Writing General

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Re: Writing General

Post by Guest on Sun May 20, 2012 4:56 pm

disregard

Nice story.

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Re: Writing General

Post by PayJ on Sun May 20, 2012 5:17 pm

@Wigchops: Thanks.

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Re: Writing General

Post by Furburt on Sun May 20, 2012 6:10 pm

Much better now, you've got a great sense of pacing.

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Re: Writing General

Post by PayJ on Sun May 20, 2012 6:15 pm

Thanks. I'll put another one out in the future.

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Re: Writing General

Post by LordCuthberton on Mon May 21, 2012 7:48 pm

Tempted to post my Piss Pots fan fiction to completely overshadow you Joey.

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Re: Writing General

Post by PayJ on Mon May 21, 2012 7:49 pm

Do it! This thread is for any short stories.

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Re: Writing General

Post by LordCuthberton on Mon May 21, 2012 7:58 pm

The mad and sad tale of Russ Pitts
Russ Pitts. The name resonates in the soul - The man is about revolutionist journalism and you will find passion, romance and drama in this thrilling tale!


Durham, North Carolina

The office was deserted. Everyone was gone. The calming blue light of a single LCD screen lit the office of Mr Pitts.

Russ Pitts. The Editor in Chief of , was spearheading the last bastion of intelligence – A glimmer of high-brow hope for the gaming community. Week after week he commissioned intrinsic analizations of the state gaming was currently in – Heck, he even wrote a few. Life was good.

The hours weren't.

Russ Pitts. The Editor in Chief of , was spearheading the last few hours of his day - A glimmer of moonlight slashed across his desk, the blue glow emulsified by the calming night light. It was late, too late, it was incomprehensible to his workmates why Russ insisted on staying so focused on his job. The saying of the office was "Russ Pitts has one holiday a year – and that's only 2 hours for a Nerf battle!" It used to be funny, but everyone knew running a intellectually focused web based magazine has its grasp on the human mind.

Was Russ Pitts even alive? Or was he just a string of code, so similar to the games he writes about.

Nobody knew.

Russ leaned back on his mahogany leather armchair and contemplated the next few words. If the semantics of these next few utterances were not right, the entire article would desecrate his reputation. He swivelled around to the large glass window behind him and leaned over to the pulley system controlling the blinds. He uncovered the night sky like an Olympian god. The soothing beams of light glazed the room. Stars twinkling, Moon hanging, Russ thinking.

A perfect night. Clear and navy blue. Stars shone brightly and Russ stroked his well groomed facial hair.

Russ removed his sweater and undid his tie. He slovenly tossed it to the floor while he undid the first few buttons on his blue chequered shirt. He stretched his legs out and slumped into the chair.
Bliss.
For once Russ was unwinding.

Until someone banged on his door.

"Russell? Russell, are you in here?"

The door creaked open, a crack of warm yellowing light illuminated the room, section by section. This shaft of light slowly increased in size as the door was pushed ajar and the room was engulfed in the orangey artificial light.

A battle of luminosity occurred, the clash of the crackling, electronic blue beam against the flood of fiery, burning orange flush. It stood as a mirage like background of the silhouetted encroaching figure. A hand thrust towards Russ as he sank into his chair. The leather groaned and wheels shrill squeak cut through the silence.

The black shape twisted and contorted itself into a recognisable profile.

It was Susan.

Susan Arendt was the backbone of Russ, without Susan there would be nothing. No silly jokes, no insightful criticism and no object of affection.

"Russell? Russell? What are you doing here this late?" She said softly.

Russ rose out of the leather pit he cast himself into. He brushed down his shirt, the blue colour morphed into a shade of sanguine due to the sunny light Susan cast upon the office. Russ rose to his feet and pulled a weak smile which Susan answered with a smug yet friendly gaze.

"Just – Just getting this week's issue ready. There's been a load of tat that needs sorting. Duty be where duty done, eh?" Russ replied. They both knew he didn't make any sense, the pressures of work Susan pondered.

"Let's get you home. Come with me, I'll give you a lift."

Russ hesitated. He didn't think this was a romantic liaison, but his wealth of experience was not vast enough to decode the pragmatics of this peculiar offer. He stood their puzzled, dumbfounded even. Susan smiled again. "I'll even make you bacon Russell."

"What is this?" Russ thought. "Perhaps this is flirting. Perhaps bacon is a euphemism for something? Something more?" Without worry Russ leapt upon the opportunity.

"That sounds lovely. Yes. Let's blow this joint!" He said with a chuckle. Susan looked impressed, Russ was not as uptight as he usually is. She speculated that she may have interrupted an illegal 'creative' session, and if so, driving him home would be the best thing anyway. She opened her palm at hip level and gestured towards Russ. He clasped her dainty hand as she led him out of the office.

She pulled him through the mesh of desks and cubicles and towards the exit.

"Wait!" Russ said.

Susan looked worried.

"Aren't we going to turn the lights out before we go? Aren't we, Susan? Aren't we?" Russ said with a cheeky rictus grin.

"This bloody joke" Susan sighed.

"Oh come on! It's funny! Because you're name is Arendt and Aren't sounds like it! Aren't, Arendt, aren't, Arendt!" Russ gushed.

And with that spectacular comedy line Susan dragged him out the room and bundeled him into the car.

" Tomorrow is another day" she whispered to herself.

Daylight hit Durham. A new day, a chance to set things straight.

After the mess of the night before, Russ realised he had left his car in the company parking lot. His sudden infatuation with Susan had blinded him of simple common sense. This was a rarity, as Russ was renowned for being a cunning and logical man, a man who could manipulate the chess pieces on the board into playing checkers – He was that good.

Fastening the clip of the ocean blue helmet under his gristly chin, Russ headed towards his utility room. He hauled his bicycle out of the house and wheeled it to the curb. He flourished with his right foot, knocking out the attached kickstand leaving the bike standing upright.

"Smooth criminal" Russ said under his breath, chuckling at the thought.

Russ darted inside and grabbed his MacBook Air and gently placed it into the pretty basket on the front of the bike. He locked his front door and darted back to the bicycle, to protect it from potential ne'er-do-wells while munching on the last few shards of buttered brown toast.

The commute was not far from Russ's abode. He picked out his accommodation to accommodate his new job as Editor in Chief just a few years ago; he needed to be near the office at any given time in case something awful happens to the weekly edition. Russ's reputation was also his responsibility, a rarity in most careers. Russ knew this and took pride in what he did and always made sure what he published was the best. He once sent out an entire edition with all 4 articles written by himself, as all the submitted trash he was handed did not meet his expectations of quality. That was a rare occurrence, if there is any problem with an article Russ normally finds his best friend to help.

"There's no junk in John Funk!" Russ say's, seemingly daily.

John Funk was a man who did not expect how his life would pan out. While a video gamer at heart, John spent his school days playing football on the field at day and getting drunk surrounded by beautiful cheerleaders at night. He always thought he'd go into professional sport, either as a player or commentator, but life is not what you anticipate. John found himself with torn ligaments in his leg at the age of 21. His professional days were over. He took solace in the joys of whisky and his old friend, GoldenEye 64. He worked as a freelance writer on several high profiles gaming news websites until Russ Pitts eyed him up and brought him out for a high price. Their friendship blossomed from there, even if to begin with John only played along to get favours from his boss.

"I know good people." Russ thought to himself as he pedalled along the highstreet in the early morning sun.

Russ arrived at the office at 8:59am precisely and opened up shop. He was always the only 'early bird', most people arrived around 9:20am, but Russ's responsibility dictates a rigorous set of time keeping rules that he must abide to. What he didn't like to remember was the 'early bird' is forever the lonely bird.

Ascending the cold steps Russ thought about the coming day. It was a Friday. "Most people get lazy on a Friday" Russ thought. Russ placed his MacBook in a drawer in his desk and fell into his leather armchair. He sprawled over the mahogany masterpiece and contemplated techniques to motivate his staff.

And then it hit him, like the plane to the tower.

"Terrorism!" Russ shouted as he leapt to his feet.


Spoiler:
This is obviously not an example of me trying to write well. This was an attempt to make it as GCSE as I could, pathetically simple like all Fan Fics

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Re: Writing General

Post by PayJ on Mon May 21, 2012 8:09 pm

I think I may have read that before but it was brilliant none-the-less.

"This was a rarity, as Russ was renowned for being a cunning and logical
man, a man who could manipulate the chess pieces on the board into
playing checkers – He was that good."

Funny shit.

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Re: Writing General

Post by LordCuthberton on Mon May 21, 2012 11:07 pm

Yes you have read it before, I posted each paragraph as I wrote it in an Evidence thread.

And I just reread it myself. I think I achieved in making it hilariously bad as a piece but nailed the characterture of a pathetic try hard Editor of a obscure magazine.

"Just – Just getting this week's issue ready. There's been a load of tat that needs sorting. Duty be where duty done, eh?" Russ replied.

They both knew he didn't make any sense, the pressures of work Susan pondered.

I mean, that's just the tip of the iceberg. I love past me sometimes.

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Re: Writing General

Post by PayJ on Tue May 22, 2012 7:01 pm

The mummer of voices whined in and out of a constant crackle, the lack of reception only added to John's frustration. His eyes scanned once more the surrounding landscape he had grown so accustomed to the past few hours. The sun left a bright full moon, the clouds whisked in front of it like feathers in the hands of a burlesque dancer. He slowly looked to his left and his eyes, ignoring the spectacular glowing landscape, fixated on a young women in a black convertible next to him. She was fixing her make up in the wing mirror, her striking red lips and dark brown eyes stood out against her pale face. He took another quick glance at her exposed cleavage and casually rolled his head to the car on his right.

The wheels glinted, the highly polished, flawless, pearl white paintwork was tainted by John's tattered, dirty, brown sedan in the reflection. John curiously stared into the blacked out windows, desperately trying to discover the identity of the driver. The suspension groaned, snapped him out of his day dream, it appeared the car was gently rocking side to side. "Lucky bastard" John thought to himself with a smirk. He retreated to within his phone, he tried once more to send a message to his girlfriend.

"Im ok babe, got the nappies but jammed in a queue hope to see you soon xoxox"

The message failed to send once more. Before he could even respond to the lack of reception, the car to his right began to rock violently. Condensation amassed as he pressed his nose against the cool glass window. The car suddenly stopped, remaining still only for a second, before the windows exploded sending a fountain of shattered glass into the air. John jolted backwards in shock. The women behind him let out a horrific scream, the shards of glass rained down upon her smooth skin. John, hyperventilating, slammed his head between his knees. It all went black and remained black.

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I've had cravings since withdrawing from
Low grade acid and cocaine bumps
I can't sleep at night or hold a decent job."
-Matt Berry

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Re: Writing General

Post by Xandy on Wed May 23, 2012 5:03 pm

Hey Maniac, you're smart with language-speaking thingies. How would one go about making Latin written in a way that sounds evil/sinister while disguising the fact that it's Latin?

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Re: Writing General

Post by Mr. Wiggles on Wed May 23, 2012 6:02 pm

Below is a later draft of one of the near final drafts of my original writing that posted up here about a year ago. Not sure how much worse it is than the final one but the bulk of it hasn't changed that much. The imagery may be a little inconsistent and there may be the odd irregularity or rambling. Not to mention, the improper marking of speech and the other grammar fuck ups. But hell if I'm doing that again. Criticise please.

The office was shrouded in darkness, with a ghostly half-light seeping through the blinds. Outside, a storm had been brewing for some time. Furious javelins of lightning were being cast down to the earth as it if were Zeus himself, enacting his chaotic vengeance, a brutal display of showmanship hidden under the thin veil of justice. Frank had never really appreciated the violence of Greek mythology. Intermittently, violent flashes of light would penetrate the cracks in the blinds and semi-illuminate the room.

He had been told that the casino’s owner would like to give his congratulations. Now that he stood in the doorway, he was beginning to regret not snatching up his gains and leaving. Looking around the room, Frank noticed the silhouette of a small man and a large bookcase, protruding from the darkness. The titles of the books were nearly illegible but he could just about decipher the name “Bret Easton Ellis”.

The silhouette across the desk gestured to Frank to sit down. After taking his seat, the proprietor began to speak, in a husky tone, withered by age. The weary voice called out “You have defied all the odds, a truly amazing feat. I never thought I would see this happen in my lifetime.” The silhouette leaned forward and reached within the desk. “Before you disappear, I would like you to have something.” All of a sudden, the wall of monitors, behind the man, flickered into life and there Frank was all over the screen; the proprietor had been watching the whole affair. He had spent hours playing poker, performing the occasional sleight of hand, slowly accumulating a small fortune. There was no escaping it; he gaped on in silence as every trick up his sleeve appeared before him.

Suddenly, the film cut and the room was left in darkness again. Frank was left sitting speechless. Through the half-light, he imagined a sinister grimace stretching across the man’s face. Frank’s defeat clearly provided the man quite some pleasure.

Unable to hide his glee, the owner began to taunt Frank. “It amazes me that such a talented individual could be so foolish. Unfortunately, technology has advanced. All of the great card sharks are retired or staring at the inside of a cell. Fate has dealt you a foul hand, my dear friend.”

Frank briefly found the courage to ask. “What will you do now?” There was a long pause. It was as if a firing squad had taken aim and his next breath would be his last. He waited on baited breath. A grandfather clock ticked away in the corner. He imagined himself spread out on a rack, completely at the whims of his tormentor, slowly being drawn out with every tick of the timepiece’s ancient mechanisms intensifying his suffering. A maniacal chuckle echoed through the room, the kind of childish laughter that never seems truly befitting of a grown man.

“Tell me; are you aware of the penalties for your actions?” he teased as Frank swallowed nervously. “What you did was fraud. You could go to jail for a very long time, my friend. Now, that would be a shame indeed. Would it not?”

Frank sat with an unrelenting expression of defeat. He imagined the smile that had never left the stranger’s face, a grotesque grin that belonged to a nightmarish creature. Another pause followed.

Finally, after an eternity of torture, the shade spoke up, “Tell me, Frank, do you play Roulette?” Frank said nothing. Even in the present half light, he could not see a roulette wheel in the room.

His voice thick with arrogance, the silhouette continued “I say you play a special game of Roulette with me. If you win you keep your ill-gotten gains and the tapes get lost.” He leaned under the desk and produced an ornate box, layered in inscriptions from a distant culture. In the silence, he gazed at the box.

Without so much as blinking, Frank inquired “What if you w-”.

He stopped half way through his question. The air was still, with the sentence hanging there and a ghastly silence filled the room. The man unlocked the box and presented Frank with the contents.

He no longer needed to ask the consequences. Even in the shadowy twilight, he could make out its shape, a fatal instrument. An equaliser. The silhouette lifted the weapon and placed it on the leather surface of the desk. There was a brief moment of inactivity as both men’s gazes met. Shakily, Frank stretched out his hand, grasping the revolver and a single bullet from within the container.

A smug voice called out from across the desk, “Now, I hardly think a one in six chance is fair. How about something a little more even?”

Frank swallowed deeply as he reached into the box again and drew another two rounds. He slid the tiny projectiles into the cylindrical chamber and breathed deeply. As he lifted the revolver, Frank shut his eyes, before spinning the barrel. His mind was whirring, considering outcomes, weighing up the possibilities.

The grandfather clock chimed, bringing him to attention. Frank did not need luck anymore; he had been granted the power to control his own destiny. The odds had been tipped in his favour.

Quietly, he muttered, “Never presume that a cheater will play fair”. The hammer clicked twice then a shot rang out.

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Re: Writing General

Post by PayJ on Sat May 26, 2012 1:57 pm

It's a good story. Set up pretty well however if I were frank I'd of shot the man and made a run for it with the one bullet I had left.

Yeah the grammar needs a bit of work. You're using clauses and all that crap in the wrong places as far as I can tell.

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Re: Writing General

Post by Mr. Wiggles on Mon May 28, 2012 12:09 pm

PayJ wrote:It's a good story. Set up pretty well however if I were frank I'd of shot the man and made a run for it with the one bullet I had left.

Read the ending again...

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Re: Writing General

Post by Xandy on Wed May 30, 2012 6:50 pm

>spend a year thinking up an awesome setting
>can't come up with any very interesting stories to have based on it

>spend the last month coming up with great story ideas
>can't think up a setting that could provide a context for them to be told

Cameron

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Re: Writing General

Post by Komrade Kharloth on Wed May 30, 2012 7:19 pm

Here's what I do: I take important events from History, or interesting events from books, and give them a reskin to make the world seem alive.

My WW1 Fantasy's equivalent of the Russian revolution.

Deep within the mighty underground Dwarven cities, there is a slowly growing movement amongst the industrial workers. A combination of hard, brutal labor to keep up with the war demand, squalid conditions imposed by harsh rationing and the omnipresent caste system have caused fractures in the famous tenacity and devotion to duty of the Dwarves.

A few dwarves began to grumble, soon there were secret meetings amongst the industrial working and miner castes, talking of an alliance against the ruling nobles, now there are public rallies of Dwarves demanding better conditions in their neighborhoods and factories, strikes are beginning to pop up here and there, only to be violently broken up by the Iron Protectors, a middle-caste dwarf paramilitary force dedicated to keeping order amongst the lower castes, and infamous for their overzealousness.

Now, in the wake of all these clashes, some dwarves are no longing talking about better conditions, but abolishment of the entire caste system and the overthrow of the ruling government.

A war is coming, but this one will be fought in the mountain holds of the Dwarves.

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Re: Writing General

Post by Furburt on Wed May 30, 2012 11:00 pm

Fuck, why haven't I read any William S Burroughs yet? I still haven't, but I'm reading about his style and it sounds like just my thing.

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Re: Writing General

Post by Wayward on Thu May 31, 2012 11:29 am

Check out interzone. It's a collection of short stories by Burroughs.

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Re: Writing General

Post by Furburt on Thu May 31, 2012 11:45 am

I shall do so. Although knowing local book places they'll probably only have Naked Lunch.

To the city!

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Re: Writing General

Post by Wayward on Thu May 31, 2012 11:53 am

Furburt wrote:I shall do so. Although knowing local book places they'll probably only have Naked Lunch.

To the city!
I couldn't get through Naked Lunch. I tried to read it in high-school and it was too graphic for me. Might give it another shot now that I'm a little more resilient.

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Re: Writing General

Post by Furburt on Thu May 31, 2012 12:05 pm

I love that shit. I found some youtube videos of the man himself reading it.

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Re: Writing General

Post by Xandy on Wed Jul 18, 2012 12:35 am

I love coming up with ideas for fictional factions/races/nations. So much fun.

This morning I wanted to create and flesh out a society of quasi-Sicilian pirates/traders for a setting I'm working on. I ended up turning them into a cross between the Ironborn from ASoIaF and a Lovecraftian cult.

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Re: Writing General

Post by Komrade Kharloth on Wed Jul 18, 2012 1:40 am

I love doing that as well, occasionally I'll get this single jumping off point and then spend a half hour fleshing out said faction.

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Re: Writing General

Post by PayJ on Wed Jul 18, 2012 8:08 am

I need to start doing some short stories. Got notepads on my phone full off ideas I just never write them out. Come up with a real good one saturday morning while hungover.

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Re: Writing General

Post by PayJ on Tue Jul 24, 2012 10:11 pm

The elegant, golden canopy bed was a dominating presence in the luxurious hotel room. The blinding, orange sunlight flashed through the thick, rose curtains as they flapped about in the summer’s breeze. Vince, his snoring bellowing through the room, lay sprawled across the pure, snow white, silk bed sheet. A vortex of clear water polluted by make up swirled violently in the basin as the plug was yanked. She began splashing water on her face to refresh her tired eyes, after washing her mouth out she shut off the tap. An ominous figure clad in black peered through the open window. The dark, rigid, mahogany floorboards creaked as he carefully placed his heavy boot in the room.

The floorboards creaked once more as he attempted to creep across them. Vince, with a sudden gasp, sprung out of bed only to be forced down with a swift shove. Floundering around on the bed he attempted to escape. The beast with a vice like grip latched his large, leather gloved hand around Vince’s puny ankle. His other arm reached over and muffled Vince’s yelps with a large, feather pillow. He relinquished his grip only to brandish a large combat knife. The escort darted out from the bathroom to discover the cause of the commotion. The sunlight gleamed off the highly polished, cold, steel blade as it was thrust into the air. She clambered over the bed and with both arms, all her strength, attempted to wrestle his overbearing arm. The knife flew into the air as he tossed her aside like a mere rag doll. Vince seized this opportunity and darted for the door.

An explosion of blood cascaded from Vince’s nose as he tripped and slammed on the floor. Gritting his teeth, with a look of pure malevolence in his eyes, the gargantuan man dived after Vince. Pouncing atop of his unconscious carcass he grasped his long hair and began slamming his face against the solid floorboards. The sound of splintering bone and shattering cartilage echoed throughout the room. Regaining her composure she desperately searched for the knife, scouring the room, she located it hiding under the coffee table. She bolted over and dived under the table, grasping the knife she spun around. Releasing a blood curdling scream, from the very depths of her lungs, she charged at the assailant. In her haste she misplaced her foot and slipped on the bed sheet, she flew towards the bed. Crashing onto the mattress the blade pierced her rib cage, crimson blood seeped across the bed sheet. With Vince’s face splattered across the floor and the escort writhing on the bed, he left.


What started as a hungover idea for a story formed into this. Criticisms more than welcome as always.

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Re: Writing General

Post by Mr. Wiggles on Wed Jul 25, 2012 2:02 am

Liking it so far and I'm going to sound like a bit of a dick here because I'm not exactly an authority on writing but a few things here.

1) Try and variate your use of adjectives a bit more in the first para. "dark, rigid, mahogany" "pure, snow white, silk bed sheet" etc. Sometimes less is more, simple sentences are often more effective than complex or compound and variation keeps it entertaining to read which brings me on to the other point.

2) During the third para, I would use a lot more simple sentences. Makes it clearer and helps to build tension especially when a lot of action is going on.

The only thing holding this back is that you use commas when a fullstop would be better. A complex sentence can be bloated when a several short sentences would create tension whilst maintaining the focus.

Ahh just try it and see if it works man but nice one anyway TAKEI!

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Re: Writing General

Post by Mr. Wiggles on Wed Jul 25, 2012 2:08 am

I don't think I made my first point very clear there but basically just variate it a bit more.

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Re: Writing General

Post by PayJ on Wed Jul 25, 2012 7:03 am

Cheers. I'll make sure to keep it in mind next time.

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Re: Writing General

Post by Guest on Fri Jul 27, 2012 4:25 am

Xandy wrote:>spend a year thinking up an awesome setting
>can't come up with any very interesting stories to have based on it

>spend the last month coming up with great story ideas
>can't think up a setting that could provide a context for them to be told

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Re: Writing General

Post by Xandy on Fri Jul 27, 2012 4:46 am

I really like settings.

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Re: Writing General

Post by Komrade Kharloth on Fri Jul 27, 2012 4:18 pm

Xandy wrote:I really like settings.

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Re: Writing General

Post by Xandy on Sun Jul 29, 2012 5:50 am

Thinking of writing up a story that's essentially nobledark reconstruction of fantasy. Because fuck fantasy deconstructions. Already thirty minutes since I came up with the idea and I've already thought up a possible first two chapters.

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Re: Writing General

Post by PayJ on Sun Jul 29, 2012 8:51 am

I'm impressed how you can do it so fast. Takes me about 2 hours to write 3 paragraphs. I just sit there and re-write it then edit it delete an entire paragraph and completely re-write it and edit every sentence some more. Do some more research on the topic re-write another section.

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Re: Writing General

Post by Furburt on Sun Jul 29, 2012 9:33 am

I met a man at a gay wedding I attended yesterday who'd written his first book in 4 months. He'd done 154,000 words, 2000 words a day.

I admire his dedication.

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Re: Writing General

Post by Hubilub on Sun Jul 29, 2012 9:47 am

To quote Neil Gaiman on Terry Pratchett:

"He'll probably write as much in a day at Worldcon as most other authors will manage on a quiet day when there aren't any DVDs that haven't been watched and the weather precludes spending time in the garden and the phone's out of order, and Terry will do this while doing his proper Guest of Honour share of panels and readings and socialising and drinking exotic drinks of an evening. "

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Re: Writing General

Post by Furburt on Tue Jul 31, 2012 9:59 am

Anyone want to do another reading of Momo Murphy while I write the next few?

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Re: Writing General

Post by Guest on Tue Jul 31, 2012 10:16 am

What do you guys use to record your voices?

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Re: Writing General

Post by Hubilub on Tue Jul 31, 2012 10:17 am

Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

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Re: Writing General

Post by Furburt on Tue Jul 31, 2012 10:27 am

Hub uses Garageband, I think.

@Hub: Would you like to read the latest one, Chapter 46, or would you like another one?

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Re: Writing General

Post by Hubilub on Tue Jul 31, 2012 10:28 am

Latest one will do

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Re: Writing General

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