing. I mean, I got the idea that it was a future setting, what with mentioning "aerocars," and that the architecture sounded kind of futuristic. But I guess it also would have helped to know that he was addressing a particular audience, and not just the reader. Maybe he could compare the readers to "your fellow citizens of Ria" (or whoever) rather than "the average American." This would accomplish both the goal of letting the reader know that he isn't addressing the reader directly, and would hint that these [i]fictional[/i] people have unusually short attention spans.
I don't think you [i]need[/i] to tone down his sarcasm. In fact, it makes him more distinguished than your average narrator. The only reason I thought it could cause problems for some people is that it comes on a little strong so early. Maybe in the earlier parts of the story, he could sound a little more reserved, then as he grows more comfortable telling the story, and warms up to his imagined audience, he could gradually become more candid. It would show some development in him, and people would be more understanding of him by then.
I really like the first two stanzas. The hornet metaphor was impressive and interesting way to open up the story. i was drawn.
A few things that stuck out to me, and this might just be my own personal preference, but i don't really enjoy when characters introduce themselves. It makes it feel cheap.
and even though its pretty short, i feel like its too much explaining. Nothing has happened yet and he's explaining where he lives and how he didn't live here before and this and that. That's the kind of scenario where i stop reading a story and i start reading words. Instead of explaining the noise he heard, and explaining what people call him, give us story to infer that. he starts hearing something and the reader can be like, what? what the fuck is going on is he crazy? Is he a super hero?
I'm writing a small thing as a introduction for a group, directly related to the Espionage thread in the GMod Screenshot Section.
It's nothing big and it's only a first iteration, I put most of the effort in to the middle part, as you'll like see:
[quote]Soldiers of Towerlight enter the abandoned Metro Station under Odessa.
As some climb the railings, a few others continue along the rails, checking train cars and improvised shelters as they walk.
Bodies from a very old battle, possibly years old, are strewn across the station, some recognized as early variants of Towerlight, TBonians and Fanatics.
The Towerlight patrol shortly after gets ambushed by soldiers in heavy vests, long cloaks and masks of combat design. The improvised “town” is watched carefully by snipers and heavy gunners.
Some of the Towerlight soldiers are brought to what seems to be a throne room, but some are ushered off to somewhere unknown. A man sits on the throne in the same attire as the unknown soldiers, his identity hidden in shadow.
“You tread on the grounds of a long lost battle” the man’s voice echoes through the barren hall. “A battle which began and ended with the first bullet, the first wound and the first blood drop on the ground” the man continues as he stands up, most of his face still covered by shadow, some features visible.
“But you still persist. You persist to march on the surface of ash and broken bones, yet it’s not enough for you. You come down here, still finding your dead brethren and enemies, thinking yourself lucky. Such is not the case. Your prior orders are forfeit and new ones are now given to you.”
The man now stands in front of the soldier and gets low enough to stare him deep in to his eyes.
“You are a messenger, from this moment till the moment your heart no longer thumps in your chest. Your message is simple:” the man leans forward, putting his mouth the soldiers ear.
“We come bearing fire and we will not falter. Terrenus Mulciber.”
The soldier is knocked out.[/quote]
[QUOTE=Mr cake fingers;40560910]Two songs I'm working on. I wont re-post what I put in CWTDDAT (what an abbreviation :L)
[song]
So why am I unhappy on a friday[/QUOTE]
Sounds like teen spirit, heh.
Since i can't hear them being sung, i actually read this aloud. The flow is kind of forced. The line where this is the easiest to see is:
"were just wating for you to completly ignore us
because we all know really
you actualy abhor us"
It goes on beat, but only because you had to add unnecessary words. "Really" and "Actually"
The 2nd song comes out more smoothly.
[QUOTE=Fussy!;40592000]I'm writing a small thing as a introduction for a group, directly related to the Espionage thread in the GMod Screenshot Section.
It's nothing big and it's only a first iteration, I put most of the effort in to the middle part, as you'll like see:[/QUOTE]
Well, pieces that are this short are really hard to critique at all. I don't know who any of the characters are, I'm not shown what any of them are like, I don't understand their conflict. It's especially hard to be interested when this is all taken out of (what I assume is) a pre-existing context, and the characters don't even have names except for "the man" and "the soldier."
Context is essential, and understanding nothing about this piece, I have no way to form an opinion on it. It makes me feel nothing.
I mean, assuming that I [i]did[/i] know who any of these characters are, or what's going on, it would be [i]serviceable[/i] at the very least. But you either have to make these things clear within the writing itself or give outsiders a jumping-off point.
I just took a brief glance at that Espionage Wars thread. I didn't read any of it in detail, but I noticed that the OP provides tons of background information that new people need to know. It even has a [i]wiki[/i]. So maybe people who regular that thread can provide a lot more input, but it's not easy for an outsider like me.
Anyone want to look at mine?
[QUOTE=OrionChronicles;40599782]Anyone want to look at mine?[/QUOTE]
Don't ask permission to show a story to someone because they won't wanna see it.
We never have first interest in seeing the next films that come out but they put those posters and trailers up in places that we might happen to look, basically we are given some means of knowing the idea or concept at heart which makes us want to see it.
My answer is no I don't want to look at yours. But I encourage you to post it here with some kind of broad description because I know I will come back and read it eventually.
[QUOTE=pakadots;40572723]It's very vague and abstract. The first couple reads i thought the ant was the one killing her. It is scary though; a Macabre piece in itself.
One thing i noticed, every single sentence starts with He, Her, She, I, The.[/QUOTE]
Thank you for the criticism. I am glad that while as vague and abstract as it is, you still managed to feel some fear with the piece. I will edit it to make it a lot clearer as to the subject at heart.
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