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Writing • Page 3

Discussion in 'General Forum' started by WordsfromaSong, Apr 7, 2016.

  1. The Lucky Moose

    I'm Emotional, I Hug the Block Prestigious

    I was pretty good at writing academic stuff in college, but now I have to write a blog for my company website and it is such a hassle. The result is that I don't post a lot, which kind of destroys the purpose of the blog. Yay.
     
  2. Ben Lee Apr 19, 2016
    (Last edited: Apr 19, 2016)
    Ben Lee

    I drink coffee and dad my kids Supporter

    Ha! Look at that! You're currently in WI? Northern middle? Where at?

    Edit: All I had to do was look at your profile I suppose. Very fond of Madison.
     
    Mokena likes this.
  3. heartbeatsbrain Apr 19, 2016
    (Last edited: Apr 19, 2016)
    heartbeatsbrain

    Regular

    Lately, when I write I tend to focus on an anchor phrase or word that I unravel. I think one of the beautiful things about words, and writing is how much meaning you can mine from a single word, or set of them. It's probably the biggest reason I keep coming back to writing. Take the following poem I wrote, from Tidal came everything else.

    Tidal

    She got lost
    In the sea
    Of I told
    You so

    But car
    Crash
    And heartache
    Aren't the
    Same
    Disaster

    So we named
    Our child
    Collateral

    He grew up
    To learn
    Of the scars
    That
    Birthed her

    And learned
    The difference
    Between
    Love
    And
    Addiction

    And how
    One
    Feeds
    Into
    The
    Other

    How
    Mother
    And
    Father
    Can bruise
    Without
    Falling
    Apart

    How sometimes
    A car crash
    And heartache
    Can be the
    Same thing
    When damage
    Keeps them
    Together
     
  4. Vivatoto

    Royal Court of Princess Donut Prestigious

    I know I'm fucking up when I'm editing and I run into a word that I used and I can't even remember what it means. Get the fuck off Thesaurus.com vivatoto!
     
    Garrett L. likes this.
  5. KingofSpain

    you can be your own dad Prestigious

    I'm in an MFA program for fiction. I've had the worst writer's block I've experienced this past week. Anyone have any advice/tips for how they usually get over it?
     
  6. Garrett

    i tore a hole in the fabric of time Moderator

    A lot of writers have always suggested just sitting down and forcing yourself through it. For me, I've found free writing to be incredibly helpful. Something completely new, just to get words down.
     
    Chase Tremaine likes this.
  7. iam1bearcat

    i'm writing a book, leave me alone.

    Sent my recently finished novel (technically manuscript until it gets accepted / published, fun fact) to about 10 publishers. Sucks it takes so long to hear back (some take up to six months, many are 2-3) and some only email back if interested, but it's an exciting next chapter. Really dislike that each has different requirements for formatting. Feel like I wasted an entire day formatting and editing just to send it out. Wish there was a universal method to save time, but that's me being selfish.
     
    Luroda likes this.
  8. fastlife

    Regular Supporter

    Have you thought about getting an agent? I used to work in publishing, and unless you're submitting to a small press, most houses only really consider stuff from agents and all other submissions go straight to the slush pile.
     
    Garrett L. likes this.
  9. MereReplication

    Newbie

    I wrote a 68,000 word novel when I was 19 that's embarrassingly bad. Now I'm pretty much focusing on technical writing, but it's still kind of a secret dream of mine to write a decent novel one day.
     
  10. Garrett

    i tore a hole in the fabric of time Moderator

    The first 25 pages of my rewrite of my novel are finally at a place where I'm happy with them.
     
    Chase Tremaine likes this.
  11. CarpetElf

    douglas Prestigious

    That's what I want to do for a living. I do sports writing and music reviews for a website right now plus forever chugging away at two series I've been working on for a while. I also am very interested in screenwriting.

    The only novel I've written to completion is a VERY bad Armored Core fan fiction novel from when I was 10 so that kinda bums me out haha. I need to change that. But what started as one book turned to three turned to indefinite so I just keep planning and don't actually write.
     
  12. OotyPa

    fall away

    I write all the time-- poetry and prose, but mostly a mix of the two. I've had this tumblr blog for the past few years and had a lot of followers, been featured on the Prose/Poetry tag homepages a few times, but recently things have been pretty quiet in terms of general response. I'd really love to see what you guys think! I pour my heart out into these pieces, and a lot of them are autobiographical (to a certain extent). The most recent posts deal with me coming to terms with a friend's recent death, a breakup I've been through, and falling for someone new again. Please check it out!

    www.thenatureofdaylight.tumblr.com
     
  13. Mr. Serotonin

    I'm still staring down the sun Prestigious

    Here's some lyrics I wrote for a song I'm currently mixing.

    Emerson: "Ghost"

    There's a part of me that believes,
    We are simply orbiting until we finally meet,
    Or collide, in time,
    The gravity of fate will force our souls to intertwine,
    And the stars will all align.

    There's something out there,
    Perfect disaster,
    Giving rise to another life.
    I'd carry the world on my shoulders,
    Just to have you by my side.
    But I'm a ghost,
    And I need you to believe in me.
    Invisible, I need you to see
    What I see.

    I get lost in today,
    Forget about yesterday and where I wanna be.
    Then the ring of your voice pulls me in,
    Like chimes in the wind my direction is changing.
    Yeah, there's a part of me that deceives,
    And there's a part of me that believes...

    There's something out there,
    Perfect disaster,
    Giving rise to another life.
    I'd carry the world on my shoulders,
    Just to have you by my side.
    But I'm a ghost,
    And I need you to believe in me.
    Invisible, I need you to see
    What I see.

    I wanna know how you feel.
    (I would die just to meet you in another life)
    (x3)

    There's a part of me that believes,
    There's a part of me that believes in you and me.
     
    Garrett L. likes this.
  14. drstrong

    I'm Back.

    Can we post excerpts from stories here? I have a book I'm working on titled The Endeavor that is a post apocalyptic tale.
     
  15. Garrett

    i tore a hole in the fabric of time Moderator

    I think that'd be fine. I'm working on a contemp novel at the moment and was debating getting feedback at a future time so that opens the door for me, haha.
     
    Vivatoto likes this.
  16. drstrong

    I'm Back.

    Here is a short excerpt of the story I just mentioned. There are most likely typos and the tense is first person present.

    “That’s the last of it, is your backpack full?” Marcus asks me, referring to the bottled water in the grocery store.

    “No, but good enough for now.” I respond.

    We’re about 5 miles north of Marcus’ house and every store is picked clean but luckily for us, no one thought of breaking into the employee lounge of this place, the fridge still had about 8 bottles of water. It’s not enough to last the two of us more than a day or so, but we have to ration since there isn’t a guarantee we’ll get this lucky again. At least it’s starting to get dark so no more sun beating down on us.

    “Remind me, why the fuck didn’t we take your car?” Marcus asks.

    I had a feeling he was going to start complaining, can’t ever just be content with things, what about his car? Why didn’t we take that?

    “You’re seeing the streets right now, yea? Show me, where is my car supposed to fit? Plus, I was on empty when the power went out.” I respond, venting my growing frustration with him, or maybe just because he’s someone I have to look after He’s been lagging behind since we left his neighborhood..

    “Whatever.” He says.

    Up ahead I can see a small group of people, maybe three of them but hard to tell since they’re heading away from us.

    “Look, what should we do?” I ask Marcus

    “We should catch up with them, they might have something we need.” He responds, putting out his cigarette.

    “What? I don’t want to take anything from them.”

    “Time to man up, dude, what if they have water?”

    “I’m not gonna let you rob them, so don’t even try.”

    As Marcus mumbles something behind me, I stay quiet and begin creeping alongside the row of cars. I see two men and one woman; they’re pretty dirty so they must have been out here longer than we have. They each have a backpack and the man in front has a military duffle bag on his back. I signal for Marcus to come over.

    “Alright, I’ll call out to them but you stay here, just in case something goes wrong.” I tell him.

    “Ok.” He says.

    “Hello?!” I shout in their general direction. The woman turns around quickly and draws a handgun in my general direction and fires. I assume she did this in a panic since she missed me completely. I hear the shot bounce off the car behind me.

    “Jesus Christ, why the hell did you do that?!” I yell at her, Marcus is still out of sight.

    “Sorry about that.” One of the men says as he grabs the gun from her hand.

    “You alright, didn’t get ya did she?” He asks with a smartass tone in his voice, at the same time extending his hand.

    “Officer Frank Alanson, wife Sherrie and buddy Harry.” He says.

    “Major Harry Reynolds, actually.” The other man says.

    “I’m James Nickle; Marcus is back there somewhere…Marcus!”

    “What’s going on, I’m Marcus Smith.”

    “Major? What branch?” I ask Harry.

    “Air Force, got me stationed down at the reserve base. I was at this asshole’s house when everything turned to shit.” He responds while pointing at Frank.

    They seem friendly enough, minus the crazy woman waving the gun around.

    “So wait, you’re a cop, you don’t look like one.” Marcus asks, being somewhat rude about it.

    “We need to keep moving, which way are you headed?” Frank asks us while showing us his badge and ID. I think we can trust him.

    “North.” I respond.

    “Ok, so are we, well, to Highway 30, most people up there have generators, might be useful.” Frank says.

    “Don’t tell them where we’re going! What’s wrong with you?” Sherrie cuts in, either in shock because she fired her gun at me or flustered regarding the entire situation. We are standing in the middle of an intersection cluttered with abandoned cars, after all.

    Highway 30 leads up the mountains; it’s the only road up there, actually. With how narrow those streets are there is no way to get a car through if they are in the same shape as down here. That’s the road Marcus’ family had to have driven though when the left town. We’re a couple of miles away from the entrance up the hill so maybe it’s worth a shot.

    “I know my wife just shot at you, but do either of you happen to have a smoke? I ran out days ago and I guess we got a lot of smokers in this town since I haven’t found any.” Frank asks, trying to ease the mood.

    “Yea man, take a few.” Marcus offers.

    “Need some company heading up there?” I ask, probably should have consulted with Marcus, but I need to be around people with some sense of purpose and who can carry their own weight in this situation.

    “You guys are good in my book, if some woman tried to shoot me I would have either ran off or bum rushed her.” Harry says while laughing, returning the gun to Sherrie.

    “Fuck off, Harry.” Sherrie says while rolling her eyes.

    Frank is obviously a better leader than I could ever be, especially in a situation as fucked up as this one. He has us cutting though the yards of houses along the street, or through back alleys of businesses rather than on the sidewalk like we were foolishly doing before.

    Approaching the start of Highway 30, in the foothills, the line of abandoned cars stretches as far as we can see before the road turns behind one of the hills. We split up briefly and begin going through the belongings these poor people have left behind. There’s even a moving truck packed from end to end, various crap piled up not even in boxes. I’d love to dig into it but time isn’t on my side as the sun is just about to go down completely. Harry suggests that we get into one of the nearby houses and rest before the walk up the road.

    Most of the houses on this block are boarded up, belongings littering the front lawns, similar to my own neighborhood.

    “This one” Frank whispers to us. For all we know there could be other people with the same idea as us, but may not be as friendly.
     
    Garrett L. likes this.
  17. drstrong

    I'm Back.

    Well hey I just posted an excerpt, I'll read yours if you want to check out mine. I'm not a professional by any means, but I think I have a pretty good handle on grammar, especially when I'm actually "trying", haha.
     
  18. Garrett

    i tore a hole in the fabric of time Moderator

    I'll come back to it later this evening. About to head out for dinner/trivia.
     
  19. WordsfromaSong

    Trusted

    thinking about trying out some prose again after writing mostly screenplays, definitely gonna take some time to get back into it.
     
    Chase Tremaine likes this.
  20. Raku

    Regular

    I've been writing a lot of poems lately, and I even joined a poetry (Okay, I signed up for said site eight months back, uploaded one poem that quit said site, but I'm back at that site again with at least eight poems posted (It says I have 12, but some of the stuff are just replies to images, and whatnot), and I will be posting more poems in the future).
     
  21. CarpetElf

    douglas Prestigious

    Does anyone else "cast" their characters? I find it to be a good exercise for brainstorming and just general ideas. I like having visuals, it's nice.
     
  22. Garrett

    i tore a hole in the fabric of time Moderator

    I usually have a general look in mind, but every once in awhile I'll see an actor/actress or just a random person on the street and go, "Oh, that's x. Yup."
     
  23. drstrong

    I'm Back.

    I've written a few short screenplays, one of which brought home an award in screenwriting recently. But in another I've written, my main part sounds exactly like Michael Madsen while a supporting character is Tommy Lee Jones.
     
  24. drstrong

    I'm Back.

    here is another excerpt from the same story I posted yesterday. This is the other main character, James.

    “Hey!” A distant voice shouts. “Hold up a minute!”

    I can’t tell where the voice is coming from, but soon enough I see a figure running towards me from about a block away; looks like an older man.

    “Don’t come any closer!” I shout back, I don’t know this person and with the state of things and what I’ve seen already, I can’t afford to let my guard down.

    “Who are you and what do you want?” I say in a bit calmer voice, as he’s closer to me now and appears to be homeless.

    Hunched over with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily he replies “sorry about that, but you’re the first person I’ve seen today and I had to see if you knew what was happening.”

    “No, I’ve been held up in my house, I was hoping you could tell me something.”

    He goes on “damn, I don’t know bud, everything is fucked! We can’t stay out here like this.”

    “Hold on, hold on, I don’t even know you, why can’t we stay out here? I don’t see anyone else around.”

    “Sorry, name’s Andy Duff.” He states as he throws his open hand in my direction.

    “I’m James Nickle, good to meet you.”

    “Sorry man, didn’t mean to give you a stir, I just been out here a few days and like I said, you’re the first person I’ve come across since shit went south. But come on, let’s get off the streets.”

    “Andy, right? You haven’t told me why we have to get off the streets, how do I know you won’t just try to rob me? By the look of things, seems like you need what I got.”

    Suddenly no longer winded, Andy stands up tall and responds “Look, if I wanted your bag, I’d have it by now and we wouldn’t be having this conversation and if you don’t want to come with me, good riddance and good luck.”

    “I’m just looking out for number one is all. Here, take some water, you look sort of fucked up to be honest.” I say nervously laughing, I can’t read this guy.

    “Thank you, thank you!” The tough guy persona quickly dropped as he chugged down the entire bottle in just a few seconds.

    “Where we going?” I ask, as we start to walk toward the side walk.

    “I’ve been staying in an abandoned house around the corner from here. Most of the block is empty and this house isn’t too damaged.”

    As we’re walking down Jefferson Street I remember that I stashed luggage back there on Magnolia, but I don’t know if I want Andy to know about it, not yet at least. We’re in a nicer part of town but this place is a shell of itself now, all of the nice houses are either boarded up or have the windows busted out with garbage spread across the yard. I wonder if there is anyone in one of these houses that needs help, or is even alive at this point.

    “Over here.” Andy points towards one of the nicest houses on the block. There are a couple of cars in the drive way which is surprising since this block seems to be deserted.

    As we get inside, Andy plops down on what looks to be an outrageously expensive couch, proceeds to kick his feet up on the glass coffee table and sit back seemingly not having a care in the world.

    “Take a seat! Mi casa, es su casa.”

    “Cool man, thanks, what I need is a bathroom.”

    Andy jumps up immediately and tells me “Oh ok, well…there is one upstairs you can use, the one down here is really messy.”

    I can’t help but be a little nosey, the house is immaculate, and why the hell would someone leave this place? I count five bedrooms upstairs, three of which are kids, an office and a master. The master is torn apart, clothes all over the floor and every drawer pulled out as far as they can go.

    The bathroom stinks of piss and shit, I don’t even care, but this place is giving me a weird vibe. If Andy doesn’t have anything useful to tell me I’m just going to head back home.

    “Feel better!?” Andy jokingly asks me.

    “Yea, thanks, been holding that shit in for a couple hours…literally.”

    “So what’s the deal? What made you nervous out there?” I asked, not sure what sort of answer I was expecting.

    “This old mother fucker named Ed and his little group of assholes stole someone’s truck as they were packing it up and decided to go have some, uh, fun…that’s the way he put it. I met him over at the V.A some years back. I been out on these streets for a long, long time, and goddamn it sure is nice to stay in a place like this.”

    “Ed, what does he look like?”

    “Tall, dark and handsome…why the fuck do you want to know?” He asked in a way that was hard to determine if joking.

    “Because about a week ago there was a group of guys that broke into my neighbor’s house and killed her. One of the guys in the group was older and they were driving a truck. That’s why.”

    “Older guy, got a big beard….” He answers but I cut him off when I hear about the big beard.

    “You know this guy? I left my house because he started eyeballing it and I wasn’t sure if he would come back.”

    “Yea I know him, do you see a truck in the drive way? I don’t, where do you think he got the truck from? My job was to stay here and hold down the fort, let Ed and those fools he found go out there and fuck with people.”

    My stomach sinks and I now know that the bad vibes were justified. If I stay here for too much longer, Ed could come back and I’ll be outnumbered. As I start to take the bat out of my bag, Andy noticed and immediately gets interested in what I’m doing.

    “What ya got there, boy? Don’t go starting something you might not be able to finish.” Andy tells me in a stern voice.

    “I think I’m gonna head out, I need to check and see if my house is still in one piece.”

    “Aww come on now, you can’t be rude to the host! Stay!” As Andy replies he stands up and moves toward me.

    Without thinking, I pull the bat out of my bag and jump up. “No, I said I’m leaving, just let me go.”

    I start to back away as Andy creeps slowly towards me. As I reach the front door he comes at me faster and I have no choice but to swing for the fences.

    One solid hit and he’s laid flat in front of me, the blood is starting to run towards my feet as I hear moaning coming from his slightly twitching body. A splatter of blood sprays one of the cream colored walls. I stand there motionless, my jaw loosens as the surge of adrenaline wears off; my hands begin to tremble. There is no more moaning, the absence of life is apparent as his body goes limp.

    Andy is dead.

    Carefully stepping around the thick pool of blood, I leave the house. The only thought running through my head is what Ed and his group of goons will think once they get back here. I need to get home, the thought of Ed showing up scared me enough, but this – I can only imagine the worst if he comes now. As I walk back, I remember that I stashed some luggage in the bushes, maybe I can find something worthwhile. My slight feeling of anticipation is quickly stamped out by the feeling of remorse, not knowing what happened to the owners of the items I’m about to rummage.
     
  25. CarpetElf

    douglas Prestigious

    Something I wrote today for my writing course.

    After caffeine fallouts are reduced to blank stares at disheveled flooring or recycling bags two weeks overdue . After coffee is brewed, brewed again, brewed one more time, and the lukewarm remainders are sullenly drained. After witnessing the vultured remainders of yesterday's takeout, slowly turning to tomorrow's breakfast or a late night snack out of some drunken desperation. After all social media accounts have been drained of their use and no new sets of mundane information can be bestowed upon our tired minds, remaining ever vigilant for a distraction. After all of this does she spring to life and catch me in a stare. No, I haven't forgotten you, the pizza of my eye, the Khaleesi of coffee shops and old bookstores, my living Billy Joel song; I'm still here and I have heard every word.

    I close my eyes. From the top of the complex you can see the mountain in the distance, keeping its watchful eye over the Sound. Behind me is a park of several acres where the mist rises off the pond in the morning and the sunset tenderly caresses a variety of birch, maple, ash, and alder. It's not perfect, though my romanticizing may suggest otherwise, but it's home. There's a comfort to it.

    I open my eyes and I am on my porch underneath the sweet gum tree whose fallen seeds practice their bloodletting on bare feet each fall. In the distance there is no mountain, only a highway occupied by Trump stickers, confederate flags, and the constant howl of ambulances rushing to minimize our recent spree of highway shootings. I cannot breathe but through one nostril though could I, all I would smell would be the dumpster from the apartments adjacent to me. I could put 2,980 miles between myself and this city. But I won't do it without her. I can't.

    "So we stay?" she asked, a glimmer in her eye and a twist of uncertainty upon the lips I would die without.

    "So we stay."
     
    Garrett L. likes this.