The Writing Thread

[Lord of the Large Pants]

Is it wrong to change how much a third person impersonal narrator knows depending on the circumstances?

So for example, let's say we've got two characters, Jack and Jill. The narration is third person, but mostly centering around Jack. Jack is the main character, an action hero, and Jill is a woman he just met. Jack doesn't really know if he can trust her yet. The narration only shows Jack's inner thoughts.

Would it be wrong/inconsistent if, in later chapters when Jill is more trusted, the narration included her inner thoughts as well?

 

[std::string]

Is it wrong to change how much a third person impersonal narrator knows depending on the circumstances?

So for example, let's say we've got two characters, Jack and Jill. The narration is third person, but mostly centering around Jack. Jack is the main character, an action hero, and Jill is a woman he just met. Jack doesn't really know if he can trust her yet. The narration only shows Jack's inner thoughts.

Would it be wrong/inconsistent if, in later chapters when Jill is more trusted, the narration included her inner thoughts as well?

Well, okay, Thomas Hardy did this shit all the time but also included minor characters' thoughts as a third-person omniscient narrator.

My main worry about if it's just Jack and Jill in your example then readers would think that the narrator was actually Jack as third-person objective narrator.

 

[Ughubughughughughughghlug]

Is it wrong to change how much a third person impersonal narrator knows depending on the circumstances?

So for example, let's say we've got two characters, Jack and Jill. The narration is third person, but mostly centering around Jack. Jack is the main character, an action hero, and Jill is a woman he just met. Jack doesn't really know if he can trust her yet. The narration only shows Jack's inner thoughts.

Would it be wrong/inconsistent if, in later chapters when Jill is more trusted, the narration included her inner thoughts as well?

No? Strange question, tons of books use multiple POV or "scope" (you might say) of omniscience, particularly for showing a very important event that doesn't play out before the character's eyes or as a way of covering some major event/passage of time that can't be conveyed through a scene.

 

[Georgio Cocklord]

A comic script Ive been working on bout the history of the internet. Its in the first draft and I plan to make it a graphic novel once I finish ironing out the script. Would appreciate inputs cause Im sure the autists on here are much more knowledgeable of the stuff than I am. Warning: Its very autistic but hopefully worth reading

Spoiler

THE INTERNET: A FALLEN PARADISE

“Its just a tool though isnt it? No its not no, its an Alien life form. Is there Life on Mars, yes it just landed here” - David Bowie
THE BIRTH OF A NEW WORLD
And then there was Light, A New World created for the masses to experience (Internet splash page, Ebaumsworld). Everyone could play mortal, everyone could play god and most importantly everyone could interact (Loading images, connection images). They spoke, they spoke some more, they shared and they laughed (Ebaumsworld, geocities). But that didnt prevent skepticism from the old guard, which bled over the books and the screen (PSA images). All of that changed as time marched on, with the internet growing onto people. It was the cool new gimmick used by the not so cool kids at school as the cool kids beat them up for doing so.
LAND OF THE FREE
With this new world came a freedom which people never had. The freedom to share whatever, to say whatever and do whatever, with perfect understanding of the whole thing being pure fiction. But every once in a while the regime tried to bring down the boot. In the case of sharing, the regime bought down the boot hard in a desparate attempt to gain control over the property of people. What the people saw as sharing, the regime saw as piracy and forced people to stop with full legal force. It ultimately proved to be in Vain as people flipped the bird and continued to do what they did, cementing the power of the Internet agglomerate. The millennium saw the advent and growth of two pillars of the Internet, Newgrounds and 4Chan. Both served as bastions of freedom and irreverance, despite being on polar ends of the spectrum. Newgrounds served as a haven for creating and sharing, created and shared by the man Tom Fulp while 4Chan was one of the first of its kind, a site for social conversation which quickly devolved into an insular hive of niche interest and degeneracy (Picture of cockmongler and Niggerfaggot comment), founded by Christopher “Moot” Poole (Picture of Moot) who wanted to steal federal reserve money and escape to Mexico for some bitches and drinks. These two platforms were bastions of the internets core values, freedom and irreverance with a good amount of creativity. Nothing was taken seriously, serious issues were made funny and everything was laughed at (Images of Baghdadi Bob, Bushisms and Bin Laden). It was random, it was interactive, it was revolutionary, it was stupid but it most importantly it was alive and it was free. While the world was living in fear, the internet thrived in freedom including the freedom to mock that which was sacred (south park images). 2004 would have places plastered with photos of Bin Laden with makeup in one and poo in the other, Baghdadi Bob became a favourite of the people, a national tragedy wwas turned into a running joke like the internet did with everything.
THE EVOLUTION OF ENTERTAINMENT
As it did with communication the internet did with entertainment. Flash was a game changer when it came to interactivity online. It could be used to make anything and everything from videos to games to interactive web elements (pictures of examples). Newgrounds served as the main hub for entertainment by the users for the users (Newgrounds front page). 4Chan put together short films and music on a regular basis for the community to enjoy (4Chan city and /v/ albums). Then came a new contender into the scene, one called youtube. A platform for video submissions from users which provided a unique opportunity, despite its limitations, for both creators and customers. Before this there were many decentralized disorganized efforts to distribute content on places like limewire and kazaa, what was referred to earlier as piracy by the regime. It started a revolution despite having a slow start on content and created an entirely new entertainment product using its different medium of communication. There were the sketch comedies, the animation parodies, the small talks, the news broadcasts and most importantly the reviews. This was a whole new realm, mainly popularized by two people (AVGN and Doog). AVGN did this (AVGN sketches) and TGWTG did this (TGWTG sketches). People loved this shit, they craved this shit, kids loved this shit cause of the naughty words and all this happened despite the shit being well, shit. But it was the young hip hot thing and it was able to kick network television off a cliff at the time. Nobody was watching Bush on Television anymore unless they were a balding boomer, people were watching a cartoon Bush sing about terrorism on the internet. Nobody wanted Roger Ebert talking about Spiderman, they wanted Doug (Doog) Walker taking a shit on a Batman and Robin disk. Kids like this cause it was “cool”, constant stupidity and erratic entertainment fuelled a kids interests explicitly as a rejection of dogmatic orthodoxy. This was the time of South Park, anything and everything was said and laughed at. It was a haven for creators and their creation and eventually it would all come crumbling down.
DEATH OF A DREAM
As time passed the outsiders became popular, the niche became the norm. The internet didnt change but there were signs for the things to come. In 2008 2009 the west had changed, there was a shift in the paradigm, a virus in the matrix. It wasnt necessarily a bad thing, change is good, but the internet showed signs of expansion beyond the tiny place for weirdos it was into a corporate wasteland with endless screens and no control. A necessity, a method of population control. Nevertheless it didnt manifest in 2009 and the environment was still unaffected. 2011 was when certain things would manifest, one of those being Tumblr. The internet has seen its fair share of weird nonsense before, there were furries, there were sonic fans, there were retards of all sorts but this was somethin else. This aint that, this wasnt Chris Chan, these were teenage girls. One might ask “thats it? Buncha emo teenage girls?” well behind every disaster there exists a woman, bunch of women in this case. This is what they produced (image of Tumblr cancer) and this (image of Tumblr cancer) and this (image of Tumblr Cancer) and you get the idea (image of Tumblr cancer). This was the beginning of the end, people could see it right then and there and definitely was a huge sign for things to come. In another place, far away, this was happening (images of gaming Jurnalizm). Both of these along with the shift in the culture produced a new establishment. A new regime from the ashes of the old one with new rules but old dangers. Change isnt necessarily a bad thing, if it is positive and the free uncontrolled dreamland of the internet was just about to get corrupted and killed, from the inside. This new establishment didnt give a single fuck, didnt care who they curb stomped, didnt care about the effect of their actions and did it all under the guise of “Altruism”. They increasingly alienated everybody and anybody who stood in their way, the people who defended their freedoms and the old internet they called home. As the animosity grew and grew, they started to engage in all the corruption, all the excess, all the heinous tactics they accused their opponents of both in the past and present. No ethics, only power. This attempt at colonizing the internet came to a head in 2014 with the infamous event called Gamergate (image of Internet Aristocrat’s Quinnspiracy Theory #1 “Call it out, call it the fuck out, are you not sick of this shit”). Gamergate was the first attempt at igniting an organized resistance against the internet imperialists and quickly became tantamount to a war stopping a coup. It was ignited by the actions of one Zoe Quinn who used her “influence” in the game industry (pictures of porn) to get her piece of trash positive reviews and press coverage. A breakup ensured that these crimes wouldnt go unnoticed by the wider public, the internet denizens that is. This led to her collaborating with the mainstream media industry and journalism of the time to slander almost all the internet denizens who’ve een touched a video game as vile inhuman bigots in an attempt to scrub the collective memory of her crimes. Internet goblins did not let this go unnoticed and began using the same dubious tactics (images of harassment) to fight back after tolerating the Internet corruption for that long. And by employing some of these tactics they were able to find the seedy corrupt disgusting mutated underbelly of the industry and journalism they lovingly grew and supported. So they planned to burn it all down out of spite and betrayal, quite rightfully so. But all that effort was unfortunately for nothing as the regime was able to crush the opposition effortlessly with support from media and government entities (images of GG news coverage) while simultaneously playing the victim card (images of whining). They cried out in pain as they struck hard and the media sucked their cocks till no tomorrow. Fiendish “Mrs” Wu harassed herself, Saint Sarkeesian tried to run away with the bag and Quinn sat to crybully, the Unwhorey Trinity indeed. Meanwhile there was Philippe Poisson, Jason Schrier, Kyle Pulver, Patrick Klepeck, Ben Kuchera and others (yearbook style image of media figures) too many to list who pretty much threw a hissy fit and ran to the other side hoping they could satisfy their thirst. Pretty unfortunate that Christopher Poole, the man who found Chan, was one of these people (image of Moots GG whine and associations with Sarkeesian). That was pretty much it, the colonizers won, took control of the internet so they could rape it into the ground with their communist cocks and gave it to the increasingly scheming big tech for seconds. What was once a bastion of freedom, fun, irreverance and complete rampant stupidity became increasingly ontrolled by the tech cartel sex pests who started using it to control and dominate by centralizing it. Paradise was lost as the internet burned to a lifeless husk. So much for the people who rallied against government control, centralization and the infamous Patriot Act as they used the same tactics to crush their opposition.
LIFE IN THE WASTELAND
Well Gamergate didnt make things better and certainly made the internet turn for the worse. But the final nail in the coffin came with the major event, the 2016 United States Presidential Election. The communists, hypocrites and mentally insane didnt laready like the resistance towards their colonization efforts in the form of Gamergate but this broke their minds. As neutral to politics the internet was, the corrupt media forced the internet to become a polarized heap and to kowtow to the mob. You didnt need to say a word, if you didnt support things hard enough, if you didnt condemn things hard enough, you became Enemy Number 1. As a wise man once said “Skeptics are treated like Blasphemers and Indifference becomes equal to hate”. Social media became a primary tool to enact all this with corporations slowly changing their terms and conditions to regulate peoples behaviors, doesnt matter if you have freedom you either obey the law or become outlawed, villainized, unwanted and depersonalized. The maw of the void may wait for all but the mob of mongs rules all. Most of these tactics came directly from the big red playbook as any discussion, from the political to the apolitical, from the most hobbyist to the most mundane, all were shit up with endless optics branding, name calling and ultimately ends with a witch being burnt at the stake (images of “You like Tiddies Youre a Misogynist” and other retarded twatter takes). An idiot used to call this merger of government and corporation something long time ago, wonder what happened to that man (Quote from Hitler “The media shapes public opinion” and images of Mussolini). As the internet devolved into this mess real life started getting affected too. The expectation of polarization and constant engagement became a pervasive phenomenon, sometimes even a requirement depending on the profession. Real life became a reprieve from the internet unlike the opposite it originally was, Uncle Ted was probably right. By 2017 most of the internet was completely taken over with few exceptions and the plans for crushing dissent were laid in place. Youtube was under Googles palm going on constant deletion and demonetization sprees in an attempt to control content (strike through control content) Sorry create context. Twitter was in the hands of Jack Dorsey which meant partisan and non partisan takedowns of all patterns, mostly partisan. Step out of line and get whacked, place went from teaching people to cook crack in the microwave to being unable to call a fat bitch fat. Twitch was bought out by Amazon and was used by sex pests to encourage prostitution and porn production but discouraged playing games. Reddit laid plans for moderator domination by which moderators completely control the contents of the platform and the conversations had, this will definitely turn out fine and won’t be tainted by biases. Even the bastions of the old internet, 4Chan and Newgrounds were ruined by the new regime as 4Chan was betrayed by Christopher Poole to appease his “new friends” (images of St Sarkeesian and GGers) and Newgrounds had its content neutered, age restricted, dumbed down while its userbase was infected by identity politics, untalented degenerates and people of certain persuasions, the progressive growth stunted childish attention seeking kind, even if there was the upside of allowing mature artists on the platform after Tumblr threw them to the curb. Irreverance became fascism and bigotry, gone were the days of evangelical christians screaming in rage at a “Hail Satan, “Sieg Heil” and “Cope Seethe Dilate” seems to do the trick. There was a time a wise man predicted this when he said “A car company selling cars wouldnt want a random guy to say nigger in the comment section” and many wise men said many similar things before that. Most famously Gabe Newell, former king of internet Denizens for a very long time said “Dont ever ever try to lie to the Internet, they will catch you, they will deconstruct your spin, they will remember everything you ever say for eternity. You can see old school companies really struggle with that, they think they can be in control of the message, they go to the press people the press repeat what theyre told and then five seconds later somebodys posting goats having sex with the PR person on 4Chan, completely calling bullshit on whatever it was. The Internet in aggregate is scary smart and the sooner people accept that and start to trust it, the better it will be interacting with it”, well they discovered how to infiltrate the Internet using a bunch of communist feminist hicks, let them take over the place and hand it over to be centralized raped burned into the ground and used to control people. I guess it was inevitable, from 1984 to MGS2 to Deus Ex all spoke about a centralized information network and the Internet had to be transmogrified from a paradise for organic Human interaction into whatever it was. It had to be sanitized, corporate and the lowest common denominator. Well, all things eventually have to come to an end, it was fun while it lasted. As the last cool kid rode into the sunset, everyone was sad but wished for the best and hoped for a better tomorrow.

 

[FuckMeGentlyWithAChainsaw]

A comic script Ive been working on bout the history of the internet. Its in the first draft and I plan to make it a graphic novel once I finish ironing out the script.

Do you plan on making this into a plot with characters you follow? Right now this seems like a big info dump that will be difficult to digest. I've noticed people really don't like comics that are too wordy, though I don't mind it myself. You're also covering a lot of ground in terms of timeline.
Maybe it would make sense to focus on a specific bit of your timeline and develop that, instead of trying to do the whole thing at once?
I've thought before that Gamergate would work pretty well as a comic book because you have identifiable larger than life weirdoes (Ralph, Wu, etc.) plotting against each other. Much of Internet history is websites growing and perishing which is harder to personify.

 

[Georgio Cocklord]

Do you plan on making this into a plot with characters you follow? Right now this seems like a big info dump that will be difficult to digest. I've noticed people really don't like comics that are too wordy, though I don't mind it myself. You're also covering a lot of ground in terms of timeline.
Maybe it would make sense to focus on a specific bit of your timeline and develop that, instead of trying to do the whole thing at once?
I've thought before that Gamergate would work pretty well as a comic book because you have identifiable larger than life weirdoes (Ralph, Wu, etc.) plotting against each other. Much of Internet history is websites growing and perishing which is harder to personify.

Not really it was meant to be a more entertaining version of an info dump, mockumentary adjacent, I'm not that good at writing plot yet and I'm pretty sure it will be cringy viewing these things from a teenagers first person pov. I'm not gonna make it too condensed within pages, Ive not decided the images and format for the most part apart from the image descriptions I had laid out, I have to figure out the rest by drawing a bit and segmenting the text so I can check pacing. My initial idea was to cover events and phenomena big enough to be remembered by 80-90% of people, just layout the timeline from birth to decay with moderate detail and later work on a kiwifarms only edition with extra chapters detailing much more niche events like the skeptic effect, trolling groups, metokurs career, zoosadism stuff like that. It's not particularly aimed at the capeshit manga crowd, it's aimed at the kind of people who watch commentary videos on YouTube and sperg about edrama here or elsewhere who also read capeshit and manga on the side.

 

[Marcus Tullius Cicero]

I've been considering writing one or two stories set within the legendarium that Tolkien made for his works—particularly The Silmarillion. One is much more developed than the other, at least in terms of what the plot or premise is, but I doubt I'll have anything legitimately written down for some time. Its main theme will perhaps be a simple one of overcoming cowardice in the face of adversity, rather than letting a desire for immediate peace get in the way of lasting principles and truth. We'll see what comes of it, though.

What I'd like to do, to set them apart from other pieces of glorified fan-fiction, is actually provide elements of poetry and myth into things. As not only was The Silmarillion lacking in poetry (likely due to Tolkien's untimely passing and the unfinished nature of the poems he did write), but the writing of such isn't attempted nearly often enough, from what I've seen. So, it'll likely be a good exercise in producing things I haven't before.

In addition to poetry, I'd also like to have a crack at linguistics and philology, in the spirit of Tolkien's own process (where inevitably his languages came first). He was kind enough to at least give some hints as to how certain languages developed (e.g., those of the elves we don't often see, such as the Avari), or at least detail what basis he envisioned for them. So the matter is made somewhat easier as a result.

 

[Georgio Cocklord]

Im in the process of writing another thing, this was the result of me reading too much Neil Gaiman, Grant Morrison and Alan Moore, all three of which engage in something Ive come to call "emotional faggotry" over "action" and "virtue". This is my attempt to reproduce that emotional faggotry style of writing with a subversive satirical spin on a subject they would consider "sensitive" to put it mildly. Its still a work in progress and is very haram with the content so I would give a bit of warning to those who want to read. Also I imagined this script in a Dave McKean artstyle, the "Black Orchid, Arkham Asylum a serious house on serious earth" style so do with that information what you will.

Spoiler: Trans

TRANS
I knew I was never normal, from the very beginning. For most people that happens as a part of growing up, some other part of life but I somehow knew it from the very beginning. You couldn’t see it, I couldn’t see it but it was there. When youre a child the world is free to live in, once you grow up you fear your life being devoid of meaning. I was also one of those people. The weird 5 year old who didnt spend too much time in the real world and always lived in his own. I didnt like the other boys too much, they played with their toys and action figures, there was a brutality and meanness to that which made me squeamish in hindsight. I was always calmed down by the women when I got a bit too out of hand as my virtual worlds got shattered by the actions of reality. I always liked the girls, they were always nice and kind, they never tried to take me away from my worlds and even sometimes shared their worlds with me. I always appreciated that, made me feel valued. It provided me some reprieve from the horrors of home. Mum and Dad were engaged in endless combat, Dad came on top every time. My brother came out of his room when he needed to take a hit and my sister stayed in her room most of the time if not all. I stayed in my room to block out all the noise, all the horrors of the real world and stayed glued to the television. That never changed and I didn't change till I hit 13. Even then only my body changed and all these things came into my mind which never came before. I no longer just liked girls, I really loved them. I wanted to do everything for them, I wanted to help them, I wanted to be with them. I started liking boys too, I wasn’t so angry or hateful towards them anymore. It was all so new and all so fast, I started feeling all these things. Things didn’t improve much at home but I used my feelings as an escape now. I started becoming more sociable at school, things started becoming better as people liked me more. For the first time in my life I felt alive and my new leash on life gave me more than I wished for. One day, one of the girls in my class came up to me. I still remember that day, she was really pretty, I still remember her face and the smell of her hair. She said “What are you doing? Are you that desperate to make people like you dude? You seem pretty creepy, did so from first grade. People don’t like you dude, I would suggest you stopping the charade, weirdo”. I froze, I did not see it that way and those words felt like stabs to the heart. The class didnt make it any better, they all didnt have a scorn of disapproval but the smug silence of ardent approval. It destroyed me, it really did, I thought my life was turning for the better. I did not speak for the rest of that day nor many other days. Many classmates came forward for possible reassurance but I was too shell shocked. Back at home that day, I was truly alone and for the first time I tried to shed my morality to alleviate the pain. I got onto my computer and went on a search for porn. I drowned in an endless supply from pictures and images to videos and animations. It alleviated the pain as it took my mind off and gave me a chance to experience something I desperately craved. I just wanted some intimacy, an escape from reality, love and care, was it wrong to want that? Parents continued to fight, siblings lived in isolation and at times they liked to use me for stress relief, at least that's what I thought it was. As the years passed, I grew more and more fond of pornography. It became the new reprieve from the abuse and despair. I might've become a depraved animal but I stopped caring, I wasn't treated differently by anybody anyways. And deeper the hole went, what started as a coping mechanism became a bottomless pit. Deeper down the hole I went, the more I changed to irredeemable degrees. Pleasure was the drug which changed perspectives and kept me alive as my sanity slowly went away. My thoughts and dreams were plagued with women and men, doing several different things from the normal to the insane. Things melded together and I found myself losing grasp of reality. The mirror no longer reflected me, it reflected back several different faces, my body no longer felt male but felt very female and arousal was a constant state of being, no longer a momentary experience. I had urges to go into my sisters room and put on her clothes, I made a mess in bed every night and I really started to crush my pillows to pulp. The changes scared me, what was happening I didn't know but it felt good. So I took the leap, I went into my sisters room one fine day, locked the door behind me and rummaged through her drawer. There were bras and panties and camisoles and thongs, neatly organized and beautiful smelling. I rubbed them across my face as I got the biggest arousal I had ever had and slowly took my clothes off. I didn't know how to wear whatever was on my hands so I put them on the way I knew how to. It felt like an apotheosis, I had never felt so great before, I ran my hands across the clothing, across my chest backside and across my body as a whole. I was suddenly moaning without self control and it felt completely natural in my head. Finally it ended completely unexpectedly with a height of pleasure causing me to fall to the ground with an unexpected accident. Once I came to my senses I was very aware and quite frightened by the trouble headed my way, not just the fact that I ruined my sisters clothes but the frightening realization which approached me like a freight train, "I don't just love women, I want to be a woman". In a quick flurry of flight instincts I quickly put my clothes back on, grabbed my sisters clothes which I ruined and ran into my room. Nobody seemed to have borne witness to the whole affair so its safe to say it effectively didn't happen. But it did change my life as I stood behind my bedroom door panting, worried yet relieved about all these new things in my head. It was so different yet so familiar, like I had changed into something I was always meant to be not quite different from metamorphosis. A glow up, a transformation. I soon became more and more unconsciously effeminate to the surprise of people around and to my own pleasure. That surprise slowly grew to shock to horror to disgust, like the five stages of depression. It did kill me, slowly and painfully, but safe to say at this point I was half dead. One day my sister would call me a freak and take out her frustrations, another day my brother would call me a fag and give a right hook, one specific day I remember the beatings I got from my father with a disappointed demeanor. I just took it and squandered it inside myself with copious consumption of porn. I just wanted a hug, I just wanted someone to love but I guess most don't get that and I sure as hell wasn't going to admit it. Finally one day, I snapped, I was a woman and I was going to be a much better woman than anybody could be, be it my mother sister classmates or anybody else. I was going to get away from it all and pursue my true goals in life. Day by day I got together all my belongings, all the things I needed and looked up places to get away to. I took some mementos as a reminder of my life (pictured bras and panties, one mothers and 'nother sisters) before the hard times. I got away, I took all my shit and ran to the streets when nobody was looking. At this point I was becoming more womanly everyday and the streets were a tough place for a woman but it was far better than the war at home and the abuse at school. I couldn't get it out of my head, the girl at school who called me a creep. It had been 6 years at that point but it was still extremely difficult. I occasionally caught her out of the corner of my eye during my time on the streets, like a fly on the wall. Don't know why I really despised her but became strangely attracted to her. Wouldn't call it stockholm syndrome or symptoms of trauma but it was very strange, appealingly so. One day I saw her at night, taking a stroll. It was a night where I was quite deprived, depressingly so, which became pretty common as survival trumped euphoria on the priority list. I don't know why I did it, but it felt perfectly sane to do so as the culmination of feelings manifested into action (Pictured Troon grabbed the girl off the street into a dark shadow and hissed her hard as he pressed his dick onto her. She looks on in horror, eyes wide and dilated but nothing she could do against the sheer overpower and mental shock), action which gave me depraved relief (Pictured Troon rapes her at the corner of the shadowy lane and runs away, leaving the woman among the shadows, shocked and violated). For the first time in a while I slept in peace as the Sandman beckoned me into some very weird places. But I was growing accustomed to it, it provided me with a sense of comfort, I was different now.

 

[BrunoMattei]

Im in the process of writing another thing, this was the result of me reading too much Neil Gaiman, Grant Morrison and Alan Moore, all three of which engage in something Ive come to call "emotional faggotry" over "action" and "virtue". This is my attempt to reproduce that emotional faggotry style of writing with a subversive satirical spin on a subject they would consider "sensitive" to put it mildly. Its still a work in progress and is very haram with the content so I would give a bit of warning to those who want to read. Also I imagined this script in a Dave McKean artstyle, the "Black Orchid, Arkham Asylum a serious house on serious earth" style so do with that information what you will.

It's very brave to post this. So I commend you for that. Big issues were the grammar but I wouldn't stress too much about that because everyone needs a good editor and they fix shit like that. Personal pet peeve: using the words "mum and dad" as opposed to "mom" it just doxes you as being British. Again, personal pet peeve of mine and if whatever your writing is set in Britain or with British characters then ignore this bit of advice. I think the piece needed kind of an ironic twist to it like the father is into it or the main character outsmarts their detractors. That kind of thing. But not every story needs to have that and that can lead to hack-ish tendencies in writing.

But keep going.

Edit: personal bit of advice and this came from a friend and basically a mentor of mine but having dark humor can go very far. I'm not suggesting to shove in dick jokes left and right but appropriately-timed humor tends to go over better with the reader. It makes the black pill easier to swallow. Do you see what I mean?

 

[Georgio Cocklord]

It's very brave to post this. So I commend you for that. Big issues were the grammar but I wouldn't stress too much about that because everyone needs a good editor and they fix shit like that. Personal pet peeve: using the words "mum and dad" as opposed to "mom" it just doxes you as being British. Again, personal pet peeve of mine and if whatever your writing is set in Britain or with British characters then ignore this bit of advice. I think the piece needed kind of an ironic twist to it like the father is into it or the main character outsmarts their detractors. That kind of thing. But not every story needs to have that and that can lead to hack-ish tendencies in writing.

But keep going.

Edit: personal bit of advice and this came from a friend and basically a mentor of mine but having dark humor can go very far. I'm not suggesting to shove in dick jokes left and right but appropriately-timed humor tends to go over better with the reader. It makes the black pill easier to swallow. Do you see what I mean?

Im not sure why its brave but I appreciate the suggestions. I didnt want to make it particularly focused on narrative over concept exploration. Thats something which is essential to the emotional faggotry style of writing, concept exploration and unnecessary complexity. Those aforementioned writers and most british invasion writers to be perfectly honest insert too much unnecessary complexity and make huge serious attempts to explore abnormal concepts, to the point of discomfort at times. There was no need to insert rape scenes in watchmen, there was no need for necrophilia in swamp thing, there was no need for the identity crisis parts in the sandman stories and there was no need for corpophagia or freudian oedipus complex in Arkham Asylum yet there they were, fully detailed and explored. This was supposed to be similar to that for a subject they wouldnt want to explore (Gaiman never does and portrays it as a ephemeral positive in the Sandman while Alan Moore accepts homosexuality and degenerate sexual behavior very dogmatically in AARGH and the Lost Girls with not a single speculation about its abnormality. Same for stuff like addiction which no British Invasion writer has ever written about) and inserting an ironic twist would be out of place. Spoilers but I intend for two more sequences of events, namely self prostitution and drugs, decline in health and mental stability ultimately leading to suicide in an act of perceived religious transcendence fuelled by insanity, in other words 41%. The mum part is also an unconscious result of reading too much brit shit but Im not british. Humor is something Im not good at, especially dark humor but I will see what I can do.

 

[Georgio Cocklord]

Done with the final draft, Im not gonna touch this or anything similar for a while.

Spoiler: Trans

TRANS
I knew I was never normal, from the very beginning. For most people that happens as a part of growing up, some other part of life but I somehow knew it from the very beginning. You couldn’t see it, I couldn’t see it but it was there. When youre a child the world is free to live in, once you grow up you fear your life being devoid of meaning. I was also one of those people. The weird 5 year old who didnt spend too much time in the real world and always lived in his own. I didnt like the other boys too much, they played with their toys and action figures, there was a brutality and meanness to that which made me squeamish in hindsight. I was always calmed down by the women when I got a bit too out of hand as my virtual worlds got shattered by the actions of reality. I always liked the girls, they were always nice and kind, they never tried to take me away from my worlds and even sometimes shared their worlds with me. I always appreciated that, made me feel valued. It provided me some reprieve from the horrors of home. Mum and Dad were engaged in endless combat, Dad came on top every time. My brother came out of his room when he needed to take a hit and my sister stayed in her room most of the time if not all. I stayed in my room to block out all the noise, all the horrors of the real world and stayed glued to the television. That never changed and I didn't change till I hit 13. Even then only my body changed and all these things came into my mind which never came before. I no longer just liked girls, I really loved them. I wanted to do everything for them, I wanted to help them, I wanted to be with them. I started liking boys too, I wasn’t so angry or hateful towards them anymore. It was all so new and all so fast, I started feeling all these things. Things didn’t improve much at home but I used my feelings as an escape now. I started becoming more sociable at school, things started becoming better as people liked me more. For the first time in my life I felt alive and my new leash on life gave me more than I wished for. One day, one of the girls in my class came up to me. I still remember that day, she was really pretty, I still remember her face and the smell of her hair. She said “What are you doing? Are you that desperate to make people like you dude? You seem pretty creepy, did so from first grade. People don’t like you dude, I would suggest you stopping the charade, weirdo”. I froze, I did not see it that way and those words felt like stabs to the heart. The class didnt make it any better, they all didnt have a scorn of disapproval but the smug silence of ardent approval. It destroyed me, it really did, I thought my life was turning for the better. I did not speak for the rest of that day nor many other days. Many classmates came forward for possible reassurance but I was too shell shocked. Back at home that day, I was truly alone and for the first time I tried to shed my morality to alleviate the pain. I got onto my computer and went on a search for porn. I drowned in an endless supply from pictures and images to videos and animations. It alleviated the pain as it took my mind off and gave me a chance to experience something I desperately craved. I just wanted some intimacy, an escape from reality, love and care, was it wrong to want that? Parents continued to fight, siblings lived in isolation and at times they liked to use me for stress relief, at least that's what I thought it was. As the years passed, I grew more and more fond of pornography. It became the new reprieve from the abuse and despair. I might've become a depraved animal but I stopped caring, I wasn't treated differently by anybody anyways. And deeper the hole went, what started as a coping mechanism became a bottomless pit. Deeper down the hole I went, the more I changed to irredeemable degrees. Pleasure was the drug which changed perspectives and kept me alive as my sanity slowly went away. My thoughts and dreams were plagued with women and men, doing several different things from the normal to the insane. Things melded together and I found myself losing grasp of reality. The mirror no longer reflected me, it reflected back several different faces, my body no longer felt male but felt very female and arousal was a constant state of being, no longer a momentary experience. I had urges to go into my sisters room and put on her clothes, I made a mess in bed every night and I really started to crush my pillows to pulp. The changes scared me, what was happening I didn't know but it felt good. So I took the leap, I went into my sisters room one fine day, locked the door behind me and rummaged through her drawer. There were bras and panties and camisoles and thongs, neatly organized and beautiful smelling. I rubbed them across my face as I got the biggest arousal I had ever had and slowly took my clothes off. I didn't know how to wear whatever was on my hands so I put them on the way I knew how to. It felt like an apotheosis, I had never felt so great before, I ran my hands across the clothing, across my chest backside and across my body as a whole. I was suddenly moaning without self control and it felt completely natural in my head. Finally it ended completely unexpectedly with a height of pleasure causing me to fall to the ground with an unexpected accident. Once I came to my senses I was very aware and quite frightened by the trouble headed my way, not just the fact that I ruined my sisters clothes but the frightening realization which approached me like a freight train, "I don't just love women, I want to be a woman". In a quick flurry of flight instincts I quickly put my clothes back on, grabbed my sisters clothes which I ruined and ran into my room. Nobody seemed to have borne witness to the whole affair so its safe to say it effectively didn't happen. But it did change my life as I stood behind my bedroom door panting, worried yet relieved about all these new things in my head. It was so different yet so familiar, like I had changed into something I was always meant to be not quite different from metamorphosis. A glow up, a transformation. I soon became more and more unconsciously effeminate to the surprise of people around and to my own pleasure. That surprise slowly grew to shock to horror to disgust, like the five stages of depression. It did kill me, slowly and painfully, but safe to say at this point I was half dead. One day my sister would call me a freak and take out her frustrations, another day my brother would call me a fag and give a right hook, one specific day I remember the beatings I got from my father with a disappointed demeanor. I just took it and squandered it inside myself with copious consumption of porn. I just wanted a hug, I just wanted someone to love but I guess most don't get that and I sure as hell wasn't going to admit it. Finally one day, I snapped, I was a woman and I was going to be a much better woman than anybody could be, be it my mother sister classmates or anybody else. I was going to get away from it all and pursue my true goals in life. Day by day I got together all my belongings, all the things I needed and looked up places to get away to. I took some mementos as a reminder of my life (pictured bras and panties, one mothers and 'nother sisters) before the hard times. I got away, I took all my shit and ran to the streets when nobody was looking. At this point I was becoming more womanly everyday and the streets were a tough place for a woman but it was far better than the war at home and the abuse at school. I couldn't get it out of my head, the girl at school who called me a creep. It had been 6 years at that point but it was still extremely difficult. I occasionally caught her out of the corner of my eye during my time on the streets, like a fly on the wall. Don't know why I really despised her but became strangely attracted to her. Wouldn't call it stockholm syndrome or symptoms of trauma but it was very strange, appealingly so. One day I saw her at night, taking a stroll. It was a night where I was quite deprived, depressingly so, which became pretty common as survival trumped euphoria on the priority list. I don't know why I did it, but it felt perfectly sane to do so as the culmination of feelings manifested into action (Pictured Troon grabbed the girl off the street into a dark shadow and hissed her hard as he pressed his dick onto her. She looks on in horror, eyes wide and dilated but nothing she could do against the sheer overpower and mental shock), action which gave me depraved relief (Pictured Troon rapes her at the corner of the shadowy lane and runs away, leaving the woman among the shadows, shocked and violated). For the first time in a while I slept in peace as the Sandman beckoned me into some very weird places. But I was growing accustomed to it, it provided me with a sense of comfort, I was different now (Pictured sexualized images of mother and sister). I roamed the streets for a bit there, desperate and cold, I did seem lost for a bit there not going to lie. One day I did get what I was wishing for, on a cold night under the moonglow. I found my kind, my kith and kin, not in blood but in humanity. A bunch of people looking like me, being like me were a discovery I stumbled upon at the corner of a lonely street. One of them appeared behind me and asked "Hey are you lost? How are you doing? Have you eaten something? Come on we have some stuff for you, poor thing." with the kind of motherly love I never got from my own. With tears in my eyes I got comfortable next to them and nibbled on the small morsels they had. They told me what I was, showed me the world through their eyes and helped me gain some peace. They gave me many many things (Pictured Drugs, Sex Toys, Clothing, Makeup) and taught me the ways of womanhood (Pictured Stereotypes and sex). Sure I didn't get off the streets but I had regained the euphoria I had lost to the elements. In fact they gave me a job, a family and even if there was no roof over my head, they gave me a home. They gave me all these ideas as they too faced what I did, some of them coming from better places then I did. I was indebted to them for the things they gave me, the things they taught me, the ideas they put in my head and the endless joy they bought to my life. My job also bought me endless joy, I gave other people a chance to find themselves and their emotions. It gave me euphoria like I had never known before (Pictured getting fucked, giving blowjobs and associated sex chicanery). Others might call it disgusting, being used, degenerated, those others who I had left behind but I came to call it being loved and making love. It felt real and it changed my life, it really did. I was doing things I had only seen and dreamed about. I was also changing, physically. I was grooming myself, I grew out my hair, I was exercising, I worked towards getting a beautiful frame a beautiful backside, I grew out beautiful supple breasts and much much more. I was free, I was there being the woman I always wanted to be. I was going on raids to get supplies, I was getting medicine and items I always wanted, I was going on activist sprees with my newfound friends and loving comrades. The world was my oyster, the palace of the perfect woman and I was going to force it to be that way, everything be damned. I had it all, it was perfect and I was happy. And yet there was this worm in my head which said "This is not real, this will not make you happy and will come crashing down". I didn't give much credence to that worm but it parasitically festered and grew. I was happy, nobody wanted to take that away from me, why was this happening to me? My family tried to console me and told me that they faced the same every day but that couldn't stop it. I took all sorts of drugs to ease the pain, I looked beautiful, I had all the love and support I could ever want, I had all the lovemaking I wanted to have but it wasn't enough, it never will be. I wasn't a woman even if I desperately wanted to be, all the lovemaking I engaged in didn't make me happy and just filled a hole inside my soul which was continuously growing bigger and blacker. I got desensitized to all of it, everything around me. Nobody loved me for who I was or who I wanted to be, nobody cared about me for all I could care. I will never have a child or a partner or satisfaction or love or anything which makes me human. I will never be, I could never be. That was the cold hard truth, always was always will be. No amount of distractions will prove it false. That was a gunshot to the head, the kingdom had fallen and no matter how good things looked on the outside, the inside was dead and rapidly decaying. I felt like Lady Macbeth and I was unable to get it off of me as it grew to consume me. The descent into madness came fast and it came hard until finally I couldn't take it anymore. I wasn't meant for this world and this world wasn't meant for me. This life wasn't enough, no life would be in this mortal shell. So I took the exit in hopes for a better place, a place where I could be one, I could be all, I could be whatever I wanted to be. An angel a demon and everything in between. And that's all it was.

 

[Marcus Tullius Cicero]

Done with the final draft, Im not gonna touch this or anything similar for a while.

My main criticism is the lack of distinction between paragraphs. There are also numerous instances where contractions aren't properly indicated by apostrophes, though that might have been intentional. There's also this, on line 35 (beginning with "was a woman. . ."):

[. . .]be it my mother sister classmates or anybody else.

When forming lists, one should insert commas to better-indicate that the items (or people, in this case) are part of a list or series of things.

Overall, the problems with this seem editorial, rather than conceptual. I do applaud you for endeavoring to capture the mindset of a transsexual, in certain ways. It makes for a fine attempt.

 

[Georgio Cocklord]

Ive been engaging in writing some shitposts in between other writing projects. I plan to post them in a substack or something some day. These are newspaper articles of the supposed future, its just a way for me to engage in semi journalistic satirical shitposts. I hope its entertaining. Also to any women reading this, no offense.

Spoiler: Article 1

Woman makes history with conception of pups
Los Angeles, 2XXX: An American Woman from Los Angeles has become the first woman in history to conceive pups with her partner, a 6 year old Labrador. 34 year old Sally Sherine worked with doctors and gynecologists to bear the children of the love of her life, 6 year old Bruno the Labrador and bore a litter 5 puppies last Thursday. They pursued an experimental process which primed the egg to be receptive to interspecies sperm and allowed the embryo to gestate inside the uterus, allowing them to bypass IVF and other intrusive methods at the request of Sally herself. Sally has stated that she was married to Bruno for 5 years at that point and was ecstatic at the prospect of bearing his children. “Conception centres aren’t a thing I wanted to look into, human males are just a drain on the soul and pathetic evil things. My partner himself is a lovely person and I want to settle for his children, not somebody elses” said Sally to a local reporter on Friday. Feminist organizations have issued statements congratulating Sally and the doctors for their achievements, with the director of the American chapter of the Woman’s Liberation Front, Denina Shaniqua, stated to the press “This is a brave new step in a brave new world, interspecies relations are something which empower women to make meaningful and desirable connections with the objects of their love, deserving of compassion, helping all of us putting patriarchy in the past where it belongs”. There has been some pushback to this event from niche fascist and anti feminist groups in the US consisting of conservative old women and uncontained human males with some of their remarks observed to be “gross”, “inhumane” and “disgusting”. Despite that fact young women from all over the country look towards this achievement as a breakthrough in the relations crisis and look forward to exciting new prospects this represents.

Spoiler: Article 2

Nonagenerian Transgender Man apprehended for fascist sentiments
London, 2XXX: A transgender man in London has been apprehended for his recorded sentiments to fascist ideologies this Sunday. 96 year old Brendan Christon, one of the few individuals on the planet afflicted with Syndrome M, was arrested by law enforcement on Sunday afternoon 3 PM due to his extremist statements. He was seen in a restless state on a Sunday afternoon by one of his maiden helpers and she had attributed the restlessness to the coffee he had that morning. Further observations indicated that it was something else with the helper who had witnessed the event, Mrs Jennifer Jacy Janine, stating to the local press “His hands were shaking and he seemed quite red in the face. He requested me to give him some private time and while I was going round the corner, I heard him mutter something. I could only make out some words, those words being men, pussies and cant take it. It wasn’t something I had ever heard in my life”. The surveillance equipment at the residence had recorded the entire statement from Mr Christon “I cant take it with this stupid world, I wanted to become a man cause men were just better. Now all we’ve got is just fucking pussies everywhere. I want to go back…”. The equipment reported the statement to local law enforcement after processing the same at which point the London police department issued a warrant for his arrest. The police arrived at Mr Christons apartment at 3 PM at which point he surrendered voluntarily allowing them to ease the arrest process. Local inhabitants defended Mr Christon as being a “decent man” but ultimately condemned his statements as extremist. The British chapter of the Womans Liberation Front issued a statement on the issue, “This pattern of thought is dangerous for the safety of the masses, both in the present and future. I can understand that the individual is afflicted with Syndrome M, a deadly disease which we have made great strides in wiping out over the course of the century, but that doesn’t give the individual the freedom to conceive such thoughts much less express them in a public or private setting”. Mr Christon currently awaits trial and sentencing while being detained in London Jail.

Spoiler: Article 3

Behavioral Study terminated for Dangerous Social Impact
Virginia, 2XXX: A behavioral study from the senior researchers at Virginia’s Educational Block has been retracted and scheduled for termination for its dangerous implications in civil society. The study commissioned by the social organization wing of the local administration aimed to study the negative behavioral aspects in contemporary society and was conducted by one Mrs Shena Delila and one Mrs Anne Corine, both behavioral researchers quite established within the Educational Block and well known for their technical expertise in antisocial behavioral elements. Mrs Delila and Mrs Corine reported that as they proceeded with the study their findings worked counterintuitive to the study’s stated objective. “The metrics indicated that negative behaviors, particularly ones we observe in contemporary society like obesity, sexual promiscuity, substance abuse, depression, sadomasochism and envy among others can be traced back to femaleness and feminine pride. It was a shocking and horrifying discovery to say the least, left us quite speechless” stated Mrs Delila to the local press. “The data spat in the face of the F scale. Since the elimination of Syndrome M the F scale has served as a universal indicator for the mental and physical health of female and female inclined individuals across the world with a higher score on the scale showing lower negative behaviors and lower tendency to be afflicted with Syndrome M. The data indicated that the behavioral metrics evaluated with high negative outputs in contemporary society might arise out individuals with a higher F scale score, with slight implications towards a primed feminine brain without any exposure to Syndrome M causing these patterns of behavior. It was quite disastrous and frankly dangerous information to get out of an experiment” stated Mrs Corine. The American Chapter of the Women’s Liberation Front directly intervened and ordered the termination of the data collected from the study after the study was halted and retracted, with the Science director of the Front, Mrs Brianna Briquette, stating “This is not truth, truth is something which helps and serves the public. Women are already suffering with the rampant negative effects of the remnants of Patriarchy on civil society and giving them bogus data with such dangerous implications is extremely irresponsible to do. It is a good thing that the researchers didn’t go ahead and nobody was harmed. But it is a part and parcel of the craft, sometimes science tends to make mistakes”. Some Fascist activist groups like the Society for Human Compassion have protested against the aforementioned actions to halt the study with some of the women in said group stating that it is a disservice and an insult to womanhood to not take accountability for the nature of women. The press has thankfully clamped down on such biologically essentialist rhetoric ensuring that it wont have any ramifications on wider society.

 

[Ughubughughughughughghlug]

I've been seriously thinking about writing a novel of the Battle of Blair Mountain, when the United States bombed socialist Appalachian coal miners.

I realized some time back that if I actually tried my hand at fiction again I would do well to focus on Southern history since that's my area of expertise. Particularly the American Indian (Mississippians, Shawnees, Cherokees, Seminoles, Creeks), the Colonial/Revolutionary period, the War of 1812 in the South, the Civil War, slavery. What really stood out to me was when some Kiwi Farmers, and some of the people around me IRL, started giving compliments on my interpretations of things being nuanced/very "thoughtful."

I happened to do a really deep dive on Blair Mountain recently, can't say much about it but basically I already have some experience delivering it like narrative, story. Nobody ever wrote a real novel about it. I have a ton of knowledge of the culture, the events themselves, and it's truly remarkable stuff, much of it is larger than life.

Spoiler: Rambling

The Matewan Massacre alone had:
A heroic lawman with a mouthful of gold and silver teeth that could dual-wielded revolvers
One-liners and foreshadowing
A showdown and quick draw
Two villainous brothers (the Felts Bros)
A love triangle between the lawman, the mayor, and the mayor's wife

 

[nostalgiasorrow]

Can i get some randos opinion on this autistic writing?

The presence of the storm cast out, its remnants nestling into the cracks of the floor knowing its abode a bother to neither soul nor flesh. Raphael cast his brush into the bucket, its gratitude spilling onto the annoyance of an elder's labor. Resting the bones that ached, muffled by the chiseled flesh of which knew no words to set forth its pain. Slowly shifting to the bucket, cautiously peering over. Meeting the gaze of an elder's sight. Hallowed by the torment time had left upon its parting. Behind the veil of confusion laying bare the sins of yesterday and braving the darkness of tomorrows path. Tucking away secrets to the grave, presenting to the father witness of deeds ill and well. Passing through the days of sorrow and catching the moment's happiness. Bequeathing the moments to the body, aging the flesh with its knowledge shed. Graying the frayed hairs of the stranger's scalp. Passing its color onto the beard rooting to the elder's chin, of which, a timid smile peeked through gaunt cheeks. His thoughts trailing over the passing years robbing him of his beauty. Donating it to the youthful shadow of his memory. Along with the forgotten portrait, the spring of his valor, too was pocketed for that blood he became so estranged from. Envying all he was gifted by the flesh his age had humbled him from. Ending his wandering thoughts, Raphael brought himself up with all the strength a frail body would permit. Phantom grasps under his arms aiding his perilous feat. Clutching to his body lest he tumbled stretching for the bucket. Its weight peeling his grasp as he brought it out of sight from Heaven's craddle. The storm continued unimpeded outside the walls, its barrage blotting out his steps. Confronting the door, forcing to break its sheltering bond, screeching its displeasure. Emptying the bucket, its contents join the muddled soil. Uniting with familiar kin, leaving the bucket deserted to a task for nature's hand, bracing for clean not far of tomorrows horizon.
receding back into the church, the doors gave one last cry to the world. Once more seeping back into the warmth of refuge assured. The silent gazes of saints and disciples beckon a soul to company from the world outside of wood and stone. His heels answering the call, guiding his soul to the alter like a moth to a night's moon. The storm let slip its grasp for moments brief, allowing his steps to announce his wake before the Lord. Shadowed by the flesh bearing down its sorrow on the sins of man. Dispirited at the creation's lost way, its palm at ease to Hade's vice. A gift taken for granted, a faith contorted, a flesh rotted by sin. Its hope never wavering or slipping of a days passed promise. Witnessing amongst the cold darkness an illuminating warmth. Knowing a wayward path, contorted beyond familiarity, leads to a foreseen redemption. A humbled soul brought to his knees, his hands joining for communion. A soul prying open the words of his heart, forged by the day's early hour. Bringing to his forehead his hands, pondering on the thoughts his soul wished to speak. The divine aroma of the sanctuary seeping into his thoughts, whisking away words of confused anguish from approaching the throne of the heavenly father. The flickering of candles quivering among the seconds shed to thought. Emerging from the mist of hesitation, approached the prayer his heart wished for his lips to whisper. Prying their ears, a martyr gazes and a saint awaits looking beyond the kneeling soul humbled before their father. Awaiting his stoic grace. Amongst their anticipation joined an everlasting silence, blotting all around the mortal world. The storm's uninvited presence disappeared beyond the obscurity of Heaven's wood. Parting lips prepared to deliver a sinners soul.
Peering up to the cross, gazing upon the tormented body of the Lord's gift to man. Awaiting for the miracle so many desired. Not knowing what he himself was awaiting. Expecting if a tear would flow from the chiseled wood or a motionless face to whisper his 'amen'. Bringing his gaze down, his cheek now resting on his clenched hands, staring beyond the lonely emptiness that greeted his thoughts. Wondering thoughts trailing to the teachings so effortlessly consumed. Sharing to souls seeking guidance from Heaven's emissary. Questioning the end of flesh meeting their demise early at the fate of their own palms. Casting to the Lord admittance of defeat, defeat of all beliefs to the possibilities of the Lord. Admittance to no prayer nor confession bring forth from the depths of their despair the path from darkness to salvation. What grace cast from the palm of the Father when the soul spits in the promise from the Lord. Exchanging an eternal promise of paradise for eternal damnation, all for the body could not bare the moments agonizing struggle. A soul shed from the punishment of the flesh, cast to the fray of darkness knowing no end, all for they had lost hope, lost way of knowing that all remains possible. A way forgotten its toll, our perseverance its satisfaction. Demanding from us an unwavering resolve in time of turbulence. Not a single body would lay his hands on himself in time of abundance, forgetting our souls amongst our indifference only to doubt all in times of discomfort. Doubts from the high that do not befall the mortal, yet we arise the doubts of our flesh to the souls of the high.
Do they grant it with understanding? When we disregard theirs amonsgt the cheers of our sin. Do they not disregard the soul easily given up when Martyrs of yesterday held to their moments last? Until their body's broken by sinners unknowing, shed their mortal bond. What then, a soul broken by their own palm can expect to gaze upon their heavenly father in a judgment not their last?

 

[Commissar Fuklaw]

Another year, another nanowrimo. I don't think I'll be doing another 85k like last year.

 

[BrunoMattei]

Can i get some randos opinion on this autistic writing?

Keep trying. A big issue is that you're not setting up the characters or the scenario but you're just jumping in in en media res with lines like "The presence of the storm cast out, its remnants nestling into the cracks of the floor knowing its abode a bother to neither soul nor flesh." What storm? Who is casting the presence out? I can see you're aiming for profound verbiage and it takes time to develop that.

Just keep trying. A friend of mine say's it's good to just keep writing and get the bad shit out.

 

[nostalgiasorrow]

Keep trying. A big issue is that you're not setting up the characters or the scenario but you're just jumping in in en media res with lines like "The presence of the storm cast out, its remnants nestling into the cracks of the floor knowing its abode a bother to neither soul nor flesh." What storm? Who is casting the presence out? I can see you're aiming for profound verbiage and it takes time to develop that.

Just keep trying. A friend of mine say's it's good to just keep writing and get the bad shit out.

Thanks. A couple of people that read it said it sounded like an Atheist writing catholic fanfiction though

 

[Commissar Fuklaw]

As an exercise, I would like you to rewrite it without any purple prose and post it. Just as bare bones as possible so we know the who, what, where, why. Then, do a revision and post that where you pretty it up a little, giving it the flourishes you seem to enjoy writing, but still keeping the story clean. You have to understand that the people reading it aren't in your head and also retarded, so you have to be as clear as possible. To me, this is a whole bunch of words not saying much. I think it's about a crisis of faith? If so the storm is a good metaphor for the characters internal struggle, but we have no clue who this bloke is so give me why this is important to the character so I can be invested.

A couple of people that read it said it sounded like an Atheist writing catholic fanfiction though

I know when I started I tried to ape my influences and it came off really try hard. If you want to write in that style you have to develop your own way which will take time and practice and then it will feel authentic.

A friend of mine say's it's good to just keep writing and get the bad shit out.

1 million words, 10 year overnight sensation etc. It's good to write out the story that's been in your head for years to just get rid of it and then move onto something new which will be 1000x better.

 

[BrunoMattei]

1 million words, 10 year overnight sensation etc. It's good to write out the story that's been in your head for years to just get rid of it and then move onto something new which will be 1000x better.

There's something to investing so much time into it that you get better but what's more important is to have a "true & honest" inner circle that's unafraid of giving not just honest feedback but general bits of advice.

My writing has dramatically improved thanks to an editor friend who told me that my best shit was written while in 1st person.