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> Daily Writing Thread, For works in progress you need help with
Amu
Posted: Nov 4 2008, 08:43 PM
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Does it really matter that he has the dream right before he wakes up? I mean isn't that when people usually dream?

Ignore your opening paragraph. Start from your second. Just read it from your second paragraph to yourself. Better opening? Leave it a little ambiguous, then reveal that he wakes up. It's just the way you start outside a dream and go into it that lessens the impact of the dream sequence.

I wish I wasn't the only one commenting on this.
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&ru
Posted: Nov 4 2008, 09:46 PM
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QUOTE (Amu @ Nov 4 2008, 08:43 PM)
Does it really matter that he has the dream right before he wakes up? I mean isn't that when people usually dream? 


No, people usually have 4 or 5 dream periods throughout the night. You're just more likely to remember the ones you have right before you wake up.

I agree that in this sequence alone the first paragraph is unesscessary. But it's supposed to apply to stuff that happens later. Take another look at it when I've posted the whole story and, if you still feel the same way, I'll try it your way, ok?

As far as comments, sure I'd like to get more but even if you don't get a many here, at least most of them are pretty well thought out.

This post has been edited by &ru on Nov 4 2008, 09:56 PM
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Amu
Posted: Nov 5 2008, 05:56 AM
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QUOTE
No, people usually have 4 or 5 dream periods throughout the night. You're just more likely to remember the ones you have right before you wake up.


Obviously he can remember the dream, thus it must be the one he had before waking up. I was merely pointing out that the line was too technical, redundant even.

But, yep, I'll wait for the rest.
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DJROC
Posted: Nov 10 2008, 11:55 AM
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As they bathed within the moonlight, grass was blue, and water green;
transposed by a celestial power that I had never seen.
It was there I sat upon the stage twixt water, ground, and sky;
praying I was fire with desire burning from inside.

But I felt no spark of courage emanating from my core;
naught but a damp and hollow hole remained there within that store.
In vain incantation, "Carpe Diem!" pierced the evening sky;
but still no ember stirred within me no matter how I cried.

"Sloth, release my body! Hence away, you apathetic chain!
Unlock the lock upon my soul and let flow within my veins
new dreams, and hopes, and goals that may yet spur me on to action!
Give back to me my will, desires, and determination!"

-----

So recently I've been frustrated with my apparent inability to get shit done, and my usual rallying cries don't seem to be helping. I don't particularly know why I think writing a poem about it is going to help me all that much, since it adds to the list of things I'm doing towards no end, but such is how it goes. Obviously the poem is incomplete, since I really wouldn't want to leave the narrator in such a hopeless predicament.

Anyway, this poem is a bit different from what I'm used to writing. I'm trying to work more with images and to stay away from my usual rhyme trap- in which I think up a rhyme and then try to write a line to go with it, which is a horrible way to write poetry. Trying my damnedest as well to stay away from my more common and incredibly cliched rhymes e.g. core with evermore and chain with pain. Also, tried to let myself not get too bogged down sticking to a set meter, but still trying to keep it flowing.
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Amu
Posted: Nov 11 2008, 01:34 AM
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Aws. Poetry. *makes face*

I like what it's saying. I like the imagery, too, and the emotion. I wonder at the language, though. Choosing to write in that manner could be seen as satire. Is there a way you can write it using more modern language?

If it totally ruins the poem, scrap it. I'm so not a poetry person and I don't wanna break your work.
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&ru
Posted: Nov 11 2008, 03:16 AM
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QUOTE (Amu @ Nov 11 2008, 01:34 AM)
Aws. Poetry. *makes face*

I like what it's saying. I like the imagery, too, and the emotion. I wonder at the language, though. Choosing to write in that manner could be seen as satire. Is there a way you can write it using more modern language?

If it totally ruins the poem, scrap it. I'm so not a poetry person and I don't wanna break your work.

I typed pretty much the exact same comment earlier, then didn't post it b/c I'm also not a poetry person.

But now that someone else said it too, I will say the language kind of puzzled me. I mean, maybe among poets it's an accepted thing to write in this antique way sometimes? I don't know. But to me, it seemed like you're trying to express some personal feelings in a way that feels very artificial.

I'm sure you don't think that way, so why write that way? Then again, no one thinks in poetry either, so maybe that's a bad argument, but anyway, I'd have preferred to see something with with the kind of language, visualization, metaphors that might actually go thru your head in your day to day life.

Maybe that's just a personal preference though.

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Amu
Posted: Nov 11 2008, 09:05 AM
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QUOTE (&ru)
I'm also not a poetry person.


Excellent. We can fail at poetry together.
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&ru
Posted: Nov 11 2008, 09:18 AM
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QUOTE (Amu @ Nov 11 2008, 09:05 AM)
QUOTE (&ru)
I'm also not a poetry person.


Excellent. We can fail at poetry together.

Oh, I don't think so. I will fail much harder than you so don't even go there. We should have a bad poetry compitition. I'll kick your ass. tongue.gif

This post has been edited by &ru on Nov 11 2008, 09:19 AM
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DJROC
Posted: Nov 11 2008, 02:07 PM
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Mmm, language. Unfortunately that's really just how I end up writing poetry. I find it easier to use ye olde vocabulary occasionally since it tends to have shorter words that mean the same thing as longer ones in modern vocabulary; which means they're easier to work into rhythms and patterns for me. I could, for example, have used "between" instead of the more archaic "twixt", but the one syllable alternative keeps the length of the meter constant and I like the consonance of the "t" sounds in the line.

Ah, but I suppose I will always have a bevy of defense for any crutch I enjoy using. I'll try to see if I can fashion something more suitable out of more consistently modern language. If only for the exercise.

Thanks for the feedback.
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&ru
Posted: Nov 11 2008, 02:47 PM
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QUOTE (DJROC @ Nov 11 2008, 02:07 PM)
Mmm, language. Unfortunately that's really just how I end up writing poetry. I find it easier to use ye olde vocabulary occasionally since it tends to have shorter words that mean the same thing as longer ones in modern vocabulary; which means they're easier to work into rhythms and patterns for me. I could, for example, have used "between" instead of the more archaic "twixt", but the one syllable alternative keeps the length of the meter constant and I like the consonance of the "t" sounds in the line.

Ah, but I suppose I will always have a bevy of defense for any crutch I enjoy using. I'll try to see if I can fashion something more suitable out of more consistently modern language. If only for the exercise.

Thanks for the feedback.

Well, like I said, I'm not even sure if that's really something I should be criticizing. But it just seems that more modern language might have a better chance of connecting emotionally with a modern audience.

Not that I haven't read some centuries old poetry that was very moving, but for some reason it's different when you know it was written then.

My theory is this: You will, as a modern writer, never have the facility with that type of language that the poets who wrote in the past did. Why? Because when they wrote those poems, that was modern language. They weren't trying to mimic someone from centuries before them. They wrote in the same way they talked, and thought. You will never speak and think like them, so you'll never have the same skill with that type of language that they did.

But you don't have to. You have your own language that you know infinitely better than you know that other language. You say that you tend to just think in those terms, but maybe that is because you've read so much poetry written like that, that when you sit down to write your mind goes into "poetry mode."

You trained yourself into doing that, so you can just the same train yourself out of doing it. And if you can't find a modern word as short, so what? I bet once you become used to writing in your own familiar language, you'll start to develop your own style rather than borrowing a style that will never really be your own.

Anyway, sorry for the length of this. Just food for thought. smile.gif

This post has been edited by &ru on Nov 11 2008, 02:50 PM
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Silk
Posted: Dec 6 2008, 10:58 PM
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Trust Issues

Do I have trust issues?
(I don't have trust issues)
But I can't issue trust
for you against my
instinct to--
I have my body and soul
in full revolt.
Hands, mostly apathetic,
act the scribe,
trying hard to describe what it's
like, shrugging off those little white
lies in light of your
precious ties.

But what of ours? (Well there's the issue;
where's the trust?)
My skin can't feel it,
my mind won't believe in it--
I don't have trust issues
(do I have trust issues?),
but you've done
nothing to comfort intuitive dread,
and that
blissful sense of peace
is gone.

My lips are chapped,
and sick of the nice things they've been
made to say; can't
venom ever be righteous when it stings?
They've talked me into conviction
that I don't know the convicted.
We walk too close for strangers.
My cheeks have hollowed over the months,
my skin has paled and
hates your sun. I've got
trust issues (and
rightly so). I've bought into your
faux remorse, waiting for the
stock market to crash.
And that's when my past will flash by, right?
I'll choke
I'll choke on
tears of laughter.

I have trust issues
(I trust too much.)
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startrekkie96
Posted: Dec 17 2008, 10:23 PM
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I like it, I'm not really a big poetry person, but I like it. A lot, actually. It rhymes, but then it doesn't. It teases you in a way, opening up a window into a relationship for a second, giving us a flash into someone's (your?) life.

Only a couple things I'd say:
QUOTE

but you've done
nothing to comfort intuitive dread,

This line seems kind of off meter, it doesn't seem to fit with the meter of the rest of the poem.

I also don't understand your "waiting for the stock market to crash" line. Is it an allusion to the relationship? But I'm not a poetry person.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This is a dialogue from a story I'm working on. It's clumsy, it's ugly, any help would be appreciated. I'm new to writing, so writing believable dialogue comes tough to me.

It was cold outside, but that didn’t stop Wallace from waiting on a bench out near the door. His patience was eventually rewarded by a black sedan coming to a halt near the curb. He climbed in. Robin was behind the wheel. He greeted him gruffly: “Bob,” he decreed, “you look like hell. I’m glad you’re back.” As Henslin pulled away from the curb, Wallace tried to relax and forget everything. Tried to tell himself that everything would be back to normal, once he got back into the office. He told himself that once he got back to work, once he could to his job, he would be ok. He made small talk with Robin. How’re-the-kids, how’s-the-wife, what-all-is-new, have-you-seen-the-weather-lately. Eventually there was nothing left to say. Wallace stared out the window. The pain was coming back where his ribs had been broken, he wished he’d asked for a painkiller prescription before he’d left. But there was nothing any drug could do for his thoughts.

“Are they blaming me for it?”
“Bob, you can’t-“
“Goddamnit Robin! Are they blaming me for it?”
“It was the WHITE HOUSE. Somebody had to be blamed.”
“Then I’m glad it’s me.”
Wallace looked back out the window. It was fall in DC, and the rain was starting again. It splashed against the window, obscuring his view.
“You can’t blame yourself for this, even if everyone else does.”
“And why not? How did they get the bomb into the building?”
Robin looked uncomfortable as he said, “DDS says they’d been carefully placed over about a month. An inside job. Bob - they make shit up. They’re covering their own asses. That asshole Rayborne is looking out for his job.” Wallace said nothing. Rayborne was the Director of the DDS and had authority over all federal law enforcement agencies.
“I checked everyone who had a job there…” He trailed off.
“They closed off the scene. DDS took jurisdiction, they’re not letting anyone get anywhere near the place. They’re hiding something.” Robin was angry now. “I put my ass on the line for you. Told the president it wasn’t your fault. All thats gonna mean exactly shit if you don’t stick up for yourself. Needless to say, you’re off the president’s detail. You’ll never work on it again. But at least you have a job.”
“And it is…?”
“You’re heading up the investigation. That’s what I could get you without losing my own job. And besides, I need somebody good. Everybody’s running their own investigation, and if the DDS gets the guy before we do, he’ll disappear into some overseas prison and we’ll never know what the hell happened. I figured that if I couldn’t get you back onto detail, this would be your next choice.”
“You have no idea.”
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Megaduck
Posted: Dec 18 2008, 06:54 AM
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QUOTE
It was cold outside, but that didn’t stop Wallace from waiting on a bench out near the door. His patience was eventually rewarded by a black sedan coming to a halt near the curb. He climbed in. Robin was behind the wheel. He greeted him gruffly: “Bob,” he decreed, “you look like hell. I’m glad you’re back.” As Henslin pulled away from the curb, Wallace tried to relax and forget everything. Tried to tell himself that everything would be back to normal, once he got back into the office. He told himself that once he got back to work, once he could to his job, he would be ok. He made small talk with Robin. How’re-the-kids, how’s-the-wife, what-all-is-new, have-you-seen-the-weather-lately. Eventually there was nothing left to say. Wallace stared out the window. The pain was coming back where his ribs had been broken, he wished he’d asked for a painkiller prescription before he’d left. But there was nothing any drug could do for his thoughts.


In your other thread I mentioned how you need to add more paragraphs and that pargraphs mention a change of subject.

Here we have Henslin talking and Wallace thinking. That’s two subjects. Which means you need at least two paragraphs here. One where the subject is Henslin and one where the Subject is Wallace.

I would put about three.

QUOTE (Megaduck)
It was cold outside, but that didn’t stop Wallace from waiting on a bench out near the door. His patience was eventually rewarded by a black sedan coming to a halt near the curb. He climbed in.

Robin was behind the wheel. He greeted him gruffly: “Bob,” he decreed, “you look like hell. I’m glad you’re back.”

As Henslin pulled away from the curb, Wallace tried to relax and forget everything. Tried to tell himself that everything would be back to normal, once he got back into the office. He told himself that once he got back to work, once he could to his job, he would be ok. He made small talk with Robin. How’re-the-kids, how’s-the-wife, what-all-is-new, have-you-seen-the-weather-lately. Eventually there was nothing left to say. Wallace stared out the window. The pain was coming back where his ribs had been broken, he wished he’d asked for a painkiller prescription before he’d left. But there was nothing any drug could do for his thoughts.


It should be something closer to that. Don’t bury dialogue in a mass of other text.

QUOTE
“It was the WHITE HOUSE. Somebody had to be blamed.”


Fun fact, on online forums capitalization is used to show emphasis. In novels, its italics.

Properly this should be,

QUOTE (Megaduck)
“It was the White House. Somebody had to be blamed.”


Just a little formatting note. Don’t use all capitals for literary writing.

QUOTE
“Then I’m glad it’s me.”
Wallace looked back out the window. It was fall in DC, and the rain was starting again. It splashed against the window, obscuring his view.


Ah ha, this is back to the paragraph issue. Here we have all one subject, it’s Wallace, so it’s all one paragraph.

Because paragraphs breaks indicate a subject change if you read just the quoted part Robin say’s “Then I’m glad it’s me.” Paragraph break, subject change, and then Wallace looks out the window.

Should be,

QUOTE (Megaduck)
“Then I’m glad it’s me,” Wallace looked back out the window. It was fall in DC, and the rain was starting again. It splashed against the window, obscuring his view.


Incidentally, I am currently sitting about two blocks from the capitol and about four from the white house. So if you need to know anything about D.C, feel free to ask.

QUOTE
Robin looked uncomfortable as he said, “DDS says they’d been carefully placed over about a month. An inside job. Bob - they make shit up. They’re covering their own asses. That asshole Rayborne is looking out for his job.” Wallace said nothing. Rayborne was the Director of the DDS and had authority over all federal law enforcement agencies.
“I checked everyone who had a job there…” He trailed off.


Robin is talking, Wallace said nothing… who trailed off?

QUOTE
Robin looked uncomfortable as he said, “DDS says they’d been carefully placed over about a month. An inside job. Bob - they make shit up. They’re covering their own asses. That asshole Rayborne is looking out for his job.”


First, as a general writing rule, similar words should never be put together. Verity is what keeps writing interesting. So if they’re covering their asses the next insult should not have ass in it.

Secondly, writing good diologue is like writing everything else. Less is more. People don’t repeat themselves or talk about things they already know.

If Rayborne is looking out for his job then they’re covering their asses. You don’t need both sentences.

You could just say,
“Rayborne’s covering his ass.”

I’d probably rewrite this paragraph something like,
QUOTE (Megaduck)
] Robin looked uncomfortable as he said, “DDS says they’d been carefully placed over about a month, an inside job. Bob – they’re making shit up. Rayborne’s covering his ass.”


Most of editing is cutting stuff out.

That being said, you dialogue here isn’t that bad. Mostly its formatting issues and you still have a bad habit of putting in monster paragraphs. Seriously, if you have a paragraph more then six lines it’s to long. Keep that as your rule of thumb.
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&ru
Posted: Dec 22 2008, 08:14 AM
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QUOTE (Silk @ Dec 6 2008, 10:58 PM)
Trust Issues


I liked the content of this poem, but it's arhythmicness [is that even a word?] bothered me. I don't like your occasional mid-line rhymes either, but it bothers me much less than the lack of rhythm, which seemed to me to be laziness rather than a choice. Or, to put in another way, you seem to obviously have the talent to put some rhythm into this piece that could really bolster the emotional impact or at the least make it more pleasant to read - so why didn't you?

Leaving that aside, I did like it otherwise, though there were a couple of other things I noticed:

QUOTE
They've talked me into conviction
that I don't know the convicted.

This seems like it's trying a bit too hard to be clever, and what does this mean anyway?

QUOTE
Hands, mostly apathetic,
act the scribe,

You know, I didn't like this at first until I got the image in my mind of hands lazily scribbling something down in sloppy handwriting. I don't know if that's what you were going for, but it's not a bad image. But why "mostly" apathetic? And why are just his hands apathetic? You could say, "Mostly apathetic, my hands act the scribe," and then the reader would most likely ascribe the apathy to the man, not just his hands. Thyis makes more sense and the imagery still works.

But this brings us to the problem of the previous line where his
QUOTE
body and soul [are] in full revolt
.
This doesn't seem like the owner of the apathetic hands does it? It's a nice image like I said, but if it doesn't fit in with what the rest of the poem is saying, then you sould probably drop it.


Other that that, I'd have liked to have some more specificity about the man's reason for his loss of trust in the woman and about her "faux remorse." I'd be much more interested in hearing what happened than I am in just hearing that he doesn't trust her anymore for some unspecified reason.

So my main problem is really the lack of rhythm. I think that if you worked on that, that this could be a really nice poem. It's got good content and potential. I hope you keep working on it because I'd like to see the final product.

This post has been edited by &ru on Dec 22 2008, 08:20 AM
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Silk
Posted: Mar 18 2009, 09:59 AM
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new emo poetry. have at it.


Seek

I to them, and you to me,
we’re anti-confrontational—
hoping if we clasp our ears and
close our eyes
they and I’d just go,
but no!
They persist, and I persist,
yet we resist and it pains
our conscience to list those times
we've been reached out to.
Why, oh God, it this so easy,
pretending we don't know who
these brothers
and sisters are.

I’ve blamed you, but I've realized
how easy it is
to push aside these friends,
these people,
these memories,
these burdens,
these past and forgotten things,

for what do they bring but pain,
regret? And
yet I still wait for you,
and still I let me bother you
in our dreams and it
seems that I'm a hypocrite
(who loves far too much to care).

And maybe it's not fair
that you'd never called again
(and perhaps it's not fair
the way that I'd blocked out them),
but it's not about who's deserving,
and it's not about what's fair.
After all we've had
our share of drama and it
doesn't matter if I'm waiting.
I've learnt that Time is
Always Running Out
, and
ours is not unique.

Just know that I am here if
I am who you seek.



Also, the new version of the last scribble:


Trust Issues

Do I have trust issues?
I don't have trust issues,
but I can't issue trust
for you against my
instinct to, I have

my body and soul in full revolt.
Hands, strangely apathetic,
act the scribe,
trying hard to describe what it's like,
shrugging off little white
lies, in light of your
precious ties.

But what of ours? (Well there's the issue;
where's the trust?)
There was that letter from a friend,
did you read it?
I’ve sent you my love again,
can you not be bothered to reject it?
Covered by crumpled receipts and
discount coupons,
I don't have trust issues
(do I have trust issues?)
but you've done
nothing to comfort intuitive dread, and that
blissful sense of peace is
gone
as I try to peer out of the wastepaper basket.

Sitting down, lying next to a stick of used lip-gloss,
I touched my lips and found them chapped,
sick of the nice things they've been
made to say, and
eventually they talked me into conviction, that for-
giving is my addiction—
we sit too closely for two strangers, dear,
and inside this closet
at the bottom of this wastepaper basket,
I am strange to you,
for I have not changed as you

have, though my cheeks have hollowed
over these long months,
and my skin has paled,
(and now hates your sun). I've got
trust issues (and
rightly so). I've bought into your
faux remorse, and I’m now waiting for the
stock market to crash.

I have trust issues.
(I trust too much.)

Sorry about the delay. I am a huge slacker/degenerate gambler.
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&ru
Posted: Mar 18 2009, 07:19 PM
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Wow, no posts in this thread for months and now 2 in one day.

This is a piece I was working on. It's in the fantasy genre, which isn't really my thing, but the story just kind of came to me. My main concern here in the language. How does it sound? Is is cliched, hackneyed within the genre, etc.

I tried it with just regular modern English, but it didn't seem to work. So I changed it to what it is now, to make it obvious this isn't our world, and that it's a fantasy type story.

So language is my main question. Does it work or no? In general. IF you hvae problems with specific parts, that's fine, but I'm looking for an overall impression of it for the most part. PLease be totally honest. I do not want to waste time working on this if it sounds stupid.

Other than that, you can critique whatever else you want of course. Thanks.




Untitled_2_19_09

Stepping over a low grassy rise the young man saw it hovering in the mists high above him. The Wizard’s Hall. He could see it was very tall and immense, built with a skill beyond any living man - all flat outer walls with unnatural perfect angles. Made with some kind of overlapping dyed wood. But even it’s unnatural size and perfection were dwarfed in size and awe by the immensity of the natural high rock platform upon whose edge it clung. That made the man smile a little.

If he could have walked up on the air, he’d have been there in a minute. Instead he turned south and walked down the slope and west past the dunes to where the strangely shaped cliff that circled the huge rock pillar spiraled from its great height down to the water’s edge. He had come at low tide - the only time the ramp was accessible, unless you wanted to swim the icy sea that would suck the strength from your limbs and bear you out west with the driftwood.

He clambered up the wet stair, slippery and steep, nervousness making him clumsy. Marley had tried to persuade him not to go, but not so much so that she was in any danger of convincing him.

He stopped to rest halfway up as his thoughts continued to rehash the conversation in his mind. It seemed to change slightly each time. So much difference could lie on the stress of one word over another and Marley was subtle. Certainly wiser than he would ever be, but she dispensed her knowledge in her own way and time, and was not above deception if pressed. But wiser or not, he was the man and the final decision was his.


“Erich, do not go to see this man. He is dangerous. He is a fraud. He will not help me.”

“Come girl, you make no sense. If he is truly a fraud then surely he is not dangerous? But I do not believe this is so. Else why do the elders leave him tribute? Food enough to support two villagers. Are we so rich that we can throw away food even in the winter when we all hunger?”

“Perhaps he has fooled them. Tricked us all into fearing him, when in fact - “

Erich cut her off angrily, “Are you saying the elders are fools or cowards? That I am?” he bristled.

The woman’s eyes glittered with tears of frustration. “No, you wrong me to think so, but I tell you my man, he is not what he seems.”

“Aye? And how would you know this?” But her face paled as she looked down, and she spoke no answer.

The man went to her and lifted her chin in his hand, little tears wetting his fingers. He smiled, “Do not cry Marley. I am sure this wizard will help us. And if he does not, what have we lost other than a gift? Ah gods, the gift! What am I to give him? You said you would pick something.”

“You will need no gift. He will offer his help, or he will not. There is nothing we have that could buy his help. Nothing that you would care to give him at least,” she said bitterly.

“Hmm? What do you mean? There is nothing in this house I could not do without except you and my sword, and surely a wizard does not need a sword? Maybe some silver or perhaps, perhaps…well, and this is why I asked you to think of something proper. These formalities and politenesses are not my strength,” he smiled shrugging his shoulders.

“Erich, we could still keep - “

“No! No we could not. You are too old and you know it.”

“I am not too old!”

“You are almost twenty five years. That is too old.”

“Do I look old to you?”

“You know that you do not, but I know you were twelve when you came to the village and I was just a young boy, and more to the point my dear, the Elders know it too. It would not be allowed. But you know this and we have talked of this endlessly already. Please do not let us fight.”

“We could leave this village! We could go - “

“Go to where?,” he laughed. Live in the woods like thieves or animals? That I might do if I had to and it was only me, but I could not condemn you to such a life.”

“We could find another village, Erich”

“Another village? I know rumor of only one but even if it is more than just rumor, it is said that it lies a full moon’s journey up coast. And suppose then that we were to make it alive - me they would likely kill and you...well, as you say, you still appear young. You know what they would do to you, do you not Marley? I would not speak of such things.”

“Aye, I am no fool. I know. But tell me this, what will the Elders to do us if they find us out?”

“If you are no fool, then you will know that as well. But they will not find out for I will not tell them nor will you. I will go out as if hunting alone which I often do and come back around far east of the village. No one will see me. And if some other man happens upon me, then I will burn that bridge when I come to it.” He smiled at the joke, but she did not respond. “Well then, I will trust to your judgment and bring him no gift, though it seems a bad omen. Have you packed my good clothes in my bag? Good.” He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her to his lips to kiss her once, then briskly walked toward the door.

“Wait!” The woman turned and walked into the next room and returned with a wooden box she held in both hands. It was unadorned but for a symbol at the top, and beautifully made.

She took a very small gold square out of it and pinned it on his shirt. “Is it gold?” he asked, awed. But as he felt the weight of it he could see it was not. It was light as balsa wood, but made of what he could not say.

“And what…ah. it is, my love,” he asked nervously.

“It will let me watch over you.”

“Gods, it’s magic!”

She sighed, “Yes it is ‘magic‘, but you do not think that I would give you something that would harm you.”

“No..no, I do not,” he said slowly. At least not purposefully, he almost said. Marley had a sweet disposition, but could have stinging rebukes for those who questioned her knowledge.

“So, if I am in danger, this thing will allow you to help me in some way?”

“No, as I said, I can watch over you. Nothing more.”

“Hmm, well at least if things go badly you can direct the men where to find my body,” he laughed. She looked stricken at his words. “It was a joke. A bad joke. Nothing will happen to me. Here, lie down. Sleep, if you can. I shall be back soon.”

“Erich, if - ,” she began, but he was already gone.
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Krisaga
Posted: Jul 8 2009, 06:42 PM
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This is the beginning of chapter 19 in a story I've been working on. For some reason lately, I can't decide how I want to word what I want to happen. It's really frustrating because I've never really had this problem with this story before.

QUOTE
Instead of being forced back like he had been before, the man continued advancing on Lin. With bloodlust in his eyes and adrenaline in his veins, he twisted his sword around to block the needle from every direction it came from.
Despite her best efforts, Lin found herself taking a step back, and then another. This man had gone crazy. She was sure that he was aiming to kill her instead of taking her for ransom as he had thought of before.
There was no skill or reasoning behind the strokes of their attacks. One would bring their weapon down as if attacking, and the other would block it. Soon, neither knew who was blocking, attacking or if they were simply moving their weapons in time with each other. The only thing Lin was sure of was that she was losing ground.


Just so that it makes a little more sense, here's kind of an overview of previous events:

The girl, Lin, is a magic user, which is an 'outcast' in that country, along with demons and Masters. She fights using a needle. Also, she's from the country to the north of the one she's in. She's being 'escorted' back up to the border by a demon, Koiti, who is currently badly burned after the group barely escaped the previous town they were in, and a Master, Raien, who has a dragon contained within him.
There's also a rebellion group, which Koiti is a part of, and he's planning on meeting them in a town at the border. The rebellion group has found out that the Queen, who is aiming to get rid of all the outcasts, suspects that Koiti, Raien, and Lin are meeting the rebellion group, and sent orders to fallow the three up to the border, to try and fight the rebellion, and finally get rid of them.
Basically, at the moment: Raien is rushing to save Lin. Koiti is having his wounds treated by a talking fox. The rebellion is going to continue on north, but is going to divert from the original plan and meet them sooner, with hopes to catch the soldiers off guard.

Sorry for all the boring explanations, the story is better. XD emot-words.gif
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&ru
Posted: Jul 8 2009, 08:19 PM
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QUOTE
Instead of being forced back like he had been before, the man continued advancing on Lin. With bloodlust in his eyes and adrenaline in his veins, he twisted his sword around to block the needle from every direction it came from.
Despite her best efforts, Lin found herself taking a step back, and then another. This man had gone crazy. She was sure that he was aiming to kill her instead of taking her for ransom as he had thought of before.
There was no skill or reasoning behind the strokes of their attacks. One would bring their weapon down as if attacking, and the other would block it. Soon, neither knew who was blocking, attacking or if they were simply moving their weapons in time with each other. The only thing Lin was sure of was that she was losing ground.


That's a pretty short section, but ok. First thing is, what's a needle? I'm picturing her fighting this guy with a little sewing needle, but I'm sure that's not right.

QUOTE
Instead of being forced back like he had been before

This is very awkwardly worded.

QUOTE
Despite her best efforts

Phrases like this are just extra words that take us space and do nothing. Read the sentence without it. Means exactly the same thing. We'll just assume people in a swordfight to the death are probably always giving their best effort.

QUOTE
She was sure that he was aiming to kill her instead of taking her for ransom as he had thought of before

Again, very awkwardly worded. If nothing else, try to say what you're saying in the shortest way possible, e.g. "He's really trying to kill me, she thought."

QUOTE
This man had gone crazy.

Use the past tense rather than the past perfect unless there's a specific reason to use that tense. "This man was crazy." sounds more immediate than the past perfect version.

QUOTE
There was no skill or reasoning behind the strokes of their attacks. One would bring their weapon down as if attacking, and the other would block it. Soon, neither knew who was blocking, attacking or if they were simply moving their weapons in time with each other. The only thing Lin was sure of was that she was losing ground.

This section and really the whole thing is sounds too much like an outline of the scene rather that the scene itself. Show, don't tell.

Hope that helps.

This post has been edited by &ru on Jul 8 2009, 08:26 PM
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Krisaga
Posted: Jul 16 2009, 08:00 PM
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Everything that I'd had written in that section was forced. I've been unable to write any further in that story for the last two months. For a week or two, I wouldn't think about it at all, hoping it might help, but I can't get anything. I'm going to try it again tonight.

And yes, the critique did help. It actually felt really good to have my work pulled apart and examined like that.
Wait...is that how you're supposed to feel the first time that happens - all happy because someone FINALLY took out a HUGE ASS red pen and told you what was wrong? Because I feel really happy about it.
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&ru
Posted: Jul 16 2009, 10:35 PM
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QUOTE (Krisaga @ Jul 16 2009, 08:00 PM)
Everything that I'd had written in that section was forced. I've been unable to write any further in that story for the last two months. For a week or two, I wouldn't think about it at all, hoping it might help, but I can't get anything. I'm going to try it again tonight.

And yes, the critique did help. It actually felt really good to have my work pulled apart and examined like that.
Wait...is that how you're supposed to feel the first time that happens - all happy because someone FINALLY took out a HUGE ASS red pen and told you what was wrong? Because I feel really happy about it.

Glad it was helpful.

I think most writers don't like criticism anymore than anyone else does, but the smarter ones realize that good criticism can make their writing better, so they are glad to get it even if it's somewhat painful.

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T3h Br0th3r
Posted: Aug 6 2009, 01:43 AM
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QUOTE
I think most writers don't like criticism anymore than anyone else does, but the smarter ones realize that good criticism can make their writing better, so they are glad to get it even if it's somewhat painful.


anit that the truth. good critics of ur work are hard to find and when u do find one, stick with them for a while. &ru is good (atleast concerning my work)

and now down to brass tacs.
i'm not sure if this one is too local for someone not from the area to understand or if the appeal spreads to non-Erie residents. i was playing Streets V3 and got inspred by the intro poems for each court. plz advise.

I miss you
land where the clouds race
land where the wind howls proud
The winter is your calling card, your deceptive fame.

But don't get it twisted, august burns as the sunsets over that namesake sea, making old Gannon U the land of ice water and fans in vain.

Cold soda and mediocre pizza, served up on payday make you my education's capital.
i cut my teeth on jack frost's bitter whims as i strive to learn these dead poet's living words, cutting though yards like a misbegotten social commentary all cause that dag on sidewalk has turned into a sadistic slip and slide of death.

nothing easy is worth doing and this place is worth doing well.
Gannon University, Erie Pennsyvaina.


and on to the story shown above
this might be due to not having read your whole story but a single needle seems to be reather weak. i'm also wondering if u have a descption of the guy attacking Lin. was he big and bluky, short and stocky, long and reedy?

This post has been edited by T3h Br0th3r on Aug 6 2009, 02:13 AM
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fakewolf
Posted: Aug 31 2009, 12:56 PM
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Rubberband

on the wrist to -
to remind
to remind me...

pluck and
pop and

ouch!

don't take it off -
I need it
need it to...

pull and
stretch and

snap!

oh
well
never mind

---------
Okay, so this is for an assignment for my Poetry Writing 1 class - an object poem, with the only real requirement that we don't mention the object within the poem itself. I've been playing and debating with different forms, and this is the one I like most at the moment, so I would love to hear some thoughts about that, as well as about the scarceness of punctuation. Thanks in advance for any comments.
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Rouxinol
Posted: Sep 1 2009, 01:03 AM
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You should consider what you want to say with the poem. If the only rule is that you cannot mention the object by name I assume that the main objective isn't just wordplay to let other people guss the object in question.

So you picked a rubberband and how you can wear it to remind you to not forget something. What are you trying to remember? How does the rubberband relate to this? Are you going to juxtapose the fraility of memory with the longeivty of the rubber (which doesn't break down for hundreds of years)?

Essentially, this poem lacks meaning in its current state. You need to insert that.

As far as punctuation goes, I would really reccommend staying away from the ellipses. There are only two correct uses for them. One is to denote that there are words missing from a sentence, usually a quotation. Example:

"This above all — to thine ownself be true...Thou canst not then be false to any man."

In some cases people chose to bracket the ellipses when used like this, like so:

"This above all — to thine ownself be true [...] Thou canst not then be false to any man."

The other is to trail off dramatically...

The latter use is notoriously overused and quite frowned upon. Used in connection with a poem about a rubber band that breaks, well, it looks silly. And not in a way that reflects well on you or your poetic sense of humour I'm afraid.
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fakewolf
Posted: Sep 2 2009, 11:31 AM
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Thanks for the comments, Rouxinol. I'm not exactly sure how I'm going to implement them, at the moment, but you have for sure given me some things to think about. I'll try to remember to post a revised version after it is workshopped in class next week. Thanks again.
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RedWolf4
Posted: Oct 7 2009, 06:43 PM
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CHAPTER ONE
"SMILE FOR THE CAMERA"

Far above the thick atmosphere and destruction on Hector IV, a pair of fleets faced off against each in the vacuum. On one side you had the Northern Quadrant Shipping and Production company, a relatively young company whose wealth came from being the only one able to ship freight through the highly volatile region of space known as the Charred Sector, called so because of the series of unstable stars that threw destructive waves of radiation off so powerful they could turn dreadnoughts into puffs of metallic vapour in an instant. No one knew how they were able to do this, and so far attempts to find out how had been stopped dead in their tracks.
Many times quite literally.
So, with a firm foundation cemented with the bodies of their enemies, Northern started branching out into smaller markets, making quite a profit and annexing a number of star systems into the corporate family, making your bitch stepmother from hell look like a catholic saint by comparison. They were now at the point where they were able to purchase, outfit and maintain their own private armada and army, of a size to rival most small nations.
So, when push came to shove, the other side usually gave way, most settling for a rather slap in the face settlement in the courts.
So, most people kept out of their way, doing nothing to get their attention and hoping to be passed. . . unnoticed. This time, however, there was far too much at stake to simply give up and turn tail this time. A small mining corporation running surveys of terra-formation viable planets had discovered a hugely rich series of plutonium ore seams on Hector IV, one of the richest ever discovered, and had claimed the system months prior to Northern shipping taking an interest. By then, Tsubasa mining corp had already set up dozens of terraforming stations on the surface of the moon, along with a small city for maintenance personnel to live in. With the arrival of an NQS fleet in orbit though, the personnel had become hostages, the city into a heavily fortified camp and every terraforming station into a possible anti-orbital battery. Only having enough security forces to take on pirate raids, Tsubasa Corp. turned to someone who did.
WOLFPAC Incorporated.
Begun in a backwater agriculture facility three hundred years ago during a massive conflict known as the "Colonial Uprisings", it was originally concerned with protecting convoys of vital goods and refugees in and out of contested areas from pirates, privateers and the less scrupulous factions that were involved in the war. After the end of the uprisings, however, everything had changed. You see, beforehand, it was decided that if humanity was going to colonize the stars, it was going to do so as a unified entity, with that entity being the United Nations.
It was a fucking farce.
When it turned out that we were pretty much the only intelligent life in this corner of the universe, a lot of people started to question the need for the unified government, wondering if it was time to go back to be represented as a nation, or wanting independence to govern their colonies or systems for their own good, not for the good of the whole. Of course, this had to start happening in the middle of an economic depression that was turning out to be the worst in recorded history, so the UN was quick to quash any such political ponderings before it tore apart the status quo, which wasn't really working out for anyone at the time. So apathy, corruption and a little bit of pure hope begat one of the most destructive wars in recorded human history. The old system of a centralised Earth government with system governors was shattered, a hundred years of war leaving little if any administrative structure left, allowing a new system to grow from the wreckage. It was the return of nations, the United States, Britain, France, China and Iran being the most prominent, along with a series of multinational confederacies like the
Judeo-Islamic Federation or the Balkan Union. In addition, it became the era of the corporation. Now unshackled from the tethers that once bound them to the morals of the greater good, many grew into nation-states in and of themselves, throwing away the value of the human life in favour of the value of the latest technology, the newest entertainment, or the best spin one could put on an old product. In an ever-shifting world of corporate politics and greed, it pays to keep your head down and tow the party line. In between it all are the mercenary companies like WOLFPAC, either constantly shifting allegiance from one faction to another or simply selling to everyone for a large profit, so long as it didn't conflict with the interests of the company. As such, it was a dangerous universe to live in if you payed your dues to the wrong guy on the wrong day.
A fact which no one really cared about today, because they got paid to do this kinda thing everyday, albiet one side was far better compensated than the other. The Northern Quadrant personnel were conscripts for the most part, serving a 10 year term before returning to their lives, while the mercernaries of WOLFPAC were volunteers one and all, the cream of the crop from a hundred different armed forces.
Well trained.
Well equipped.
It was gonna be a close one this time.

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

Ok, this is just something I've been working on in various forms since the start of 2002 back when i was in high school. In its latest incarnation, its a story of a futuristic mercernary corporation and the contracts they take on with several continuing arcs. Right now though, I'm just wondering if this backstory (which will be filled out as i go along) seems a bit too cut copy? Also any other ideas will be greatly appreciated, but the name of the game in the story is realism, I kinda want something someone in the armed forces could read and go "hmm, if we ever get to duking it out in the depths of space, i'm gonna be really glad i read this". So anyone with any kind of combat experience, practical knowledge of either naval or air combat tactics (i got ground forces covered pretty good) would be welcome to put their input in.
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