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I'd like to become a professional writer in the next decade.

7 (29.2%)

Less than videogames.

6 (25%)

I am a professional writer.

3 (12.5%)

More than my health.

2 (8.3%)

I'm not sure.

5 (20.8%)

More than videogames.

0 (0%)

Not at all.

1 (4.2%)

Total Members Voted: 24

Voting closed: April 23, 2012, 11:42:36 pm

[Supermikhail]

So you do use MuseScore? Awesome! Open Source all the way!... Wait, wait. Open Source Forever! Or... Anyway.

You know what? If you make your story into an audio-book, and make a whole album of tunes to go along with it, this hymn stands a chance to be the starting chime (or another word entirely) for each episode and become the piece setting the mood and standing-out in memory.

Edit: Found something amazingly interesting, I think. Possible origin of the five basic plots

[Acanthus117]

Hey Supermikhail, I have a problem.

Whenever I brainstorm on what I'm going to write (world-build, create backstories and such) I find that after a while, the idea becomes uninteresting to me and I get quite frustrated. Do you have any tips for me?

[shadow_archmagi]

Hey Supermikhail, I have a problem.

Whenever I brainstorm on what I'm going to write (world-build, create backstories and such) I find that after a while, the idea becomes uninteresting to me and I get quite frustrated. Do you have any tips for me?

I do!

The best cure for apathy is panic. That's why I run D&D; if I have five people who are going to arrive at my house and expect me to tell a story, then I damn well better tell a story. Alternatively, if you're a youth (AND THE FACT THAT YOU ARE ON THE NET MEANS YOU ARE) then just take a creative writing class at your college/highschool so that there's GPA and deadlines.

Alternatively, get your family/friends to take an interest in your work, or at least beat you with sticks if you don't produce.

Alternatively, whenever you find your work uninteresting, start something new, and then at the end of the year, FUSION IT TOGETHER!

[Acanthus117]

Hey, thanks!

I'm considering taking creative writing in college, and I think the idea for letting my family and friends see it is great. Thanks!

[Supermikhail]

The force is strong in this student. In these both students.

Honestly, after reading shadow_archmagi's inspired reply, I can't think of anything else but approval. If you haven't done much writing beyond worldbuilding, and after some time it grows stale on you, I suspect you just lose motivation because you don't really feel that you're getting closer to actually writing the story. Which means that you probably need to do some writing challenges or that course in college, which is going to contain plenty of those, I reckon. Hopefully it'll make a motivational breakthrough for you, as you'll know that you definitely can write something and finish it, what's more important.

Otherwise, getting to physiological reason of losing interest in an idea can be helpful. The brain lives on new impressions, it's well known that writers that got somewhere don't just sit on their asses and type day and night, but travel around the world, get involved with interesting people and organisations. It may be a part of their nature, but it may be a part of their professional approach to their job. They look for ideas, and their brain looks for new data. So, if there are no more sparks driving your worldbuilding onward, and you know there are things that could use some work in that world, you might want to go out to some interesting place. Like, if your world is ancient history based - go to a museum. If it's space based - find an astronautics museum. Well, probably the simplest solution, anyway. I suspect you can't do it right now, so I don't suggest traveling somewhere.

Oh, also, if you go to a museum, don't drive, take a walk (may depend on the distance). Brains like oxygen.

About the last piece of shadow's advice, I hope you'll excuse me if I say that taking a break is actually for losers. You've got a good chance that you're going to come back to your story or world intermittently, but never really do anything with it. And it doesn't improve either your motivation to write it, or your self-esteem (from personal experience).

Finally, a disclaimer: I'm actually not the best person to seek advice on this matter, because all of my (relatively) big things that did or didn't come to a conclusion, I started writing without any worldbuilding whatsoever, and all the worldbuilding I did went into stories that never saw the light of day. Although this year I plan to change it (and I plan, and I plan, and I plan).

[Acanthus117]

Thanks, Mikhail! :3

I'll probably try to give you people something soon.

[Supermikhail]

Yeahaw! It's Friday night!

Anyway, I've come up with something for the last prompt. And I still can't tell if I got it right. Actually I'm pretty sure I didn't, but that's what it inspired me to write.

Spoiler: Sneaky Exposition (click to show/hide)

There is a table. The table is red wood. Its surface is polished and lacquered. It has one stout leg, resembling a Greek column. Its top is circular.

The table is a little off the centre of the room, and closer to the only window. The window is wide and tall, opening into a floral garden which boasts a selection of rose bushes and tulip beds, mostly red and sometimes white-coloured.

The room isn’t large, but its size is visually diminished by heavy luxurious furniture. Upon entering, the eye is immediately attracted to a wooden bookcase which takes the whole of one wall. It has twelve shelves from the floor to the ceiling, and books tightly packed on all of the shelves, from wall to wall. In one place a book is missing and can be seen lying open on the floor.

Opposite of the bookcase there is a sofa with a palm-tree and a lamp-shade by its sides. The sofa’s covering is wolverine fur and is thick and warm. The palm-tree is very spacious, reaching one spiky “claw" almost to the middle of the room. It’s other “claws” are held together by a ribbon. The ribbon is red silk.

The walls of the room have neutral, white wall-paper, and a few bamboo canvases hanging in some places. The ceiling has got a chandelier hanging from it. The chandelier bears many clear beads which make it look like a sparkling ghost floating above. The beads are of different tints, most of them red, some blue and green.

The floor is wood-tiled and lacquered. On the floor there is a knife. The knife is red steel.

[Fishbreath]

It reminds me of nothing so much as a somewhat wordier version of a classic text adventure. I mean that as a compliment: in general, those games are incredibly atmospheric with an incredibly spartan style, which is an achievement. Certainly it wasn't what I had in mind when I wrote the prompt, but it's a good response, and what I intended certainly doesn't matter all that much for these sorts of things.

Grammar niggle: "The ceiling has got a chandelier hanging from it" reads awkwardly to me. You could strike the 'got' and keep the same meaning, but "A chandelier hangs from the ceiling" sounds better to my ear.

[Supermikhail]

That chandelier is certainly a thing. However, your suggestion doesn't help me, because for some reason I need to have "the ceiling" in the front in that sentence.

So you got what the sneaky fact was? Just yes or no!

Edit: I just got an thought - besides this thread getting slower in its tracks, I suddenly got a feeling that something is amiss - a connection to the rest of the forum! So, how about, for the next prompt, after the current one runs out, we take something set in Dwarf Fortress?

[Iituem]

When does the current prompt run out?  I wouldn't mind giving this a go.

Also, that text is perhaps too subtle for me.  Beyond the colour references, I couldn't get anything, even against the number twelve.

[Supermikhail]

Oh. Seeing as I've just updated the OP with the current prompt, I'd like to give it one more day, well, at least to wait for Fishbreath's consent as it's his prompt.

But I should say, if you've already got an idea and are itching to let it out on paper, I urge you to do so. Part of my hesitation is because I can't think of a very good formula beyond "set in DF". Maybe if you write your thing first, then we here will be inspired by it for a particular theme.

[Iituem]

Here we go then.  Haven't really edited it, since it was done in about 20mins, but it's something.

Spoiler: Flicker (click to show/hide)

The ballroom was brightly lit, as it had to be.  A single chandelier of brilliant crystal would have dominated the ceiling but for the bas-relief of white angels and pastoral scenes above.  Smaller lights perched all around the walls, nested in tasteful golden candelabras to illuminate the crowd.  The room was packed thick tonight, and the waiters' feet grew sore from passing drinks and treats between the guests.

Sandy fixed her smile as she swung by a small knot of partygoers.  The heat of all the lights could be overwhelming, and stray strands of sandy hair stuck to her brow.  She waited by the knot in case one of the guests felt like taking a glass or pastry from her platter.  One did; a lady in an exquisite white dress, with skin so dark it spoke of midnight, picked two thin flutes of champagne from the proffered plate.  Sandy felt a flush of envy; the lady's hair was perfectly arranged, flowing in green waves down her back.  She could even see faintly where the roots were still brown. 

The lady handed a glass to a rotund, red-cheeked gentleman in a navy suit that barely stretched across his bulk.  The man finished some unheard joke and burst into crude, raucous laughter.  The guests joined in, and Sandy could not help but admire the soft musical tinkle of the woman's laughter when she accompanied them.  She would have laughed herself, but they had already forgotten her.

Sandy returned to the table, where Michael was setting his empty tray on the table.  She stood next to him and tried to look professional.

"Who's the green-haired lady?" she asked in a low tone, placing her own tray down on the table.

"That lady?" Michael murmured back, glancing over his shoulder.  "Nambala.  Rich, like the rest of them.  Namibian diamond mine, you know?"

"Looks like she's getting cosy with the shipping fleet," Sandy remarked, nodding to the blue-suited fat man.  "I guess diamonds do need transport."

"So would Bertrand if being drunk was a problem for him," Michael said, snorting softly.  "He's had twelve already.  Bloody Sap-Eyes."

"Michael!" Sandy hissed.  "You know you can't call them that!  You'll lose your job, and probably mine with it."

"I just don't know why Grunt-Eyes don't do this job.  Must be the novelty of having us serve them."  Michael rolled his eyes and picked up the fully loaded platter on the table, heading into the crowd.

As he crossed the room one of the lights flickered, and the guests, food and drink flickered with it.  For a brief moment, the mood lulled and a few frowns were exchanged, but soon enough the party went on.

Spoiler: Edit 1 (click to show/hide)

The ballroom was brightly lit, as it had to be.  A single chandelier of brilliant crystal would have dominated the ceiling but for the bas-relief of white angels and pastoral scenes above.  Smaller lights perched all around the walls, nested in tasteful golden candelabras to illuminate the crowd.  The room was packed thick tonight, and the waiters' feet grew sore from passing drinks and treats between the guests.

Sandy fixed her smile as she swung by a small knot of partygoers.  The heat of all the lights could be overwhelming, and errant strands of hair stuck to her brow.  She waited by the knot in case one of the guests felt like taking a glass or pastry from her platter.  One did; a lady in an exquisite white dress, with skin so dark it spoke of midnight, picked two thin flutes of champagne from the proffered plate.  Sandy felt a flush of envy; the lady's hair was perfectly arranged, flowing in green waves down her back.  She could even see faintly where the roots were still brown. 

The lady handed a glass to a rotund, red-cheeked gentleman in a navy suit that barely stretched across his bulk.  The man finished some unheard joke and burst into crude, raucous laughter.  The guests joined in, and Sandy could not help but admire the soft musical tinkle of the woman's laughter.  She would have laughed herself, but they had already forgotten her.

Sandy returned to the table, where Michael was setting his empty tray on the table.  She stood next to him and tried to look professional.

"Who's the lady with the green hair?" she asked quietly, placing her own tray down on the table.

"Nambala?" said Michael, glancing over his shoulder.  "Rich, like the rest of them.  Namibian diamond mine, I hear."

"Well, she's getting cosy with the shipping fleet." Sandy nodded to the blue-suited fat man.  "I guess diamonds do need transport."

"So would Bertrand if being drunk was a problem for him," Michael snorted softly.  "He's had twelve already.  Bloody Sap-Eyes."

"Michael!  You know you can't call them that!"

"I just don't know why Grunt-Eyes don't do this job.  Must be the novelty of having us serve them."  Michael rolled his eyes and picked up the fully loaded platter on the table, heading into the crowd.

As he crossed the room one of the lights flickered, and the guests, food and drink flickered with it.  For a brief moment, the mood lulled and a few frowns were exchanged, but soon enough the party went on.

Spoiler: Edit 2 (click to show/hide)

The ballroom was brightly lit, as it had to be.  A single chandelier of brilliant crystal would have dominated the ceiling but for the bas-relief of white angels and pastoral scenes above.  Smaller lights perched all around the walls, nested in tasteful golden candelabras to illuminate the crowd.  The room was packed thick tonight, and the waiters' feet grew sore from passing drinks and treats between the guests.

Sandy fixed her smile as she swung by a small knot of partygoers.  The heat of all the lights could be overwhelming, and errant strands of hair stuck to her brow.  She waited by the knot in case one of the guests felt like taking a glass or pastry from her platter.  One did; a lady in an exquisite white dress, with skin so dark it spoke of midnight, picked two thin flutes of champagne from the proffered plate.  Sandy felt a flush of envy; the lady's hair was perfectly arranged, flowing in green waves down her back.  She could even see faintly where the roots were still brown. 

The lady handed a glass to a rotund, red-cheeked gentleman in a navy suit that barely stretched across his bulk.  The man finished some unheard joke and burst into crude, raucous laughter.  The guests joined in, and Sandy could not help but admire the soft musical tinkle of the woman's laughter.  She would have laughed herself, but they had already forgotten her.

Sandy returned to the table, where Michael was setting his empty tray on the table.  She stood next to him and tried to look professional.

"So who's the lady with the green hair?" she asked quietly.

"Nambala?  Rich, like the rest of them.  Namibian diamond mine, I hear."

"Well, she's getting cosy with the shipping fleet." Sandy nodded to the blue-suited fat man.  "I guess diamonds do need transport."

Michael snorted.

"So would Bertrand if being drunk was a problem for him.  He's had twelve already.  Bloody Sap-Eyes." 

Sandy glared at him.

"Michael!  You know you can't call them that!"

"I just don't know why Grunt-Eyes don't do this job.  Must be the novelty of having us serve them." 

Michael rolled his eyes, picked up the fully loaded platter on the table and headed into the crowd.

As he crossed the room one of the lights flickered, and the guests, food and drink flickered with it.  For a brief moment, the mood lulled and a few frowns were exchanged, but soon enough the party went on.

[Leafsnail]

Contest looks interesting.  I'll see what I can come up with.

[Supermikhail]

@Iituem: Erm, I thought you were going to write about DF. Oh, well.

It's very good, especially in the exposition department... Wait, it's for the exposition prompt, right? Ehm, my bad.

Anyway, very good. You've got a good sense of tempo. But I've got a few remarks. First, what caught my eye, and probably is just a doing of haste - "Sandy fixed her smile... and stray strands of sandy hair." It feels almost deliberate, but this word-play with name and hair-colour doesn't look healthy to me. Also repetition of sounds "str". If it's not deliberate, and I haven't caught anything like that, then it should be avoided.

Now, the second criticism is more grave, at least to me. The dialogue is overflowing with said-bookisms (please, Google it if you don't know what it is, there are simply a ton of articles on the subject). They are distracting, and they are long, the dialogue feels like it's slugging forward, while it could be snappy and precise... Well, at least you don't interrupt your characters several times per line like I used to do half-a-year back.

Well, for the hidden fact, I only can think that green-eyed lady is some sort of African goddess, or if we take it a tier lower, a voodoo princess, or just a sorceress. Well, because the lights blink.

I'm probably not subtle enough, either. But in my story colour really is the key... Hey, what's that I see? "He's had twelve already." Is that somehow addressed to me?

@Leafsnail: I'll be waiting. By chance, which prompt, actually, has interested you? The current one about exposition, or the oncoming one, about DF?

[Iituem]

Dialogue is a pain for me, and bookisms are worst of all.  I had a set of English teachers who drummed into me the need to use more 'interesting' words than 'said', 'get' and 'have', despite the fact that they were easier to read and write.  And gods-damn it, it worked.

Updating post with edit revision 1.

Also, red and white seem to be clues, but the blue interruption is throwing me off.

Done.  Dialogue still feels blocky, could use advice.