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Re: Creative Writing 8 years 1 month ago #99853

  • frankB
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Hello there peeps..

I've just started work on a new novel, and I'm looking for critiquing and feedback from intelligent readers. I'm hearing good things so far from forgottenandabsorbed and sika's just joined the party. It's about all the usual Frankb stuff: humor, silliness, heartbreak and mass murder. Not for the faint of heart, but then I don't mind giving a few heart attacks, so jump aboard!

Happy to read and critique anything from anyone else as always!

Let us know if you want your mind exploded! :jeff
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Re: Creative Writing 8 years 1 month ago #99865

  • venison
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I don't know, Frank, last time I followed one of your stories it was cool at first but then you led me down into a world of shameful depravity and unforgivable sin. I'll give it another go, but promise you won't disturb me...:billyangry
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Re: Creative Writing 8 years 1 month ago #99867

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UM. Hi Venison, are you serious about the let down?

Sorry about that. I wrote a nice story recently titled The Air Within.

It's 5000 and something words and you can find it over at story mash if you keep clicking the chapters.

storymash.com/u/MrLightening/holodefa/


But that isn't serious work. Nor is this

Warning: Spoiler! [ Click to expand ]


But then if you want something serious all you have to do is join the boat. What I'm offering is the best of the best (hopefully), and if you're dissatisfied you will impact further chapters with your commentary.

Noah's Ark is sailing.

Come aboard ;)
Last Edit: 8 years 1 month ago by frankB.
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Re: Creative Writing 8 years 1 month ago #99909

  • Dorovo
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My friend's writing a story about a serial killer. It's pretty amusing, in a fucked up way.
"I said rat in a cage, not monkey from a fucking wire!" - Billy Corgan

"You have absolutely smashing pumpkins!" - Billy Corgan

uncyclopedia.wikia.com/wiki/Billy_Corgan
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Re: Creative Writing 8 years 1 month ago #100474

frankB wrote:
UM. Hi Venison, are you serious about the let down?

Sorry about that. I wrote a nice story recently titled The Air Within.

It's 5000 and something words and you can find it over at story mash if you keep clicking the chapters.

storymash.com/u/MrLightening/holodefa/


But that isn't serious work. Nor is this

Warning: Spoiler! [ Click to expand ]


But then if you want something serious all you have to do is join the boat. What I'm offering is the best of the best (hopefully), and if you're dissatisfied you will impact further chapters with your commentary.

Noah's Ark is sailing.

Come aboard ;)

Not sure if anyone has taken you up on this offer, but they should.

Anyone out there who enjoys great writing should check out Frankie's new project. It is by far the best amateur work I have ever read, and is right up there with any professional writing as well.
"Don't feel bad! I look at all kinds of crazy pornography!"
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The following user(s) said Thank You: frankB

Re: Creative Writing 8 years 1 month ago #101407

Drinking… that was all that mattered. Well, the drinking and the pills. Copious amounts of alcohol, and hands full of pills. Blue pills, red pills, big pills, little pills mixed with blue drinks, red drinks, big drinks, and… well, not really little drinks, but you get the picture.
I spent my days working a job so absolutely fucking meaningless that I could show up for work pissy drunk, work through the morning and head out for lunch just as I was sobering up so that I could drink some more to tide me over till five o’clock, and yet I still kept the job. I worked all day, while he sat at home.
He sat at home and smoked his brains out. Until he had nothing left to smoke, and then he would just sell my stuff so that he could but more stuff to smoke. Eventually I installed a deadbolt lock on my bedroom door. That helped until I came home and saw my door smashed in and found more of my stuff was missing. He would sell my stuff and buy his weed, and he would also buy enough pills to keep me complacent enough to put up with him. I never even asked what they were…
He would spend what money I didn’t hide away to pay our rent on weed and other drugs, and the asshole wouldn’t even save me enough money to get the only thing that made my life worth living; the alcohol. So I would steal it. I would steal bottles and bottles; I got good at stealing because I was a girl. And for some reason they didn’t expect a girl to be robbing them blind. I would steal enough for him and all of his friends so that they would leave me alone. Alone in my room to drink until I passed out. Or until I got horny.
I was lonely and living with someone I hated, who hated me. There was no one for me to love, and no one to love me. So I got by with strangers. Well, not strangers per se… I at least knew most of their last names. I had always had a higher libido than most, and the alcohol and the pills and the boredom and the poverty and the fear and the depression only served to enhance it. I needed to feel something besides what I was feeling. So I would find feeling in these random encounters. And thusly, I had a reputation. But I swear to god, that night I said “no”.
I hated that asshole, but as much as I did, I at least thought he would protect me. I thought he at least had that shred of decency in him. But he did not. I do not remember many nights from that year, because alcohol has a way of making one forget. But that night I was actually sober. And of course I had to pick that night to refuse the booze.
I was wearing a sundress, and I had a reputation. I told him no, but that was not good enough for him. I tried to stop him, and I called out, hoping the asshole would stop him, but he did not. He just let it happen… and he laughed while it did. My life had been almost unbearable up to that point, and after that, I could bear no more.
I spent the next weeks drinking myself stupid, just trying to forget. But I could not forget. I could not forget what had happened, and I could not forget that the asshole had allowed it. So I decided to leave, and he was not happy with that. He was not happy that his free ride was over, at least the free ride I had given him. He tried to stop me from leaving, and I hit him in the face with a frying pan. Right in the face, as hard as I could. And that afternoon I went home.
I went back to my parents, but I could not escape the memories. I wanted to die, and I did my best to drink myself to death. I could not go on. I did not think things could get any worse. And then I was “late”.
I remember when the doctors gave me the news. I was pregnant, and there was only one possibility when I had become so. And it seemed I was going to pay for the rest of my life for someone else’s crime. But I swore to myself that baby would not pay. I stopped the drinking and the pills, cold turkey, on the day I was given the news.
I was so scared. I had this thing growing inside of me, a constant reminder of the worst experience of my entire life. It was almost too much to take, but I could not let it suffer for someone else’s mistake. I knew that it would be difficult, maybe more than I could handle, but I was going to birth that baby and then… well I did not think much about what would happen to me after that.
The morning the contractions started I was alone. My mother had been with me throughout the pregnancy, but she had stopped driving, so I had to drive myself to the hospital. I made it all the way there and I thought things were going to work out for once. I had made it to the hospital on my own. Surely that was a good sign. So I got out of the car.
A man was exiting his car as I began walking around mine. He saw me and could tell that I was in pain, so he asked if he could help. I tried to tell him no, and then my water broke. Liquid just came splashing from between my thighs and soaked the ground…and his shoes. I was mortified. He told me he was a doctor and that I had no reason to be embarrassed, but for some reason that did not help me feel better. The doctor was reporting for his shift and he helped me into the hospital and got me taken care of.
After all of the commotion, the moment was upon me. I was going to be a mother. To say I was terrified would be an understatement. I do not think there is a word in the English language to explain what I was feeling during those eight hours (I was in labor, funny enough, from exactly nine a.m. to five p.m.). And then I saw my baby.
She was beautiful, and she had come from me. From the horrors of my bad experience came this wonderful baby. And though I was still terrified at the thought of raising her alone, I knew that I would do it. I would do it for her. And I would live, for her. Every day of my life I look at her, and I thank her (in my head), because I know that without her, I would not have made it. I may have given her life, but she saved mine…
"Don't feel bad! I look at all kinds of crazy pornography!"
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Re: Creative Writing 7 years 8 months ago #111252

The Fence

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Re: Creative Writing 7 years 8 months ago #111267

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^ I read your story.

Parts of it are strong: I was clearly able to see what was happening at all times. Even though little information is given about the character; there's an overall presence that connects with the reader. An interesting moment in time.

Points to improve: You over-describe a lot, especially before he gets to the other side of the fence. I think the ending can also be improved because it seemed too simple, and didn't give a wanted revelation as to what the point of the story was.
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Re: Creative Writing 7 years 8 months ago #111269

Cheers, mate, thanks for the feedback :) The ending, really, is the whole point of the story, so I couldn't really change that though.
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Re: Creative Writing 7 years 8 months ago #111272

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Oh wait ... The hills were where he came from ... I get it now :billy

That's one off your checklist then ;)
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Re: Creative Writing 7 years 8 months ago #111274

frankB wrote:
Oh wait ... The hills were where he came from ... I get it now :billy

That's one off your checklist then ;)

:D

I think I am going to start writing a lot more again. Maybe it will help me retain any sanity I have left 8-)
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Re: Creative Writing 7 years 8 months ago #111303

Here's one I started today, if you're interested. Sadly I didn't manage to get much done, so it isn't finished...

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Last Edit: 7 years 8 months ago by epitome.
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Re: Creative Writing 7 years 8 months ago #111317

And here's the end of that story, which I'm calling The White Room. Oh, and I should add that I only briefly proofread it, so it could be subject to a few minor changes, but this is the almost-finished draft, I think.

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Last Edit: 7 years 8 months ago by epitome.
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Re: Creative Writing 7 years 7 months ago #111343

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Again I'm not sure if I completely understood the ending ... whether there was anything more symbolic or deeper going on...

The settings and scenes here are extremely dreamlike, or .. nightmarish... I think that your first story The Fence is much better, in that the violence here doesn't feel real in comparison... Even though the Fence was essentially dream like, it still had certain things that earthed the reader... I mean that 'could' have happened.. But in the White Room, we get it's surreal pretty early on.

Your writing here is all about sensation, experience - but lacks in emotion and afterthought. It's true that we do get 'closer' to Dan as the story goes on, and ... there is a lot of sameness that represents the sort of endless maze he's going through, so we're apart of that... But it's hard to feel sympathy for a dream character... They can't really die... As we saw here...

Overall though, it's not bad.. I just think you hit the money better with The Fence in terms of 'Creating a unique experience'.
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Re: Creative Writing 7 years 7 months ago #111358

Wow, that's awesome feedback, Frank, cheers :D

The whole thing is essentially a dream/nightmare or at least an unreality, none of it is really happening as such. Really, it's about something that isn't even mentioned, but I don't think that's important. So yeah, I think you're probably right, it's hard to care what happens to the character as first of all we know little about him and second of all if none of it's real, does it even matter?

I've just been writing quite personal things the last few days, so maybe that is why I've liked to leave them quite heavily masked. I'm trying to write something (not necessarily a whole piece) every day... not sure what I'll try today though (don't worry I won't keep posting them all :p)
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Re: Creative Writing 7 years 7 months ago #111361

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Looking forward. I might also submit a piece at some stage...
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Re: Creative Writing 7 years 7 months ago #111363

Cool, I was going to ask if you'd still been writing recently.
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Re: Creative Writing 7 years 7 months ago #111365

I know I said I wasn't going to keep posting every day's writing, but I've done another short one this morning, so thought I'd stick it up :) The title is the working title I came up with, obviously a play on the famous "Living Dead"... it's pretty dumb, but I haven't thought of a better one yet...

The Dead Living

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Last Edit: 7 years 7 months ago by epitome.
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Re: Creative Writing 7 years 7 months ago #111366

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Well the title is appropriate for the story.

Paragraph one: The bullshit artist. Writing sounds right, like great voice over dialogue to open a movie, but at the same time it's forced, made up ... too easy.

Paragraph two: Narrative settles and improves. Side turn has been taken away from the obvious, and reader's interest is captured.

Paragraph 3 - 5: Writer becomes lost. Becomes evident he is improvising. Making it up as he goes on. Caught out. Decides to ramble.

Final lines: The idea is right but the wording is wrong.

Overall: More meat is needed on the bones. Here all you have is the insights ... some sensation ... but no action. The idea is to combine the action from The Fence and White Room, with the thoughts going on in The Dead Living.
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Re: Creative Writing 7 years 7 months ago #111378

I'm less pleased with those comments :p Ironically, that's the piece I'm most pleased with. None of these are really supposed to be stories as such, just observations or accounts, although put into a fictionalised scene. I suppose The White Room has some sense of story, but really it's just the description of one thought.

For me, there shouldn't be action in this piece, as all it is is a description of the world around him. He isn't doing anything at all, until the last line I suppose.

I'm not too sure what you like about paragraph 2 either to be honest.

Still, I appreciate the feedback and I do agree that if it was to be turned into an actual story then there would need to be action and "meat on the bones" . And I agree that it becomes evident that I am improvising, but that's because I was with all these things I wrote over the last few days. They're just streams of consciousness, slightly edited at the end :)
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