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Below are the 19 most recent journal entries recorded in
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|Saturday, September 26th, 2009|
I've had this story stewing in my head for over a decade, and I think I just need to make myself start writing. This comm doesn't seem very active, but maybe I can still get some useful feedback here. Libromancy
is a young adult fantasy novel. I'll let the rest speak for itself.
I may not remember much, but I remember the first time I heard about the school. I was seventeen. No, that's no good; I was seventeen for too long. This was back when I had just begun to be seventeen, when nothing odd or unusual had ever happened to me. If you had asked me then what I planned to do with my life, I would have said college, then perhaps marriage and a family. And I'd write. Oh, how I longed to be a writer! I suppose I am one, now. Everything else is gone, but I can still put pen to paper and tell my story -- the only thing I was given in trade for all that was taken from me.( The rest of the first 949Collapse ) Current Mood: hopeful
|Friday, February 29th, 2008|
Pearlshine: First 1000 (well, 1001)
Okay, so I started this novel back in January (had the universe in my head for a few years). I'm 320-odd pages in, and I guess I should start getting some outside critique. So here's the first 1001 words of Pearlshine
. (Warning: could be triggering, deals with infant loss and child abuse)March 10 Beep…beep…beep….
Ugh. What is that noise? Dr. Warner to Radiology.
Oh. I’m in the hospital.
Oh no. No no no. They’re going to take him from me. Up until now, we were safe. We had each other. Now I’ll have no one.
Something brushes against my hand. Fingers. I pull away, and my stomach hurts when I move. I gasp, but somehow I manage to pull myself away from whoever is touching me.
“Shh-shh-shh. It’s me, love. It’s okay.”
It’s Lee’s voice. When I hear it, I suddenly snap back, going from fourteen to thirty-three in an instant. He sounds tired and worried. Well, of course he is if I’m in the hospital.( The rest under hereCollapse ) Current Mood: curious
|Monday, January 21st, 2008|
|Saturday, January 5th, 2008|
Ive only just done a word count on my last post and actually had 700 odd words in it! Im going to delete that one now.
heres the first 100 or so words to E.Lyon
Evanna slumped down on the cold stone floor beneath her, her waist length fiery red hair cloaking her face, as she cupped her head in her pale hands; deep in thought.
She opened her eyes to the world she had entered only two years before; entrancing and bulging green eyes gazing around the room in which she lay. Hearing a commotion, she lifted herself and moved into a kneeling up position in her cradle, intrigued. The man she believed to be her Father seemed to be dashing from room to room, searching for something unknown to Evanna. ‘ANDA!’ He began to call for the child’s brother, his son. ‘Anda, where are you?’ There was a sound of desperation in his voice. He ran into Evanna’s nursery, somewhere he had not yet looked. Dadai stared questioningly at his daughter; of course she had no idea where her brother had got to
|Saturday, October 20th, 2007|
First 100 words (well, 113) of "The Girl Who Knew"
Hello there. I'd appreciate some critics for the beginning of a short story, titled "The Girl Who Knew", about a girl who sees her own future, and has known her entire life when and how she will die. It takes place during that last day of hers. I'd call it urban fantasy, but I don't know if that's strictly correct.
I'll be most thrilled over anyone who finds some constructive flaw with this, as I have enough people telling me rather unhelpfully that "yeah, it's good". Anyway, here we go.
.The Girl Who KnewThat morning I took a shower, not that it did me much good. It did not make me prettier, it did not make me slimmer, it did not improve my grades, and it certainly did not keep me alive.I chewed and swallowed a breakfast, generous amounts of strawberry jam and butter on my favourite bread in blatant rebellion against any and all diet, but it tasted of nothing but the bile rising in my throat. My lips were dry no matter how much lip balm I applied, how many times I tried to moist them with a tongue from my equally dry mouth, and I ended up forgetting to comb my hair. Current Mood: calm
|Sunday, August 5th, 2007|
First 100 Words- Unnamed Book
I haven't titled my book yet. This is my second book. Basically, I'm writing the stories of my mightly well-spent or mis-spent youth, depending on how you view things. Whatever side of the fence you fall, it certainly was a weird one.
Anyway.... Thoughts/impressions on this opener? 127 words.( Little Dead Friends EverywhereCollapse ) Current Mood: working
|Thursday, November 9th, 2006|
First 100 Words...
Or so. Sorry, I'm 10 words over, but I didn't want to cut it mid-sentince like that. :(
These are the first 100 for a short story I wrote called "Private Grey". Thoughts?
I loved the wet black of rainy night in No Man’s Land the best. There was a musk of mud, mold, gunpowder and fresh rain that covered everything like a blanket, like my carefully crafted poncho that absorbed the rain readily while repelling it from my frame.
About 40 yards away a scream fell and mortar burst, flinging mud across my back in heavy chunks. This too, pelted by rain, assimilated into me, or perhaps I into it, I do not know which for sure. We were one – the blood and lead-soaked mud and I – cast about by the ravages of war and occasionally given to vicious intent. Current Mood: busy
|Saturday, October 28th, 2006|
Standing on the rocks, looking at the waves as they mingle with the sand at the shore, that’s where I love to be most. Or, rather, that is where I loved to be most. Those days spent at the shore line dusk to dawn laughing with friends or just looking out, alone, are now only a distant memory. The memory of what the waves looked like as they crashed angrily onto land and the smell of the salt water are slowly disintegrating. I try to hold onto them like a dear friend. They are slipping away. I am slipping away.
|Tuesday, October 17th, 2006|
Hi. I'm new as well. I just joined and never really did this sort of thing before. I don't really know where to go beyond here, and that's quite common in my writing. I have no knowledge of it beyond the 1st 1000-2500 words. That's a bit excessive for this place, but I am in the process of beginning anew. One paragraph long. Oh and if you notice the date, I'm pretty sure that you can easily guess at what it's about. Anyways, I know it's not much, but feedback is more than welcomed.
Novermber 22, 1963
The day began unlike any so far in her very young and naïve life. And it began loudly to say the least about it. Of course, “loud,” is simply an understatement at best out of a lack of a better term since there was just so much more to it. Beyond the unforgettable noise, there was also the company of emotions like nausea, paranoia, of being crowded and frenzied, anger, and a prevailing sadness that would triumph well into the morrow.
|Friday, September 22nd, 2006|
I’m new to this community.
I just really need some feedback on this really short creative piece I’m working on.
I’m thinking of abandoning it and starting over on a different topic, but before I do I just want to know if there is any potential. Also, I need some suggesting for a closing paragraph. I somehow don’t know how to end. Would be great if someone had a suggestion!
|Wednesday, July 26th, 2006|
Just the beginnings of a story I've been working on. Honest feedback is appreciated.
The solstices get all the glory. Western calendars include both the Summer Solstice and the Winter Solstice, despite the fact that most people don't celebrate pagan holidays or care a whit about astronomy. ( Read more...Collapse )
|Tuesday, March 28th, 2006|
I wrote this a while back, not having any plans for the piece. I can't decide whether to leave it as it is or use it as the beginning in a longer story. Feedback is much appreciated.( 124 words belowCollapse )
|Friday, March 10th, 2006|
New Member and Poem
This is my first post, so I guess I should introduce myself... I'm 25, an English literature student, and a visual/graphic artist who loves to write. :) I mostly write fiction, and I have been working on several projects, but I'd like some feedback on a particular poem that I've been working... This is my first "real" attempt at poetry, so be gentle, but feel free to offer any kind of constructive criticism.
Beneath the amber curtain, golden lights showcase
Actors standing still as marble gods;
Blue-veined and glass-eyed, their petrified lips
Echo silent monodies. Their fossilized limbs are shattered and
strewn about the stage, suspended in a perpetual balancing act.
The blind audience never glimses this motionless dance,
Until violet light seeps through the amber fissures like
Flames, quickening their arms and legs with unseen
Fire, molding them into lithe and pliable amethyst bits.
And the green surge of applause coils itself
Around the stage; whitewashed words
Shining their routine homage to unspoken monologues.
|Saturday, February 25th, 2006|
I think I'm a bit over the 1000 words mark, and I'm sorry if I am.
These are my thoughts, expressed in poetic form/essay form, on heartbreak, irony, depression, sorrow, love, memories, tragedy, time and government. It's filled with inspiration from several writers. My friends Rika and Angie told me it was beautiful and sad, but they only saw the first draft, and this one's different in substantial ways. I think, personally, that it's one of the best things I've ever written. Post comments.
It's a personal document filled with several different ideas and concepts. ( Read more...Collapse )
|Saturday, December 17th, 2005|
Forgive me for not cutting this to either 100 or 1,000 words, but doing so would be utterly impossible. Try as I might, I could find no convienient spot to end my writing. And trust me: I tried. You'll understand once you read it.
Therefore, allow me to introduce to you the first 176 words of my short story:( An American, Through and ThroughCollapse )
|Tuesday, November 15th, 2005|
Jer clenched his eyes tight. Oh he was so good at over dramatizing things. You could see the wrinkles and creases from the way he closed them. With a smack and an “ouch” he threw his hand over his eyes for the double-whammy effect. “1. 2. 3. 4. 5...” I bolted through the air, never touching the ground.( The rest of the 1000Collapse )
Critique away please. "Are you getting people asking for more?" You tell me.
|Thursday, November 3rd, 2005|
I found this community and was like "yay!" I've been working on a short(ish) story (pushing 14,000 words at the moment.. ) and I've actually been really dodgy about the beginning of it. I'd really appreciate it if someone would take the time to hack it to bits. I left it deliberatly vauge in some parts cause I hate it when writers assume readers are stupid and cant' connect the dots... but uh.. yeah. Thanks ^^
It's tentatively titled Memoire.
I am certain that every story has a beginning, a place and time of origin. Time itself must have a start, even though no one can say for sure when it is. Thus is so with my lord Nicolae. I can only assume that he is from the continent somewhere, perhaps in the east, but he will not tell me, nor now can I ever ask. My story, on the other hand, begins in the colonies, sometime in the fall of 1758, the month my lord has never told me. There can be no certainty that he knew either.( Read more...Collapse )
Thanks again ^^ Current Mood: bouncy
|Friday, October 21st, 2005|
An epic I wrote
Well this is something I wrote for my English class. It is a mock epic so it is supposed to be funny and I got a good grade on it so I would like to see your thoughts on it. I don't know if this is the first 100 words. If it is more than forgive me for my computer only has notepad and I don't know how to check to see how many words are in it. Enjoy!
He awoke from his kingdom of treasure. Treasure others had long ago discarded for they had no Use for such things. These selfish humans who took their lives for granted and viewed Themselves above all else. Never understanding what they truly had. Every day they would Throw their treasures in metal wells and each time he would come, scavenging through their Treasures and taking what he pleased. None ever complained for they were too repulsed by his Aesthetic apparel yet lustful odor. Indeed it can be said that all looked unfavorably upon Che, With his treasure filled in hefty bags carried along by his mighty carriage he had obtained from The mighty storage halls of Pathmark.
When he finished his search for unwanted treasure, he would return to his kingdom for none Dared enter it. It was well hidden in a building long ago abandoned by it’s predecessors for Reasons unknown. Che knew that snooping eyes would never even dare venture by his kingdom For it was protected by the fiends. These fiends were once ordinary mortals but they had turned To the devil’s fruit. This fruit however, being in the disguise of a potent hard crystalline broken Into small pieces in which the fiends were fond of ingesting by smoke. Lucifer had repeatedly Attempted to entice Che with his fruits but Che was of quick wit and never dared even to touch One. Occasionally a fiend would attempt to steal Che’s treasure and a few even went Undiscovered, but the fiends understood that the price was too great if they were discovered for Che would break their pipe, which fiends needed to use in order to have the devil’s fruit and they Would quickly suffer withdrawal which drove many to insanity. For these reasons, no fiends Ever tried to steal the treasure.
While they were no longer human, Che still spoke to the fiends as such even though Yahweh Waited yet for their repentance. While conversing with them, a fiend inquired of his past:
“You are not like us who enjoy the company of Lucifer daily, tell us why do you choose to live Amongst us? Surely your previous life was not so superb as it is today with your ever growing Collection of treasure that, if you had not taken, would be given to the dumps on the great seas. Where they quench the greedy mouths of the seagulls who would sell their own kin, just to get a Piece of bread?”
And to this Che replied:
“Ah my past! It is something in which I wish forever to forget. I was born out of a dead stork’s Mouth. My father, being of noble birth from a long line of soldiers bearing wings of information For all ears, was ashamed of me seeing that I was a bastard and had ruined his nobility. I was Punished regularly by such things as a spank or the leather snake which bit me on my back for Even the most trivial of mistakes. At the age of fifteen my malice grew uncontrolled. On a night In which he had his tea, I poured poison into it. He fell to the floor. A fish thrashing out of the Water. The fish eventually suffocated and I had my revenge. Knowing that the filthy pigs Would soon link me to it, I fled the empire and entered this one where none knew of me and I Could begin anew. I cared little for getting the green papers which everyone itches for and so I Began creating my kingdom. My reasons for living here is the fact that all loathe you fiends and I can remain free from annoyance by adolescent demons who enjoy hassling me and laying Waste to my carriage. For then I must abandon my treasures to the four legged giant monsters Who eat my treasure with the aid of two men who throw it into the monster’s mouth.”
And to this the fiends were content with his story. So life continued for Che unchanged until one Day in the rising shadows he unearthed in a particularly putrid metal well a poster. This was no Ordinary poster for fate must have intertwined their meeting. Che was fascinated by it’s beauty, Made of pure maple trees and brought into existence by the experienced hands of a Mexican Sweatshop blacksmith. Che quickly grabbed it and glanced at the charming figure in which it Showed. The man was a famous king. Some called him the king of pop. Indeed Michael Jackson is the king of pop and none shall ever challenge his reign for he has the gods on his side Who entitle him to little angels to protect him and provide him with all he wishes of them. Current Mood: high
|Thursday, October 20th, 2005|
Another piece for my writer's group. I'd appreciate any thoughts. Is it too facile and cliched? Too mills and boone (not that there's anything wrong with that!) :) I think there is too wide a gap from the first couple of paragraphs to the next, but it doesn't really constitute a prologue. hmm. let me know. again, if this is the wrong place, feel free to delete...
When Gabby was six, she fell in love with a boy. And she loved with as much fervour as only a child could love. His name was Ciaran and he was the son of her parents’ best friends. They were always together, from their first steps, to the first day of school, she didn’t remember not knowing him.( Read more...Collapse )