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Author Topic: The Writer's Thread  (Read 19345 times)

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Alyss

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The Writer's Thread
« on: January 21, 2009, 11:01:07 AM »

So I noticed that the musical people have a thread, but people like me, who can only handle words, don't. So, in the same vein, this thread is for writers, regardless of genre and medium, to bounce ideas off each other, discuss their work, etc.

I've got a play going at the moment, and have one act left to write. Anyone else?
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Indja

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #1 on: January 21, 2009, 05:04:15 PM »

I wrote a script for a movie a while ago, I'm pretty proud of it. What was your play about? And I've got a load of prosey stuff - there was a Prose thread, but it kinda died ^.^
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #2 on: January 21, 2009, 05:22:22 PM »

This is the one I'm working on at the moment: http://fc58.deviantart.com/fs41/f/2009/004/1/2/The_Mortician__s_Daughter_by_LadyAlyss.pdf I've got some older, finished stuff up on DA too (http://ladyalyss.deviantart.com/). It's about a woman who commits suicide and is brought back to life by her mortician. A horrible fairytale!

Do you have your screenplay up on the internet?
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Mockery

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #3 on: January 21, 2009, 05:51:08 PM »

Yay, I don't feel so left out anymore. I've already posted some of my writing on here. If you click the link below, you'll find some. Me and some other Shadow Boxers are working on some comics based off of DD and WKAP songs. 
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #4 on: January 21, 2009, 05:52:18 PM »

Ooh ooh ooh! I was going to do that, with script. A scene for each song. But you've beaten me too it...curses...
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Mockery

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #5 on: January 21, 2009, 05:56:44 PM »

Ooh ooh ooh! I was going to do that, with script. A scene for each song. But you've beaten me too it...curses...
You can help us out if you'd like.
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #6 on: January 21, 2009, 05:59:57 PM »

I would, but I'm kind of busy with my own stuff at the moment...and I'm really bad at working in groups anyway....it's better that I don't bother you.
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The King of Carrot Flowers

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #7 on: January 21, 2009, 06:01:26 PM »

We already have this for poems and prose. Nothing for plays and such, so maybe we can dedicate this to those...
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #8 on: January 21, 2009, 10:41:54 PM »

Ah, Shameless Self-Promotion...haven't ventured into that forum yet...
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AnnaBeck

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #9 on: January 22, 2009, 03:25:31 PM »

i do write lyrics, poems and short stories though i'm not so good writing in english.
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Elle

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #10 on: January 22, 2009, 03:52:04 PM »

I write! Hooray! Represent! I am trying to get a book finished before June. It's non-fic. Anyone else write the non-fic?
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #11 on: January 22, 2009, 03:52:52 PM »

Ouch, hell no...I'm far too thick. What's the subject?
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Bubblegum Britt

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #12 on: January 22, 2009, 04:18:25 PM »

I need a serious burst of inspiration
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Indja

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #13 on: January 22, 2009, 04:26:51 PM »

My screenplay's not online anywhere, but if anyone's desperate to read it, I'm happy to email it to them. I wrote a play a long time ago as well, but I lost it :(
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Elle

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #14 on: January 22, 2009, 04:37:50 PM »

Ouch, hell no...I'm far too thick. What's the subject?

The book I am working on now is.....semi-autpbiographical. It's about living through truly absurd situations and how you learn to laugh at it etc. I also want to write a non-fic about the Tibetan occupation and one about Savant Syndrome. XD I know none of things are remotely similar, but yes. I want to write fiction too, but my heart lies with non-fic. Always has.
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #15 on: January 22, 2009, 06:40:24 PM »

Well the world needs both. And one of my favourite books ever is non-fiction, 'A People's Tragedy' by Orlando Figes.

Britt: I used to look for inspiration in adverts. Or, just hang around in public parks and eavesdrop, that's good.

Indie: Sure, email it over. I'm very new to screenplays myself, but I could read it and give you some feedback, if you want. Or just read it, whatever.
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Indja

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #16 on: January 23, 2009, 11:23:23 AM »

I love getting inspiration from the people around me, whether they're like people I know or otherwise. I think people are by far the most interesting things in like the whole world ^.^ Like, the way they react to each other, how they interact, how they talk - I love language as well, so I really like hearing how different people speak or how the same person will talk in totally different ways depending on who they're with.

I suck at non-fic, I get bored. Not reading it, I mean - I quite like biographies and stuff - just writing it. Then again, my prose stuff is kinda crappy ^.^
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Mockery

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #17 on: January 23, 2009, 05:24:21 PM »

I write! Hooray! Represent! I am trying to get a book finished before June. It's non-fic. Anyone else write the non-fic?
I haven't tried yet but I would like too.
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The King of Carrot Flowers

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #18 on: January 23, 2009, 05:27:38 PM »

I write! Hooray! Represent! I am trying to get a book finished before June. It's non-fic. Anyone else write the non-fic?
I haven't tried yet but I would like too.
I loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooove non-fiction! Anyone read The Devil in the White City?
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Mockery

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #19 on: January 23, 2009, 05:46:18 PM »

I write! Hooray! Represent! I am trying to get a book finished before June. It's non-fic. Anyone else write the non-fic?
I haven't tried yet but I would like too.
I loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooove non-fiction! Anyone read The Devil in the White City?
I've wanted to! Is it good?
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The King of Carrot Flowers

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #20 on: January 23, 2009, 06:14:28 PM »

I write! Hooray! Represent! I am trying to get a book finished before June. It's non-fic. Anyone else write the non-fic?
I haven't tried yet but I would like too.
I loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooove non-fiction! Anyone read The Devil in the White City?
I've wanted to! Is it good?
It's really good! I read it for a class (that I ended up not taking :(), and it was seriously one of the best books I'd ever read. Some people in the class didn't like it, though, so I guess it's an acquired taste.
Same with The Scarlet Letter...
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #21 on: January 23, 2009, 06:57:18 PM »

I get worried about sources in Non-Fiction though. A lot of stuff takes figures out of context, or just uses rumours to write...urgh...
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Mockery

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #22 on: January 23, 2009, 06:59:39 PM »

I write! Hooray! Represent! I am trying to get a book finished before June. It's non-fic. Anyone else write the non-fic?
I haven't tried yet but I would like too.
I loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooove non-fiction! Anyone read The Devil in the White City?
I've wanted to! Is it good?
It's really good! I read it for a class (that I ended up not taking :(), and it was seriously one of the best books I'd ever read. Some people in the class didn't like it, though, so I guess it's an acquired taste.
Same with The Scarlet Letter...
Exciting. I really have been wanting to read that.
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #23 on: January 23, 2009, 07:01:02 PM »

'The Butcher's Tale' is a great non-fic I read back when I was doing by end of sixth form history coursework. Novelistic but informative, the best kind.
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Elle

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #24 on: January 24, 2009, 03:33:51 AM »

Taking inspiration from the people around you is the best, becuase often times, the people around you are a lot more interesting and absurd than anything you could think up on your own. I have a tendency to see the amazing flitting beneath the surface of the ordinary...that's why I love non-fic so much.

As far as sources, that is a risk with non fic. I know that for my research-based books, I plan on some serious, thorough research with professionals in the fields explored and through available materials. But I am a huge whore for research, and that makes all the difference.

Fiction is wonderful and can be very beautiful and well done. But so many things happen in real life that are just....hilarious or ridiculous or amazing, and those things deserve to be pointed out. My take on it is that it takes all kinds. We need phenomenal fiction writers, playwrights, screenwriters, poets, lyricists, journalists, and non-fic writers. It's all equally important. Words are just beautiful, sacred things. <3
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #25 on: January 24, 2009, 03:37:50 AM »

Here here. Incidentally, I still need to write something based on a story a friend of mine told me, about this time he was dating a girl with no sense of smell and they went to a perfume shop. Because she could smell any of them, she told him to choose one for her.
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The King of Carrot Flowers

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #26 on: January 24, 2009, 06:44:27 PM »

Here here. Incidentally, I still need to write something based on a story a friend of mine told me, about this time he was dating a girl with no sense of smell and they went to a perfume shop. Because she could smell any of them, she told him to choose one for her.
That asks an excellent philosophical: Do those who can't perceive that which they can't perceive?
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #27 on: January 24, 2009, 07:12:46 PM »

I get worried about sources in Non-Fiction though. A lot of stuff takes figures out of context, or just uses rumours to write...urgh...

Blink by Malcolm Gladwell is a great non-fic.  It talks about split second decision making, and is actually entertaining.  I don't know how many people I have seen reading that book.  It took me about three days to get to the last chapter...and then stop reading.

But that's my horrible problem with any book.  I've done it to Good Omens, Everything Is Illuminated, and The Graveyard Book as well.
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #28 on: January 25, 2009, 12:16:08 AM »

Here here. Incidentally, I still need to write something based on a story a friend of mine told me, about this time he was dating a girl with no sense of smell and they went to a perfume shop. Because she could smell any of them, she told him to choose one for her.
That asks an excellent philosophical: Do those who can't perceive that which they can't perceive?
I pretty sure that sentence doesn't make any sense.
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The King of Carrot Flowers

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #29 on: January 25, 2009, 12:32:53 AM »

Here here. Incidentally, I still need to write something based on a story a friend of mine told me, about this time he was dating a girl with no sense of smell and they went to a perfume shop. Because she could smell any of them, she told him to choose one for her.
That asks an excellent philosophical: Do those who can't perceive that which they can't perceive?
I pretty sure that sentence doesn't make any sense.
My apologies:

"That asks an excellent philosophical question: Do those who cannot perceive need that which they cannot perceive?"

Much better!
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #30 on: January 25, 2009, 12:35:01 AM »

Hmm...well, being blind is just bound to suck, however you look at it.
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The King of Carrot Flowers

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #31 on: January 25, 2009, 12:36:21 AM »

Hmm...well, being blind is just bound to suck, however you look at it.
Well, if you're blind and have no idea what things look like because things have never looked like anything to you, are you going to ask someone to describe a painting to you?
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #32 on: January 25, 2009, 12:51:23 AM »

Maybe...happens in films a lot...
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The King of Carrot Flowers

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #33 on: January 25, 2009, 01:17:01 AM »

Maybe...happens in films a lot...
Well, yeah, but I'm guessing most of the blind people who go to see movies had half-decent eyesight at some point in their lives or can still perceive color and shadows.
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Indja

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #34 on: January 25, 2009, 10:57:20 AM »

Hmm...well, being blind is just bound to suck, however you look at it.

Lol. "Look".
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #35 on: January 25, 2009, 10:58:35 AM »

There is a link in my signature to a couple of my stories.
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Indja

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #36 on: January 25, 2009, 11:00:23 AM »

There is a link in my signature to a couple of my stories.

NAKED DAVE.

Well calling my kid that.
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Mockery

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #37 on: January 25, 2009, 02:04:52 PM »

Does anyone have tips on short stories? They don't seem to be strong my suite unless I really like the idea I have.
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #38 on: January 25, 2009, 02:08:26 PM »

They're much easier than full work. Get hold of one thing, best off a really little thing, and just explore that. Like...pasta. Write a short story about pasta. 5 a4 pages. Go!
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Mockery

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #39 on: January 25, 2009, 02:14:51 PM »

They're much easier than full work. Get hold of one thing, best off a really little thing, and just explore that. Like...pasta. Write a short story about pasta. 5 a4 pages. Go!
That's a good idea Alyss. Thanks
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #40 on: January 25, 2009, 02:18:49 PM »

Hmm...somewhat lacking in plot, character and dialogue. As the opening lines of a character though, it's good.
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #41 on: January 25, 2009, 02:20:32 PM »

I like it. I feel I can relate to your hate for pasta.  ;D
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #42 on: January 25, 2009, 02:22:16 PM »

A+ I love it Sarah. A lot.
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #43 on: January 25, 2009, 02:22:27 PM »

It's not finished, I can't grade it.
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #44 on: January 25, 2009, 02:24:26 PM »

D.
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Zephyr

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #45 on: January 25, 2009, 02:25:49 PM »

ok, now it's your turn Alyss

5 lines about pasta. go!
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Mockery

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #46 on: January 25, 2009, 02:26:03 PM »

ok, now it's your turn Alyss

5 lines about pasta. go!
*starts the timer*
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #47 on: January 25, 2009, 02:29:19 PM »

ok, now it's your turn Alyss

5 lines about pasta. go!
Please. If you give me a day or two I'll do a short on pasta, but I'm not doing 5 lines.
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Ms

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #48 on: January 25, 2009, 02:30:13 PM »

There's nothing wrong with 5 lines? Give it a go. It's really challenging trying to write something short and effective.
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #49 on: January 25, 2009, 02:30:36 PM »

but that's not the assignment
the assignment is 5 lines
it's not as easy, so if you can't do it I completely understand
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Mockery

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #50 on: January 25, 2009, 02:34:29 PM »

i tried, niels. god DAMMIT i tried. it was difficult, there were some tears. but i wanted to make you proud of me..
Don't worry. We're proud of you.
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #51 on: January 25, 2009, 02:52:01 PM »

Grr...fine...

The wind picked up as they neared the end of the stairs, and as her shoes crunched onto the icy roof it whipped the snow against their faces.
He set the pot down next to the lip, and squatted next to it.
"Why here?"
"Here's good." She passed him the spoon, and watched as the mixture was dug into.
The snow whirled down, past them and over the edge.
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #52 on: January 25, 2009, 02:55:56 PM »

I don't have msn. Got AIM though.
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #53 on: January 25, 2009, 02:59:31 PM »

Look, Sarah is an ARTIST with words. She can turn a simple 5 line piece about her hate for pasta into something beautiful. You....no. I can see why you didn't want to do it.

 ;D

but...really...that wasn't really about pasta, was it?
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #54 on: January 25, 2009, 03:02:54 PM »

Define 'about'. And anyway...

Bah, forget...I don't even give a shit...
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #55 on: January 25, 2009, 03:05:36 PM »

Don't touch me.
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Zephyr

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #56 on: January 25, 2009, 03:06:43 PM »

I agree, when you ask "what was sarah's story about?", people will answer "oh, that's an easy one, it was about pasta!"
when you ask people "what was Alyss' story about?" they will say "I'm not sure. Snow? Spoons... maybe?"

also:
The wind picked up as we neared the end of the stairs, and as her shoes crunched onto the icy roof it whipped the snow against their faces.

it doesn't make any sense; it's nonsense!

anyway, I'm sorry, but you said you preferred "vicious truth", so I'm giving it to you.
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #57 on: January 25, 2009, 03:08:14 PM »

I'm not objecting.
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #58 on: January 25, 2009, 03:09:00 PM »

BUT THAT WAS THE TAAAASSSSKKKK.
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #59 on: January 25, 2009, 03:10:45 PM »

sorry. i have cold hands. *puts gloves on and then hugs alyss*
No, seriously: don't touch me.
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #60 on: January 25, 2009, 03:11:35 PM »

*hugs Alyss*
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #61 on: January 25, 2009, 03:13:08 PM »

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buttercup.

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #62 on: January 25, 2009, 03:15:24 PM »

There is a link in my signature to a couple of my stories.

NAKED DAVE.

Well calling my kid that.

Dooo it.

I totally created him to detail in my head too. He has long stringy blond hair, and a "used to be hot" six pack. He wears skirts and sarongs whenever he has to go out, and works as a bartender at a nudist club. Awesome, no?
He also sleeps around. Cause he's sexay.
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #63 on: January 25, 2009, 03:15:53 PM »

Hmm...well, being blind is just bound to suck, however you look at it.
Well, if you're blind and have no idea what things look like because things have never looked like anything to you, are you going to ask someone to describe a painting to you?

Bringing back an old-ish post, but a friend of mine when I was a child-thing was blind. She figured out from being inside churches with big stained glass windows that she could still distinguish colors, and so she experienced artwork by standing in front of projectors. She was actually fairly good at figuring out what each picture really looked like (like what was in it).
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So in conclusion it wasn't all the sex you were having, it was his suspicion that you were a vagina elf drug dealer.

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #64 on: January 25, 2009, 03:16:41 PM »

Wow! That's quite awesome.
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #65 on: January 25, 2009, 03:17:27 PM »

oh my god.

*holds niels and covers his ears*
don't you know this boy has issues with rejection?
it's alright niels. it's alright.
Well I have issues with contact!
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #66 on: January 25, 2009, 03:18:02 PM »

It's the internet. No one is touching you.

You could just as easily ignore it.
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #67 on: January 25, 2009, 03:18:17 PM »

Isn't it ironic.
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #68 on: January 25, 2009, 03:21:23 PM »

Isn't it ironic.

IT'S LIKE RAAIIIIINN....

ON YOUR WEDDING DAY

A FREEEE RIIIIIDEEEE

WHEN YOU'VE ALREADY PAID.... :headbang:
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #69 on: January 25, 2009, 03:22:09 PM »

It's the internet. No one is touching you.

You could just as easily ignore it.
I don't like it even on the internet. I barely know you guys.

yep.


why do you have contact issues, aly? you don't mind if i call you aly, do you?
Fuck knows. Probably a result of being held very rarely by my parents, and my rape.
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Zephyr

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #70 on: January 25, 2009, 03:23:18 PM »

my rape.

5 lines on that. aaaand GO.
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buttercup.

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #71 on: January 25, 2009, 03:23:43 PM »

Isn't it ironic.

IT'S LIKE RAAIIIIINN....

ON YOUR WEDDING DAY

A FREEEE RIIIIIDEEEE

WHEN YOU'VE ALREADY PAID....
:headbang:
Don't you think?
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #72 on: January 25, 2009, 03:25:21 PM »

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dangerpants

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #73 on: January 25, 2009, 03:26:04 PM »

It's the internet. No one is touching you.

You could just as easily ignore it.
I don't like it even on the internet. I barely know you guys.

Pope, this would work if it didn't make her so obviously uncomfortable. And ya'all have very different ideas about the interface that is the internets. I'd say chalk this down to a misunderstanding, and try to pencil somewhere on your monitors to remember not to push buttons that we know about. Like don't get me started on germs.  :buck2: Or mold, or bees, or the ocean, or large bodies of water in general...
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So in conclusion it wasn't all the sex you were having, it was his suspicion that you were a vagina elf drug dealer.

Mr. Leave Me Alone

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #74 on: January 25, 2009, 03:29:04 PM »


Pope, this would work if it didn't make her so obviously uncomfortable. And ya'all have very different ideas about the interface that is the internets. I'd say chalk this down to a misunderstanding, and try to pencil somewhere on your monitors to remember not to push buttons that we know about. Like don't get me started on germs.  :buck2: Or mold, or bees, or the ocean, or large bodies of water in general...

Perhaps, but when I first started spending time on sites like this, I felt uncomfortable with how oddly affectionate people get over the internet. But like I said, it's easily ignored. It's words on a screen. You don't need to turn to telling people to fuck off. It actually offended people. :(
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Half Mar

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #75 on: January 25, 2009, 03:30:02 PM »

*hugs the little sweet pope*
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Zephyr

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #76 on: January 25, 2009, 03:30:53 PM »

Fuck you.
my rape.

5 lines on that. aaaand GO.
Fuck you. No.

oh come on
I was just trying to get to know you better...

I'll just keep cyber-touching you until you do anyway
*squeeze*
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buttercup.

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #77 on: January 25, 2009, 03:33:45 PM »

many don't understand my strange way of making friends. but i was a bit offended by alyss's instant dislike to me.

*hugs sarah*
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #78 on: January 25, 2009, 03:34:04 PM »


Pope, this would work if it didn't make her so obviously uncomfortable. And ya'all have very different ideas about the interface that is the internets. I'd say chalk this down to a misunderstanding, and try to pencil somewhere on your monitors to remember not to push buttons that we know about. Like don't get me started on germs.  :buck2: Or mold, or bees, or the ocean, or large bodies of water in general...

Perhaps, but when I first started spending time on sites like this, I felt uncomfortable with how oddly affectionate people get over the internet. But like I said, it's easily ignored. It's words on a screen. You don't need to turn to telling people to fuck off. It actually offended people. :(
I don't need be be touched either. It actually made me start shaking.:(

And I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend anyone. I just really, really don't like it, not until I know you better.
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dangerpants

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #79 on: January 25, 2009, 03:35:04 PM »


Pope, this would work if it didn't make her so obviously uncomfortable. And ya'all have very different ideas about the interface that is the internets. I'd say chalk this down to a misunderstanding, and try to pencil somewhere on your monitors to remember not to push buttons that we know about. Like don't get me started on germs.  :buck2: Or mold, or bees, or the ocean, or large bodies of water in general...

Perhaps, but when I first started spending time on sites like this, I felt uncomfortable with how oddly affectionate people get over the internet. But like I said, it's easily ignored. It's words on a screen. You don't need to turn to telling people to fuck off. It actually offended people. :(

Your logic can easily be applied to the words "fuck off" as well. I don't mean to be weird right now, just saying.
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So in conclusion it wasn't all the sex you were having, it was his suspicion that you were a vagina elf drug dealer.

Half Mar

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #80 on: January 25, 2009, 03:41:43 PM »

I must say... this is quite alarming!
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dangerpants

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #81 on: January 25, 2009, 03:42:14 PM »


Pope, this would work if it didn't make her so obviously uncomfortable. And ya'all have very different ideas about the interface that is the internets. I'd say chalk this down to a misunderstanding, and try to pencil somewhere on your monitors to remember not to push buttons that we know about. Like don't get me started on germs.  :buck2: Or mold, or bees, or the ocean, or large bodies of water in general...

Perhaps, but when I first started spending time on sites like this, I felt uncomfortable with how oddly affectionate people get over the internet. But like I said, it's easily ignored. It's words on a screen. You don't need to turn to telling people to fuck off. It actually offended people. :(

Your logic can easily be applied to the words "fuck off" as well. I don't mean to be weird right now, just saying.

a hug vs. telling someone to fuck off? the hug should not have been flamed so quickly without further explanation. everyone loves hugs, no? however, she told niels to fuck off. unless niels is some kind of masochist (and we know he has his moments ;)) audrey's logic holds much substance.

I'm using Audrey's logic right now, so it has just as much substance. Because Alyss doesn't like being touched, the hug was just as negative to her as the words "fuck off." Audrey says you can ignore text on a screen because it is what it is: simply text. This goes for both negative and positive text. You cannot only apply arguments to what YOU want, but to everything that it naturally applies to... Unless you actually limit the argument. Audrey's argument is unlimited. Essentially, by agreeing with Audrey, you're agreeing with me, even though you want to reinforce positive notions on the s'box... Which I completely understand.
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So in conclusion it wasn't all the sex you were having, it was his suspicion that you were a vagina elf drug dealer.

Mr. Leave Me Alone

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #82 on: January 25, 2009, 03:43:47 PM »

Oh, so by THAT logic, you weren't actually disagreeing with me!
 ;D


This is getting stupid.
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #83 on: January 25, 2009, 03:43:58 PM »

a hug vs. telling someone to fuck off? the hug should not have been flamed so quickly without further explanation. everyone loves hugs, no? however, she told niels to fuck off. unless niels is some kind of masochist (and we know he has his moments ;)) audrey's logic holds much substance.
I didn't flame anyone. I told you not to do it. I'm sorry I said it so bluntly, but I'm very touchy about this stuff. I don't really likes at all. Sometimes their nice, but only in certain circumstances, from certain people.
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Zephyr

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #84 on: January 25, 2009, 03:48:12 PM »

Because Alyss doesn't like being touched, the hug was just as negative to her as the words "fuck off."

you're wrong.
the hug was meant well
"fuck off" wasn't
it's completely different


but seriously, we were all just messing around, no need to get touchy about it.
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #85 on: January 25, 2009, 03:50:48 PM »

I told you to fuck off after it was already established that I didn't want one! And again when you asked me to write about my rape!
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Half Mar

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #86 on: January 25, 2009, 03:52:50 PM »

But maybe he meant well. It's good to let things out, talk about it. Write it off. Niels meant well, he's a good guy, he really is :)
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #87 on: January 25, 2009, 03:54:01 PM »

Sorry...

Well it wouldn't help anyway...I didn't even find out until last month.
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Bubblegum Britt

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #88 on: January 25, 2009, 03:55:48 PM »

Are we honestly arguing about an internet hug? Five characters in a thread post?
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dangerpants

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #89 on: January 25, 2009, 03:55:56 PM »

Oh, so by THAT logic, you weren't actually disagreeing with me!
 ;D


This is getting stupid.

I don't disagree with you, that's the silly part. :D  I'm just saying that there's no need for this argument to continue in the way that it has, especially since we're well aware of everyone's intentions at this moment.
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So in conclusion it wasn't all the sex you were having, it was his suspicion that you were a vagina elf drug dealer.

Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #90 on: January 25, 2009, 03:56:33 PM »

It means a lot more to me.
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Mr. Leave Me Alone

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #91 on: January 25, 2009, 03:57:09 PM »

Oh, so by THAT logic, you weren't actually disagreeing with me!
 ;D


This is getting stupid.

I don't disagree with you, that's the silly part. :D  I'm just saying that there's no need for this argument to continue in the way that it has, especially since we're well aware of everyone's intentions at this moment.

Heh. I actually agree with that, even if I fail at showing it.
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Zephyr

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #92 on: January 25, 2009, 03:57:35 PM »

Are we honestly arguing about an internet hug? Five characters in a thread post?

ohhh, it's not just about the hug, believe me.
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The King of Carrot Flowers

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #93 on: January 25, 2009, 03:58:17 PM »

Sorry...

Well it wouldn't help anyway...I didn't even find out until last month.
That doesn't necessarily mean it wouldn't help. If you've only admitted to yourself for about a month that you've been raped, then chances are there's quite a lot of this matter you're still dealing with.

It might be good to write about that. Just, you know, write without fear of criticism (you don't even have to post it here) and just say what you need to say.

I'm sorry if I'm not helping...
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buttercup.

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #94 on: January 25, 2009, 03:58:41 PM »

Okay. Let's channel all of this energy into essays, short stories, and woeful poetry. Alright? Alright.
I'll start.

I don't like when people fight
Even when it's online
Everytime they start to bite
I run around and around
"Hold the presses"
I scream
Please do not be mean
We're all people, we're all human
Unless you're not
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #95 on: January 25, 2009, 03:59:56 PM »

Sorry...

Well it wouldn't help anyway...I didn't even find out until last month.
That doesn't necessarily mean it wouldn't help. If you've only admitted to yourself for about a month that you've been raped, then chances are there's quite a lot of this matter you're still dealing with.

It might be good to write about that. Just, you know, write without fear of criticism (you don't even have to post it here) and just say what you need to say.

I'm sorry if I'm not helping...
Criticism?
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The King of Carrot Flowers

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #96 on: January 25, 2009, 04:00:44 PM »

Sorry...

Well it wouldn't help anyway...I didn't even find out until last month.
That doesn't necessarily mean it wouldn't help. If you've only admitted to yourself for about a month that you've been raped, then chances are there's quite a lot of this matter you're still dealing with.

It might be good to write about that. Just, you know, write without fear of criticism (you don't even have to post it here) and just say what you need to say.

I'm sorry if I'm not helping...
Criticism?
I suppose by that I just mean "write with the knowledge that nobody's opinion matters (in this instance) but your own".
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #97 on: January 25, 2009, 04:02:26 PM »

Sorry...

Well it wouldn't help anyway...I didn't even find out until last month.
That doesn't necessarily mean it wouldn't help. If you've only admitted to yourself for about a month that you've been raped, then chances are there's quite a lot of this matter you're still dealing with.

It might be good to write about that. Just, you know, write without fear of criticism (you don't even have to post it here) and just say what you need to say.

I'm sorry if I'm not helping...
Criticism?
I suppose by that I just mean "write with the knowledge that nobody's opinion matters (in this instance) but your own".
Damn right no-one else's opinion matters! Fuck em!
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Bubblegum Britt

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #98 on: January 25, 2009, 04:05:50 PM »

Oh, me next!

Alright, alright, I'll start
This negative energy breaks my heart
Because when the problem is resolved
A latecomer is the catalyst and it evolves
Into nonsensical and insensitive
Faux-witticism that lacks the analytical
Root of the true problem
And the surface gets goes higher
Until the foundation is forever hidden
And no one can remember
Who shot the shot
And no one can remember
Who yelled first
So everyone forgets and pretends to forgive
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dangerpants

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #99 on: January 25, 2009, 04:08:05 PM »

Alyss, have you ever read Alice Sebold's Lucky? It's basically a book detailing her own rape and her subsequent troubles and how she basically came back from it. It's not at all a textbook on the matter, but it's interesting. She didn't want to publish it for a while because she felt that therapeutic writing should not be sold for profit... But I'm glad she did. It's an intensely good book. It actually made me cry, which was something that I hadn't done in years (because of the meds I was on). If you feel like writing on your own bad experiences would be a bad idea, look to Ms Sebold. It's painful, but it helps in the long run.
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So in conclusion it wasn't all the sex you were having, it was his suspicion that you were a vagina elf drug dealer.

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #100 on: January 25, 2009, 04:10:43 PM »

oh oh. i like that. no no. i LOVE that.
that's probably what will happen, too. you, miss, are a MEDIUM.
i like you.

Are you referring to my poem... ('cause I hope you are)
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #101 on: January 25, 2009, 04:11:31 PM »

Alyss, have you ever read Alice Sebold's Lucky? It's basically a book detailing her own rape and her subsequent troubles and how she basically came back from it. It's not at all a textbook on the matter, but it's interesting. She didn't want to publish it for a while because she felt that therapeutic writing should not be sold for profit... But I'm glad she did. It's an intensely good book. It actually made me cry, which was something that I hadn't done in years (because of the meds I was on). If you feel like writing on your own bad experiences would be a bad idea, look to Ms Sebold. It's painful, but it helps in the long run.
I think I've read the beginning of it, back when I was 14. The problem is that I really have no proper memories of the rape at all. Like I said, I didn't even know it had happened until last month. When my doctor showed me the police report I had no idea what she was talking about.
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #102 on: January 25, 2009, 04:13:17 PM »

britt - yes i was :)

Lies to make you feel better. It was totally about me.  >:D
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #103 on: January 25, 2009, 04:14:04 PM »

britt - yes i was :)

Why, thank you very much. I like you as well.
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Haushinka

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #104 on: January 25, 2009, 06:38:25 PM »

oh oh. i like that. no no. i LOVE that.
that's probably what will happen, too. you, miss, are a MEDIUM.
i like you.

I love your new sig.
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #105 on: January 25, 2009, 08:45:29 PM »

*Hugs .sarah's rejected hug*
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Ms

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #106 on: January 25, 2009, 09:10:12 PM »

I want to put something up, but I dunno. It's not good. I just re-read the best thing I've ever written and it has plot holes and it's too sub-standard to post. Damn my lack of writing skill ~curses~
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #107 on: January 25, 2009, 11:26:53 PM »

Oh... on topic:

I used to want to be a writer, I would even write some stories & shit, I thought I was good at it, I read those some months ago and well... thanks god for Biomedical Engineering. It was beautiful as it lasted, I wrote a story about a girl who was a mess, like a really really big mess, probably it will never see the light. I have all of my shit work in a folder... a secret folder.
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Elle

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #108 on: January 26, 2009, 03:59:56 AM »

Huh. Is anyone else nervous to post actual writing examples? I mean, I plan to have my work published. I don't want it ripped off. And anything you post online can get ripped off....just sayin'.
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #109 on: January 26, 2009, 10:30:07 AM »

Huh. Is anyone else nervous to post actual writing examples? I mean, I plan to have my work published. I don't want it ripped off. And anything you post online can get ripped off....just sayin'.

Any work that you plan on having published you should have copyrighted. THis avoids these kinds of situations- you don't know who could steal your lappie or transcripts.
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #110 on: January 26, 2009, 10:31:51 AM »

Huh. Is anyone else nervous to post actual writing examples? I mean, I plan to have my work published. I don't want it ripped off. And anything you post online can get ripped off....just sayin'.

Anything I plan on publishing isn't online. I write a lot of stuff that probably will dust, so might as well show it off.
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #111 on: January 26, 2009, 10:49:49 AM »

I've got stuff hosted on DA, which gives you copyright: http://ladyalyss.deviantart.com/gallery/

Flaws: Don't be shy! The more you put, the more advice you get, and the more you practice, the better you'll be.
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Mockery

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #112 on: January 26, 2009, 11:26:11 AM »

Are we honestly arguing about an internet hug? Five characters in a thread post?
I was about to ask the same thing. I honestly love how we have gotten off topic.
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #113 on: January 26, 2009, 11:28:10 AM »

Shush shush! We're back on topic now, Flaws is going to post her stuff and we'll all give her tips.
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #114 on: January 26, 2009, 11:33:14 AM »

Shush shush! We're back on topic now, Flaws is going to post her stuff and we'll all give her tips.
Okay miss I don't want peole to touch me through the internet.
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #115 on: January 26, 2009, 11:35:15 AM »

Hey! :embarassed:
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #116 on: January 26, 2009, 11:40:45 AM »

Hey! :embarassed:
Sorry, I'll stop now. I'd give you a hug but you don't like that so I'll give you an air hug. *gives air hug*
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #117 on: January 26, 2009, 11:43:22 AM »

Thankyou... :-\
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #118 on: January 26, 2009, 11:50:44 AM »

Shush shush! We're back on topic now, Flaws is going to post her stuff and we'll all give her tips.

Am I? Um, well, okay. Judge as hard as you wish:

The first day, she shows up unannounced on her doorstep, smiling that crazed smile of hers and she bounces in and winks and says "Hi Anita!" like she was completely wanted, like nothing was wrong. Anita clenches her hands at the sight of her and tighter when she notices a yellow bruise on her cheekbone.
"Hello Zoe. Nice to see you."
"It feels like forever, doesn't it? But it's only been a month," Zoe says and sits on the couch. The moment is awkward and quiet and Anita feels sick for some reason.
"Want some tea?" she asks to fill the gap and Zoe nods quietly and turns to watch the TV.
In the kitchen, Anita tries to breathe. She tries to focus on the tea, and she fills the kettle up and fetches the cups and ingredients with expert precision. She is calmer when the tea is done and she walks out and gives Zoe her cup. They drink it in silence and pretend to watch TV. There are unanswered questions and truths hanging around them like fallen streamers, tangling in their hair and making things so difficult.

"A storm is coming," the weather man with a soft voice informs them from the television and she switches the channel.

They hardly speak for the rest of the night.

"I need to borrow some clothes," she states towards the end of the night and leaves the room, and Anita closes her eyes and counts backwards from ten. Calming thoughts of places she wishes to visit in Mexico next year help, but Zoe comes back quick enough wearing a blue night dress and a smirk on her face to bid her goodnight and she wants to make the bruise bigger.

The air was still thick, but she put this down to the storm and locks up all the windows tight. Branches scratched at the glass panes asking to be let in, but she shut the thick cotton curtains and turned her back. Rain splattered on the roof and she crawled up in bed and stared at her alarm clock. When she is woken two hours later, blonde hair tickling her elbow and a quiet voice whispering "Anita?" over and over she is not surprised. She flips over and glares but Zoe ignores it and says "There are twenty four letters separating our names."

Anita closes her eyes and tries to go back to sleep.

The second day she wakes up to a pointed chin digging into her collarbone and blue eyes watching her.
"I have to work," she sighs and moves out from underneath her.
"Do you have to? I thought that we could do something?"
Anita stands up and tries to get the itchiness out of her scalp.
"I can't just stay home. I'm not going to waste my sick days like that," she can practically feel the hurt look even with her back turned so she turns to face her, "Besides, what would we do?"
"We could go to a restaurant? Then walk around, have an adventure?" Zoe sits up excited, a happy spark in her eyes. The dress she borrowed is too big and hangs off her awkwardly leaving a pool of negative space between the material and her chest.
Funny. Anita thought they used to be the same size.
"Maybe when I finish my shift. Go out and buy some clothes and whatever else you need and then call me at around three and we'll see."
"I haven't got any money," she says nonchalantly but she shifts nervously in bed. It takes all the strength Anita has not to roll her eyes. She can't take this anymore.
"What happened?"
Silence floods the room.
"I don't want to talk about it right now."
"Fine. Just, fine! Be like that. My money's in my purse, I know that's what you want. I'm having a shower," Anita snaps and snatches clothes from her wardrobe. Her movements are sharp and angry and Zoe is soft and sad and Anita can almost feel her break.

She doesn't stomp out or slam the door, but she rips her clothes off and avoids her eyes in the mirror. Her alarm clock goes off loudly from her room and she laughs bitterly. The wind is still howling and it must be cold out because it takes so long for the water to heat up.
Calming down is what she has to do. It wouldn't be Zoe if there wasn't drama, she reminds herself, it wouldn't be Zoe if she wasn't spending all her time getting into trouble and taking all her stuff. Halfway through washing her hair she realizes she was thinking about the situation so much she can't remember whether she was up to conditioning her hair or not. In the end it wasn't worth it, so she washes out whatever the heck is in her hair and turns the water off.

When she leaves for work fifteen minutes later Zoe is nowhere to be seen and her purse has been moved.
She was wrong about her being broken.
Work was hard and monotonous and just as tiring as every other day. It was a large office but somehow it always stunk of body odor and the lunches of thirteen other people. She answered phone calls and typed up documents and photocopied and counted down the minutes.

"I heard Zoe is back in town?" asks one of her co workers, Nina, during a smoke break.
"Yeah, she is."
"She staying with you?"
Anita nods her head. Nina snorts.
"God, I wouldn't let her in my house after everything she did."
"What happened?" asks one of the new employees bravely. Nina looks thrilled at the chance to gossip. Anita bites down on her cigarette. "I can't do this," she thinks, "I can't do this." People walk past in a hurry, they are looking but they don't really see a thing, they speak but they don't say anything and Anita must be breathing but she can't feel a thing.
"Zoe was the last assistant here, not that you'd know it. She was awful at her job. Anyway," Nina pauses and glances at Anita for a second but Anita doesn't say a thing so she continues, "There was a man who worked here. His name was Joe. Not Joe in Accounting, a different Joe. Worked in the IT department. So one day Zoe isn't at her desk and Joe isn't picking up the phone so David gets pissed and does this big search. Turns out they were getting it on in Conference Room B. David fired them both on the spot and Zoe started crying and stuff and Joe, he just walks out. The next anyone knows Zoe's left town and Joe's in the hospital after a suicide attempt. He's fine now apparently. He's moving down south, to Goondi, I think."
"Wow. It all sounds pretty dramatic."
"You have no idea kid."

When Anita goes big in, her head is screaming and her palms hurt from digging her fingernails into her palms.
The phone doesn't stop ringing for the rest of the day but none are from Zoe. She signs out and says goodbye to everyone and catches the bus home. The house is empty and silent and the cold of the morning had dissipated hours ago and left behind hot humidity. She can't breathe so she throws open all the windows and tries to shoo it out but it had already made itself at home. Everything is wrong, everything feels wrong and she slumps down onto the couch and thanks God she's alone.

Then Zoe comes through the door wearing her favourite shirt and a sheepish smile. Anita stares up at her with blank eyes and the running commentary in her head screams "Didn't we used to understand each other? Can't she see something is wrong?" But Zoe just smiles back and says "I'm ready to talk.”
So Zoe talks and Anita listens, just like every other time.

"After I left, I went upstate to stay with Rachel and Jason, remember them? They live up in the big city now and they said I could crash there? You know I love it there and after I got fired I felt like I needed to get away. You may belong to these small towns but don't you ever feel like you are suffocating? That's how I feel. Anyway, I took a bus up there, this five hour long drive. There was this man," she leans forward and Anita adds another mark to her mental tally of stories that seem to include this fact, "He had a lisp and he was Italian. We met on the bus and we spent the whole time talking. He held my hand and helped me down the stairs. It was all so nice. So I gave him my mobile number but I didn't really expect him to ring. So, like, the third day I'm there my phone is going off and I was like 'what!?' because I didn't think anyone would be calling and it was him. He asked me out and I was like 'hell yes!' except not like that because I didn't want him to think I was too keen, you know? The date was fantastic. It was all so fantastic but we were moving so fast but I was just like go with the flow, you know? We'd been dating like three weeks and he was like move in with me and I thought Rachel and Jason were starting to get a bit annoyed, so I said yes. But then one day I came out and he started yelling and saying I looked like a whore and I should be ashamed of myself. I started to go out less because I didn't want to annoy him. One day Jason called and he punched me in the face and as soon as that happened I was like 'oh shit' so I locked myself in the bathroom and climbed out the window. That's why I had no clothes or money. Rachel and Jason let me borrow the money to come back. I got so lucky. I keep thinking about how close I came to destruction."
The silence filled the room and Zoe bit her lip. She looked so small that Anita reached out and hugged her and Zoe clung on and sobbed.
In the back of her head she wondered what the hell Zoe had been thinking moving in with someone after three weeks but for the first time in so long she felt sympathy with the girl.

On the third day, Zoe made her breakfast.
"Toast and fruit! I was going to make pancakes but you've moved everything around since I was last here," and Anita smiled and thanked her, not having the guts to tell her that she rarely ate breakfast because it always made her stomach upset so she ate a piece of toast before saying she had to run off for the bus.
"Take a piece of toast!" Zoe insisted so Anita sighed and took it, hurrying off to work. She ate the toast on the bus, much to the annoyance of the driver.

Work was worse because by now everyone had heard of Zoe's return and wanted the scoop. They would waddle over, lunch in hand and ask and she said "yes, she is. She's well, thank you for asking" and nothing more causing them to shuffle back to their desks in a disgruntled manner.
On the fourth day Zoe showed up at lunch time. She ignored the stares and the whispers of "How can she show her face here?"
"Got time for lunch?" she asked in a bored manner, glaring at a miniature red telescope "Is this new?"
"Yes it is. I like it."
"It's hideous," she paused to toy with it, "So do you have time?"
The phone rang loudly, the little light blinking in their face.
"After this."
Anita picked up the phone to immediately be bitched out by a customer and Zoe tried to see what her old desk looked like now. Nina took this as her opportunity and stalked over.
"Hi Zoe," she said stiffly.
"Yo Nina. The weight loss is going well. You look like you've lost a few kilos."
"Thank you," she paused before adding, "I'm surprised you decided to show your face."
"I'm surprised that in the month and a half I've been away your face has gained more wrinkles."
Nina sucked her cheeks in and Anita tried not to laugh and focus on the upset customer.
"You should be ashamed."
"Oh Nina! You sound just like a wife," Zoe dropped down to one knee, "Marry me Nina."
Nina stormed off to fume elsewhere and Zoe yelled out "You know you want to!" before nearly collapsing with laughter. Zoe crawled back over and began to go through the drawers, pulling things out and putting them in her pockets.
Anita hung up and began to gather up her stuff.
"You're a brave person, I'll give you that."
"For going up against Nina?" Zoe raised an eyebrow and stood up, "It's not that hard. Just tell her to fuck off one day, she'll cry forever."
Anita decided that ignoring her was her only option. "Where are we going?"
"Don't care, I just want to eat. I called the bank this morning and got my cards canceled. Also got some money out, so I'm good for a while."
"I'll bet. Let's go to the restaurant over the street."

They walked in silence. The thick cloud cover didn't prevent the heat and the weight of it pressed down on her skull. She picked at the skin of her fingers so much she felt them bleed.
They decided to share an expensive meal and Zoe smiled at her and Anita's skin prickled.
"Is it just me or has this place gotten more expensive in the time I've been away? Because that's crazy. I was only away like a month or some-"
"That's not what I meant about being brave."
Zoe frowned. "What?"
"When I said you were brave back at the office. I meant that you showed up. You could have called."
"What do I care what they think? They already thought I was whore."
"Did you know Joe tried to kill himself?"
There was a pause and Zoe frowned even more.
"No," she opened her mouth to say something, but changed her mind. She shook her head a little. "When?"
"The day after you left. I went to visit him, but no one was there. When I got home, his mother had left me a message on my phone."
"Did you visit him?"
"Yeah. I couldn't not."
"Is he alright now?"
The waiter came and gave them their drinks, interrupting the flow. Zoe fiddled with her straw before taking a sip.
"I don't know. I haven't talked to him for a while. Nina says he's moving to Goondi."
"I thought you would have been all over him? Why not?"
Anita bit her lip, and closed her eyes. "You know why."
"I thought you were over that."
"He was my fiancé!" She hissed, "Of course I'm not. I don't think I will be for a while. Shit Zoe, it's been a month. That may be a long time for you, time enough for you to move on, but not me."
"I wasn't moving on! I wasn't. God," she took a breath, "I was going through some shit. I grabbed hold of what I could."
"You were going through shit?! What about me? Do you ever think about me Zoe? In your messed up little head, did it ever occur to you that people would be hurt by this? I sit through you with this crap, year after year and I love you and you give me this."
"Like it was all my fault! He played a part too."
"We aren't talking about him!" Anita's breath was coming fast now, she had to calm down.
Ten,
"Come on, Anita,"
Nine,
"I made a mistake,"
Eight,
"A big one. I can never justify it,"
Seven,
"And I am so, so sorry,"
Six,
"But right now I can't deal with this,"
Five,
"There's more on my mind,
Four,
"Bigger issues on my mind."
Three,
"You have to understand,"
Two,
"You are the only one who understands,"
One,
"I love you."
Anita slammed her hands down onto the table.
"No. I can't do this anymore. When did this get so hard? When did I spend my time tip toeing around you to spare your feelings because I couldn't deal with the crap that came with it? When did it get so God damn hard to give a damn about you? When did we stop caring about each other so much? When did you become such a self absorbed snot rag, content only to ruin everyone else's lives? Well, I can't do it. This is it, Zoe. I just can't deal with it anymore."
She stormed out and ran back to the office, where she tried to look as calm as possible before finding her way to the bathroom where she locked herself in and cried.

David must have gotten wind of what had happened and sent Nina in to tell her she could go home early if she wanted. She sat there and stared at the dirty floor and Nina's high heeled black shoes on the other side of the stall door and tried to remind herself that no matter what you can live anything down instead of focusing on the painful ache of embarrassment on her skin.
Thunder cracked and Anita walked home in the rain. She loved the rain. Little droplets touched her skin and she felt like maybe this was good. This was change, things could only get better. She watched people run to avoid it but she just walked.
She wasn't okay, she wasn't but things would get better.
Zoe didn't show up again.
Twenty five days without her. Twenty five days of peace. Twenty five days were she was left alone with her thoughts and no incessant talking. Then on the twenty sixth day she gets a phone call from a grieving brother who sobs "She's dead she's dead" down the crackly phone line and that night she sleeps in the spare room on the sheets she still hadn't changed for twenty six days and wondered why there was always so much separating them.
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Elle

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #119 on: January 26, 2009, 12:08:57 PM »

Yeah, but copyrights get ignored ALL the time on the internet, and I don't really have the resources to do anything about it.

The way I see it, I'll keep anything that I plan to publish in my own files. But I might post something that I wrote just for fun, if we are posting things. :]
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #120 on: January 26, 2009, 12:34:22 PM »

Okay...
Well, this isn't actually as bad as you made out it'd be. It needs work, but there's plenty of good material to work with here.

In general, it needs tidying. You mix up your tenses a lot, miss commas, and jumble the sentences. Go through it and do a general spring clean.

The second thing is the end paragraph: far too sudden. You can't kill Zoe off like that. I don't think you should kill her off at all in fact, you just don't need to and there's no indication earlier that it'll happen. I do like that Anita doesn't change the sheets in the spare room though; try to keep that in without killing Zoe, because it's a really lovely moment.

The dialogue needs some fiddling too. Sometimes it feels like they're talking for too long, or saying too much. Zoe's big speech in particular does this. I appreciate she does need to say what she says, but she shouldn't say it in that way. Make it shorter, and more serious. Moving from her hyperactivity and playfulness to her crying doesn't work either; tone her down, make it more a process of breaking down and not of talking in a stream.

So yeah, you've got some work ahead of you, but I really like the bones of what you've got. Keep at it!
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Ms

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #121 on: January 26, 2009, 12:41:19 PM »

I reeeeeeeeeeeeally have trouble with tenses. I don't know why, I just do. I have gone over this thing four times and I still can't get it right.

The reason Zoe dies was because this was the beginning of a murder mystery and it was going to be muuuuuch longer and I really don't want to change that. I agree that it moves too fast though. I haven't had any inspiration for this so it got abandoned a long time ago.

Zoe's speech was deliberate in the way that it was said because that's how I imagine she speaks and I know people who, even in the middle of a break down, will speak like that. But I'm not overly fond of it and I think bits do need to be changed around and fixed but I can't really be bothered working on it anymore. Thank you for the feedback, it was really good.
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #122 on: January 26, 2009, 12:44:32 PM »

Honey, you can't let this thing die, it's got real promise! Even if you don't want to work on it, can I adapt it into a script? I won't even flog it or anything, I'll just write it and give it back to you.
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Ms

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #123 on: January 26, 2009, 12:46:54 PM »

Sure! I you want to. I wrote it ages ago in a non serious manner and I don't think I ever really intended to work on it. I have at least four other ideas in my head that I want to write but am too scared to or whatever. I'm not very good when it comes to writing. But yeah, go ahead.
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #124 on: January 26, 2009, 12:48:02 PM »

Sweet! I'll get right onto it, this is going to be awesome!
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Bubblegum Britt

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #125 on: January 26, 2009, 03:27:21 PM »

This is something I wrote over the summer:

Jack and Liz rested in bed together in their New York apartment.  It had been one of those quiet days, where everything was perfect between them.  Liz ran her fingers through Jack's sandy brown hair, and she wondered how she could ever find a man so perfect as he.  His eyes, his nose, his scar from a bike accident, and every other slight imperfection seemed like an enhancement to her.  It gave notice that she was not dreaming, and that he actually wanted her.  Liz was 20 years old, and Jack was her first kiss, lover, boyfriend; her first everything.  Liz Arden was slightly awkward and frumpy; one might say she had a plain appearance, and the only thing that stood out about her was her weight. She blamed this attribute as the reason no male was interested in her, but she refused to do anything about it, claiming pride and dignity as the reasons.

Jack sat up slightly and kissed Liz. "Lizzie, do you remember the first night we spent together?"
"You mean the first night we had sex? Yes, I remember it."
"You told me you loved it, that it wasn't like you expected it to be.  Now, this is important. Were you lying to me or did you mean it?"
"Jack, of course I did.  Why with the questions?"
"I might need you to recreate that night for me, with a friend of mine."
Liz completely sat upright. "Why?"
"I am in a bit of debt to him, and I don't have a method of supplying the money to him, babe. If there was another way I could try, but there isn't and--"
"--How much debt?"
"About 300."
"Why did you borrow 300 dollars?"
"I was in a bout with a loan shark, you know how my gambling was, but that was before I met you, doll. Anyway, this guy was out for my ass, and Manny was there to give me the dough, and he said that as long as I repaid him, then I could have it."
"Jack, when was this?"
"About a year ago. Then the other day, right before I saw you in the store, he comes up to me, says he needs the money real bad."
"And what did you say?"
"I told him I didn't have it, and if there was any other way I could repay him, then I would do it. That's when he mentioned the sex."

Liz got up from the bed and retrieved her coat from the hanger.
"Lizzie, baby, where ya goin'? It's rainin' cats and dogs out there."
"I don't care, Jack Stevenson. Wherever I'm going, it's not going to be where you are, and I wouldn't care if that was the 5th ring of hell right now."
Jack got up and blocked the door. "You didn't hear me out, Elizabeth."
"Hear you out? You want me to whore myself so you can settle some gambling debt!"
"Lizzie, but he likes girls like you, with a little extra meat. He wants to go out on a real night on the town, with you paying for everything of course.  Just dinner and a night cap at a decent hotel, and that's it."
"That's it? You men, it's always simple when a woman has to objectify her body. I knew I should have stayed in Georgia!"
"Oh, Georgia, Georgia! You and this going back to damn Georgia all the time. You didn't, did you? You came back to New York to be here with me, because I took you when no one else wanted you. I did you that favor, and now you won't do the same for me! How do you think that makes me feel?"
Liz stopped and thought.  She hated it when he did things like that because she actually believed him, and what he said had some truth to it.  He was the only one. 

She sat down back on the bed and looked up at Jack.  "One night, huh? Just dinner and sex?"
He knelt down so he was eye level with her. "One night, darling. And you have to pretend that you're a virgin, he gets off on that stuff. Come on, I'll have my sister give you a little makeover, find something to dress you up nice.  It'll be over before you know it."
"I don't know about this, Jackie.  I saw that guy, and he looks a little sketchy."
"Who? Manny? He's not like my other friends, babe.  This one has real heart. He's just a little down on his luck."  She looked at him incredulously.
"Lizzie, he looked at you one time, and he wanted you, I could see it in his eyes, babe.  Do you know how proud that made me feel? To see that some guy wanted my broad? Just give him a little show, and I won't ask you to do anything like this ever again."
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Bubblegum Britt

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #126 on: January 26, 2009, 03:39:35 PM »

And I know the first paragraph sucks. I don't do well with description of characters...I think that should come out during the dialogue, so that's what I focus on.
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Alyss

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #127 on: January 26, 2009, 03:45:48 PM »

Hmm...okay. There's a few problems here but they're easily ironed out.
-The dialogue's nice, but a little jerky...I feel like the characters are saying too much. Try for a little less detail, while still getting the message across.
-Same goes for the description. First paragraph in particular, far too much detail. You need to stretch this piece out a bit, feed in the details as you go rather than lumping them all together.
-This'll be easier if you make the piece longer. As it is, it feels unfinished. We've got the build up, but not the resolution. Your conflict (essential in any fiction) is established, so now see where it goes, run with it.
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #128 on: January 26, 2009, 03:47:47 PM »

No, never had a head for it. I just don't understand it, not anything about it.
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #129 on: January 26, 2009, 04:31:15 PM »

Woo, copyrighted! Ok. This is a something I wrote up a few months ago. It's original and all that jazz. Uhm. There's a shit-ton of backstory, but I wrote it to stand alone. Copyrighted because she's probably going to find her way into one of my books, although if this scene is there, it will be changed all up, refined, corrected, etc. Yep. Uhh....con/crit if you want. Here goes. It isn't titled.



Rain was flowing down the glass of the little cafe, those small rivulets of water pouring down the window, reflecting the neon colors of the signs outside all over the dimly lit room. Blue eyes glassy and unfocused, Demi tracked their progress silently, so seemingly unaware of her surroundings that the waitress wasn't even bothering to offer to refill her cup anymore; Demi hadn't responded to her questions in nearly an hour. The waitress didn't mind, though. This girl always came here and she always left a large tip...or, at least her boyfriend did. Or, at least the waitress assumed he was the girl's boyfriend. They never kissed or showed any overt physical affection, but the sexual tension was absolutely palpable. A lot of the girls took bets on what they were, exactly, but week after week, nothing new happened.

But the girl had never been this upset before, and she had never waited so long for the gentleman friend...what did it mean?

The waitress looked over in time to see the girl's shoulders shake in an apparent sob, and though she felt bad for her, she wasn't at all sure what she could do, if anything, to help her out. Maybe she and the older man had a spat, and that was why she was here! Or even worse, what if something awful had happened to him, and she was here, grieving her unrequited love! It was purely romantic speculation, but she couldn't help it! She turned with a huff, tears threatening to sting at her own eyes as she retreated to the kitchen, bent on sharing her revelations with the cooks.

It was at that moment, with her back turned to the door, that the mysterious gentleman walked in. He was not hurt or maimed or otherwise in a position to be grieved, though he did look quite solemn. His eyes landed on the sad-eyed girl and he made his way quickly to her. Had the waitress not retreated to the kitchens, had she been watching, she might have noticed the way that he sat on the same side of the booth that the girl sat on, a first for them. She might have noticed that his hand slipped under her shirt in the back, that she didn't even acknowledge him until his fingers moved down toward her hips, at which point she flinched and turned to face him.

It was plain to see that she had been crying. He knew what day it was, that it was a bad day for her, that she could be strong and happy and mainly normal on other days but that this one was off limits....he had been aware of that. He knew that she had been waiting here for him for nearly two hours, but he had been in a meeting. Just coming here had required a phone call to his wife and a somewhat complicated series of excuses. After driving around for half an hour looking for a place to park and then walking through the rain for five blocks to get here, he felt rather annoyed, but it melted away in that moment when her eyes locked with his. Their usual brilliant blue was washed out, faded as though the tears had diluted them, all mascara and eyeliner was long since gone, the skin around them puffy and red. She was a mess. She was beautiful.

The apparent gash on her back worried him. He had asked her not to cut this year but she had promised him nothing, and nothing was exactly what he had received. He wasn't sure what to do or what to say; this was the first time she had sought him out on this day. She usually insisted on grieving alone. Her face contorted with more tears and she threw herself against him, and he found his arms wrapping around her without a trace of reluctance. He couldn't deny her...it would be his undoing, he was sure of it.

"Harry, I'm sorry..." she said, her voice shaking with an effort to suppress another sob. "I tried to stop myself but I.....I can't..." her thin form was shaking like a leaf in his arms, even as his fingers stroked down her back, even as he allowed himself to place a kiss on her head. "Demi..." he murmured quietly, not knowing what else to say and offering the feeble comfort of her name, spoken aloud and accompanied by his embrace. Her tears were soaking through the fabric of his shirt, but he wasn't about to pull away. Besides, he liked the feel of her in his arms, the warmth of her body pressed tightly to his. Perhaps it was wrong to enjoy this, but he had long ago accepted the fact that there were very few things that weren't wrong with his feelings for Demi. As horrible as it was, he couldn't help but wonder if she was willing to accept that now as well.

"I...oh, Harry you....you can't....I can't....I can't go home tonight...not....not alone." His eyebrows raised slightly, his fingers now wandering through her soft hair. At once, he felt as though he should chastise himself for immediately allowing his mind to go there, but he had longed for this moment for nearly two years now...ever since the first day he had asked her to stay after class. Demi, in her Salvation Army clothes, with her gaunt cheeks and those junkie sores, barely healed enough to be scars. Her skin clung to her bones and her eyes held the kind of broken determination that could break anyone if they looked too long. Her hair was stringy and short, and her bag looked like she had found it dumpster diving. It was the second week of class, and he had found himself unable to refrain from catching her attention, from asking her to meet him after the lecture. There was no real rhyme or reason to why he desired her so; he loved his wife and their children. He found no more dissatisfaction in his marriage than anyone else, and he certainly didn't want it to end.

Still, he couldn't get this broken girl out of his mind.

And so he had asked her to stay after class, not thinking until later that he might need a reason to do such a thing. As she approached him, his mind spun until he wasn't sure what to say at all, and so he simply asked her to begin coming to private study sessions twice per week. She was far too brilliant to require independent tutoring, but she still came to those sessions twice per week, hungry, perhaps, for a little kindness or perhaps affection, both things that he was more than willing to give. Eventually, he learned more about her; the drugs, the prostitution. Her parents were his contemporaries, and after knowing that they had caused her such pain, it was difficult for him to look them in the eye at dinner parties and other societal functions.

Even though he made a point of making his desires ascertainable, if not apparent, she never gave any inkling that she would give in. She kept a physical barrier between them, granting him the occasional half hug or hand squeeze, but never anything more. Nothing suggestive. She needed a place to go over the summer, so he offered her a job as nanny to his children. Having her around the house was both a joy and a torture; their piano had never received so much use, but having her so close and denying himself...

Of course the children loved her. Of course they always begged for her to care for them. His desire for her grew, but knowing her past, he couldn't be too overt. He bought her things, little trinkets at first, but as time moved on, his gifts rose in value. She was sensitive to this, sometimes casting him a questioning look, but always smiling, always thanking him. He couldn't make it seem as though he were trying to buy her love; that would be the worst sort of insult. Still, she had to know that these things he bought were expressions of his feelings for her.

Finally one night she invited him to the cabaret where she danced, and he thought for sure that she reciprocated his feelings, his desire, and he had been quite happy to go...but even after nearly an entire night drinking and laughing together, she still maintained those boundaries between them. It had nearly driven him crazy, and had made the job of excusing his all-night absence on a Friday an even more loathsome task. She had opened up to him, she had told him things that he never would have expected her to share, and he had done everything he could think to do to help her; still, she kept her distance.

But tonight, now, this was different. She had allowed him to touch her. She had flung herself into his arms. And perhaps most interesting of all, she had asked him to stay with her...in so many words. Still carding his fingers through her hair, he softly replied, "Are you sure, Demi?"

Another sob caught itself in her throat and she gave him a nod, nuzzling into his neck, her fingers curling into his shirt as she absorbed all the comfort that he had to give. It was so, so wrong, and even now a hot knife of guilt was tearing through her, but there was nothing else to be done. She needed to feel the love, the acceptance that he would give her. It may have been perverse in all sorts of ways, in every way, but she knew that he would hold her, that he would kiss her, and despite it's nature, his love for her was genuine....she was sure of that. By receiving it, by refraining from the denial that had characterized their relationship up until this point, she knew that she was wronging someone else. That she was taking things that didn't belong to her. But he was willing, and she was so, so broken.

Pulling away, her washed-out eyes found his, searching for something (though she didn't know what) in those calm, brown pools, vindication or perhaps reproach. Whatever it was that she sought, she found nothing there but comfort, and as his fingers brushed across her pale cheeks, wiping away the tell-tale signs of her tears, she found herself unable to say no to him. Unable to resist the pull of the security than only he could provide.

They left the cafe without another word, sliding into the leather seats of his car, her fingers twining through his, never leaving his grasp as they drove to a place where he knew they could be alone. He made the commute to the university daily, but at times he had to work late, or arrive at the school exceptionally early. For those days they kept a tiny studio apartment in the same town as the school. There was nothing strange or out of place about him staying the night in that place, and for that he was especially thankful. After situating Demi and putting water on for tea, he slipped down the hall and called his wife. He had considered this situation many, many times, what he would say, how best to avoid sounding suspicious or worse, guilty. Even though the words came with relative ease, he had not expected the pain or the guilt that came with the lie. The other times he had been out with Demi, things had been innocent, even if not by his choice. This time, neither of their intentions were at all pure, and somehow, that changed everything.

He found himself back in the tiny apartment, the girl that had so long been the object of his desire now curled up on the couch, a steaming mug clasped defiantly in her hands. Even just the simple act of making her own cup of tea seemed to speak volumes in that moment. It was as though she were asserting that, while she needed him, she was still perfectly capable of taking care of herself. It was a bluff, a fact that was apparent to them both.

He offered her a sad sort of smile, and though she stared oddly at him, she stood and set her tea on the table. She walked toward the bed, her movement beckoning him closer, and he obediently followed. His coat found it's way to the chair next to the bed, his shoes slipped off before he crawled in beside her. Normally, all this empty space would have been filled with their words, the banter that flowed between them. Now, words were replaced with actions; the intensity of her need, of his desire. Their eyes spoke more than their tongues could have said, their hands communicating truths that they were previously too afraid to acknowledge. Both were overwhelmed with need, seeking satiation somewhere in that bed. In the end, each found what they sought.

Words seemed superfluous now, each of them lying there, staring at the other. His fingers moved over her back, finding the thick scar that sat just above the wound that she must have created earlier that day. Two scars. Two years since the death of her son, the product of her addiction. It fascinated him that she wore her pain like that, imprinted eternally on her body, the signs of it undeniable and haunting all at the same time. "What was his name?" He murmured softly, the light of the lamp next to the bed reflecting gold in his eyes. He saw tears rising up before she spoke, just a moment after he realized that his fingers were playing across her recent wound.

"Jacin." Her naked form shuddered beneath the thin sheet. "Jacin Mateus Jord." 
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #130 on: January 26, 2009, 04:39:54 PM »

I'll get to this later, I'm kind og burned out right now...
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Mockery

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #131 on: January 26, 2009, 06:24:14 PM »

I use my DA account for writings. I posted this short story yesterday. i don't really think its any good but I've gotten a few good comments so who knows!

Mahogany's Baby
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #132 on: September 05, 2009, 03:30:45 PM »

I posted this in Shameless...it's called Have you seen my Frog?
It's about a stuffed frog, an eccentric rock star's assistant, a neurotic young woman with unrequited love, and the man that's actually in love with her.
Also there's drag queens, drug usage, several different kinds of alcohol, and smelly things.
SO HAVE YOU SEEN MY FROG?
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Indja

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #133 on: September 05, 2009, 04:23:15 PM »

I just wrote an article about working in the library for my dad's online magazine - it'll most likely be published next month. Anyway, here's a sneak peek for any of you who aren't already subscribers to The Leisure Review!

As a child, I used to love going to the library. I remember the thrill of seeing shelves filled with books towering above me, seeming to scrape the very heavens; the hallowed sense of calm that filled this cathedral of words; how people dropped their voices upon entering, their whispers adding to the holy, church-like atmosphere; and the awe and slight terror of handing over my carefully chosen books to the huge but gentle woman behind the desk, known only as “the Lady” – “Give your books to the Lady, dear”, “No, the Lady has to stamp them first”, “Don’t lick the money, sweetheart, the Lady has to touch that later”. O, how I admired the Lady! So calm, so quiet, so infinitely wise, she seemed wholly unearthly and yet somehow, strangely familiar.
These memories came flooding back to me on my first day as an employee of Derbyshire County Council, when I saw a frazzled-looking woman turn to the smallest of her spawn and say, “Lydia, give your card to the Lady.”
She was referring to me.
I’m the Lady.
I was so flustered I could barely stamp straight.

I’ve been working as relief staff for the local library for around six months now, and I’ve not only handled my fair share of spitty pennies, I’ve also been snotted on, sneered about, shouted at and referred to as “the young girl on the desk who doesn’t know anything”. The world of book-lending is more sinister and mystifying than you could ever imagine, and significantly more surreal. I finish each day half-expecting Tim Burton to pop out from the local heritage section, or Davina McCall to swoop in and tell me I’m the unwitting star of a new piece of reality TV based on a combination of The Truman Show and Twin Peaks.
   The majority of the strangeness comes from the regulars. My personal favourite is Mr Davies, a very sweet little man of around sixty-odd who meets all the requirements of a Good Customer; he’s polite, patient, and only ever asks me to do one thing at a time. He also smells nice, a quality I find shamefully lacking in the general public.
   Mr Davies comes into the library at six o’ clock every weekday evening to use the computer for an hour. When he leaves, he books the same computer at the same time for the next night. He comes in, I say, “Evening, Mr Davies. Computer Six for an hour, is it?” and night after night he replies with genuine surprise, “Oh, goodness, how did you know?”
   Because you’ve been on Computer Six for an hour five nights a week for at least twenty four weeks, Mr Davies, I think to myself. Out loud I say, “Oh, just a good guess”. We’ve had this conversation around one hundred and seventy times now. It still amuses me.
   Of course, not all of our customers are as satisfying to deal with as Mr Davies. There’s Wheezy Sidebottom who phones up every so often seemingly with the sole purpose of finding an audience for her clearing the phlegm off her chest. Paul Who Prints comes in just before Mr Davies and spends an hour printing off pictures of fancy dress costumes; werewolves, astronauts, superheroes, he is wholly indiscriminate in his choices. So indiscriminate, in fact, that despite print-outs being twenty-five pence each, I’ve never known him to leave with less than twelve pounds worth of pages under his arm. There’s Bad Dad, who’s children seem to think his instructions are some sort of strange bird-call; Panic Attack flaps in every fortnight or so convinced that all her books are over-due, that there’s at least six she’s left at home by accident and that we’ve now switched from a ten-pence-a-day fine to demanding a blood sacrifice as payment; and Starey Mary, while equally as well-mannered as the lovely Mr Davies, would unnerve a Navy Seal with her ability to hold eye-contact. I’m beginning to doubt she has eyelids at all, like some kind of book-wielding lizard.
   Grimmest of the grim, however, is Shirley, who instils such dread in me that I daren’t even give her a nickname. Shirley is three times the size of me in every direction, speaks only in booms and shrieks and she knows my name.
   The first time I came across Shirley, I was doing an evening shift – five to seven – an she came roaring in at six forty-five with sixteen Mills & Boon books to return. She then took five minutes choosing sixteen others, found she’d read half of them already and insisted on taking them back and choosing some more. She did this three times before she was satisfied. Then Shirley asked me to put a request in for her for three books that she’d forgotten the names of by Amanda Lee – all Mills & Boon, of course. After searching the database of every library in the county, Googling ferociously and finally checking the Mills & Boon website, Shirley realised it wasn’t Amanda Lee at all, but Miranda Lee. All three books were on our shelves.
   Somewhere in this ordeal, I let slip my name – a folly I have lived to regret many times over. Shirley now announces herself by bellowing out across the desk, “No, I’ll talk to Helen, thank you – she’s such a helpful girl!” And I must take a deep breath, count to ten slowly and turn my grimace into a grin before spending twenty minutes hunting down The Italian Millionaire’s Love Affair With His Brother’s Ex-Wife.
   A weaker will would have broken by now, but I find strength in the knowledge that Shirley is wrong. I’m not a helpful girl.

I’m no kind of girl at all.

I am the Lady.
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Savannah

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #134 on: January 01, 2011, 10:05:51 PM »

So here's the thing i wrote to laugh. Please excuse me Canadian people. It's not that i don't like the snow, but i live in a country where the weather very rarely goes subzero.



12th of august: Dear diary, i moved to my new house in Canada. I'm so excited. It's so beautiful here. The landscape of the mountains is so wonderful. I can't wait to see them when they're covered with snow.

14th of october: Canada is the most wonderful place of the world. Leaves turned to orange and red. I made a countryside trip riding a horse, and saw some Canadian deers. They were so beautiful. Probably the mostt beautiful creatures in the whole world. This must be heaven. I like it here a lot.

11th of novamber: The deer hunting season is starting. I can't understand how they can aim to kill such wonderful creatures. I hope it snows soon. I love here.

2nd of december: It snowed last night. I woke up in the midnight to see everywhere is covered with this beautiful white blanket. It's like a postcard. We went out and played snowball, then we had to clean the snow out of the garage and stairs. When the snow clearing machine has come we had to clean the snows out of the garage again. It's a nice place and i like it.

12th of december: It snowed more last night. We had to clean the snow out of the garage again. I like here.

19th of december: It snowed a lot more last night. I couldn't go out of the garage with my car. It's a beautiful country but i'm so tired of cleaning the snow. Damn snow cleaning machine!

22nd of december: It snowed a little more of this white shit last night. My hands got blistered because of shoveling the snow out. The silly snow cleaner machine man is watching me form the corner till i clean all the snow, then he drives the machine and it covers my garage again.

25th of december: It's fucking new years! It snowed again. If i catch that stupid snow cleaner man i swear i'll kill that son of bitch.I can't understand why they don't use more salt to melt the snow out of the highways.

27th of december: God damn snowed again last night. Because it's been 3 days since the snow cleaner machine last came here, i couldn't manage to clean the snow on my doorway and i am jailed into house. I can't go nowhere. The weather guy said it will snow 25 cms today. Do you know how many shovels does 25 cms take?

28th of december: Weather guy-the pudding head was wrong. It snowed 83 cms more. I guess it will never melt until the summer. The snow cleaning machine stucked into the snow and the jerky driver wanted to borrow my shovel. i said i have broken 6 shovels while i was cleaning the snow and would be happy to break the 7th one on his head.

4th of january: I finally could go out. Went to the market and bought something to eat. When i was driving back home, a goddamn deer jumped before my car. It will cost 3000 dolars to get my car repaired. I think it's necessary to kill all of this damn animals. These bloody animals are everywhere. I hope the hunters clean them all.

3rd of may: I took the car to a repairman in the town. The vehicle body has become rusty beceause of the damn salt they poored to melt the snow.

10th of may: I turned back to my country for good and moved to the coast side. Fuck the cold and snow and deers!
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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #135 on: January 01, 2011, 10:12:23 PM »

Quote
So here's the thing i wrote to laugh. Please excuse me Canadian people. It's not that i don't like the snow, but i live in a country where the weather very rarely goes subzero.



12th of august: Dear diary, i moved to my new house in Canada. I'm so excited. It's so beautiful here. The landscape of the mountains is so wonderful. I can't wait to see them when they're covered with snow.

14th of october: Canada is the most wonderful place of the world. Leaves turned to orange and red. I made a countryside trip riding a horse, and saw some Canadian deers. They were so beautiful. Probably the mostt beautiful creatures in the whole world. This must be heaven. I like it here a lot.

11th of novamber: The deer hunting season is starting. I can't understand how they can aim to kill such wonderful creatures. I hope it snows soon. I love here.

2nd of december: It snowed last night. I woke up in the midnight to see everywhere is covered with this beautiful white blanket. It's like a postcard. We went out and played snowball, then we had to clean the snow out of the garage and stairs. When the snow clearing machine has come we had to clean the snows out of the garage again. It's a nice place and i like it.

12th of december: It snowed more last night. We had to clean the snow out of the garage again. I like here.

19th of december: It snowed a lot more last night. I couldn't go out of the garage with my car. It's a beautiful country but i'm so tired of cleaning the snow. Damn snow cleaning machine!

22nd of december: It snowed a little more of this white shit last night. My hands got blistered because of shoveling the snow out. The silly snow cleaner machine man is watching me form the corner till i clean all the snow, then he drives the machine and it covers my garage again.

25th of december: It's fucking new years! It snowed again. If i catch that stupid snow cleaner man i swear i'll kill that son of bitch.I can't understand why they don't use more salt to melt the snow out of the highways.

27th of december: God damn snowed again last night. Because it's been 3 days since the snow cleaner machine last came here, i couldn't manage to clean the snow on my doorway and i am jailed into house. I can't go nowhere. The weather guy said it will snow 25 cms today. Do you know how many shovels does 25 cms take?

28th of december: Weather guy-the pudding head was wrong. It snowed 83 cms more. I guess it will never melt until the summer. The snow cleaning machine stucked into the snow and the jerky driver wanted to borrow my shovel. i said i have broken 6 shovels while i was cleaning the snow and would be happy to break the 7th one on his head.

4th of january: I finally could go out. Went to the market and bought something to eat. When i was driving back home, a goddamn deer jumped before my car. It will cost 3000 dolars to get my car repaired. I think it's necessary to kill all of this damn animals. These bloody animals are everywhere. I hope the hunters clean them all.

3rd of may: I took the car to a repairman in the town. The vehicle body has become rusty beceause of the damn salt they poored to melt the snow.

10th of may: I turned back to my country for good and moved to the coast side. Fuck the cold and snow and deers!

I love this! Its so so funny!
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Quote from: lucyanna
*whispers to jono* this must seem very odd to you - none of this is reeeaallllllll - we're in candy mountain!

Indja

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #136 on: January 02, 2011, 04:12:22 PM »

I wrote a thing, so here it is :)

The problem with writing is the words; the rest is a piece of piss, a pen, some paper, plots and plans all slip straight into place, but the words? Our grasp on the mother tongue is tenuous at best, it slides and writhes beneath our grip as we wrestle it to the ground in a horrific act of matricide until we step back panting and steeped in blood only to find that the awful sight before us - legs bent the wrong way, eyes lolling in a broken skull - is nothing at all how we imagined it. In black and white she looks so small, so lost, so consumingly silent. The totem of our youth reduced to spit and stammer and shame. We take a shuddering breath, repulsed entirely, and then we do it over again. And again. And every sentence is the most unbearable crime against our god, our rock, our holy mother. And we do it again. Doomed to the loop like Prometheus but it's our eyes that are gouged out every dawn. We're forced to see life in full colour, to feel and breathe and revel in our being, and to want, to need to check the rest of the world feels it too; and when we come to realise we can't, when we know the truth of our prison and taste the code that clogs our tongues and ears and makes us mute as well as deaf; when we understand our eternal condition, then we do the only thing we can. And then we do it again. And again. And again.
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CeeGBee

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #137 on: January 02, 2011, 08:40:03 PM »

^  TL DR....  JK   ;D
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Is it bad that what she said made perfect sense to me?

Indja

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Re: The Writer's Thread
« Reply #138 on: January 02, 2011, 08:46:13 PM »

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