Tips for Improving and Enriching Your WritingTips for Improving and Enriching Your Writing2 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
Tips for Improving and Enriching Your Writing
Know the fundamentals of writing. If you don't know these or need help with them look copy and paste this link into your adress bar http://magicuser5656.deviantart.com/art/Things-Everyone-Should-Know-About-Writing-286645736
Know your audience. You need to be aware of the audience your writing is targeted towards. You'd never catch a zoologist using a children's picture book to learn about zebras!
Have an engaging opening sentence. This is your big chance at getting the reader interested after the title, and possibly a description! Use it well.
Shorter can be better. Shorter paragraphs, shorter sentences. A sentence doesn't have to be a run-on sentence to be considered too long. If your writing becomes too long you may loose the interest of some of your readers. Think short and sweet, but keep in mind short sentences make time fly by. Having longer sentences will slow tim
Things Everyone Should Know About WritingThings Everyone Should Know About Writing2 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
Things That Everyone Should Know About Writing
Points of View
Things you need to be aware of before reading:
If you would like to quickly jump to a topic, press F3 on your keyboard and type in one of the preceding topics you wish to learn about.
I would like to point out that it IS possible for you to view this piece of writing with proper indenting. Just press the ¶ button in the top right corner then read away~
Points of View
Recently it has been brought to my attention that a good number of literary works that are lacking in basic skills and the fundamentals of writing. I believe that everyone, regardless of (a reasonable) age and skill level, should at least be aware the topics we will cover. We will discuss different points and simple ways to improve your overall writing skills.
First we will discuss the different narratives that you may choose to write in: first person, second per
Hema Tytto: BioHema Tytto: Bio7 months ago in Profiles More Like This
Name: Hema Tyttö
Personality Traits: Bossy, impatient, strict, motherly, sweet, loyal and very protective of her kingdom and her friends
Likes: Archery, cute animals, strawberry shortcakes and lemon pies
Dislikes: Pepper's refusal to bathe, men's chauvinistic behavior towards her, being perverted and getting seasick over the oceans
Attributes: Excellent archery skills, knows a few healing skills and marksmanship
Not much is known about Hema Goldstein yet... She's the princess of Eclian
a hat made of bricksLet me plot it out for youa hat made of bricks4 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
in the moment that I will wipe off this cake smear from my eyebrow, pull the warm cookie dough out of my nostrils I will
I will change something!
in the moment that I blow the feathery feathers from the pillow I like to chew on for days and nights
and nights that are in fact only
transvestites of pure sharp daylight bodies in dark glittery flowing gowns
as soon as I
get all these feathers down and out and down
I will change something!
I have already planned a certain number of possible attempts and
would be quite pleased if you could
stand next to me and
cross them off the list
pen that has
magical fragranced ink because I think
everything that happens now needs to be
needs to be more pleasant for the nose than what I have been doing to myself lately
I cannot have my feet melt the asphalt anymore from standing too long on a spot and I
feel the sun drop right through my brain
I mean it
right through my brain and through my veins and right into
Fire in my heart--- 1.partOn this planet called Lunarias there are many mysteriousFire in my heart--- 1.part1 year ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
creatures, which are hidden from human eyes. People are not even aware of all
the secrets but they also do not care. They live their life carefree and their
only concern is how to survive the winter. The village, which is located at the
bottom of the hill is no different. At the entrance to the village stands a
wooden sign that says: "Welcome to the village Waldward" Many different
kinds of people live here, but like in every village there is a baker,
blacksmith, merchant and other very important professions. As soon as you enter
the village you can sense the smell of flowers. The people are good-natured and
polite. On the top of the hill there is an old castle and none of the villagers
dare to go there. Rumor has it that there is a man who does not age and that he
is must be a spirit that can not cross to the other side. All priests who have
ever served in the tiny village church would go to that castle to send the
Hippogriff Amigurumi PatternBuckbeak the Hippogriff AmigurumiHippogriff Amigurumi Pattern3 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Pattern by Bandotaku
You will need:
-F hook (main body), G hook (wings)
-Light gray yarn (head, wings, and upper body)
-Medium gray yarn (lower body and back legs)
-Dark gray yarn (front legs, beak, wing tips)
-Black yarn (hooves, tail)
-White or cream yarn OPTIONAL (for chest and upper-front-legs. It's m ore difficult to do, but it looks very pretty.)
-plastic safety eyes, approx. 12 mm. (felt or button eyes would also work)
Feel free to choose colors other than what I have directed. How about a brown hippogriff? A black one? Multi-colored?
Please make as many cute little hippogriffs as you'd like for you or your friends or sell them locally, but please do not sell them online.
The toe design I tweaked from this pattern http://sarselgurumi.blogspot.com/2011/05/toothless-amigurumi-pattern.html
The wings I borrowed from the same website, which was borrowed from a different source.
Because this is a free pattern, it has not been offici
Excerpts from a sea-child1.Excerpts from a sea-child7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
On the sand, she practices
resistance, lingering by
the ocean's milk-foam &
quietly wishing she
could just slip away
with her thin body,
deep to the bottom
of that mysterious sea.
After dinner of corn
on the cob and raw
pink salmon, she is
feeling even more
like a silver skinned mer creature;
collapsing on the couch,
her legs feeling immobile,
wishing they would melt
Only in the bath, can she
slip into sleep, her breasts
covered in soap bubbles,
her arm draped over the edge.
Eyelashes fluttering, fluttering.
georgiaWhen they hanged the black man from Roopville, my mama burnedgeorgia7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
all the white curtains in the house and buried the ashes under a rattleweed,
and said He will send the teeth of beasts upon them.
Then those Clifford boys strung their shoelaces
together and rolled their sisters Kewpie in mud
and left her swinging from a yellow poplar;
you wouldnt think honey could roll so slowly in the middle of summer
but then you remember that honey aint sweat, and it sure aint blood.
And you could hear the bees for days.
They hanged that man for resting his chin on fence of a woman
whose husband used to hold her head
under bathwater, while he dyed his brown shoes unrecognizable.
(A couple years later, that ladys husband caught some guilt
between his collarbones, and choked to death on the Flint River,
the same year all those folks died in a shar
WhyI am afraid of the greatWhy4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the bovine haunts,
and old breeze ruins.
You last left me
hands and feet tied
in Mid-West reeds,
the slow, uncomfortable
seep of marsh
chill into my shoes.
Beyond the high fence posts
the cows watched me,
large, luminous eyes,
etched with barbed wire
I called up toward the moon
as lonely people are oft to do,
heard nothing but
wondering back -
Jackfruit RhetoricJackfruit Rhetoric7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
by Iscariot priest
There are two poems here, read Artist's comment for details.
He says to you "conceptual love".
Now shake your head, unconvinced;
disagreement without context, be unspecific.
Is he sweating now?
You can see it in his eyes:
"Is she on to me?"
Just what the Hell is conceptual love?
You can see it in his eyes:
Metaphor generator in overdrive.
You put up your hands to hide your face;
hide a smile, your cruel nature.
Do you smell it,
the smell of bull shit?
No you don't, that's jackfruit;
thus the coming metaphor.
At least hear him out:
see the line breaks,
the pleasant punctuation.
Who is that woman?Who is that woman with the candy-red hair;Who is that woman?4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the too loud voice;
as she shakes the salt water from her body
and the swear words fly?
A sea-dog mother whose teats sweat stories
too personal for a big man's ears.
An ugly, old, idiot who thinks she knows it all -
or wants to anyway,
which is worse.
So you say,
and who am I to argue?
I am that woman
and that critic too.
drowning out westdrowning out west9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
It has not been so bad here -- warmer than home and they call the place differently than we do. You know how we always said Mizzery?
They call it Mizzera.
Auntie J and Uncle Agner have made the attic comfortable for me. From my window I can see hills fattening in the distance and the river veins away from them -- winds right through the pasture.
Tell mother I wear the cardigan she crocheted and no one can tell yet. Auntie looks hard, cause she knows I should be blowing up, but she's disappointed. She tells me eat right cause she wants her new baby healthy and she heaps enough food for two grown-ups on my plate; I eat as much as I can, but it all comes up anyway.
Give everyone my love.
Mother is still too upset to write; I hope you understand. I'm glad you're settled in.
Agner only owns the pasture,
he hasn't a breath of livestock
His job is on the road,
so I'm alone with Auntie
and the boys most days.
The phone rings
TransitionsThe park is bleak, a grey institution;Transitions5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
home to shivering trees, solitary shrubs,
and my jacket's shadow, sulking along the path's edge.
Broken glass; green. A flash of memory:
the smell of wet grass and a warm smile;
the sun enjoying itself among the clouds;
our shadows playing tag in the heat.
The trees remember summer, cold limbs creaking;
and I recall her soft arms, slow pulse, and sigh.
There is no goodbye,
only the change of seasons.
SeeingI went up to the girl who sat in the corner and drew. She always drew, and never danced. It made no sense. This was a nightclub.Seeing4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
She didn't see me when I sat down beside her. I tapped her on the shoulder. She looked up, and I said, 'Hi. What are you drawing?'
She shook her head, giving me a look of helplessness, and pointed to her left ear. I leaned right over and shouted, but she shook her head again. Then she flipped over the page in her sketchbook, and wrote in pencil, I'm deaf.
'Is that why you don't ?' I stopped myself.
She smiled, and handed me her pencil. I wrote, Is that why you don't dance?
She nodded. I've never heard music.
We carried on conversing like that for a while. She told me that her name was Lucy, and that she'd been stone deaf since birth. It wasn't just music she'd never heard. She didn't know the sound of the wind and the rain; the traffic in the streets; birds singing and dogs barking; she'd never even heard a human voice.
CompositionCompositionComposition5 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
There is almost nothing of life left
in me. I spasm
like a broken wasp, like a headless
As openings go, I could do worse.
You respond, tell me
about someone we knew from high school,
how you write him
letters in longhand, the way you once
wrote to me. You converse
about your shared love
And I know. I conceive
of how I could still play your piano
how I could make your guts
I could find the key.
I have spent so long
Theory is not enough. I tune
and bang out a few notes.
an arc is an infinite number of straight linessay ian arc is an infinite number of straight lines6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
& you too
& asked it to appear
& so it soul-sprouted out of earth
or spilled all star-dusted from heaven
or emerged from a gang of goliath worms
& was so splendidly riddled with prisms
we saw god in marvelous feathers
of flaking gold or seven robes
of mica or divinely impoverished
with a putrid buzzard’s beard
we were destined
our phantoms of truth be
so distinctly two of these
that they must eventually
down inside the kuk, kuk & skow
crackling out each green heron beak
is a different sort of time
or now than is
grown within the roh-roh-roh & awk
of every great blue one
deep within a claw of bear
black & river-blessed
exists a unique air
of holy space
which is oh-so-never
alike that which is
sewn within a talon of owl-bird
silent & flying ready-spread
with fiery night-sky eyes
far along the sweet flag
patch of summer swords
withered & seeds to set
55 55-Word Stories1. It's that damn cow again, following me everywhere. She knows what's in store for her and she's trying to make me feel guilty about it. It's not going to work dammit!55 55-Word Stories4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I raised my axe threateningly. She looked at me with those big brown eyes. I had to let her go.
2. Once upon a time there was a duck. One day the duck found a balloon. It was red and pretty. All the other ducks were jealous of him. Then he lost the balloon. The other ducks helped him look for it. Instead of the red balloon, they found hundreds of blue balloons to share! Yay!
3. The air rushed past her, an endless streaming wind that ripped the breath out of her and dried the moisture from her skin, from her eyes. She cried at the hopelessness of her situation, but the tears were blown away. She prayed for it to end, and when the ground was finally there, she smiled.
4. The streetlight shone brightly in the darkness, lighting up a small circle of pavement. The creatures lurking in the darkn
Just Do Draft 1One of the most important things for an aspiring writer to accomplish is to just get that stupid first draft done. It really doesn't matter what you're writingnovel, short story, epic poem, screenplay, etc.it's the writing itself that matters.Just Do Draft 14 years ago in Articles & Interviews More Like This
This always brings me back to my Novel Graveyard. It's a little place that only exists in my head with a bunch of unmarked plots where all the stories I didn't succeed at writing are sleeping off the effort of trying (don't begrudge them that, they did the best they could). Mainly those graves are filled with: (1) the first few chapters, (2) maybe some "call to adventure" if I wasn't still stuck on how cool ordinary life in my awesome world was, and (3) hazy notions of what the middle might look like, what the climax scene would be, and who would end up with whom. Really, these were the very fun sort of dreams I would talk to myself about while doing dishes rather than actually writing them down and making a story (but it's amazing ju
The Flanders MareWhat are you frightened of?The Flanders Mare4 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Anne asked herself this question as she lay in bed, awaiting the arrival of the King. She did not fear for her life. Not really. There was no longer an urgent need to produce a male heir, as the young Prince Edward was apparently healthy. If she stayed faithful, Anne told herself, her head would remain on her shoulders.
Then the King entered the chamber, and Anne remembered. She was not frightened. She was repulsed. King Henry was old. Ugly. Brash. Unpleasant. Tyrannical. The last Anne he had married was now dead, accused of cuckolding the King with every man in the court, including her own brother. Was it mere coincidence that her only living child had been a daughter, and she had recently miscarried a male heir?
Queen Katherine before her had suffered a kinder fate for the same offences. Jane, who
Catching Smoke- Chapter 1The figure looked around, flattening his grey ears back. He didn't like this. Not one bit. The floor was shifting around underneath him, like he was on a ship in the middle of a storm. The skyscrapers around him seemed to be closing in on him and the orange haze of the streetlamps was pulsing in a way that made him feel sick and disorientated. He tried to take another step forwards, but as he did the whole scene lurched violently to one side, making him fall over. He was on hands and knees, and hung his head down in an attempt to null the pounding headache he had. He crawled forwards, the whole world now stretching and snapping back, spinning upside down and pulsing. He lost all strength and fell over onto his back. He closed his eyes tightly but it was no good, the lights were still there. He wanted it all to stop. Stop. "STOP IIIIIIIIIIIIT!" he screamed.Catching Smoke- Chapter 13 years ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
I should tell him..I should tell him6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
I am on an airplane. Its not in the air. So I guess its more of a groundplane, or
a tarmacplane. Its not just me. There are twenty-two rows, with four seats and an aisle. No one sits in the aisle, but everyone seems really excited to stand in it.
I am sitting because I wore too-small shoes. I saw them at the store and didnt care that they werent in my size. My love will make them fit.
I adore you, cant you tell? Just try not to hurt me.
I am sitting, and there is a man in the aisle (of course), and his pocket is touching my cheek. This pocket is empty. It is the most empty pocket I have ever seen. It is so empty that something must be missing. I want to tell the man that he lost his wallet, or his phone, or a deck of playing cards or cigarettes. I want to tell the pocket to be brave. It is his d
The First EpiphanicalThe First EpiphanicalThe First Epiphanical7 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
It stirred, rising up from a dreamless slumber into the dull and barren plane of existence that constituted the real world. The only degree of separation between the two was that in one it felt desire, the will to carry out one process that drove the creature's entire existence. It felt hunger. The singular nature of this objective was one of the reasons that it and its kind thrived down here in the inhospitable depths that they may have called, were they able to do so, home. The key was a simple form of logic, the likes of which is often questioned and subsequently discredited in certain circles by certain sentient organisms, many of which lived far above the creature. The logic was this: If you do not breathe you cannot suffocate, if you do not have fluids you cannot freeze, if you offer no resistance you cannot be crushed, and if you do not need to eat anything other than dust you cannot starve. The creature was subject to all of this, it was also unawar
On WritingTo be a good writer, you have to be a Man. Not just a man, but a Man. I envy the hell out of chicks that decide to write mainstream fiction. Rehash a few awkward or painful teenage memories, chuck your crystallized adolescence into the defroster and pawn it off to Oprah, ba-da-bing, youre a millionaire. Not with guys. Oprah doesnt have your back if youre swingin around a dick. Did you see what she did to James Frey? Jesus. That should teach him to potentially exaggerate any fragment of a story.On Writing7 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
Writing is easy. Anyone with a superiority complex and a pen is already a writer. But to be a good writer, one of them literary-types who actually sell books, you have to toe the borderline of godhood. You have to eat lightening and shit victory. You have to drink like Hemingway and be at least 70% more bulletproof. You have to be able to chop down a redwood with your knuckles and whittle it into a massive club using only your teeth. The phallic imagery only adds to the m
Psychedelia 1: The PupilHere.Psychedelia 1: The Pupil6 years ago in Open More Like This
I remember feeling present:
In this now with every moment sweeping by me
leaving me untouched.
I forgot the Now,
my 'real' and my 'ego' sense of the world.
It felt wonderful to be a baby in the arms of the earth again
pushed to the bosom of the planet
It felt wonderful never to be separated from Mother
the 'as we know it' reality
There were spirals
red and blue and indigo
spinining tight, cocentric patterns
I knew what it was to be dead
My pupil op