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Writers thread

- Wed, 17 Feb 2016 20:22:13 EST 2cqnyO9u No.68150
File: 1455758533284.jpg -(73504B / 71.78KB, 640x420) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size. Writers thread
How is your writing going /lit/? Anyone here working on something or have any work they want to share? Not poetry, we have the OC Poems thread for that.

I am 2 acts done with a 3 act novel. I have written short stories before, and this is my first long endeavor. I had always lacked confidence, but one day, I suddenly stumbled upon the perfect horror novel just sitting in my mind. Like, it is literally the greatest horror story if this generation. It will go down as The Wire of horror stories for it's brutal look at reality at the bottom of the barrel. But it will also be like Trailer Park Boys and have a cast of lovable losers, who are down and out, living where every day feels like the end of the world, and having that corner of the ghetto become the backdrop for what will be the end of the world for real, with the local stoners and crackheads the last line of defense before an ancient evil reclaims the planet it once ruled a millennia ago. It is not a horror comedy like John Dies At The End, it is straight horror with some comedic moments the way an action movie can have good comedy. I know it will be an insta-classic and probably get a film adaption. As a long time 420channer, I will find some way to get it to you all for free after I find a publisher, since I know this site thrives on piracy, even if I have to pay them for digital downloads for all 3-5 regulars here. Drugs and the apocalypse, it should be right up most of /lit/s alley.
Hugh Bevingkun - Sat, 27 Feb 2016 20:38:10 EST rFUQlB83 No.68176 Reply
I'm working on an erotic vampire story for a vampire porno book LOL. I don;t like vampires or erotica but it pays.

Mine is a comedic tale of two vampires who make a bet with each other over which can pick someone up from the local club without using their compel powers to make their victims come willingly. Awkward hijinks ensue. Do they manage to find dinner without their powers? Buy some upcoming vampire porn to find out.
Hugh Bevingkun - Sat, 27 Feb 2016 20:44:52 EST rFUQlB83 No.68177 Reply
I read the first section. Your style isn;t bad but you NEED TO EDIT. Edit the fuck out of it. I might have read more than the prologue if the punctuation was better, but a story doesn't flow when you are constantly trying to figure out where to mentally insert commas. The segment about telling Lod some uncomfortable truths was handled well, so you clearly can tell a story and weave emotion into it instead of feeling soulless like some aspiring writers who are all details, no heart. Just edit edit edit, make it readable.
Ebenezer Blackstone - Sun, 28 Feb 2016 18:21:08 EST UDR65Rbh No.68179 Reply
Wish I had some backups of various shorts and attempted novels and other junk I've worked on. Sadly I've been through a number of hard drives over the years, and always lose a lot. Got a couple scripts, but can't get any friends on board with them, even when I've helped them with all their garbage. Side note I do actually have a writing credit and appearance in a bottom tier, Birdemic quality short film. Can only pray that the internet never gets ahold of it.
James Drucklegold - Tue, 01 Mar 2016 16:05:09 EST RwCTBZ0X No.68182 Reply
The file for my novel concept got corrupted after a power outage the other day. I'm saving everything on the cloud from now on.
Nigel Penkinked - Wed, 09 Mar 2016 15:54:38 EST IpuWZJnh No.68224 Reply

Thanks man, It is still in draft form but thanks. My Grammar has always been my downfall so I'll take it on the chin and maybe post some revised stuff another time, could any body comment on the themes maybe? How the voice comes across?


amazing idea and it's executed pretty well but I just feel as though there's a lot of repetitive language and I understand it's a play on the fact it's a nursery rhyme but I just think if you're going to do horror you need to think of atmosphere and sometimes that's broken by the childlike language.
Nigel Penkinked - Wed, 09 Mar 2016 15:56:36 EST IpuWZJnh No.68225 Reply
That's why I use tumblr, would never have anything not backed up to some sort of cloud or service or whatever.
Martha Goodwater - Thu, 10 Mar 2016 17:22:13 EST bq5scg8g No.68228 Reply
Thanks for reading my story!
Yeah, it could use a proper comb-over with a Thesaurus, and more poetic descriptions of things.
Caroline Forrystut - Thu, 10 Mar 2016 17:32:36 EST v1vMwpUb No.68229 Reply
OP here.
I finished the first draft of my stoner comedy I was talking about.
Like I said, it is like Trailer Park Boys meets HP Lovecraft. It involves a Lovecraftian entity coming to Earth and teaming up with a character who is meant to be a modern day Lovecraft: enthusiastic, antisocial, and racist/homophobic. For those familiar with Trailer Park Boys, the demon and human villain are like Lahey and Randy, and proceed to fuck with the main characters, who are the drunk stoner neighbors. Sometimes the killers are bumbling, sometimes violently effective. I had a lot of fun bringing HP Lovecraft to life in the present day as a character. My friend who read this compared it to the Evil Dead movies, where it was funny but also shocking and brutal. Here's the first handful of pages, let me know if you want to read more.
Graham Geblingdore - Fri, 11 Mar 2016 08:53:09 EST bq5scg8g No.68233 Reply
Way to cut us off right when shit was going down. Is the rest of the book going to be a ridiculous slasher/comedy? I want to see more of the villains, especially if they are actually like Randy and Lahey from TPB as it goes on.
Emma Hinninglack - Mon, 21 Mar 2016 11:42:06 EST h/ilEKgy No.68247 Reply
I write supernatural erotica. I know it sounds lame, but there's a small market for it in anthologies. I strive to come up with legitimately good supernatural tales, not just porno.
Here's two examples.

>a story about a vampire couple who, after centuries of using their powers to compel victims into sleeping with them, decide to settle a bet by trying to seduce a mortal without using any of their supernatural abilities

>a tale of a girl who picks up a rare, antique vibrator which turns out to be haunted
Shitting Senninghot - Thu, 31 Mar 2016 02:33:56 EST 1gDx6fLw No.68263 Reply
Just read your cursed vibrator story. Pretty good. Ever had a stab at supernatural fiction with less emphasis on genital diddling?
Basil Nittingville - Thu, 31 Mar 2016 07:19:27 EST 7Jwk1ke7 No.68266 Reply
Thanks for the compliment. I have done non-erotica, it just doesn't sell. There's a much better market for paranormal sex stories, I'm sad to say.

I'm also OP, and this post has a link to the beginning of my non-erotica novel >>68229

Here's a link to a non-porno, really short supernatural tale I wrote as a metaphor for how I got into drugs.

Have you guys read any good books about writing? Stephen King's On Writing really inspired me a lot, and gave me the motivation to write the novel I keep spouting off about ITT
KrazyPulksTribe !owU3wSU682 - Tue, 05 Apr 2016 05:02:24 EST j4U86Vcy No.68278 Reply
I wrote a ton of short stories as a kid, mainly about funny and disastrous things happening in people's everyday lives. Probably watched too many horrible TV sitcoms so I couldn't think of any more abstract kind of material to write.

From ages 10-13, I wrote a ~150 page tale about a family vacation where everything goes wrong. It had no theme (aside from things going wrong) and sort of a haphazard plot, but I got a quirky pleasure from writing and reading it, much like the pleasure I get from watching cheesy movies like National Lampoon's Vacation or Cheaper by the Dozen.

Then the computer's hard drive broke and I lost it. Oh well. I still have a bunch of old short stories written on paper. Honestly, I wish I could think up stories as funny and weird as the ones I wrote at age 7. It's possible but I really have to go hard with the drugs to give myself an illusion of creativity.
Lillian Hendermodge - Fri, 08 Apr 2016 03:10:40 EST xiyHIW4c No.68281 Reply
The vibrator one was pretty good. I am legitimately impressed. I
Cornelius Maddleped - Fri, 08 Apr 2016 05:41:39 EST ZfcUVUj4 No.68282 Reply
Thanks! I wrote it for this anthology, which is vibrator themed.
I still haven't heard back if I made the cut, and am really hoping I don't get the embarrassing letter saying that they found 15 other stories bout vibrators better than mine. The whole reason I started writing erotica was that there's less competition from serious writers LOL. The pay is shit ($25), but I wrote it in a night, and anthology publishing is more about getting your name out there than paying bills. Other publishers of short stories often won't even read your story unless they see you've had other stories published elsewhere beforehand, most don't like reading from unpublished writers, so I'm building a small bibliography of erotica before I try submitting stories again to some dicks who rejected my non-porno masterpieces.
Hannah Dartwill - Wed, 13 Apr 2016 18:18:50 EST LJAeSnsA No.68295 Reply
OP here.
So I have finished work on my debut novel. I am self publishing it as an e-book on Amazon for $2.99. Now, I've read that the best way to start getting some sales is to do a free giveaway and hope some of the readers leave reviews. Getting the first good reviews on Amazon is the first step towards getting the book on shoppers radar besides the people I personally tell to look for it. I already said I would give this book away free to any 420channer, I'm not going to shill my shit to you guys, but if I set up a temporary free give-away on Amazon for you folks to take advantage of, would you be so kind as to leave a good review? Hell, even if you don't read it, just say something nice, help a fellow 420 friend get some drug money. Amazon is processing the book now and it should be up in a day or two, and I'll post a link when I have the free giveaway ready.

If you like HP Lovecraft and stoner comedies, you should enjoy this.
Barnaby Tootforth - Thu, 14 Apr 2016 18:18:57 EST bq5scg8g No.68300 Reply
I want to read this book, I enjoyed the preview chapters you already posted and am ready for more. You better actually give it to us for free and not come in here next week saying "Changed my mind, give me three bucks for my crappy book."
Barnaby Dockledet - Thu, 14 Apr 2016 22:29:18 EST xiyHIW4c No.68301 Reply
I would be interested in reading it. I'm am both a stoner and a fan of lovecraft.
OP - Fri, 15 Apr 2016 07:58:29 EST LJAeSnsA No.68303 Reply
Awesome! I'm finishing my final edit this weekend and will post a download link ASAP. There's no re-writing or anything left to do, I'm just cleaning up loose commas and turning a few run-on sentences into multiple small sentences, which just consists of deleting the word "and" almost every time I see it and replacing it with a period.
So far, the few reviews I got from friends have been good, I hear there are multiple parts that startled the reader into laughing out loud, and one reader said the ending made her cry.
OP - Sat, 16 Apr 2016 13:12:05 EST LJAeSnsA No.68307 Reply

The main character is established as a 420channer from the first chapter.
Enjoy my Lovecraftian stoner dark comedy. If you like it, please post a review on the Amazon page so someone might buy it. I won;t post that link so I'm not spamming without buying a banner. I'm not some shill who doesn't use 420chan, this site is my internet home, and you guys are the target audience for this kind of tale.

For those who haven't read the whole thread, I describe the novel in these posts so you know what to expect >>68295 >>68150 >>68229
James Bottingway - Mon, 18 Apr 2016 20:59:26 EST goLG0h5v No.68311 Reply
1461027566539.png -(112068B / 109.44KB, 487x297) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
hey y'all

I've been working on a sci fi story on and off for a year or more now. I'm not sure at all if it's any good, I've gotten some positive feedback but haven't really shown many ppl. I'm actually submitting a very contained piece of it as a short story for a final project this semester, I try to draw on a lot of influence from Delany and theory I study like Deleuze (shit i just remembered part of 4.1 is p much quoting deleuze id have to fucking cite that if i dont change it)

Idk these are some pieces of what I've been writing this semester. I have most of Session 1 saved still, which I actually submitted to a school paper that publishes anything if it has a name on it. And session 2 is really weird but I've been working on it, I wrote it during a few months where the only thing I read was Faulkner (and a bunch of Morrison) and its just about the mc's close friend getting shot by a tax collector. And a bunch of One-Horned Ogre King stuff

anyway here's part of session 3 its part 3 I think

and here's the first part of session 4, which is part one of book two or whatever
https://www.evernote.com/l/AhGWTe9X1k5JVI3i1sjQsZctsYsOtT_tqOA and the weird poem thing that goes before it https://www.evernote.com/l/AhE52aHDHmVBrqKdincEErMSjypz4R9nES4

I could post session 1 stuff but I dont wanna just bombard yall w sessions before i know if its even worth reading. Let me know what you think
James Bottingway - Mon, 18 Apr 2016 22:28:55 EST goLG0h5v No.68312 Reply
oh my god all of the paragraph spacing got fucked up in the transition from google docs and back fuck me

no matter what I do in evernote it wont go back to looking as it did what a bummer
Nigel Marringford - Tue, 19 Apr 2016 01:00:57 EST xiyHIW4c No.68313 Reply
Doesn't google docs let you link people a document?
Martin Sarringdale - Tue, 19 Apr 2016 17:06:01 EST bq5scg8g No.68314 Reply
I'm working on a short story for this horror anthology, tell me if the concept sounds good:
Frank and his friend are attacked by a monster in the woods. Badly injured, they start running. As they run, Frank intentionally trips his friend. The monster stops to eat the friend, letting the man be the one to escape.
Years later, Frank is in the woods with his daughter. He is married now, and met his wife when he achieved mild fame for escaping the woods with severe injuries after his friend was killed. They are attacked by what appears to be the same monster. Frank is running while carrying his child, and makes the decision to drop his daughter for the monster to eat so he can again escape. It turns out, the monster is his old friend, thought dead, transformed into one of the creatures. The original monster had seen what a shithead Frank was, and turned the friend, allowing him to wait and seek revenge when the time was right. The friend vows not to kill the daughter, just to turn her, before slowly eating Frank.
Henry Crinkindane - Tue, 19 Apr 2016 17:34:35 EST gsqSAwfU No.68315 Reply
yeah but have most of it in evernote, I was only using google docs to assemble the pieces of the project incarnation of it

I love how the notebook feature of evernote made it easier to structure/organize everything I had written before I was hospitalized when I started writing again, but recently its been being more trouble than its worth

my google docs is so cumbersome though, its got like essays stretching back to freshman year of highschool (im a junior in college now)
Nigel Marringford - Tue, 19 Apr 2016 18:56:49 EST xiyHIW4c No.68316 Reply

Sounds good, but I personally think it would be neat if the monster never spoke. Just some how the ending seems a little too sadistic in a way that it brings humanity to the monster. Which might have been what you're going for. I'm also just some random jackass on the internet though so take that how you will.
Henry Nendleford - Tue, 19 Apr 2016 20:52:51 EST bq5scg8g No.68317 Reply
1461113571681.jpg -(23563B / 23.01KB, 640x362) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
The anthology I am writing it for specifically requested
>The stranger, the sicker, the more extreme and disturbing, all the better.
If it weren;t for that, I wouldn;t even have the monster-friend turn the daughter, he would just let her go. Now I'm thinking that, before killing the coward, the monster vows to go to the mans home and also turn his pregnant wife. The friend who died had a wife and children, so now he is claiming his friends family as his own and indoctrinating them into some sick implied Clive Barker type family. Not sure yet, I might write a couple versions of the final few paragraphs for myself, and send the anthology the most disturbing of them.
Charlotte Sangerkotch - Thu, 21 Apr 2016 01:00:13 EST xiyHIW4c No.68320 Reply
I've been working on a series of connected stories. They take place in what I guess you could call a pseudo American setting. They are about an ambitious young mobster in the 1920's. Its no Godfather but I am enjoying writing it.
Simon Memmlestone - Tue, 26 Apr 2016 05:27:53 EST lYAyxqi9 No.68328 Reply
Writing one about a hunting trip
Ian Trotfoot - Sat, 30 Apr 2016 22:28:46 EST kT5OnQW/ No.68344 Reply
hey I thought I'd post a bit more of that sci fi story, just some ideas ive been working on for the past few days and really just found some sort of cohesion for today

When they approached the star coursed craft some pale hour of the morning, before Majula would have began its daily becoming to life, Yelly had the lasrifle disassembled and under her robe, and she would weeks’ voyage later, when her sandle first pressed sand on Laindsraad I. It was a fragmentary cold, against chest and underarm where it hung, casting an irregular weight on her, and casting in her an irregular frame, with only the tall sword’s straight weight at and down the center of her back to even or center her. Eighteen had taken an armful of explosives that morning then as well, all rolling and relic grenades, but she had forgotten about them since and left them behind on Anome’s ship. Anome herself had brought a few extra lasrifles aboard and they sat disassembled and cleaned, and waited indefinitely. Paul kicked up sand, and spit.
The infernal machine, which swung aberrantly yet gently as she skid and slid among that strange Laindsraad dawn’s first grey dunes, had been crafted on some burning iron dwarf moon in Iowa, and had made its way to Trachila through and then from the Aedread, where the farmer woman said it had arrived to, with its others, in the hands of a regiment dispatched directly from the Entuthon Berithon, to maintain an already ongoing terror campaign against the strayed and disparate corinthian forces that hunted slavers and slaver caravans in the now budding regions; and only just before the battle of New Pilate, as well, which and her wife and husbands and husbanders, with their wives and generations, had just barely by a gate’s wait avoided, leaving them to hop from mutilated planet to the next, from charred battlefield to charred and nameless homestead, in their short range pleasure shuttles for years until, desperately, reaching Trachila.
Yelly had listened back there on Trachila as the farmer woman finished with telling that she had had the Entuthon orders themselves, written in actual softscrip, with ink, but it had been too too many years since the wind had carried them cooled by the night and dawn from the bottom of her hearth to, before she paused, and only said as more, too too many years to, too, with an expression much more aged than her decades young face. But she didn’t tell Yelly, or even ever tell Chichi or anybody in her new life, that the young Emperor Alexei, who’d only just arrived Berithonside that day, and maybe for only the second time in his sprouting life, that he knew the new Pilate would fall, soon, and their forces, all concentrated, with it. Many an uncle had taken his hand in some attempt at warmly and told him it was necessary, just as many aunts, and even a male tutor who had to be reassigned to the young sovereign’s sister, were shut up and then barred from council.

She, herself, woman and now farmer, had only seen the young sovereign six times now, and he’d only spoken directly to her twice before that night, with never of each in person, only across rotate and vasty web comm lines and ears. Her and her wife and husbands, then, lived and operated tiers of deciacres of a farm at the twelfth level of a rippling atrisector, but the screen which gave up for her his soft, pubescent face, his clear skin riddled on it with technostellar distortions, was at an oupost- small, one person only- near a crystal bath on Aedread-Pilate’s surface, in which outpost the urinal, upon receiving urine of a certain scent, achieved by consuming oils of a particular nature not native to this galactic region or Corinthians’, and reading the melody hummed by the urinator, opened up way to a passage that led two miles underground.
She had waited in the dark hall for her husband one above to piss and descend, but before that the small sovereign voice came from the glow at the entrance to the room where his flat portrait awaited her, that voice inquiring over the glow, and requesting, “Darling.”; not her real name, nor her husband’s.
From before her then in the small room he looked at her as if he could know her. He said like an angel: “Forget the formal dinner my uncle ordered.” Her and her husband one and two were assigned to entertain the planetary region’s prominent capitalists and other deneaurocrats, as they had done near monthly for decades on this assignment, so some intel uncle could listen, could then report, and so on, where she was lost. “Don’t even cancel it. It doesn’t matter, Pilate is falling tonight. Tell your husbands if you think you must, the option is yours, but please, leave.” So she did. One husband remained behind to entertain and then poison their impending guests so that they could not leave come the chaos of the initial planetwide breach of regimental fleetlines. It had been the last she ever heard from the Entuthon, and she was content that it would be the last.

The only occasions in which the deformated lasarm ceased to bother Yelly were when Eighteen picked her up and carried her, in flight, in her arms, body and lasrifle pieces apart and all dangling, or otherwise in flight on Paul’s small back, her and her company and her arms of both kind all flying freely.
Sidney Gibblechine - Tue, 10 May 2016 06:40:08 EST bq5scg8g No.68362 Reply
An interesting start to a tale.
My best advice from an editing perspective is that you have combined multiple paragraphs in places. Like, this should be your first paragraph
>Tekataku relished the sunset. It wasn't for nostalgia, for his long-ago days as a boy racing his brothers before their mother started to yell. He enjoyed the darkness, the serene, enveloping blanket that covered all at some point. He enjoyed his attire, closely tailored to his long body, so that it felt a second skin, a part of him. But most of all he enjoyed running, his feet fleeting as fast as the light itself, running in the manner his master had taught, leaning impossibly forward, precariously balanced on the balls of his feet.
Unless your specific gimmick is bulky paragraphs, slash those big walls of text into smaller blocks.
Besides that, there's just the occasional edit to add here and there. Like "Tekataku wondered idly if someone in this state of living really deserved to have said life ended when he was already so slovenly, but he did question his contracts." I'm assuming you meant he does NOT question contracts.
As for the story itself, it's a decent start, and a fast paced and shocking enough first chapter where I'd probably read the second chapter to see what exactly just happened.
Edwin Cullerfuck - Fri, 13 May 2016 00:53:12 EST C9lo1Jo/ No.68368 Reply
I've been working on a Sci Fi short story for a while. It's basically an alternate timeline where the Cold War never ended. Once JFK is assassinated the Russians leave Earth and habitate Mars and the Asteroids while the US assumes control of what's left of Earth and the Moon.
Cyril Girrysore - Mon, 16 May 2016 21:14:33 EST SZ9G/9ms No.68375 Reply
OP here.
I finished my novel I was talking about, but it was only 180 pages, which is pretty short for a novel. The only recent successful debut novel to be this short was Fight Club, besides that, novels need to be longer. So I started writing a sequel, and I'm going to combine the sequel and original book into one big novel that might be more publishable. I might make two sequels and make the thing massive, a 540 pager with 3 acts. Book 1 takes place over 48 hours, book 2 will jump 3 years into the future and take place over the span of a year, then book 3 will jump another year and take place over a summer. So you'll see 5 years of the characters lives as the book unfolds.
Alanfahl - Sun, 22 May 2016 03:10:15 EST HcIDCUUI No.68383 Reply
I'm on two projects currently:

>The first one is called "Paradigm", and is a futuristic novel about virtual reality. I try to keep it realistic without the usual randomness in this genre. (becoming the best/most known player in the first week or something) It will not be a short story though, so i try to explain everything properly. The atmosphere tends to be heavy and psychological at times.


>The other one i started just recently - "Living dungeon". Its about a dungeon that is "alive" and has start from scratch, beginning with "who" or "what" he actually is. Compared to "Paradigm" this one is easier on the mind (at least i hope so) and is supposed to work in cooperation with the readers, like voting for how the story should develop.


Would like to know what you think.
Fuck Denderwell - Wed, 25 May 2016 03:33:23 EST 4AaNsiKm No.68393 Reply
The Great Gatsby was around the length. So it's basically a novella.

Good luck sir!
Albert Fangold - Wed, 25 May 2016 06:53:36 EST AqFE++N0 No.68394 Reply
I make a lot of space art, mostly focusing on planets rather than nebula or some crap, and years ago I got into the habit of giving each planet it's own little description. It began just as little blurbs to give some life to what was at the time really lackluster art. As my skills improved and my planets started to look more realistic the blurbs became more detailed and a little mythos developed. I started writing the blurb for my latest work and it's rapidly spiraled out of control. This time the story was just too damn good.

The jist of it is that a distant human colony decides to breakaway from Earth. The terms of a treaty Earth has with another nation composed of several old colonies that broke away centuries ago give them the right to hold a plebiscite on the issue and they vote for independence. The problem is they aren't ready and can't really support themselves. They elect a Nelson Mandela kind of peaceful champion to lead their provisional government, but as time goes on he turns out to be a monster and becomes a brutal dictator. I want to explore things like the polarization and growing extremism in American politics, the current trend of people giving up liberty for security, and the aftermath of decolonization in Africa. The last one wasn't really intended but I realized that a lot of the characters and places in the story were of North or West African origin and it just kind of fit. So far the research I've done into the topic is fascinating and it seems like there's a lot I can draw inspiration from given the similarity of the two situations.
rapgamebobbyheenan - Fri, 27 May 2016 11:54:37 EST mqkgsJHY No.68399 Reply
I just finished a short story collection and it's available digitally on Gumroad and Amazon.

Feels good, man.
Basil Gonkindone - Sun, 29 May 2016 18:28:46 EST K00Ct5i8 No.68405 Reply
OP here.
Pulling an all-nighter tonight to work on the sequel to my novella and turn it into a full blown novel. Book 1 ends with my cast of drunk, stoned, queer, and morbidly obese burn-outs sealing away an ancient evil that has destroyed every species to ever evolve to the point of true intelligence on Earth. Book 2 will feature a small group of survivors from one of the previous races that once ruled Earth. Now that the entity that killed their race is gone, they are planning to emerge from the shadows to reclaim the planet that once was theirs. Hopefully my characters can stop getting drunk long enough to save their species for a second time. I don't really have an endgame planned yet, Stephen King said to throw outlines in the trash, so the characters might fuck it up and be hitting the bong right through the apocalypse. I'm doing my best to subvert cliches and tropes at every corner. One character is based on my morbidly obese friend who clocks in at 400 lbs, and he always says that he hates how fat characters are treated in media, always the goofy best friend who dies first, so I made his character a fat guy for all fat guys to appreciate for breaking every stereotype about the role.

If anyone wants to read book 1, here's a download link. TONS OF DRUGS IN THIS BOOK. It's an epub file, which I believe will read on most tablets like Nook or Kindle. If it doesn;t work for anyone, I can upload the text somewhere for you. http://speedy.sh/YUrAj/The-Tenement-epub-Randall-Huff.epub
the grocery store cashier - Sat, 04 Jun 2016 08:14:50 EST a8FsGixf No.68416 Reply
i just a really long winded brain fart due to my inability to sleep coupled with substances. im really bad at writing and looking at this just pisses me off because idk why i was trying to talk about but lol w/e.

You know that feeling when it's 3am on a summer night... the world's pitch black... and you’re the only soul on the highway for miles? Well... to be fair, not everyone does, it seldom happens... but when it does it feels like something you've never experienced before, almost otherworldly. It's you on four lanes of asphalt going towards the infinite beyond, your destination obscured by some dark path ahead. This is some kind of a euphoria inducing solitude. Better than the xanax you get from your regular insurance-covered psychiatrist. Better than any morning out fishing with you best pal and arbitrary boat dog. And even better than that feeling you got last summer when your UPS package full of a antique civil war coins and stuffed catnip toys finally showed up after two months had gone by and you felt like giving up; that rush of dopamine flooding your system. This just isn't something that can be outclassed by a collection, hobby or a sport you frequently play... I don’t know if there's a certain word for the precarious moment, but I do know that this feeling is THAT FEELING, the one you'll be chasing until you reach a ripe old age in some assisted living center or at the lake house you bought for cheap when you were young. Whenever you travel to a place you’ve always dreamed of visiting, whenever you attend a party or gathering with your closest friends and family in hope of celebration, whenever you go on a walk with your kid or significant other after being separated for far too long. It's the peak experience, because at that moment you're clocking 55mph and you're feeling the piercing howl of the night. You know you're there. And everything else is right behind you by a minute or two, you've finally beat time. You're unchained from those usual constraints that, and it feels great.
If you open up the windows, and if you turn down the radio you can hear a symphony of crickets calling out to the universe. And I'd like to think that if you take time to pull off to the shoulder and turn your lights off, cut the car off so the dash isn't illuminated, everything is quiet for a while. All the bullshit you've been stressing about; your job, your bills, your family, your lover, your boss... It's all blocked out. Here you are 3am, in the middle of god knows where and you can breathe.
Matilda Pickbanks - Wed, 08 Jun 2016 16:57:27 EST 5zKQjFkv No.68429 Reply

I want to write something good. I had a love story with time travel elements only to watch heroes and see thrydunnit. Knocked my confidence sometimes I worry my talent doesn't match my imagination
David Brungerstuck - Wed, 08 Jun 2016 18:03:09 EST IYLO+JlN No.68430 Reply
Read any Dean Koontz book and you will realize talent doesn't mean squat. If the imagination is there and you can conjure up a decent story, it won;t matter that you don't know all the big words and sweeping metaphors to make it feel like a Hemmingway or Hawthorne. If you are worried about big words, use a thesaurus. If you're worried about needing themes and metaphors, Stephen King says not to worry about them until the second draft and odds are, by that point with a fully formed plot, the themes and metaphors will likely have revealed themselves to you without you needing to look.
After King's On Writing got me motivated, I wrote a 180 page book off the bat. It was so much funner and easier than I thought, I always expected it to feel like real work. Even editing is fun if you love the characters and story you are actively refining. On Writing isn;t just for horror writers, and is the perfect book for those whose biggest fear of writing is that it is an intimidating prospect. He makes you realize how easy it actually is and breaks it down. He points out that, even if you have the busiest life and can't power-write, just write one page a day and at the end of the year, you'll have a novel.
OP - Wed, 08 Jun 2016 18:07:02 EST IYLO+JlN No.68431 Reply
Also, I want you guys' thoughts on my new villain in my book. His girlfriend has dumped him and he drunkenly broke into her apartment while she was at work, then she came home and he had to hide in the shower. While hiding, he gives this internal monologue about a recent "epiphany" he had about a massive female conspiracy against men.... Let the excerpt begin.

Randy had realized that all women were involved in a massive conspiracy. It all stemmed from their menstrual cycle. Randy didn't know why he didn't realize it sooner, but that monthly bleeding period was a sign of witchcraft, the body displaying the burden of their sins. For don't you see: All women are witches, all women are psychics! They were all mentally connected to a hive-mind that the male half of the species would never tap into or even realize the existence of. The women had all teamed up through their pussy magic to make sure they always had the advantage over the males of the planet. That was how they always seemed to know the exact right time to either give of withhold their love or praise, they could also look into the male mind, yet the men would never have the insights of how the female mind worked. The unfairness of it had almost driven Randy to ending his own life when it first hit him on Wednesday night. But on Thursday, Randy had realized some more important knowledge: the reason men drink alcohol is to keep their minds hidden from women. It didn't work 100% of the time, but it kept things foggy enough where they could never get a good read on them, like static over a radio. That was why Zeely was leaving him, because she was sick of not being able to read his mind to properly brainwash him.
Randy planned to fight these newly discovered pussy powers with his own personal power source: booze. His mind was as protected as it could ever be. Zeely hadn't yet detected via her psychic powers the thoughts of another being right in her bathroom. Dumb twat!
Once he had killed this nasty skank, he would go public to the en of the world his discoveries. He would be hailed as the Charles Darwin of the modern era, liberating mankind from the tyranny of cuntdom.
“Sir Randy, how did you make your Nobel Peace Prize winning discovery about Pussy Magic?” the reporters will ask.
“Well, since you ask, some skanky spic-jolly african-american dumped me, I got drunk, and realized that the liquor was her weakness,” he will tell them.
The audience will cheer. Every man will turn to the man beside them, lock eyes, and shake hands. The gender will be united behind a common cause. Men will be proud to be men, damn it! Many men who hear Randy speak will break into tears, happy ones, even holy ones, some men even crying biblical blood at his rousing rhetoric.
All men will start drinking 24/7. Women will lose their hold over the gender and now give blowjobs whenever they are requested, not just when the woman is in the mood. No more boggarting the blowjobs! Never a-fucking-gain!
Randy hated that women, because they could make life, were closer to God than the male species. The pussy was like a portal to Eden, the garden from where all life springs. You stick your dick in and, abra cadabra, like a rabbit from a hat, a living human being claws its way through that gore-strewn portal into this plane of existence, soul tethered to a fresh meat-cage.
The vagina was like a walkie-talkie to Paradise, the way Randy saw it. So his plan was to use Zeely's cooter to make a collect call direct to God. Randy was going to give God a piece of his mind. Randy had a laundry list of grievances to air against his unelected leader, and planned to hold Him accountable for giving women such dominance over his gender. If Randy had his way, God would yield to his iron will and reverse the gender roles in the world, granting the psychic and life-bringing powers to the men instead of the broads.
'We are the harbinger of change,' thought Randy as he pissed into the bathtub drain, still watching Zeely repeat the pattern of model then disrobe before her mirror. 'We will become the God of Men and lead our people to reclaim dominance over the Fascist Furburgers!'
Esther Bogglewit - Thu, 09 Jun 2016 07:43:02 EST 5zKQjFkv No.68433 Reply

Thanks for the advice ill definitely check that out as I do appreciate kings writing. I guess my problem is over thinking I come up with concepts all the time I just struggle following through

I really like the excerpt I like the combination of drunk maniacal thought fuelled by equal parts religious craziness and desperate heartbreak. Nicely done made me laugh
Polly Busslebury - Thu, 09 Jun 2016 16:27:20 EST IYLO+JlN No.68434 Reply
>my problem is over thinking I come up with concepts all the time I just struggle following through
If outlining your concepts scares you from executing concepts, another bit of Stephen King advice is "never outline". Just get that core concept and write the first chapter. At the end of Chapter 1, you should know what chapters 2 and 3 will need to feature. If you forget to add some crucial detail, go back and add it to the scene later so readers think you had some master plan all along.
Esther Bogglewit - Thu, 09 Jun 2016 19:47:04 EST 5zKQjFkv No.68435 Reply

Damn it feels good to get some advice

>add it in later so the reader thinks you had a master plan

Holy shit something so simple but I love that type of shit when it happens in a good book. Wonder how many times a writer has blown my mind doing that shit

It'a currently past midnight too hot and I can't sleep cheers for the advice feels good not to feel like a schmuck
George Huggledale - Sat, 11 Jun 2016 18:59:24 EST /nGf/cOI No.68438 Reply
Your analogies are beautiful and reveal a lot of character
Priscilla Pibbleworth - Sat, 11 Jun 2016 20:02:12 EST bq5scg8g No.68439 Reply
Randy seems like a great villain. What do you mean by "villain", also? He's going to try to kill his girlfriend now? How does that last a whole book? He repeatedly fails and his attempted murders get more and more complex and bungled? I love his drunken rant and am curious how a character like that works out long term.
Edwin Forryhood - Tue, 05 Jul 2016 19:40:44 EST uJtIWnEt No.68488 Reply
Randy is almost a psyche-out villain. The opening chapters make him look like the bad guy, only for the real enemy to be revealed around the 1/3 point, who immediately turn Randy into their man-slave. It will be very funny. Randy is built up as the villain only to wind up being the bitch of the real villains.
Lydia Banningfut - Thu, 07 Jul 2016 17:20:01 EST vdV+4TCH No.68493 Reply

That sounds entertaining. Writing myself atm first time I've written in six years or so
David Werringfod - Mon, 11 Jul 2016 21:56:45 EST bq5scg8g No.68500 Reply
I hope the villains are as entertaining as your fake villain, because Randy seems like a solid character by himself. If I had a character as ridiculous as that monologue you posted, he would be my lead villain for sure, so who are these "real villains" that you felt were superior characters?
Keep doing it, if only because it's fun.
Basil Baffingshaw - Fri, 15 Jul 2016 13:54:45 EST 4c/j/J8+ No.68503 Reply
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sorry in advance if just dumping shit here without giving any crits first is frowned upon lol. i just finished revising the first chapter of a longer work i'm writing. it's my first time writing a short story that wasn't just bullshit for some class and i was looking for some honest feedback on it

Edwin Mugglewell - Fri, 15 Jul 2016 19:49:19 EST Y5CTRPsm No.68505 Reply
When I tell people I write stories, they think I am so deep. Meanwhile, I just finished writing a sex scene between a human and another human who was possessed by a demon. The possesed woman had her lover shove his arm down her throat up to his elbow mid-coitus. Super intellectual shit going down on my end.

Anyways, I'm pulling an all nighter, editing my novel and drafting the sequel. If anyone wants to read my novel, let me know, I'll post a link to the newest draft. I am writing a sequel, but the book has a definitive ending, it doesn't leave shit hanging as sequel bait, you get a fully fleshed out horror movie experience reading my short book.

Or read one of my acclaimed short tales of supernatural erotica: http://textuploader.com/5esod

It is much better than most aspiring writers material. I have no specific advice, just general encouragement. Lot's of new writers don;t feel natural to read but your prose doesn;t feel amateur.
George Moffingtog - Sat, 23 Jul 2016 03:08:41 EST i44zcAyg No.68526 Reply
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You are a very talented writer, my friend. I could tell while reading the passage that your confidence rose and your nervousness decreased after writing the first few paragraphs. This is evidenced by your excessive and sometimes seemingly grasping use of adverbs in the initial portions of the passage, which gradually fade away as it progresses. The shift to a more direct noun-verb sentence structure throughout the story which relies somewhat on the "adrenaline factor" of the reader better serves the mood and theme you are trying to convey.
Ernest Turveyhood - Fri, 19 Aug 2016 22:52:42 EST 4c/j/J8+ No.68588 Reply
thanks man i really appreciate that. and yeah i always have this nagging fear of my writing coming off as pedantic and overwritten, at least i know im not just being insecure lol
Hedda Settingdetch - Thu, 08 Sep 2016 06:20:28 EST DNMmno8G No.68654 Reply
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Hope this is the right thread, delete if not.
Just a mildly sad, Yojimbo-ass, 21 year old kid on a come down and trying to add to my short novel about-you guessed it-a kid who struggles with drugs and women.

Here's my latest passage, I'd love some hefty criticism, basically roast me

>The protagonist coming down at some girls house at 3am, found out he contacted herpes last week an now is set on ruining women's life because previous events:

I really have changed.
I seem to remember reading somewhere on the Facebook page of a Hare Krishna man in 2012, a quote from the Bhagavad Gita.
Something about the passage of time in relation to the sober mind.
Teenage me seemed to write it off as some validation for experimenting with drugs.
Regardless, I'm now beginning to see the early faces of aging. Not in the sense of the word like "atrophying"; aging as in, growing.
The irony being, growing not in the positive sense of the word like "progressing"; growing as in, changing.

I guess first comes the classic sensation of "no one ever told me", i.e the movie throwback "I wish I had known".
Evidently that sensation is bullshit, hypocritical or at least forgetful. This is because, people told you and I several times what would happen. What not to do and how not to do it.
What not to do and how not to do it.
But then what? If not to do? And how then? If not to do it?
That seems to swell into the predicament.
No matter how cognitive you are of the dangers of any lifestyle choice, no amount of smart thinking or clever ambition can sustain a consistent solution.
Or at least it could, if wasn't for a physical barrier. A bodily barrier. A chemical barrier.

To have my very cells steeped in the fleeting mysticism. Every neuron forever altered irreversibly. Every synapse and nerve eternally tattooed with precise words and black ink:
FDA, approved.

It's really no ones fault but my own, still it's a damn shame. I only hope I produce something of value before the neurotoxicity catches up with me.

I seem to remember reading somewhere in the video game of a Japanese man in 2015, a quote from a man inspired.
"...has a sane mind ever produced anything of true significance?"

Edgy... but doubtful.
Ebenezer Smallfuck - Mon, 12 Sep 2016 21:25:22 EST zxsq8mth No.68661 Reply

completely uninteresting. out of compassion i forced myself to skim it but couldnt even bring myself to read it for real. bland writing style. reads like a chan-post.
William Fanhall - Thu, 15 Sep 2016 01:40:36 EST T4tY7DGl No.68663 Reply
I've always wanted to be a novelist while also dabbling in writing on social, political and religious topics which inspire the ideas for my stories.

Unfortunately, I'm terrible when it comes to planning them in such a way that I can actually get started.
Lillian Pullyhitch - Mon, 10 Oct 2016 08:18:19 EST nFqvzfRU No.68772 Reply
Just finished writing the first draft of a 5300 word ghost story. It is a brand new take on the source of ghosts and where they come from. It details multiple locations that experience hauntings, but all by the same ghost. I'm proud of this one, it felt like nothing I had ever read before and has a cool twist about the origins of ghosts.
Opinions and critique wanted.
Sidney Wecklegold - Tue, 18 Oct 2016 00:08:27 EST YXNmUX3n No.68790 Reply

Let me preface by saying
  1. I am not a professional writer so my opinion means very little
  2. I want to be supportive because I know how hard it is to write when you doubt yourself. You cant improve if you dont write, etc. etc.
  3. I only read the first thousand or so words, ghost stories aren't really my thing so once again take my opinion with a grain of salt.

I think this draft is a good start, you have the basics down for a decent story

I thought this line was great
>the darkness seemed to be an almost palpable thing, its weight bearing down on him, sneering unseen from within the abyss.

First drafts are the hardest, as you edit and re-edit I think you'll have a great short story down here and you should keep it up. Don't let anyone discourage you (including myself).

Some criticism though, some of the interior dialogue was a bit rough

>"There's an intruder in my home! They must have made some noise that woke me up. And I mistook it for needing to piss like an idiot!'

is an example i think of over explaining a thought. There isnt much need, in my opinion to have the guy think 'THERE IS AN INTRUDER', then go over a logical exposition of how everything thus far in the story came to pass. Let the character experience emotion to build the suspense rather than 'talk it out.' The reader can infer that the main char thinks there is an intruder when there are footsteps which come from the wrong end of the hallway. Why not use these words to build the suspense of the intruder rather than explain what's going on. Maybe more noises? more emotions? that kinda thing

Another example
>He knew his child had just died. He knew his wife's health could equally suffer. He knew most marriages don't survive things like this. He knew his life as he knew it was over.

Let the character feel raw emotion rather than go over every single detail of what's going on. As a reader I like to think I can figure out that a pregnant woman's crushed stomach is bad. she should be writing in a pool of blood, instead we get a discussion of the wifes health and the marriage. I wana be in that room watching the warm drip of fluid flow through her nightgown and the main character lose his shit

Keep at it bro, you got a good thing here
Hannah Hasslewudge - Mon, 24 Oct 2016 23:55:49 EST DLSNK7xF No.68832 Reply
You're talking a bit tough there, buddy. Sounds like you got a small dick or somethin
stevens - Wed, 26 Oct 2016 17:24:44 EST jGN+HjRq No.68835 Reply
OP here, free link to the ebook of my first novel.
Nook: http://www.megafileupload.com/gc9Q/The_Tenement_-_Curtis_McIntyre.epub
Kindle: http://www.megafileupload.com/gc9S/The_Tenement_-_Curtis_McIntyre.mobi
I feel bad agreeing because the guy said it in a dickish manner but yeah, it was nothing I would want to read more of. If there's any constructive criticism to give it, maybe they should establish a character who is saying those things so I at least know the context behind their ranting. But it felt like a typical rant people post on /qq/, it seemed like they needed to vent rather than writing to entertain a reader.
Nell Fuckinglock - Wed, 26 Oct 2016 23:47:35 EST QEQcEz/3 No.68836 Reply
Q about your process for making the book

How did you go about getting it edited? Did you use a web forum with beta readers? Did you pay someone? Did you wing it?
George Tootway - Thu, 27 Oct 2016 01:26:59 EST 80dVJ4IS No.68837 Reply
Had the opening few words to this just sort of occur to me as a funny thing to say (like if a real-life situation were to bring someone to have to sincerely say these words it would be funny) and I rolled with it and gave it a few paragraphs. That led me to actually thinking about these characters and I'm feeling sort of inspired to actually continue with this. I've never tried creative writing outside of grade school but I did enjoy it back in the day. Tell me what you think.

An enthusiastic embrace of the word “jolly african-american” (or, perhaps, make that “nigga”) was the latest knot in a thread her boys had been thumbing since they were toddlers. It was also the most dangerous. As Hilda Thorp watched her sons enamor themselves with another obsession, she could not help but see her very deliberate past swallowing her genetic future. Marty and Virgil’s soulful quest to delve into the ever soulless – yes, it was okay to consider this soulless – culture of hip-hop was almost too much for Hilda. But, as she had and would continue to do, she could do nothing but encourage distantly and love suffocatingly.

It had always been like this; and yet it hadn’t. The boys had always gone from one thing to the next: early on it was cowboys, then more discerning tastes steered them towards Nascar, which naturally transitioned into an unwavering passion for Ancient Rome. After too many gladiatorally-inspired black eyes and a near broken rib, a cessation to all ancient warfare studies was imposed by Senator Hilda, following which the boys settled into the quiet (though considerably more violent) realm of computer games and movies. Admittedly unthrilled by this passionless transition, Hilda nonetheless was happy for her Marty and Virgil, who, 15 and 16 now, had finally found for themselves some friends and a stable high school existence.

Which in part explained her worried sensibilities, usually so secure and blissfully locked up in regards to her children. Merely rustled by the distant quakes of her past but rustled nonetheless, Hilda could stand to watch her sons pursue more base distractions, but not this. It wasn’t that she had a problem with the words they were using; indeed, why would she? It was that, to them, its mere usage seemed to qualify as initiation into a life and culture with which they were haplessly unfamiliar. More unaware than undeterred by this fact, the boys soon found themselves collecting tapes and mixes, freestyling their way straight out of Azeroth and into Compton, and, slowly, though they would not yet realize, out of the warmth of Hilda’s love and into its cold, cold source.

Made a quick little character profile for the mother.
Hilda Thorp: raped by a black man in her late teens; divorced her husband during pregnancy (couldn’t get over trauma?) and moved states; hands-off style parenting that allows her boys freedom to explore their lives but loves them fiercely and lets them know it to bring about an almost guilt-inducing loyalty; racist, but pretends otherwise; lived a childhood of control, which led to her dating a black boy in rebellion, which ended in punishment from both the boy and her parents; cynical but accepting of her boys, lives in dissonance of not wanting to impose anything on them yet knowing just how hopelessly base they really are
Eliza Himmerfock - Thu, 27 Oct 2016 13:52:43 EST 4me3EgfW No.68840 Reply
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>It had always been like this; and yet it hadn’t.
Sophie Bunnertick - Thu, 27 Oct 2016 14:55:49 EST bq5scg8g No.68841 Reply
I just did my best solo. I see a bit of comma abuse when I re-read it but feel it is edited to a fairly decent point. People on here gave me good advice for some sections and I cut some clunky parts from the first chapter to get it flowing better. The book is written heavily in slang and there are a lot of spelling and grammar errors that were intended just to convey the way the characters think and talk. Everyone is poor and on drugs (besides the villain, who is poor and straight edge).
Matilda Sindlesatch - Fri, 28 Oct 2016 08:14:33 EST zqDE1cDg No.68843 Reply
Pro: unsettling vibe successfully conveyed

Con: The first paragraph. It is boring and, ultimately, unnecessary. Why make the story a flashback? You never get back to the present day in the ending. I would cut the first paragraph and make it a story about a kid with his dad, not a story about a man in an overly described attic remembering being a kid with his dad. The rest of the story flowed well, but I was zoning out so hard in the first paragraph.
Fucking Ginninghall - Sat, 29 Oct 2016 13:54:03 EST QEQcEz/3 No.68845 Reply
Elevator Pitch: Possession based magic meets a fantasy set in the iron age. The world is littered with enigmatic nodes which are divine beings only window into the mortal realm. For hundreds of years the nodes have meant nothing but suffering and death for those of legend. And even for those who survive the encounter, their secrets were guarded closely. The ancient city state of Tharros trains a religious order whose mission it is to uncover the secrets of the nodes and they are uncovering disturbing truths. We follow a young agent in training named Mot with an insatiable hunger for the unknown as he attempts to learn these secrets before his time.

Note From Me: I've been writing what once was supposed to be a short story and transformed into a novelette for over a month now. This is my second draft, and I'm interested in critiques. So things like....
When you stopped reading,
what sections were boring,
what pieces confused you,
this char is bland, etc.

are all helpful. Thanks for your time guys

Phineas Shittingridge - Mon, 07 Nov 2016 21:15:54 EST iRjKqKT1 No.68861 Reply
OP here, about to go on winter unemployment and use the downtime to write my second novel. It will be the Great Millennial Drug Novel. Every drug under the sun will be in this book. I still haven't found an agent willing to represent my highly offensive first novel, but my second novel is slated to be even more graphic and controversial, so maybe I'll have better luck this time.
Phineas Shittingridge - Tue, 08 Nov 2016 06:39:13 EST iRjKqKT1 No.68862 Reply
OP again, I finally got a customer review for my novel on Amazon and they gave it 5 stars and raved about it. I was worried my first customer review could be something horribly negative. They wrote "Cocaine snorting and mushroom eating heroes!!! What could be better??? I truly recommend this book, and not just for the novelty of the premise! It is absolutely hilarious and very engrossing... Can you take a serial killer nicknamed "Dick Man" seriously? If so, this is your read!!! I couldn't put this book down!!!"

Thanks, random book buyer! I needed the encouragement before starting my next book.
David Blonningfan - Tue, 15 Nov 2016 16:45:05 EST bq5scg8g No.68869 Reply
Working on a new project about a teenage mental institution. My villain is a kid who initially appears to be suffering demonic possession, but it is later revealed that he is actually a psychic and using his mind reading and telekinesis to fuck with everyone's antiquated religious fears. Eventually he starts driving the doctors insane and the inmates take over the asylum. The main characters will be the rest of the patients as they try to escape a mental hospital on lockdown under control of a psychotic psychic and his followers who all worship him as the anti-Christ.
Ebenezer Nirringshaw - Sun, 27 Nov 2016 16:02:18 EST Cb/51dEm No.68891 Reply
Looking for some feedback on this paragraph, if anyone cares.

Frankfurt. Out of all the places in the world, it had to be Frankfurt where his deranged mind would blare out and moor to dock. During one of his inspired sessions, contemplating the business, sat feeling aloft in his cliché swirly armchair, one solution passed him after another. There must’ve been ideas of restructuring, merging, outsourcing, heck, even straight-up pay cuts -- which I could stomach; places like Tokyo and his beloved home Seoul would flash through, there was Hong Kong, New York or Ho Chi Minh City. All the possibilities came and went by like pictures in a slide show. And for some unfathomable reason he still settled for Frankfurt.
Alice Gicklecocke - Mon, 28 Nov 2016 21:01:59 EST 3HfzyKE4 No.68892 Reply
Really good!
It's not bad but you aren't Hemingway obv. I would get to the plot rather than bog your tale down with details unless you grow a poets tongue. As long as you arent trying to write a
Shit Fecklewill - Thu, 01 Dec 2016 15:35:03 EST 4c/j/J8+ No.68894 Reply
glad you think so lol, but what's good about it? any parts themes or characters you hated? tear it up, dude lmao
David Clendlespear - Wed, 07 Dec 2016 13:20:33 EST jGN+HjRq No.68906 Reply
Hard at work on my second novel. I finished all the character introductions and can finally get into the meat of the book. I hate early chapters and writing is so much funner once the plot gets rolling.
I read it months back when you first posted and was late with replying, so I don't remember the specific characters now, I just liked the heavy slang and setting.
Shit Drerringlack - Wed, 07 Dec 2016 16:47:21 EST LnLia5sI No.68907 Reply
General Knowledge Quiz
Great Britain

Choose the correct answer for each question:

  1. The Union Jack is …

a) the flag of the UK
c) the flag of Wales
b) the flag of Scotland
d) the flag of England

2. The Queen who ruled for the longest period in Britain history was…

a) Anna
c) Victoria
b) Margaret
d) Mary

3. The official residence of the British Prime Minister is…

a) 10, Downing Street
c) Tower of London
b) Buckingham Palace
d) Regent Palace

4. Great Britain is separated from the continent by…

a) the Pacific Ocean
c) the British Channel
b) the Irish Sea
d) the English Channel

5. The financial center of London is…

a) the East End
c) the City
b) Westminster
d) the West End

6. How many banks are there in the City?

a) 60
c) 16
b) 600
d) 6000

7. The most famous shopping street in London is …

a) Downing Street
c) Barber Street
b) Oxford Street
d) Lombard Street

8. The national currency of the UK is…

a) the euro
c) the pound
b) the dollar
d) the pence

9. What is still called “the square mile” in London?

a) the West End
c) the Oxford Street
b) the City
d) Westminster

10. Who is a “Father of Modern Economics”?
a) Karl Marx
c) A.A. Cousnot
b) Adam Smith
d) D Hardner
Ernest Sosslekore - Thu, 08 Dec 2016 10:09:14 EST an5iNyfz No.68912 Reply
  1. None of the above. The Union Jack only applies to a) when it's on a naval vessel, otherwise it's The Union Flag.

2. None of the above. The current monarch, Elizabeth II is the longest-reigning British monarch and the longest-reigning queen regnant and female head of state in world history.
Shit Cundlegold - Sun, 11 Dec 2016 08:00:37 EST slhPKeQH No.68924 Reply
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In all fairness I did ask to be roasted. Thank you for the harsh criticisms, in all honesty I was just venting, which is what I'll do now.
God why do I keep posting my writing while I'm high? At least it can't get any worse.
hey did Yojimbo die?
hey do spoilers even work on this board

""I played three shows today. I think that just maybe this may-be what I’d like to devote my time to. I touched upon something truly interesting during the third performance.
Yet my purple prose knows I steal my flows and [blank] my clothes.

I am enthralled to the timbre.
My lungs are enslaved to every trill.
I am DNA encased in amber.
My throat a thane to my thrill.
I'm encased in simple motions,
In fixed staunch cellophane,
And in every hasty notion,
I'm betwixt a lengthy strain.
All around me is a feast.
Gently offered in a mass.
All I take is least.
Softly set in glass.
I break too quick,
I grow too slow,
I lay too thick,
I rest too low.

The bad dialogue and the Langley want.
The frittered lube and the subterfuge.

The concrete disappointment.""

I am sorry /lit/ but this is simply the only place I can be the worst writer I can be.
May the janitor gods prune me and delete my insolence.
Thank you for being ruthless and honest, it is the only way I'll get better.
We fucking writers lol... the worst bunch of humans.

I honestly really enjoyed you're writing, the way you describe Odium is very well done.
Glad to hear you've been hitting success, you deserve the praise!
Best of luck!
Caroline Pollerkidge - Thu, 15 Dec 2016 10:41:16 EST bq5scg8g No.68940 Reply
OP here, I'm hard at work writing the sequel to my first novel. I had started a different book but got sucked back into my first novel and inspired to write what happens next. I'm about 1/2 done with the first draft, it'd be nice if I could finish the draft before 2016 ends and get back to my other book in January. I write horror, so often the first 1/2 of a book is a little boring to write, but now I'm at the point where I'm done character building and every scene is just nuts. I have an end scenario planned out but not which characters need to be alive for it to happen, so my main characters could all get it at any time. I'm flying without an outline and Stephen King says to kill your darlings, so I need to start thinning the herd. In my first book, only 6 out of 22 characters survived. The 6 survivors of book 1 are back in the sequel and I need to kill some of them and not just the new characters. I'm trying to let the story flow as if events were actually occurring rather than writing what I think is cool. I set up cool characters in a fucked up situation and now am letting nature take its course rather than steer them in any direction. It might sound like a dumb writers cliche, but I like letting the characters come to life and have them direct the story.
Anyways, I'm off to orchestrate my bloodbath.

Also, what substances do you guys do your writing on? Coffee + weed here every time.
Sometimes I do a little writing when drinking but I can only get one good hour of amazing inebriated prose before I become too drunk to keep the ideas coming. Here's a chapter I wrote last time I was drunk, my villain is a drunk and I thought the booze would help me get in is head. Boy did it ever, I channeled the fuck out of him and now he's the weirdest character I've ever written about. https://justpaste.it/11daw
Esther Blarrydock - Tue, 27 Dec 2016 10:17:17 EST b3o+PfkK No.68960 Reply
OP here, I have given myself schizophrenia from too many writing projects. For a time this month, I was working on three different novels at once in a massive fit if ADD or something. I finally managed to focus on just one book and I finished my second novel. It was the sequel to my first novel, while the other two books I am writing are not sequels to anything but original content. If I maintain momentum, I will have 4 novels under my belt before my job comes back in march/april. The book I just finished was so tightly outlined that the writing poured out of me. The next books aren;t as tightly outlined and have a lot of parts I need to make up as I go, so it could take longer from here on out. But I have so many characters across multiple projects being developed that my mind is spinning out of control trying to keep them all straight. Anyways, I just poured coffee and had a wake-n-bake, I'm going back down the writing rabbit hole for the day, I'll be back in 12 hours.

Any other writers here have a weird writing process? I basically inundate myself with weed + caffeine until I lose grip on reality and can fully lose myself within the world of my book. Eventually I run out of steam and find myself back in my room, unable to re-submerge myself in the world of my book without getting some sleep.
Hedda Clusslebanks - Tue, 21 Feb 2017 19:29:35 EST y8XjthGV No.69038 Reply
As I began reading the short story, just the opening line was enough to let me know it would be like nothing I had read before. Of course, I instantly identified with the main character (they say everybody does!).
I've been here for days, minutes, years. I miss food, yet I can still recall the taste of the last good meal I ate, as if frozen indelibly in my taste-buds.
I've been trying to find the words for the way I had been feeling leading up to that day where I sat down to read the short story. You ever have those kinds of feelings that seem so strange yet familiar that it seems the English language is a massive conspiracy to cover up the existence of this feeling, having assigned a word/name to literally everything in God's universe down to the genetic makeup of its atomic structure, yet somehow they managed to not give a name to this, this feeling, a thing so concrete to you that it seems it must have a name, god damn it! how is there no name for it?
I've been lost for a while now.
The more of that short story that I read, the less it felt like a story. It began to feel like a direct assault against my sanity. More than that, attacking my very existence.
Have you ever watched a movie that seemed so realistic, you stopped to question if your life may not similarly be a movie? One where you were given your acting role in the beginning by the director, but then he said ACTION and you have been playing the part for so long now that you forgot it was ever a part to begin with, but now have the sinking feeling that someday you will remember it is all just a film when the director abruptly reminds you of his presence, suddenly yelling CUT!
I finally know the universal truths! I know that
Oh, hello. What was I just talking about? Nevermind, I'm sure it wasn't important.
I wish I could find my way out of here.
Row row row your boat, gently down the stream. Merrily merrily merrily merrily, life is but a... Who wrote this song, anyways? And what secret knowledge did they have? How did they know about the Stream?
Have you ever heard the urban legend of the painting that could eat people? It was a painting of the very Gallery that wound up displaying it. In the painting, the gallery was quite busy, everyone crowding around one painting in particular. And after viewings of the painting, in which crowds always gathered around this painting the longest, eventually everyone would realize that one among their gathering had vanished. Guests looked everywhere for the missing attendant, not realizing they just had to look where they already had been looking, at the painting, for there they could find the image of the now-absent guest permanently captured in paint, looking terrified, unsure how they got there or how to break free, faces permanently portrayed in terror.
4 9 tz~
I think the short story I read was a little something like that painting myth. uig645uyg
Wasn't there a movie about a dream within a dream within a dream within a dream within a dream within a movie within a dream within a universe within a glass marble?
circles circles everything is made of circles atoms are circles everything is atOms everything is circles within circles within circles the circle is the symbol of natural order a circle is a sign of nature at work for human hands can not make a perfect O circle only nature can therefor it stands to reason that just like colOmbus knew earth was a circle I am here to tell the O world that THE UNIVERSE MUST ALSO BE A CIRCLE anOd oh gOd I hate to ask thOis questiOn but if we are Oall inside the circOle dear gOd WHAT LIES oUTSIDE THE CIRCLE?
What letters would one use to articulate the sound of static? tszszstzszstzs?
Have you ever looked into a mirror when there was another mirror behind you? How long did you stare into that infinite void displayed there? Long enough to feel something staring back? At this point, I'm not entirely sure it wasn't me you were seeing in there! I'm so lost, it hurts!
The only alternative to my being trapped inside the short story would be that I never existed until the short story wrote me into existence, but that could never happen, would be crazy. But have religious believers described reality as God's Dream? Or is that my wishful thinking? What if God wakes up? What if my short story ends? Where do I go when the story
Isabella Billingwater - Sat, 25 Feb 2017 18:38:09 EST Tq0VT7wP No.69070 Reply
I'm playing with beginning to write again. Wheter this is good or not is totally open to interpretation, but I want peoples opinions on this one. What do you think about this short story? And please, be totally honest! I based it off a /b/ post, so that's the context;

It was 7:00 when I went to the cabinets and got out the pills. The ones in the big orange bottles, the ones Mayfly called ‘horse pills’ whenever she saw them. She wasn’t around at the time as she was out of town, in Dallas, Texas. I took seventeen.
It was 7:22 when I started to feel woozy. A bit ahead of schedule, but that was never a problem. I felt like my legs were walking on clouds. I felt like my legs were clouds. I was cooking mac and cheese for dinner at the time.
It was 8:17 when my head began to feel full and I thought “here I am” as everything turned to clouds. Everything was light, even the thoughts in my head. Yet I could still feel each individual one. Each thought that bubbled into my head was so weightless and free, yet so consequential I couldn’t ignore a single one. I think I was lying on the couch watching tv. BBC’s Planet Earth-- the one about the arctic.
It was 8:55 when that black dot in the corner of my eye started waving, and as it’s edges rippled, began to grow. Everything else turned white, so this one island of color was all I had to look at. No matter what I tried to do, my eyes kept getting drawn closer. As I stared it started to grow, and the more it grew the more I stared. Once everything was black, it started to turn white and then that’s when I looked up. Yellow, orange, gold reflected off something far above. Off what, I’m not sure. A ring, both more detailed and ornate than anything I’ve ever seen yet a vague and blurry mess hung far above me. I blinked and then everything was blurry and the ring was even closer, and then I blinked again to stop the blurry and it was there but the ring was all around me. I closed my eyes tight and opened them again and there I was.
It must have been 9:20 by the time I got there, what felt like another world, and saw myself. At least it looked like myself, but not quite. It’s hard to say, I never looked at myself much; I don’t get a lot of chances day-to-day and I never was one to stare at myself in a mirror. But that’s when I turned to me and said “about time you got here, we’ve been waiting”.
It must have been 9:30 by the time I finished taking in my surroundings and I could push some words through my mouth--nothing spectacular or groundbreaking but a soft “what?” left my lips. And that’s why I said to me “you’ve been waiting, you already know this but you’ve been waiting a long time”. And I didn’t realize it before, but I did know. I’d been waiting here a very long time.
“This way,” I said to me, and I followed. We walked down a long way. It looked like a desert; plain, flat, and stretching as far as the eye could see interrupted by occasional naked and dying trees. Eventually I could see a cave. “Is it here?” I asked. I didn’t say anything in response.
It was at least 11:30 when I walked into the cave, and I followed. I couldn’t do otherwise, it just didn’t make any sense to. Perhaps if I tried hard enough and got it into my head to do otherwise I could. It’s just, I couldn’t see why I would even bother to try. I was right where I wanted to be.
I walked into the cave, and I as close as I can behind. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep up pace. I was always ahead of myself, and I was always behind. The only time I could catch up, is when I stopped. This was the only time I felt comfortable.
“Look down here” I said to myself, pointing down a well in the middle of the cave. These stone bricks in a cold dark cave, they intimidated me. Just looking at them I felt cold, but I knew I had to look so I pushed myself to walk up. I looked myself in the eyes a second before I looked down, and then squinted my eyes to see as far as possible. But there wasn’t anything. Just white. Just a burning white light down as far as my eyes could see.
“I don’t get it. Is this it?” I asked myself. I’d never asked myself what I was doing here, but I always knew at some level it was introspective. I’d been for a long time prior been trying to figure out where I’m coming from, where I’m going. Maybe I even knew the answer to that at some level, but then at another level I had absolutely no clue. Yet to me it didn’t make any sense that I was actually going anywhere, either, that also couldn’t be true. “Is this it?” I asked again.
It must have been 1 by now, and I kept staring into that white light. The one that pierced me, the one that felt like it was slowly burning through my retinas. I kept staring, and I kept focused. I kept my eyes and my ears open, and I kept listening. I was hoping for the answer. Then it started to pull me in, like a vacuum sucking me closer. The light had somehow got brighter, brick walls seems to rattle in their places. But I just kept staring. Hoping, that’d I’d get there. Hoping for the answer. I felt myself start to slip in, over the edge and into the well. My clothing waved in the wind, all I could see around my was the well and the light, and I just kept staring. Hoping. To hear something. And that’s when it happened.
My eyes started to open, and the bright white lights on the ceiling made me instinctively pull my head down and close my eyes. I slowly opened them up, and looked around the room.
It was 12 o’clock when the nurse told me they gave me Ketamine. I’m still not sure, though, if that was it.
The Fool !oj3475yHBQ - Sat, 25 Feb 2017 21:44:13 EST h4NTzlC9 No.69071 Reply

I am going to try and get the contents of this page, and some other of my works, published into a little philosophic guide.

Even if it's just a self-published E-book, if just one person gets something out of it then I think it's worth it.
Ernest Cippermuck - Sun, 26 Feb 2017 09:02:01 EST wicR8reJ No.69072 Reply
Amazon's self publishing has a great e-book store for anyone to put their work into, and they will make paperback copies of your work for you for minimal charge. I've never had a real publisher, but I have professional looking copies of both my novels on my bookshelf and for sale out of the trunk of my car.

Nothing cooler than a Junior Philosopher with his own self-published manifesto to wave in people's faces. Do it up.
Augustus Hebbershaw - Mon, 27 Feb 2017 21:10:50 EST DMVJojFp No.69075 Reply
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Your stuff seems real intruiging. I'll have to really read your text with focus, but I feel you are working along the same lines as I am. I write in Finnish, but if you are interested and my assesment of your texts stands a more in depth look, would you be interested in some exchanging of texts, thoughts and critiques? Of course I'd translate mine to English for ya.

This is what I have been dreaming of. Even with the crazy shipping, if I sold my book for less than 10 bucks I'd make a profit. Thanks, Mr. Amazon Shill.
Betsy Hinkinsut - Mon, 27 Feb 2017 23:23:51 EST wicR8reJ No.69076 Reply
Pro-tip: i used my free trial month of Amazon Prime to send myself a bunch of copies of my book with free shipping and then immediately unsubscribed.

While I'm already posting here, I might as well give an update (OP here)
I'm 65k words into my 3rd novel, I'm pretty proud of it so far. Earlier today, I got hit with a heavy muse and wrote out a big outline for another novel that I'll probably start drafting once I finish this one.
Rebecca Hondlenuck - Tue, 28 Feb 2017 23:44:10 EST F4/G8Wqg No.69078 Reply

if you want some advice it feels too disconnected, doesnt feel book like, you should add some segues in between your snippets.
Phineas Wengerstock - Tue, 07 Mar 2017 11:34:31 EST raCCTswe No.69083 Reply
OP in this bitch. I finished the first draft of my third novel last week. Yesterday I started the manuscript for my fourth. My first two books were too crazy for publishers to handle, but book 3 will be the one I think will catapult me to stardom. I had to tone down a little but it was worth it, I am extremely proud of this end result.

Anyways, my next book is about a midget befriending a Loch Ness Monster. It takes place in a a far corner of Maine where the rules of reality have been broken and the surrounding area now resembles a perpetual acid trip.
Polly Wummletere - Wed, 08 Mar 2017 07:57:44 EST F4/G8Wqg No.69085 Reply

Dude if you get it published you're going to come back here and brag that you're published yeah? because i'd love to buy a copy :p
Beatrice Hadgedale - Thu, 09 Mar 2017 08:44:33 EST 4aOnfyUm No.69086 Reply
If a publisher buys my book, you will literally never hear the end of it on here.
Priscilla Crettingfield - Sat, 11 Mar 2017 18:42:33 EST n/Fl9kAS No.69089 Reply

uhh bump? i specifically wanna know whether or not the chapters so far seem cohesive
Lillian Sacklemit - Tue, 14 Mar 2017 19:08:00 EST z628orwU No.69097 Reply

>Trying to spoof the most famous line from Casablanca as your opening hook

EEEUUUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHHH, just no. Completely delete the first sentence.
Edward Gundlebanks - Fri, 17 Mar 2017 22:30:39 EST sRNQPHeI No.69101 Reply
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>The monotony of the struggle
>I was turbulently immersed
>postpone me from exacting my revenge
>I would have deeply contemplated the ramifications

I'm not gonna pick them all out but you're using big words for the sake of using them. There's nothing you couldn't say in plain English while getting the same effect. As is it sounds puffed up and, frankly, like shit. It's also totally at odds with the story being told from the first person perspective of some hoodrat gang banger.
Lydia Trotway - Sun, 19 Mar 2017 11:12:52 EST 4c/j/J8+ No.69104 Reply

>I'm not gonna pick them all out but you're using big words for the sake of using them. There's nothing you couldn't say in plain English while getting the same effect. As is it sounds puffed up and, frankly, like shit. It's also totally at odds with the story being told from the first person perspective of some hoodrat gang banger.

lol, no I'm not, the entire purpose of me doing this is to challenge the way people perceive characters like this and view them with a little more depth and nuance than "some hoodrat gangbanger", that and the character's internal monologues, exchanges with other characters (notice how she never uses the word 'nigga'?) and mannerisms in general are supposed to illustrate how ridiculously at odds she is with her environment

also she's supposed to come across as a little bloviating, that's who she is lol
Edwin Ferringham - Thu, 13 Apr 2017 16:36:59 EST AZmgMBr4 No.69167 Reply
Almost done drafting my 4th novel, it's a modern Tower Of Babel tale starring a midget. To the guy in another thread who wants to become a writer without actually being a reader: bad plan. If you want to get into storytelling, you should pick the medium you genuinely care about. If you love anime, draw a comic. If your a gamer, learn how to make a video game. If you want to write books, you need to read a fuckload of books. When people who don't read avidly try writing, it always comes off like a YA book, or reads like a rambling blog post with a narrator saying "And then... and then..." with no actual technique.
Wesley Blummergold - Fri, 28 Apr 2017 02:19:08 EST BYLHNXV+ No.69189 Reply
My 4th article for my school's newspaper published today.
They got me in the Opinions section, which is perfect for me
Pundits Beat the Drums of War

>A potential war with Syria will end much the same way America’s adventures in Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya and many other Middle Eastern nations have. We will storm in, guns blazing, ready to bring peace through war. We will spend too much money, lose too many lives and return home with nothing to show for it, unsure why we were there in the first place and unready to deal with the inevitable fallout from our decisions. The Syrian people will be worse off than they were before, but now the brutal dictator ruling over them will be friendlier to America.
Hamilton Marrychirk - Sat, 29 Apr 2017 03:53:32 EST QBAOTC0t No.69191 Reply
Looking for feedback, opening few sentences of a short story.

“By the divine will of the One Hundred and Six, this building is to be destroyed!”
Mot erupted from his warm feather bed as sunlight flickered through a swaying window curtain.

“Mot of the Great Library you are to be evicted from this home.” The voice rang above the chatter of men followed by loud thuds and clanking metal. Mot’s heart pulsed through his throat.

“Wait!” he screamed, stumbling on the cold stone floor, feverishly wrapping a dirtied cloth around his waist. Blinding white light met Mot as he burst through the open air doorway. A man dressed in luminous green robes materialized from under the clear sky.

Mot’s arms flailed wildly as he ran toward the man, “Please wait!”
Priscilla Hemmerworth - Sun, 21 May 2017 22:17:31 EST 5kvSno/C No.69209 Reply
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Whats the best topic or genre to write about if you wanna sell books to make money? I know erotic fiction previously had been the go to answer but Im worried that it has become over saturated; same with drug memoirs; same with politics.

I need something really original and also what is the best method to determining the demand of the market? Ofc Im looking at best seller lists but what else? Any idea how to gauge the market?

Anyway any suggestions would be helpful and hopefully this thread might be able to help someone else.

The way I see it, hardly anyone buys books anymore except for old people so I need to think of something that old people will order from amazon. I was thinking that bitcoin or crypto currency might be a good non fiction topic as they are probably interested in it and want to make money but they dont understand online culture, the darknet, or what makes crypto valuable in general. But anyway I would be really interested in hearing other people's opinions.

As for memoirs, I think that would be relatively easy as I led a pretty wild life when I was younger but the problem is that ironically I didnt start getting laid till I laid off the partying so I think that my life wouldnt be very interesting without romance, so I was considering just making that part up and of course I would be relying on my recent success with women but grafting it into my party days, although I dont know how I could develop myself as a character disingenuously, or at least it would be difficult.
Isabella Farryforth - Thu, 25 May 2017 05:42:10 EST XVieWp2Z No.69217 Reply
My short erotica still sells better than my horror/comedy novels.

Speaking of drug memoirs, my way of avoiding how cliche they all seem is fictionalization. I add a supernatural element or two, but besides the paranormal element, the rest of the novel is technically drug memoir. I'd rather make everything closely inspired by reality than write real non-fiction. There's a million drug memoirs, but mine is the only one with ghosts and Lovecraftian entities as metaphors for the trials of being a fuck-up. Maybe Stephen King has done this before so it isn;t entirely original but still..
Doris Bazzlestut - Wed, 31 May 2017 04:41:24 EST rn3/eq9a No.69225 Reply
So, since you asked, I don't have to fear getting called a shill right?

I have my practice novel on Inkitt. It's a weird story about interdimensional creatures attacking earth, meant to be the beginning of a trilogy.


I also have a short story on Wattpad, and am desperately trying to get eyes on it. It's a Weird West story about werewolves and the Oregon Trail. Might lead to something else.


I also write on No Sleep as KendersAreCooler.
Edward Fanningson - Thu, 01 Jun 2017 00:03:58 EST l0ZpEjMX No.69227 Reply
tried to read a bit, couldn't, sorry. i agree, needs heavy editing - simplify.
Angus Duvingman - Fri, 02 Jun 2017 17:52:04 EST SEwIuYVf No.69235 Reply
First chapter of my new novel (genre: horror). I might make it a prologue rather than a Chapter 1. Looking for general impressions, like if it's enough of a hook to keep someone reading on to chapter 2. It depicts the books antagonist as he descends into insanity and I tried to work a lot of visual horror into it, I'm curious if its effective or not.
Augustus Bungold - Sat, 08 Jul 2017 20:43:35 EST FrG7WfbK No.69291 Reply
OP here, been a while since I first made this thread and was struggling through my first novel. I'm bumping because I'm only a week or two away from self-publishing both my 2nd and 3rd novels simultaneously. One is a sequel to my debut book, the other is a stand-alone new novel. Meanwhile, I am almost finished with the 1st draft of my 4th novel, another stand-alone novel rather than book 3 of my series. Wee, been a fun ride. Hopefully reviews on my new releases are as positive as my first one received.

I posted a piracy link to my first novel a million times ITT if anyone is interested. Here's the Amazon link if you are generous enough to pay for a physical copy of a fellow 420channers drug book or just want to see evidence that I'm not lying about having a book out: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N5RTYJL
Walter Bapperdotch - Fri, 14 Jul 2017 22:52:10 EST ylxQEmun No.69295 Reply
Why are you doing self-publishing if you think the book's good enough to publish?
Phyllis Necklelire - Sat, 15 Jul 2017 07:16:39 EST hcTU17nA No.69296 Reply
I tried looking for an agent for the first book and got burnt out on it. Now, maybe my new book would be good enough to get me one, but honestly, I am realizing I don;t care if I'm a hobby novelist for life. I'm just going to keep building my bibliography for my small readers and hope someday the right person reads one of my things and it blows up from there. I am a bit of a recluse and trying to kiss agent/publisher ass is not my game, it makes me feel like shit and regret even writing to begin with. I'm going to let my books speak for themselves. Someday, someone in the industry will find one of my books and be like "How the fuck is this guy not signed to anyone?" and they can court me rather than me humiliating myself begging for them. The publishing game is shitty and I'd rather treat my writing like something fun than stressful and hope everything works out for the best. Many writers don't start their actual career phase until their 50s so I have plenty of time left to make it. Like, here's the opening chapters of my new book about my time in a psyche ward, you can decide if it is actually publisher quality or if I belong relegated to self-publishing. https://justpaste.it/18z1h
Isabella Churrydin - Fri, 25 Aug 2017 16:14:29 EST kaa8P4QA No.69371 Reply
"Head up, and then immediately after, head down. Notebook filled with words. Inkwell half empty. Swim had once again pushed down the intoxication button. A warm embrace resulted and then it immediately vanished like a puff of baby powder. Or lungs, full of a smoke. Exhale and then continue the typing activity once again. Another sip of beer and then a humming along to the song's harmony. Flow with the river thought his mind outside. Flow with it's currents, not against."
Phoebe Hingerline - Sat, 26 Aug 2017 09:29:27 EST bMlS/+EL No.69372 Reply
The wind whistled, blowing through an ancient, harmonic pinhole deep in the forest. Lucas looked in the direction of the ethereal sound. The leaves of the trees flashed red at him, the blue of the sky curdling, the suns rays growing sharp as knives as they stabbed through the foliage. It's just a bad trip, he reminded himself, gulping down his impending scream of terror as the shadows of the leaves danced in sinister conspiracy. Cancers grew from tree bark in waves, shrinking away almost as quickly as they arose. Mathematical equations and DNA chains darted behind the trees wherever he looked. Things seemed to be coming apart at the seems, lines no longer having concrete beginnings and endings, colors bleeding over boundaries. He watched a leaf fall apart until it was just a series of symbols, letters in some unknown language spinning around like static dust, then somehow, there was something on the other side, coming in and out of focus, what is it? is it getting closer? oh God, stop looking, stop looking, it's laughing, look away!

“It can see me!” Lucas screamed.

“Shut the fuck up,” everyone said.

Lucas was dripping sweat, his pores feeling electric. “Sorry,” he whispered between deep breaths. His skull felt like an ancient cave, his brain a small pebble lying deep in its rear, never before licked by sunlight or tread upon by a living being.
Alice Honnermet - Sat, 26 Aug 2017 15:14:46 EST ZOVDlsHO No.69373 Reply
What are some fantasy genre cliches I should definitely avoid? Which ones should I include?
Alice Honnermet - Sat, 26 Aug 2017 15:16:28 EST ZOVDlsHO No.69374 Reply
And would this qualify as a BWW (bump when writing) thread?

Cause bump
Clara Gullychedge - Sun, 27 Aug 2017 08:40:50 EST bMlS/+EL No.69376 Reply
What are you writing now, what have you written prior?

I don't know much about fantasy, but avoid stupid "it turns out i am the chosen one, and it's all because i'm some distant blood relative of a former chosen one" cliche junk. I've heard Game Of Thrones is popular because it subverts all the tropes and cliches of normal fantasy. Now it's inventing new tropes, like people complain that the "anyone can die" trope of Thrones or Walking Dead makes it hard for them to get emotionally invested in the characters. I disagree in Thrones case but not Walking Dead, it all depends how talented the writer is at writing good characters.

Also, don't start milking it with filler like the Wheel Of Time middle books did.
Sidney Decklewill - Mon, 28 Aug 2017 03:01:34 EST oLbfh3Rz No.69380 Reply
writing fantasy now. Writing fantasy my whole life. Only read science fiction and regular fiction though.

That "anyone can die" trope is stupid. It's stupid that it's called a trope. Death happens, death should be permanent. It is what happens in life when people have swords n shit. Who else should die, anonymous NPCs or some shit?

I've just been working on this fantasy my whole life but I destroyed so many copies and let judgmental internalized voices fuck with me I guess.
Sidney Decklewill - Mon, 28 Aug 2017 03:08:39 EST oLbfh3Rz No.69381 Reply
oh and I read short stories like they're popcorn when I have them.

Read one about a nun who went crazy from fever from the plague and hallucinated angels n shit. It was rad.
Sidney Decklewill - Mon, 28 Aug 2017 03:09:54 EST oLbfh3Rz No.69382 Reply
Oh and I'm also writing a profane text dedicated to the god of misconception and insanity, but that belongs in the /spooky/ boards. and it's not done yet.

No bump for traple pist.
OP - Sat, 02 Sep 2017 09:57:32 EST lnhgcNz2 No.69390 Reply
In this short passage, the villain of my book re-tells the folk legend of La Llorona AKA The Weeping Woman. He is telling it to a woman who has just lost her family in a similar manner to the woman from the folktale. Reminder that he is a villain, so the sexist comments he makes about both genders are not my beliefs, just an aspect of his mental illness. The Weeping Woman is a famous tale with many reinterpretations, but I think mine is the weirdest one yet. I'm looking more for general impressions, if there's a punctuation problem I'll probably find it myself later.


Also, I'm hopefully going to finish my 4th novel this weekend, feels good. It's my longest one yet at 115,000 words, I checked google and that length falls under the official category of 'epic novel'. I wrote a fucking epic, boys! I'm going to try finding a real publisher for it rather than self-publish this time, we'll see where it goes.

I write horror and comedy but rarely read those genres, so I can relate to your writing different stuff than what you personally read. Feel free to post excerpts or short stories here, this is a slow board so the more contributions, the better.
Phineas Hodgekitch - Sat, 02 Sep 2017 15:43:56 EST eGkwVHyb No.69392 Reply
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noice. Mine will be a long read as well.

I am hesitant to share my main work. I am extremely protective of my ideas because I know if I just cultivate and develop them I will be able to make a profit.

Anyways book of Madman from Lunacy Page 1: keep in mind I was recovering from a psychosis at this point.

Is this not the point? Do you not walk the path of grandeur? How could you ever rescue them. It was by your hand they were ensnared. There is no hope for them. They do not believe. They shall not believe. There is hope for us. There is hope for me. The greyscale slides and tithes. The writhes are lies. It is all lies and doubts. Satan must be cast out. He is cast into the physical world. The apathy. The hate. It was he who led us on this path. Odios slumbers with me. The stark physical reality plagued by anxiety. Cotton paper from India bought with lies. Directed by humans, tricked by the spirits. Ephemeral rose- blossoms wither as predicted. Plans made naught by writhing maggots. Inhumanity reborn empathy fails in the infinite. Delusions? No. Thoughts? yes. Swirling thoughts, fixations on semicolons. Breasts. Freudia shame lives o. They awaken as I slow down; get frustrated.

Ok so basically in my story this book is a holy book for dudes who use void magic. The thing about void magic is that only the caster knows that he's the origin of the effect. Otherwise it could just be coincidence to all onlookers.

I'm going to write something else later that's like an actual story though. I am trying to contribute because this seems like a rad board.
Phineas Hodgekitch - Sat, 02 Sep 2017 15:45:30 EST eGkwVHyb No.69393 Reply
Shit I am high. There's like 6 pages of Lunacy I've written, 4 pages of magical rules and these neato frito bandito designs I doodle.

The pages of Lunacy are stream of conciousness type things. It gets more coherent as my brain recovered.
Phineas Hodgekitch - Sat, 02 Sep 2017 15:46:05 EST eGkwVHyb No.69394 Reply
oh and that was like one third of that page. Fuck I suck at this.

nbbb not like it matters though.
Shit Grandfield - Mon, 16 Oct 2017 07:20:22 EST ylxQEmun No.69498 Reply
>go through the portal and you can experience Real Reality, you just have to be on DXM
The writing is okay, it's not all that gripping. Might work better from a first person, especially if it's based on your actual experiences.
Doris Pickstone - Mon, 16 Oct 2017 21:21:01 EST XT+L+WtE No.69504 Reply
Even if it was first person, it wouldn't be from that characters perspective. He's not exactly the villain, more the villains delusional minion. He's not actually seeing a magic Real Reality, he's more a mentally ill parody of those character tropes.

Anyways, people always tell me my opening chapters are my weakest, then once they get into the meat of it they get hooked. I tried to make the opening chapter of my newest manuscript my best yet, here it is for group critique: http://textuploader.com/d4gnw
Shitting Biggleford - Tue, 17 Oct 2017 07:11:57 EST ylxQEmun No.69506 Reply
Glancing over it, that bit seems more interesting although the adverbs are fucking with the sentence flow, it's distracting.
Polly Brirringdock - Mon, 30 Oct 2017 08:49:26 EST fqj70oWl No.69551 Reply
Wrote a bunch of action-only prologue to my novel.

Gonna go back and add dank descriptions.

Hells yeah fantasy universe.
Charlotte Suffingheck - Mon, 30 Oct 2017 14:19:41 EST ylxQEmun No.69552 Reply
I'm too concerned with writing I don't seem to have the mental energy to engage with friends or girlfriends. I feel remarkably okay with this, at least for the time being.
Graham Nanninghall - Tue, 31 Oct 2017 07:34:01 EST G25OCMQf No.69553 Reply
I'm in the process of writing a fictional novel. I'm currently up to a little over 10,500 words, in the middle of chapter 3. I've toyed with the idea of attempting to write a novel for years, and it's now that I've been more committed to a serious effort of completing one.

Most of the time I struggle with plot development. But I really enjoy those occasional moments when the fiction seems to write itself and events occur that I hadn't planned or expected.

Currently my main character was in the process of picking up a package for a friend, but at this friend's associate's home, the main character gets jumped by the family's dog and it absolutely tears one of his arms to shreds. The guy he was picking up the package from turns out to be a veteran from multiple tours in Iraq, having served as a medic. In order to avoid a hospital visit, this guy ends up cleaning his wounds with Everclear, gives him a hefty dose of Morphine, stitches his wounds just as a professional would, and gives him a bottle of Vicodin. Social Services are currently all up in the main character's business, and as a light drug user he tends to avoid hospital visits. He lives off a disability check due to multiple psychiatric visits in the past, and he's been struggling with the State to not lose his check.

So now my character is sitting in this guy's house in a bathrobe, since his muddied clothes needed to be washed, and I have no idea what's going to happen next.
Augustus Greenforth - Tue, 31 Oct 2017 12:36:11 EST ylxQEmun No.69555 Reply
>I'm in the process of writing a fictional novel.
No you're fucking not.
You can't write a fictional novel because the act of writing it causes it to cease to be fictional.
Please, just stop using my language. Americans are literally the worst.
Shit Clellerbire - Tue, 31 Oct 2017 15:41:42 EST sD8u+QLL No.69556 Reply
He's writing a novel that is fiction.
His wording was a miner miss steak.

Nell Pemmerwater - Tue, 31 Oct 2017 15:46:10 EST gXd7BQGp No.69557 Reply
Well, excuse-uh-fucking me. What I meant to say was "I'm in the process of writing a long, continuous text in which a fictional story is told."

I hope you can find it in whatever that thing is you call a heart to forgive me.

P.s. u rly hurt mah feelingz. ;_;
Augustus Greenforth - Tue, 31 Oct 2017 15:48:04 EST ylxQEmun No.69559 Reply
I've seen "fictional" misused like this multiple times in the past few weeks, always by Americans. It's a trend. What they did to "literally" and the nonsense that is "could care less", they're now doing to "fictional".
Shit Clellerbire - Tue, 31 Oct 2017 16:27:33 EST sD8u+QLL No.69563 Reply
Yeah but you didn't answer the question mister hoity-toity european guy.

Why do you care so much? The "irregardless" trend was something that bugged the shit out of me, but "fictional novel" is a mistake that should be corrected and left at that. It's not something to 'tism all over about.
Augustus Greenforth - Tue, 31 Oct 2017 16:57:08 EST ylxQEmun No.69564 Reply
Because it's also a trend and it's going to bug the shit out of you too. Notice how Neil didn't realise he could just say fiction novel when I corrected him? He didn't know the difference.
Eugene Pettinghick - Sun, 12 Nov 2017 04:36:55 EST zxBDCzdR No.69583 Reply

You're alright buddy.

I fear sharing things. Might write a short story or something to share here.

I'm writing a fictional novel of course .
Wesley Gasslefod - Sun, 12 Nov 2017 12:51:23 EST reK9sGDz No.69587 Reply
I've been outlining my 5th novel, gonna start writing in 2 weeks. This book will be the third book in a trilogy, it'll feel nice having such a long project finally complete, when I started a trilogy, I feared stalling out midway. This ending is going to be bonkers. I've probably posted download links to book 1 of the trilogy ITT somewhere, it's my first novel, the one I was working on when I first made this thread.
>Might write a short story or something to share here
I wish I could write short stories. Ever since I started novels, I can't find a way to tell a tale in short form.
>I'm writing a fictional novel of course
Cool, what genre/s?
Shitting Donderware - Sat, 02 Dec 2017 12:25:57 EST ylxQEmun No.69639 Reply
Interesting and I can't tell where you're going with it but the tone and style is all over the place, it feels almost schizophrenic and not in a way I think you're aiming for. I particularly liked the change of the room when the light turns off but it doesn't seem to happen for a reason.
Esther Blengerspear - Sun, 03 Dec 2017 12:21:18 EST XT+L+WtE No.69643 Reply
Thanks for notes. I got some notes from other sites too (420irc, circlejerk) and the main criticism is in line with yours that it seems all over the place, also complaints that 11 year olds don't talk this way. Keeping the criticisms in mind, I finished the chapter that excerpt was part of, here's a new link with all of it. Tom finds himself in an unusual hostage situation. http://textuploader.com/dq7kg
Simon Fummerson - Wed, 13 Dec 2017 13:13:06 EST 9zuUZs/e No.69655 Reply
How is this passage? Too much? Not enough?

Carol was staring at her wrist, trying to convince herself that none of this was even real, trying to make this an abstract thing she was doing. I’m not opening myself up. 'Think of your arm like a baked potato, you just need to split it down the middle so you can stick a big glob of butter in there. When you tear it in half, warm steam will erupt, not waves of blood.
'It won’t hurt. Living life is like walking around all day with a bladder full to bursting, no toilets to be found. Then, that feeling of relief when you finally get to piss, that pressure finally draining away... that’s what it feels like when you open your wrists, not the searing pain you fear it will be but rather a sweet, long awaited release. The cold steel on your skin will tickle like a lovers kiss, blood ejaculating from its every smooch.'
Carol wanted to feel her own blood spraying her face, raining down from her open wound like some blasphemous storm cloud. She wanted to get naked and masturbate as she died, rubbing her own blood into her privates and across her nipples as she faded to black, letting her consciousness collapse into itself with one final deathgasm. Carol wondered if her vibrator would run out of batteries before Cinnamon found her corpse or if it would still be buzzing away within her thighs come dawn, held in place with rigor mortis.
Hannah Puzzlekut - Fri, 15 Dec 2017 06:00:10 EST ylxQEmun No.69659 Reply
Sort of an edgy thing to be writing in the first place.
>I’m not opening myself up.
Doesn't seem to belong in there
plus the line where it talks about getting naked and masturbating seems too banal, after the descriptive language you used it's suddenly really flat.
Eugene Bushkotch - Fri, 15 Dec 2017 07:56:38 EST uwSxzdH+ No.69661 Reply
Thanks for input. It is edgier than my regular work, hence looking for input, I don't want to try new styles without workshopping them. My book is dealing with mental illness through the metaphor of hauntings and demonic visitations so I was thinking along the lines of controversial scenes like the Exorcist's crucifix masturbation scene for inspirations.

new passage, a guy has trouble remembering how stairs work:
Jake made his way into Building C, heading towards the stairwell to ascend to Cinnamon’s second story apartment. His mind was a flurry of nerves as he climbed the stairs, and when he walked out of the stairwell into the hallway, he was shocked to find himself back on the first floor.
What the what? Am I so anxious that I got mixed up on the stairs?
Sighing, Jake gave the stairs another tackle.
Halfway up, an odd thought struck him. This might be the weed talking, but it feels like there’s three or four more stairs than usual.
Now worried, Jake went back to the bottom of the stairs and started again. There were supposed to be ten steps to the first landing, then another ten steps to the second landing with the 2nd floor door. Twice, Jake ascended up and down the stairs, counting the whole way. It came out to an even twenty steps like it should.
Now back at the bottom, Jake once again headed up, this time intending to get off at the second floor and finally go to Cinnamon’s, his Sherlock moment behind him. The first ten stairs to the first platform went off without a hitch. But as Jake climbed the second lap of ten steps, he slowly began to realize that he had been walking for far more than ten steps, more like twenty or thirty, yet was still only halfway to the doorway. Above him perched the door, the light that shone through its tiny window glaring maliciously at him from its superior vantage point, the ray of light shivering as if with laughter, dust particles dancing maniacally through its taunting silhouette, mocking his fruitless, futile efforts of getting anywhere, not just at getting anywhere in this stairwell but in this world.
Just as Jake was about to shriek in terror, he found himself finally on the platform, doorknob in hand. He stumbled out of the stairwell like he were drunk, tumbling to the floor.
Hedda Crendlewark - Tue, 02 Jan 2018 22:30:18 EST sscV/3a6 No.69713 Reply
>She wanted to get naked and masturbate as she died, rubbing her own blood into her privates and across her nipples as she faded to black

This is gratuitous to the point where it becomes funny. Is that what you're going for? When I read this I think of splatter film aesthetics. Don't do the whole exorcist thing; nobody can watch that scene anymore without laughing. Whatever it was back then, it's not anymore.
James Claywill - Wed, 03 Jan 2018 06:29:48 EST LAEmldx+ No.69714 Reply
>This is gratuitous to the point where it becomes funny. Is that what you're going for?
It is definitely a horror-comedy rather than straight horror. I write lines like that usually thinking about how my sweet old lady Mom will read this book someday and just be shocked and appalled and then I get a private LOL.

Anywas, I was coming here to post a passage where a characters schizophrenia runs rampant. "They say that talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity. Wrong! In my case, it was the twentieth!”
Phoebe Chubblefine - Wed, 03 Jan 2018 09:02:36 EST ylxQEmun No.69716 Reply
Not to totally shit on you but
>I write lines like that usually thinking about how my sweet old lady Mom will read this book someday and just be shocked and appalled and then I get a private LOL.
is sort of the definition of being edgy.
Hannah Gushsurk - Thu, 04 Jan 2018 07:35:02 EST 2rHRcE5V No.69717 Reply
SO glad you feel so comfortable being honest with me so much in this thread. My only hopes is that someday you share your own work and I am in the position to be just as honest with you.
Hannah Gushsurk - Thu, 04 Jan 2018 16:32:47 EST 2rHRcE5V No.69719 Reply
Childish would be claiming to be a writer and then just shitting on evevrybody else while refusing to share your own stuff.
>I'm too concerned with writing I don't seem to have the mental energy to engage with friends or girlfriends. I feel remarkably okay with this, at least for the time being.
Something tells me it isnt the writing that keeps you from having friends or getting laid. Although I seriously doubt you write at all.
Augustus Navinglot - Thu, 04 Jan 2018 16:53:43 EST ylxQEmun No.69720 Reply
I'm not shitting on everyone else. I'm pointing out that writing stuff to shock your "sweet old lady Mom" is pure edge. You're clearly upset by that, and now you're lashing out.
Emma Gamblehall - Thu, 04 Jan 2018 19:53:33 EST 2rHRcE5V No.69721 Reply
No, you're just a dick. Listen, this is a slow board and I got the fucking hint you don't like my writing 10 replies ago months back. I'm not going to sit and fight, if you are that intent on making 420chan a less fun place for me, congrats, you'll win and I just won't post shit here. You're a douchebag and I have no reason to try to keep a thread going on a slow site just to have you be an autist at me. I'll just enjoy the many other boards of the site. I'm sure you're a troll on them too but they are busy enough where the cool people will outnumber you. RIP this thread
Shitting Bizzleham - Fri, 05 Jan 2018 00:32:10 EST gm3S+7Ik No.69724 Reply
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i've been writing a fantasy.. setting for a year and a half now. it's, uh, going I guess. I'm not much of a writer. it's all just pages of descriptions of imaginary history and geography and shit. at some point i'm sure i'll be able to parse some of it out into short stories or a novel, but i'll have to learn a lot more about crafting a written work before then.
Beatrice Brallyfure - Fri, 05 Jan 2018 05:12:39 EST ylxQEmun No.69726 Reply
It's nothing personal mate, I haven't been checking post id's to single you out. Just responding to whomever as and when I feel like it. If you can't deal with even mild criticism then it's a bit silly to post your work online. Yeah you could leave in a huff, or you could learn to take criticism, or you could just ignore me.
Cyril Chonkinville - Fri, 09 Mar 2018 18:04:20 EST gurYYnyR No.69943 Reply
I'd like to start writing, i have no idea what or what about. Any tips? Do i keep a journal for starters?
Shit Grandwater - Sat, 10 Mar 2018 06:02:45 EST ylxQEmun No.69944 Reply
I have to preface this by saying that's the classic way to go about writing all wrong; you write because you have something you want to write, not because you just like the idea of writing.
That said, yes, a journal is a decent starting point. Note down interesting things that happen or ideas or anything that you might want to turn into something. Just keeping a daily journal is also good practise in general, but just having notes is good too. Beyond that it's hard to give you advice because if we don't know what sort of thing you'd want to do we can't recommend stuff for it. You can always look up writing prompts and use them as a starting point if you don't have any ideas of your own. Try using some of them to write stories in the style of various writers you admire (and even those you don't) as it helps to force you outside of your comfort zone and understand how they function as storytellers.
Albert Babblestock - Sun, 11 Mar 2018 12:02:36 EST HDHCXJ5a No.69948 Reply
Alright thanks, I have plenty of ideas, I just don't know where to start or what to do with it. I guess it's a good idea to just write what comes to mind.
Angus Sebbersuck - Sun, 11 Mar 2018 13:15:20 EST ylxQEmun No.69949 Reply
That's good then.
Maybe start by spinning one of your ideas into a little narrative anecdote, just a few paragraphs. Then you can either build on that or do more and maybe link them together somehow, but don't feel too bothered about that to begin with. Start small, work your way up, see what your strengths are and what you might want to work on.
Sophie Drusslecheg - Tue, 27 Mar 2018 14:19:06 EST +R3IjBE1 No.69972 Reply
I'm 2500 words away from hitting 60,000. I'll need to revise 4000 of it; stuff that's already written but not quite in the right order if that makes sense. Then it's ready for the beta readers. I'll go through a printout with a red pen reading it aloud to make any other corrections but I'm not really sure what I'll do with my free time after that.
I really enjoy doing this as a habit. Starting another so soon after seems a bit intimidating but what else is there?
Eugene Wivingfoot - Fri, 30 Mar 2018 16:01:55 EST oEOx2hC6 No.69982 Reply

post it here and i will proofread it for you
Beatrice Pavingworth - Fri, 30 Mar 2018 17:04:43 EST D7YfLipj No.69983 Reply
62,400 words and it's finished. I have readers but thank you all the same.
Wesley Braggleforth - Sat, 31 Mar 2018 05:45:21 EST 7Df882Aq No.69984 Reply
I've jumped into a big project that I'll be chewing on for the next 5-10 years.

Nothing to post yet, right now I'm just mocking up samples to massage out the plot holes and try to get my style where I want it. I'm going for something with almost no exposition, but I can't quite figure out how I want to handle narration.

I'm torn between a flawed narration that is stained by personality of the main character of the respective passage complete with a supernatural insight into their thought processes, or an objective narration that will focus more on expressing the characters through visual language and dialog. Either way, I will have to then contend with how I want to handle the dialog, and whether I will write it verbatim or gloss over it with description. I believe that I will have to hash out the story in a quick and shitty form so that I can then best match the plot and the feel to one of the four methods, then rewrite it.

Most of my work previously was in poetry and persuasive writing so I'm really having to fight the habits those pursuits encourage. Prose fiction is in some ways a middle ground between the two, but is still its own special form of pain in my ass. This challenge excites me, though.
George Clazzlewell - Mon, 09 Apr 2018 12:02:42 EST FIHs1XuY No.70004 Reply
I've just put together a collection of short weird fiction humour stuff. I figure 420chan posters will enjoy it if anyone does.
It's the sort of thing ideal for reading on the toilet or on your phone while you're pretending to text someone to avoid a real conversation. It's free because I'm trying to get people hyped about my upcoming novel.

Simon Simmleworth - Sat, 18 Aug 2018 13:39:31 EST AyT0r+yl No.70272 Reply
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I entered a 28-year old life crisis and now suddenly I can't enjoy anything nor writing.

I like to write fantasy but I've bitten off a lot to chew.

I just want to type and laugh while typing again. any pointers?
Cornelius Sollystan - Sat, 18 Aug 2018 23:13:58 EST AyT0r+yl No.70274 Reply
I'm trying to write a profane text for entertainment purposes/ a book purpose/ and to bestow upon /spooky/. It's going to be a driving plot in another story but I need to write this for developmental purposes.
Cedric Sindernatch - Mon, 20 Aug 2018 17:27:37 EST AyT0r+yl No.70280 Reply
oh yeah I apologize in advance if I make any glaring mistakes when typing.I'm usually pretty high and I don't read much outside of here.

nb for slightly off topic but still in the realm of /lit/
Hamilton Cankinbanks - Tue, 21 Aug 2018 19:00:40 EST Ivuktz9u No.70283 Reply
So I wrote this short story and some shitty free internet "zine" published, but apparently they got emails from epople who were horribly offended and now they have removed my story from future editions of that "zine". Here's my banned story, is it really so offensive? I can't stop LOL'ing that I actually triggered people IRL and caused a headache for the d-bag who runs this Zine.

“Dad, if we’re both about to die, I just wanted to say that I love you. I know I should have said it more often before, but sometimes it takes your impending demise to realize the important things.
“Also, I’m sorry for acting like a dick when you said you wanted to take me fishing. I’m a shitty son and shouldn’t have acted like I would hate it. Because now that we’re out here on this canoe, fishing isn’t so bad. If it weren’t for the huge tornado bearing down on us, this could have been a perfect day.
“Anyways, before we get Wizard Of Oz’d to death by that big cyclone fucker, I should probably come clean about a couple things. I don’t want to get to the Pearly Gates with all these unrepentant sins rotting the core of my soul.
“First off, I should tell you that the other day, I shoved your toothbrush up my ass. Okay, I know what you’re thinking: which end did I shove up there, the handle or the bristles? Unfortunately the answer is both. Well, it’s more like I shoved the handle up there, then used the bristles just to massage my general butthole and taint area.
“Second, you should probably know that I jerked off, like, all over the house. I don’t mean that I did it in every room, although I did. What I mean is that I came all over things. I jizzed on the couch, the carpet, the television screen, your favorite reclining chair... I shot my load on almost everything. The only objects spared my seed were the things in the babies room. Somehow that would have felt… pervy.
“Let’s see, what else is there…
“Well, I act like I hate your new fiance because I miss my Mom, but I actually don’t. The real reason I’m so weird around her is that she’s a smoking hottie and I can’t handle talking to fine babes like that yet without getting flareups of social anxiety.
“Oh, I also killed Whiskers. I wish I had a good excuse, like it was an accident and I was covering it up. But no, I killed the fuck out of that thing. I choked it while it clawed at my arms. Honestly, I never liked it. Or cats in general. Or any animals actually. Or humans, if we’re being completely honest. In fact, I don’t know why I opened this with saying that I love you, Dad. I don’t. I hate everyone. Thank God for this tornado. I may be about to die, but at least I can finally be honest. Well, I’m done. Come blow me to Heaven, oh great tornado! Whisk me away to-”
“Son!” my Dad yells, cutting me off. “There is no tornado.”
I look around. The waters surrounding the canoe are placid. There’s not so much as a light breeze, let alone a swirling wall of death wind.
“Fuck,” I say.
Augustus Gerringfuck - Tue, 21 Aug 2018 19:48:25 EST 4G/pRGNZ No.70284 Reply
What exactly were you trying to communicate with this?
Ernest Crungerville - Wed, 22 Aug 2018 06:53:37 EST Ivuktz9u No.70285 Reply
I'm an artist, I don't owe the public my private intentions. I could have either written the story purely for shock, or could have confessing all my darkest secrets from childhood. The world doesn't have the right to that answer. I just put stuff out there and hope someone responds to it. This one got a clear response.
Barnaby Weddlepidging - Wed, 22 Aug 2018 08:27:26 EST 4G/pRGNZ No.70286 Reply
I see I'm not the first person to call you out for your edgy bullshit.
Archie Purrychut - Sun, 28 Jul 2019 15:28:54 EST ZJSeCg1n No.70816 Reply
I'm working on my fantasy novel.

Hopefully ees good mang

It's about a kiddo who gets sucked up in a warrior culture

I want to make the lore super rich like morrowind-level rich.
Alice Durryhall - Tue, 06 Aug 2019 12:55:42 EST PUxcVcIz No.70837 Reply
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I've had this idea for a story in my head for about... 15 years now.
It's only now that the potential story has kind of crystalized enough for me to want to start writing it out, but I can't decide between writing in English or in my native language (dutch).

I've always read books, fiction and non-fiction, in English. All movies and video games I've consumed past the age of 12 I've done so in English. I feel more confident that I can express myself poetically and creatively in English.
I also feel my audience would be wider if I wrote my story in English, as the majority of my friends would not be interested in reading my amateurish writing.

On the other hand, I'm proud of my native language. I've always had issues with expressing myself and my ideas in my native language, but I somewhat believe this writing exercise could change that.
I wrote a short intro/prologue/exposition for the story in dutch, and reading what I wrote is kind of making me cringe. I don't like reading creative works in my native language so maybe I should switch to English, or maybe I should suck it up and open my mind.

What do?
Ian Pittbury - Thu, 09 Jan 2020 02:48:39 EST 5etMA1YH No.71267 Reply
Experiment with both and see which works out better? How'd it go anyways?

Ian Pittbury - Thu, 09 Jan 2020 02:55:37 EST 5etMA1YH No.71269 Reply
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>>71267 Whoops, habitual nb, so I didn't bump, so now i bump.
Caroline Baffinghall - Thu, 09 Jan 2020 07:37:33 EST reK9sGDz No.71271 Reply
As the astronaut floated over to the dark side of the moon, his memories came flooding back. He remembered the day it all happened.
Trying to orient himself, he looked back to make sure Earth was still there behind him.
This memory... First, they claimed his wife. His children had fallen next.
Then, they came for him. He distinctly remembered the feeling of the teeth sinking into his arm, his flesh opening up, being slurped at like a ripe peach.
When did I go to space?
He remembers the sensation of blasting off into the great unknown, the real world becoming a thing of his past.
Again, he looked behind him to make visual contact with his home planet. Only now did he realize it was never Earth he was suspended above. He was adrift above his own body, now a being with its own ambitions, thoughtlessly killing and eating everyone it crossed.
“Stop!” he yelled at his body. It was fruitless..
Wait, what am I doing again? Oh, right. I'm an astronaut. I'm in space. I need to do my job.
He continued on to the dark side of the moon.
Nathaniel Sunkinfack - Sat, 18 Jan 2020 15:37:03 EST 7CZ4zA5h No.71281 Reply
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Noticed a few good sounding books on writing:
"Writers Map: An Atlas of Imaginary Lands"
"Between the lines: the subtle elements of fiction writing"
"Daemon voices: on stories and story telling"
Nell Bunman - Sun, 19 Jan 2020 18:39:26 EST fYpBvG6Q No.71282 Reply
I've written something down, not for any project or anything. Rate my prose, lads.

It's a catastrophe, a judgement day where god is in the molded figures, pulsating and unmoving, lying along the streets in lumps
of haze and dusty flesh. I have tried to talk to the ones that still walk, but while they
certainly are aware of what's happening in here, they seem to treat this as if it was an evolution of the planet, or
a revolution in nature itself, and they rejoice. They continue their routines as the air darkens and stiffens and eventually
lays it's weight of ash down on us, surely until we stop finding even grass and tree bark to sustain ourselves with.
Angus Moggleford - Tue, 18 Feb 2020 10:59:22 EST EPQSJmO2 No.71332 Reply
It flows nice!!!, but too many substantial words make it hard to keep up when there's nothing simple to back them up so it ends up reading like a dictionary. It ends up being scrunched together and can't breathe. If a story was added into the mix I could keep doing what ure doing just watch the word choice.
User is currently banned from all boards
Shitting Grimhood - Fri, 21 Feb 2020 18:59:36 EST njH6nPfX No.71337 Reply
~~This is the day~~ ~~This is the day~~ ~~This is the day~~ ~~This is the day~~ This is the day.

Things will be different this time.
Things will be different this time.
Things will be different this time.
Things will be different this time.
Things will be different this time.
Things will be different this time.

In reviewing these letters to myself, the writing of which has been the only project thus far that I've stuck to in any meaningful sense, the thing I'm struck the most by, aside from how ridiculously self-aggrandizing an effort this is in the first place, is how repetitive they've become over time.

I was doing bad, but now I am doing good. I am doing bad. This will fix the bad. The bad has been fixed, I am doing good. I am doing bad. This will fix the bad. That really fixed the bad, I really am doing good now. I am doing bad. I am doing really bad. THIS will fix the bad. Whew that did it, I am doing better. I am doing good. I am doing less good. I am doing bad. THIS will fix the bad, once and for all. I am doing good. I am doing GREAT. So I just got out of the hospital... That did it though, I've learned, I've grown. So I just got out of the hospital...

And on, and on, and on.

I've always been unbearably fickle -- capricious and never truly satisfied. Always in search of something, and always in search of what that something was. Seneca said of me: "she follows no fixed aim, shifting and inconstant and dissatisfied, plunged by her fickleness into plans that are ever new, having no fixed principle by which to direct her course, but Fate takes her unawares while she lolls and yawns".

Aware of the painful irony and the probability this will just make me look very silly in the not too distant future, I contend that I've broken the cycle.

After a childhood alone but not lonely, completely ensconced in my imagination, I had a largely sad and bitter adolescence as my ability to function on my island of fantasy, accompanied only by myself and my increasingly deranged thoughts, dwindled.

Around the time I came of age, I had managed to at least develop a close circle of friends, with whom I was far closer to than they were to me. I got a job. I got money. And with that money, I discovered drugs. And in drugs, I finally found a home.

Altering my state of consciousness broke me out of my old patterns of thought. I became less bitter and more open. I became kinder, more compassionate; to myself and to others. As I was becoming a more likeable and well-adjusted person, I was also thrust into a subculture where I finally had a place. I had an excuse for being so weird and met countless people, most of them also weird, who not only didn't care about my eccentricities, they actually LIKED me for them. They thought I was kind, personable, interesting, creative, intelligent; all character traits which I would never have dreamed of using in reference to myself.

I finally felt like my life had started. I made more friends and did more drugs, and made even more friends. I met one guy in particular who I spent a lot of time wasting time with. Eventually, he became the first person I ever truly loved. Almost certainly unrequitedly. No matter what I try to tell myself.

I became a better person. I learned and I grew. Slowly the hatred that had built up from being trapped in a morass of self-loathing eroded away, setting the stage for my slow journey towards self-acceptance.

Over time, as I continued to learn and grow, what was originally motivated by idle curiosity and myopic pleasure-seeking became an integral part of a holistic approach to improving myself and developing my newfound spiritual life.

In short order, however, it became the be-all and end-all of my life. I did things I never thought I'd do and made decisions that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I destroyed my mind, body, and soul. I've come with-in an inch of death more times than I can bare to imagine.

Perhaps I'm past the point of no return, but I don't think so. Who's to say how my life would've went had I not gone down the path I did? I honestly shudder to think. Even after all that's happened to me these past few years, I wouldn't change a thing. I finally like who I am. And I wouldn't change it for the world. You have to take the bad with the good, no matter how bad that bad might be.

Even at this point, I still think drugs in some form or another will always be a part of my life, and I'm still okay with that.

"Long, long time between now and my death
And I gotta have my fun so I've chosen what's best

So listen sweet Lord forgive me my sin
Cause I can't stand this life without all of these things
Know I done wrong but I could of done me worse"

But it's not a lark. You reap what you sow. I live a life that, despite now having found incredible happiness and experienced indescribable ecstasy, is even at the best of times marked with periods of psychosis, paranoia, doubt, and despair.

Anyway, so what's the big idea? Where's all this going then? What's changed?

I dunno.
Martin Drumblesack - Thu, 02 Apr 2020 00:07:04 EST fCqkMdQp No.71359 Reply
To me a deeply relatable sentiment, and I think it is for a lot of the people who go on this website. Perhaps it could've been more succinct and less flowery, but it's poignant nevertheless
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Lillian Pucklefield - Fri, 03 Apr 2020 06:50:12 EST reK9sGDz No.71360 Reply
Can see the walls squirm, feel the air writhe as it enters my nostrils. Hall a cramped tube, a virtual deathtrap. Pray to God no neighbors come out before I reach my door. Would probably scream, run back outside to my car. These people are vile enough on a good day; with the plague afoot, they’re guaranteed to be ground zero for contamination. God knows what filthy places they frequent while the rest of us are out trying to make a living.
My just-concluded supermarket trip was a disaster. People online say they’ve seen shoppers fighting over toilet paper, rolls of paper towels. I missed all that: my trip yielded naught but empty shelves. No eggs, tuna, or tampons to be seen. Stocked up on the few canned goods left in stock. Saw a cute guy—or, at least I think he’d be cute if he took off the breathing mask.
Finally at my apartment door, I twist the key, flop through the entrance. Slam it home, bolt bolt. Rush to bathroom and bathe in rubbing alcohol. Please Christ, don’t let me be infected. I was only outside for thirty minutes!
Hyperventilate a while, then put groceries away. Surf the web. For hours. News, news, drama, drama. President said something dumber than yesterday, scared people worse than ever. At least the virus has put a squash on mass shootings. Same for mass-anything. Well, except for mass hysteria. Practice social distancing and call Big Brother on anyone who doesn’t.
All my friends have gotten into cybersex with European dudes, but I still miss the intimacy of real dates. In real restaurants, holding real hands, grinding real groins. Besides, I’m not the President, I’m not content with any hottie with a stupid accent.
Schools went on permanent summer break; now bands of bratty kids roam the apartment hallways, wiping their dirty hands on people’s doorknobs, licking car handles in hopes of spreading infection. Little bastards should be rounded up and shot. Same for their parents.
Christ, when will this end? Maybe I should pray harder.
Wait, what’s that I hear through the wall? Could it be? It is! Coughing! Someone’s sick! I fucking knew it! Five cans of Lysol later and I still don’t trust the wall between us. Should call the CDC, get this freak carted off. Can feel the virus trying to crawl between the cracks in the plaster, invisible chthonic tendrils reaching in, tussling my hair before pushing past my lips, burrowing down my gullet and flopping around inside my lungs, coating me with their infectious ooze.
“Not on my watch!”
Hall between apartments reeks of marijuana. Could that be the source of the coughs? Damn bongers—don’t they know smoking marijuana on property grounds is a violation of their lease? If the landlord wasn’t in self-quarantine, he’d be slapping an eviction notice on their door this very instant.
Move to pound their door, then stop. Picture all the germs writhing across the surface. Fuck that. “Hey,” I shout. “I know you’re in there, sickie! You better go to the hospital before you get us all killed!” Not sure if I’m being heard, “And stop coughing on my wall!”
My bedroom feels like enemy territory. Anything could be compromised. What if the kids got in while I was shopping? They could have done anything: wore my clothes, brushed their teeth with my toothbrush, blown their noses into my couch cushions. Abandon ship!
The very thought leaves me puking in the bathroom sink. As I’m washing the chunks down the grate, a pounding starts from outside. “Don’t think I didn’t hear that,” someone hollers. “You’re sick! I’m calling 911.”
I press my face flat against the door, shouting through the crack, “I’m not sick, you nosy little shit! The only thing I’m sick of is people like you!”
“Fuck that,” they snarl. Stomping away, “Do the world a favor and kill yourself.”
Dammit! Are they really calling the fuzz? What if I get carted off to the plague pit? I’m too cute for the plague pit! I may not be sick, but I will be after being thrown in with the rest of the infected. The mere thought makes me want to puke again, but now that I know the neighbors are spying, I can’t let myself. Forehead drenches eyebrows with perspiration; eardrums ring with whine. Breathing in short, jerky gasps. Limbs shaking. Anxiety? Why now, at a time like this? Curse you, body—always turning against me when I need you most.
Time to restore some sanity to this madhouse. Tired of living in fear; I’m ready to reclaim my life. A couple minutes later finds the halls between apartments thoroughly soaked with rubbing alcohol—good thing I stocked up.
Red Bic flick; then, FWOOSH!
Barely make it out the exit in time, burning hair trailing in my wake. They think I’m sick? I’m the least sick person on the planet. They’re the ones who are contagious here! That’s fine, the fire will cleanse the property of their germs. When you put it that way, I’m doing my landlord a favor. He should have done this a long time ago.
Neighbors are pouring out the front doors, screaming at the sky, cursing God for destroying their den of infection, their hut of horrors. Meanwhile, my car is already peeling out of the complex parking lot. I pat my luggage, make sure it’s securely strapped into place atop the passenger seat. Home sweet home. Good luck infecting me here, losers.
I sneeze and blood mists the windshield red. Fuck! I was too late—they already tainted me! Sneaky fuckers!
But I won’t take this lying down, no-siree. Wheels screech as my ride whips around in a U-turn, accelerates towards the crowd gathering outside the apartment. Lined up like bowling pins, a human whack-a-mole. “This is your fault!” I’m shouting as I put the pedal to the metal. They don’t hear me, but they still get the message.
Tseth Rhogan - Sun, 29 Aug 2021 11:04:58 EST 0GAYekdm No.71721 Reply
1630249498141.jpg -(8318B / 8.12KB, 225x225) Thumbnail displayed, click image for full size.
Check out this steaming pile of dialogue I produced!

“Hey, mommy-o, you feelin’ blue or you got a clue?”

“No, Joe; I’m a jazzy, snazzy disco dawg, and I’ve got an itch to get rich. You want me to get my punk on or my funk on?”

“Well, when you bounce with the big boys, you’re gonna be boogying down all around town. You the kind of glam clam that can slam that blam?”

“Hee-haw, sweetbaby-o. I’m ready to get movin’ so I can get groovin’.”

“You’re in the right place, howdy-boy-eah. When it ain’t show time it’s blow time, and either way it’s go time.”

“I guess I best get the glitter out of my shitter if I’m gonna be ready like Freddy. You good to go or you gotta blow some snow?”

“If you don’t know it, you can stow it! It’s time to remix our fix before we’re pickin’ up sticks. I’ve got the thirst to go in first.”

“Hey, watch it, soul child! When I ain’t bumpin’ bass I’m lumpin’ face, so stop actin’ hip if you can’t get a grip, or catch me on the flip side, ya hear?”

“I’m gellin’ like jell-o, jelly-baby! So crack this open and clown it down, Cowabunga-Charlie, and you won’t have a naggin’ for what you’re beggin’ for.”

“You’re right, that’s as smooth as my groove, and I’m ready to pop like candy corn!”

“That’s phresh! Now grab the daisy chains and let’s go, or we’ll miss the KC and the Sunshine Band concert.”

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Hedda Berrypotch - Mon, 23 May 2022 19:06:43 EST yboUNzWY No.71821 Reply
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That was pretty sick, btw. I've read this twice now and it brings me hella joy.
rNEA - Sun, 26 Jun 2022 10:19:05 EST Aaj1Xo0Q No.71825 Reply

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