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/lit/ - Literature

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1704689 No.1704689 [Reply] [Original]

Who's a writer? Working on something? Post the third sentence in your first paragraph. I'll start:

Hanging from the wild mass of oak tree in front of the man and his son was a head.

>> No.1704691

is that sentence not supposed to make sense
because it really doesn't

>> No.1704692

The stairs creak as I skulk, and the walls moan as I pass.

Meh, not the best line in my short story.

>> No.1704693

>>1704689
Hanging from the wild mass of oak tree, in front of the man and his son, was a head.

Try that OP.

>> No.1704697

>>1704693
Don't listen to this guy. The commas won't help; the sentence doesn't make sense because it's a fragment. Unless you're creating tension, try and join it with the next sentence.

>> No.1704699

I'll bite, added the [] to give some context.

>Nate stared [at his clock] in slight disbelief at how early they had chosen to start with all this crap today.

>> No.1704705

>>1704697
>fragment
>has a subject and predicate
Nope.

>> No.1704707

How much time do you think there is between the moment a man presses his gun into the back of your head and the moment he pulls the trigger?

>> No.1704709

>>1704697
not a fragment, but OP could rearrange it so that it flowed better

>A head hung from the wild mass of oak tree in front of the man and his son.

>> No.1704710
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1704710

>>1704705
>>1704697
>Thinking about the rules as you write
How are all those stories you never wrote past page ten?

>> No.1704713

He grabbed his coat and left, ignoring Anna's screams.

>> No.1704718

>>1704692
>first person
>kills self

Despite the horrible perspective, this sentence wants to be good but misses the mark.

>As I skulk through the house the walls moan as I pass and the stairs creak under my weight, as though the house was protesting my very presence.

>> No.1704721

>>1704710
>stop doing things differently to me!

I happen to like using the rules of writing, I cannot be satisfied with any amount of effort that I have made if it's a poor effort.

>> No.1704723

>>1704713

ugh. That's digusting.

>> No.1704724

>>1704718

There's no reason to take a large idea and slam it into one sentence. The writing as a whole should illustrate a reaction from the house, if that's the point, not just one sentence.

>> No.1704725

>>1704724
Yes you are right, but I don't know what the sentences around that one are contributing to the idea, it was just an example.

>> No.1704729

We've been repeating the truth for centuries in any way imaginable and money always speaks louder than us.

>> No.1704731

my turn, this isn't the third sentence of a story, it's the third sentence of a scene that i wrote as a story prompt once

Sam turned a wince into a deep blink by reflex, he was alone but if he started admitting the pain to himself then it wouldn’t be long before it cracked his mask and he showed everyone else.

>> No.1704736

>>1704729
>We've been repeating the truth for centuries in every way imaginable, but money always speaks louder than us.

Don't know if that's what you're going for, but it has a more 'defeated' sense in my opinion.

>> No.1704738

>>1704731
That's a mouthful, I'd split it into two sentences.

>> No.1704742

>>1704736

A novel on the limits of civil disobedience. I'm passionate about politics but it's hopeless.

>> No.1704747

>>1704718
I don't understand the hate for the perspective, a lot of authors have pulled it off well.

>> No.1704748

Je sais ça parce que ma chambre est directement sous la sienne et que chaque fois que le cadre frappe le sol, je me réveille en sursaut.

I know that because my room is directly underneath her's and everytime the frame hits the floor, the noise cuts through my sleep.

>> No.1704751

>>1704747
I acknowledge that it's probably possible to write well in first person. It's a personal thing. I just can't read about something 'I'm' doing, it's just horrible and I can't feel in any way involved in the story because I'm being told what is happening and not shown.

>> No.1704756

Smoke rose above several of the houses, and only a handful of the windows were illuminated; most were dim, cold, and felt empty.

>> No.1704758

It wasn't pleasant, but I ate the cheese anyway.

>> No.1704761

>>1704723
I can see bad, but disgusting? How?

>> No.1704762

John Paul got out of bed and smoked a fat blunt.

>> No.1704763
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1704763

>first person

>> No.1704779

What actually amazed me about the response to the crash, aside from the overblown wave of gushing support from the internet (which I guess was to be expected with such a sensational story), was how quickly they all forgot about us.

>> No.1704781

The object in front of the farmer siblings was exceedingly unusual. A gnarly plant, growing right in the middle of their newest apple crop.

>> No.1704783

is this a writing thread?
can you guys help a brother out over here?
>>1704644

>> No.1704851

A typical dreamscape forest means a number of nigh-identical trees in a circle around you, the gaps between them filled with green mist and cardboard cut-outs of more trees.

>> No.1704852

I hear the whole disgusting parade of piss as it splashes and gurgles and swirls around and then I hear the flush and the zip and he always fucking belches and then the light switch is pulled and he stamps away like a dumb ape and I can then, finally, pull my fingers from my ears and dream of the day he's dead and I'm alone with noone to piss in my toilet but me.

>> No.1704853

"Yeah? Well, I don't really give a fuck," said Cunterfisch.
A lull set over the two diners, during which Cunterfisch began to violently mash his Cliterfisch.

>> No.1704854

When running, everything boiled down to one simple need – escape.

>> No.1704855

Just the sight of those breasts made Reginald's penis very hard.

.

>> No.1704857

Fortunately they could never divert themselves from fighting each other, asserting themselves and generally waving their cocks in each others faces to actually try to run the city - that’s what the mayor was hired for.

>> No.1704868

Eric wiped his lips with the back of his hand and winced as the aftertaste made itself known; Steven still hadn't learned how to properly wash beneath his foreskin.

>> No.1704877

>>1704868

>the aftertaste made itself known

That's not so good, Anon - it imputes agency to the aftertaste.

>winced at the aftertaste

would be better in my opinion, but then what the fuck do I know?

>> No.1704881

"After she was finished defecating, the duke forbade her to wipe her beshitted arse, insisting that she should languish, smeared with her waste until such a time as he saw fit to have the girl brought before him, kneeling on trembling legs, in order that he might clamp his lips over her filthy hole and lick and suck every last particle of the fragrant faeces from her."

>> No.1704882

>>1704868
I have an annoying ass roommate named Eric and I lol'd inside.

>> No.1704889

'At some point we have all had a plan laid out for us without our input or consent.'

Boring, but it's just the intro and it's directly addressed and whatnot. I do wish you'd asked for the last line written instead.

>> No.1704896

From then on his radio transmission had been nothing more than a wet gurgling sound interrupted by loud crashes before the connection had finally died, presumably along with its broadcaster.

>> No.1705361

>>1704896
Me likey.

>> No.1705403

The old man was fumbling around in his underwear, trying to find the light switch so that he, I assume, may kill us better and with more accuracy.

>> No.1705410

>>1705403
The light switch is in his underwear? Fucken pervert.

>> No.1705417

>>1705410
Hey you haven't posted in a while, whatsup?

>> No.1705441

>>1705417
Mostly lurking, sometimes posting anon. I shouldn't be here at all, since I'm really just avoiding the fact that I'm hopelessly behind in my work.

Contributing my shit sentence:
> I was glad for the darkness, then, with the nearest sconce around a corner barely illuminating the bars that separated me from Calla, and her face not at all.

WTF. FM, learn to write.

captcha: onyou return

>> No.1705444

Three little pictures accompanied the text, the poor quality of the printing allowing him to discern little more than the fact that they seemed to have absolutely nothing in common.

>> No.1705454

Crouching skeletal through folds of skin like creased wax paper was the demoded and now corroded image of the girl who had used to occupy that space.

it's torture porn!

>> No.1705456

Here's mine:

And half an hour later the thought that it was time to go to sleep would awaken me; I would try to put away the book which, I imagined, was still in my hands, and to blow out the light; I had been thinking all the time, while I was asleep, of what I had just been reading, but my thoughts had run into a channel of their own, until I myself seemed actually to have become the subject of my book: a church, a quartet, the rivalry between François I and Charles V.

>> No.1705462

My first pargraph is a single sentence:

>The soundtrack had been the hardest part - he had to re-edit it himself, from several different tapes in different states of decay.

>> No.1705465

Some of these are pretty good. MOAR.

>> No.1705478

A cheap 2002 VW Golf that my wife and I got when we found out she was pregnant, and couldn’t take the train to work anymore because it was making her sick, what with the crowd eating their greasy breakfast sandwiches in our face and the stinking mass of it all.

>> No.1705481

Oh great. This sentence only makes the whole piece seem something completely different from what is.

"She was a downright bitch, a whore."

For completeness sake, the next sentence is

"Of course she wasn't."

>> No.1705582

I got the file on Thursday; little did I know that by Sunday I would be waist deep in something higher than my programmed professional parameters allow and very nearly forcefully decommissioned. Ah, I must explain, I am an android, specifically designated as Humanoid Model production number 34596 however I go by the more manageable designation of Bill. I am a detective with the 19th Precinct of St. Louis, the Gateway to the West.

>> No.1705590

"Fagan was absorbed in a rhythm, the staccato snaps of the typewriter’s metal fingers slapping a jarring tattoo against the paper, punching words into existence."

>> No.1705612

"She started to swell up, and did not stop until her body was eight feet across, her skin deep blue in colour."

>> No.1705627
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1705627

>>1705612
do the snozzberries taste like snozzberries?

>> No.1705630

"She did not swing her bag around her thin bird wrist like she usually did on her walk home."

I'm writing about a girl who eats a peach, because I like to eat peaches.

>> No.1705633

>>1705630
i personally wouldnt dare to try, so fair play to you

>> No.1705634
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1705634

>>1705633

Oh, you. That was charming.

>> No.1705636

>>1705633
madness!

>> No.1705638

The lamp flickers under the weight of the grey evening, and for one glorious moment Roald's breath is not tinged a sickly orange.

Short story.

>> No.1705655

>>1705630
>I'm writing about a girl who eats a peach, because I like to eat peaches.

That sounds pretty deep. Is it an allegory for something?

>> No.1705656

I woke up, saw ‘2:31am’ carved into my alarm clock like a fucking clown face.

Guys friend blows his head off.

>> No.1705658

>>1705655

I was going to add in a bunch of weird garbage comparing it to eating out pussy (because a peach looks like a vagina on the inside, I think), but I think I'll just let something come up as I write it. It might just be about an immense love of peaches.

>> No.1705666

>>1705630
Birds don't have wrists.

>> No.1705673

>>1705666

& now neither do I, through the power of your trips.

>> No.1705674

birds have very thin, light weight and delicate skeletons, this is what is referred to with a bird wrist. Obviously.

>> No.1705675

3rd line in a poem.

When more college will lead to more college so why go back
when the degree is where I left it

>> No.1705678

>>1705638
too much description not enough real action
sounds like too much soft language over an empty plot

>> No.1705681

>>1705658
It sounds like a nice story :3

Post it on /lit/ when you're done?

>> No.1705685

>>1705675
Rewrite that, and you'll have some astute humor.

As it is though you sound like a retard.

>> No.1705688

I have a couple of stories that I'd like to write sometime in my life. Everytime I go about thinking I'll start with one of them I get this feeling that if I do, I'll definately ruin it so I don't.

I figure I'll just take some notes and save the writing for later, I think I'll enjoy it.

>> No.1705689

>>1705681

I would be too scared of getting stabbed to death & being told never to write again or you will mail a bomb to my house.

>> No.1705690

>>1705678
I dont care for the sentence but I doubt you can infer much from the story based on that alone. Also, "tinged a sickly orange." as in color or smell, or..? What the fuck.

>> No.1705691

>>1705689
Well then post as anon you silly sausage. No good writing things if nobody ever gets to see them.

>> No.1705694

3rd line in a poem revised

More college will lead to where I left the degree waiting, and to pick it up and drive with the tassles around my rear view mirror will only mean more, a masters? Maybe. but more memorably a stack of mother taken pictures of me in-robe on the shake hands and walk off stage

>> No.1705695

>>1705688
Don't plan to write; write. If you follow this course of action you wont ever get around to it, or learn the necessary skills to finish a decent story. If you do a shite job, rewrite it. Most authors don't pump one out and call it a day - they rewrite, often times from scratch.

You either do it, or you don't. You sound like a failure.

>> No.1705696

If that is part of a poem it sounds pretty clunky.

>> No.1705697

>>1705695
It's not a frustration for me not to write and I don't really have an ambition to write. I consider it a mental treat that I'll save myself for a time when I have less things to do or just have grown more keen on doing it.

I did however experience this afraid to spoil it-problem when I was writing a short story in high school and I did force myself to just write and in the end it was quite a good story.

>> No.1705700

Here goes:

sucking her dick with vigor. She was lon and hard like an Edam made of Edam, but her

>> No.1705701

Okay:

if he wanked hi cock onto her fase it would upset the strange Dobermann that

>> No.1705703

>>1705678
First sentence doesn't need to describe the plot.

>>1705690
Color. If a lamp flickers and his breath stops being orange for a moment, clearly the lamp has orange light.

>> No.1705705

>>1705638
Ronald makes me think of A. some time in the 70's when people still used the name a lot. B. McDonalds and then:

mentioning anything flickering is just overdone in writing
describing lamps or lamp light is so damn modern day romantic to the point that it is just dull

the word sickly threw me off,

and I am sorry but I was angry when I read this,
take the 3rd line in a Joyce short story, he who has possibly even more description than you yet gets away with it because it has PURPOSE beyond being "literary" language:

"Now and again the clumps of people raised the cheer of the gratefully oppressed"

OR
take this:

"He had a hanging face, dark wine-coloured, with fair eyebrows and moustache: his eyes bulged forward slightly and the whites of them were dirty."

Joyce's descriptions have words that connect to what they describe. I doubt your flickering lamp light that "feels the weight of the grey evening" has deeper meaning to the story. again sorry for being meany here, in bad criticizing mood

>> No.1705707

Whatever:

He fucked her so hard it made hime cun. He was with joy.

>> No.1705709

Third line?

"They'll eat anything."

>> No.1705721

>>1705703
No you fucking retard, it is not clear. He's not breathing mustard gas. I understand you may have gone into some deep shit right before, and right after, but this sentence doesn't stand well by itself.

>The lamp flickers under the weight of the grey evening, and for one glorious moment Ronald McDonalds breath is no longer visible amidst the pale orange light of his McFridge.

>> No.1705724

>>1705709
Golden.

>> No.1705726

Joy was patient on her porch waiting for these alleged robbers, weed-spot meeting sophomores or whoever to come out of the field and when they did she told the group of confused boys to stop cutting through her back yard, which tickled them into running as soon as they heard her speak, each poked into imagining worst case scenario situations of police and parents.

>> No.1705729

>>1705705
Roald, not Ronald.

Also, I misread the first post; this is my first sentence.

I apologize for the apparent anger I have incurred in several people.

My third sentence is:

The hands read 7:13, but its not ticking.

>> No.1705732

>>1705721
No, his breath is visible because of it being cold, and is thus tinged the color of the light.

If you can't derive that, that's your own mental limitation.

>> No.1705733

>>1705721
oh man I LOL'd at the McFridge. my turn:
The flickering drive through sign felt the now grey puke that weighed it down and for once Ronald was not sickly throwing up oranges, just breathing in some OG Orange-Cush he just picked up from his dealer, it was "bomb shit" as the kids say.

>> No.1705738

>The coffee shop is standard hipster-town fare, all sleek edges and exposed piping-- a depressingly common aesthetic parading under the banner of edgy-- and Charlie Walker was the exact patron you'd expect to find perusing its many selections of cruelty-free vegan cookies; Buddy Holly glasses, Superman spit curl, Kevin Jonas' fashion sense, undeserved air of pomposity and entitlement.

>> No.1705757

>>1705738

Don't hate hipsters 'cause you ain't hipsters. It's kind of hard to form an opinion on your character when the narrator already hates him.

>> No.1705763

>>1705757
My character is not a hipster.

>> No.1705769

>Preface
Although there were no people, there were many animals, and the Princess spent her days caring for them and sitting with them in long stretches of silence.
>Actual Narrative
She'd fallen all the way to the floor.

>> No.1705771

>>1705738
lol is the superman spit curl a thing now? i've never seen anyone with that irl except like rockabilly retro dudes.

>> No.1705777

>>1705771
the character is based physically on my scriptwriting professor. If it's not a thing, it will be soon.

>> No.1705793

Johnny knew he was going to space.

>> No.1705805

re-linking this here
>>1704644

>> No.1705816

I’m starting to get a little impatient, but then Jason comes back in the restaurant wearing a giant alligator costume.

>> No.1705823

>>1705738

>undeserved air of pomposity

but your narrator's pomposity IS deserving?

>> No.1705828

Although Jimmy was perfectly fine with the fact that his head was stuck inside a bucket, he would have rather liked to know /why/ it was stuck there.

/italics/

>> No.1705851

>>1705721
I have to agree though there need to be terse.

>>1705732
I didn't know what you meant either. When someone says "orange colored breath" I do not immediately think of two possible scenarios; that there is a dim orange lamp, and that it is also cold. I think of an acid trip.

>> No.1705862

As a tear slowly ran down his cheek, he noticed that Klara had once again nodded off and set her back down to rest.

>> No.1705879

"Why Maoism?" I asked, confused. "You know how kids are, Harry."

>> No.1705903

i've basically abandoned this, but

"The daily routines of its inhabitants became slowed as the skies that stretched above them quickened with the cold."

>> No.1705907

>>1705903
I can see why you abandoned it.

>> No.1706115

Life passed by slowly in this village, where men hung their heads like dogs.

>> No.1706593

The look on my landlords face often led people to suspect that she was using her vagina to age cheese.

>> No.1707392

"I have found the answer and it is a fish."

>> No.1707396

Some call it an insurmountable fortress, rooted in a tyrannical posture, silencing souls like flies.

>> No.1707427

"Neither was in that distant past, a vast system of underground trains connecting the whole country."

>> No.1707434

Here's the first paragraph of a short story I started last night:

At the time of this reporting Mr. Penzone has been dead for exactly twenty four hours. I know this for the watch I always keep attached to my wrist, and because when finding him dead I had started the timer that comes as part of this watch. Just as I was going over the events in my head and brooding on how best to go about reporting to you all the details leading up to my stumbling upon Mr. Penzone, the timer reached twenty four hours, which due to its programming requires it to emit a shrilling beep, partly to alert the one who has begun the timing, and partly so to not waste the battery, as the timer demands much battery draining from the small device.

It's been fun to write so far, but I don't have any grand plans for it.

>> No.1707451

I'm slacking so bad.

First paragraph, third sentence:

The one piece bathing suit had red and white horizontal stripes that, even with her lying on her back, accentuated her breasts perfectly.