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[Supermikhail]

Spoiler: Disclaimer (click to show/hide)

Erh, I've been itching to post in this thread for a while. So I hope everyone forgives me for whatever transpires. Especially the fact that I'm going to write from the point of view of someone who thinks he's achieved a certain level of competence in writing (despite the fact he hasn't published once and in fact doesn't have an intention to do so any time soon). And also that I've only skimmed this thread a couple of times.

Webpages, talked about in this post, which may be useful to you without all my rambling:

• http://www.dailywritingtips.com/four-powerful-ways-to-bring-your-writing-goals-closer/
• http://www.before-after.com/quiz2/default.html

First of all, I've just stumbled upon an article which says important things, I think. Link No.1

One of the points in this article that are more poignant, at least for me and based on my experience, is that you shouldn't edit while you're writing. I imagine had I {heard of / followed} this advice {since the time I started writing / at least since two years ago} it would have... well, possibly not sped up my progress but at least saved me some sanity. Two years ago I had a thing on this board which involved posting short bits of prose involving community ideas. I took it very seriously, tried to do it daily and thought that each bit of prose should be stellar. It may not have been as bad if the idea was to write short bits of prose. But it actually was to finish a novel in this fashion. And it is now very clear that a stellar novel could not be accomplished this way. Maybe a first draft. But the concept of drafts wasn't very familiar to me then. So, I guess the lesson I'd like my 2-year-past-self to take away is that I should learn to make mistakes... the constructive way, I guess. (The last sentence doesn't seem to make any temporal sense. Whatever.)

The other important thing in that article is about time. When you're a beginner, you probably can't sit writing for 8 hours a day -- you're probably not going to write much in one sitting while keeping it up consistently -- and you need to keep it up consistently if you want to become good -- you'll write little -- and in this way you're going to have a first draft of a novel in a year. Not sooner. Up until a few months ago I kept telling myself that I'm going to finish my novel in a couple of months. That's not a healthy attitude, at least for me. It may be a short lapse in ambition or a short glimpse of sanity in my life - or a consistent +1 to WIS - but right now I wouldn't put a time interval on completing anything. Except that I recently played with a calculator and it appears that by the 10,000 hours rule I'm not even half of the way to expertise. So the lesson I'd like my 11-year-old self to learn is that it's going to take at least 10 years until I'm good if I'm going to write every day (however little it may be).  My 11-year-old self is not going to believe me because my 11-year-old self thinks there's a superman in everyone - or at least in everyone worth considering for this role. Fortunately, breaking important news to my past selves is not a problem I have to tackle in real life.

Last point I want to make involves another website. Link No.2 A creative IQ test. I think it might be a very objective test of a very subjective property. Actually, what it might tell you about is not your creativity per se, but how easy/difficult it's going to be for you to do your chosen creative thing. I scored a D on this test. It is well deserved - I'm obsessive, insecure, shy - and I think I'll have to do something about it before I'm able to be a successful writer.

So, hopefully this ramble is going to be useful to someone. And thanks for letting me get this off my chest.

---

Addendum - from my wisdom trove: I've been digging through my last year's diary, and stumbled upon an idea for writing prompts:

Create a striking story incorporating some facts you need to remember. I guess you could say, "hit two birds with one stone." For anyone thinking that incorporating some random facts into a story would be boring, I'd like to introduce you to Jonathan Coulton (for example, this Youtube video).

[Urist McScoopbeard]

Hello, I have a question about character creation: How specific should I be, I want to write a scene where the character gets defined but how specifc should I be? should I give his basic traits now and slowly reveal more about his character as the story goes on? or should I give it all all away now?

Also, can someone critique my scene at the bottom of page 4?

[Phantom of The Library]

Okay, even if I don't have time to review I can still make prompts for now.

___/WEEKLY PROMPT TWO\___

Since most people here seem to be comfortable with the fantasy genre I think we'll stick with that for now.
Describe a craftsman in a fantasy world of your own or somebody else's creation.

Focuses:

Character Development: Focus on a single character and make sure that by the time we are finished reading we understand the character, and also that it is presented in a way that keeps the reader's attention.

Environment Description: This is not a primary concern, but make sure that we at least have an idea of what the world is like, even if you choose to do it in say: a world that resembles Dwarf Fortress; assume that we are completely unfamiliar with the fantasy genre, but avoid talking down to your readers, always assume that the reader is at least as or more intelligent than you.

Short story form, should be between 200 and 700 words, it's okay to go over if you feel you have to, but the point here is to try to learn how to effectively describe a lot in a smaller amount of space.

[Supermikhail]

Hello, I have a question about character creation: How specific should I be, I want to write a scene where the character gets defined but how specifc should I be? should I give his basic traits now and slowly reveal more about his character as the story goes on? or should I give it all all away now?

I wanted to write a long profound post here, but... As with pretty much everything in creative writing, you can only determine the amount of characterization that is right for you by trial and error. The only thing is certain that you don't want too much or too little.

[Deadmeat1471]

I don't know if were suppsoed to post this here, but here goes.
I had a short go at the above task, I don't write fantasy though, in fact I write very little at all (TOO little) 
I had some fun with this, but its a very short. It's based on a character I'm using in a book i'm writing, very early stages.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Percival

In a world of money and miserly greed, Percival did not decide to become a rebel.
He in fact warmed to it, cojouled with it, embraced it.
Who is he to change the world? no one, thats who.

Through his micro eye he scans the glowing rock intently for signs of dollar bills. The speckled yellow glow turns his face orange at such close proximity, but whats vanity when you are holding a solid gold nugget the size of your fist? Nothing, thats what.
Flipping the magnification dial on his microeye, he marvels at the monotary beauty of the nugget which, to him, exemplifies all there is to life. Grunting, he drops the nugget into a bowl and turns the furnace on. His eyes widen, his eyes bulge, his pulse races and beads of sweat flow down from his forehead to his neck, the gold falls from its solid form and flows about in waves of liquid beauty.
He takes his tongs and pours the contents of the bowl into a cast, almost sad to see the gorgeous liquid form be solidified into a standard issue Karvolian gold bar. A tear escapes from his eye. The deed is done, and his bread earnt, another happy customer and another coin earnt for the local goldsmith.

*If I changed this, I'd add little flashback moments/thoughts inbetween each of the smithing stages to A) beef it out and B) draw it along to a realistic time frame. Not just melt, drop, cool in one paragraph.

[Kattaroten]

Sorry if this is a bit long, I've never really shown any of my work before. This is something I wrote last during the weekend, it's a bit poorly edited and it's not perfect, but I would appreciate tips. Also, english is not my first language so please point out any and all grammatical mistakes.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

 Steel clashed against steel when the heavy swords slammed together. Eric the dwarf curled up and quickly pulled his head in behind the cupboard door. All he could see was the little space between the doors of the cupboard. Blow after blow was parried and retorted.
He flinched when he heard a deeper thud and a scream muffled by a great helm. He cautiously peeked into the room through the crack:
He could see two men, both clad in armor. One was lying on the floor, bleeding, the other, standing over him looking down on to his slain foe.
Now Eric did not only fear for own safety, he feared for his very life. His heart beat uncontrollably like a steam piston. He held his breath as long as he could, but the man just stood there.

Shaking like a twig, Eric started to cry.

Blood dripped from the mans dented sword.
Why won’t he leave? Why won’t he leave? Eric thought. He clenched his fist so hard they went white. Why won’t he leave?!
Without warning, without any kind of sound, the man took a step back, sheathed his sword and walked away.
Eric waited what must have been almost an entire hour before he dared open the cupboard, the doors swung open with a creak. Nobody but the dead man on the floor could be seen. Eric pattered to the door of the room. He peeked out, nothing, the corridor was as void of life as the room with the dead man.
Only when he had assured himself that the coast was clear everywhere and that he was safe, did he dare to look upon the dead man.

His breastplate was almost cleft in half. Blood covered him and the floor, there was a lot of blood, more than Eric had ever seen. He sat down in shock and just let his eyes take in all the blood, how could one man possibly contain that amount of liquid. He shook his head and pulled his legs back, close to his body with his arms tightly wrapped around them. Time passed, Eric completely lost track of time, it might have been an hour, it might have been all night. It probably was all night, the clear light of dawn shone in through the windows
The solemn silence was broken when he heard footsteps in the corridor outside. He jumped at the noise and knocked down a chair. It tumbled on to the hard rock of the floor making a clear wooden noise that echoed, again and again.
No, No, No, No! he thought, pure terror slowly crawled its way from his mind down his feet hearing the unbelievably loud noise of a chair hitting bare stone. After a few seconds of being frozen in place, the signal to flee reached his feet and he threw himself into the cupboard again. Barely being able to close the door before someone burst through the door.

Eric cowered in the cupboard as he heard steps closing in on it. They were soft and not very heavy. A servant in the castle maybe? It couldn’t have been one of the knights, it would have made a huge racket, right? Right? A shadow fell on the cupboard, blocking the little glimpse of light that came in through the space between the doors. The cupboard doors opened. The face of a pale man showed itself.
- Master Ambassador? He said
Eric eased up a bit and felt some confidence return.
- Er... Well... Yes, Eric said
- What in the name of the seven hells are you doing here?
He extended a hand to help Eric out of the small cupboard.
- I was just here in my chambers when I heard the rocks hitting the walls, so I hid, alright?
I had nothing to do with that mans death, I swear! I don’t even know who it is, Eric said
- No one’s accusing you of anything, let’s just get you to safety. Follow me Master Ambassador, the man said
- Where are we going? What’s going on? Have we repelled the siege?
- Someone else will explain better, let’s just go!
The servant cautiously stepped over the corpse and hurried out of the room. Eric paused for a short while then regained his focus and ran after him. He guided Eric along corridors lit with the light of dawn, the light was so sharp it blinded Eric.

He followed the tall, thin figure of the servant until he stopped at a dead end. He then searched the many pockets of his vest and pulled out a very odd key with twists, turns and strange spirals. The key went in to a slot on the floor in one of the castles many tilestones, when he turned the key lots of clicks and thumps was heard as some hidden clockwork worked. The stone fell down into a shadowy room lit by a single oil lamp, right there, under the floor.
- A safe place, Master Ambassador, the servant said
- Very well... Errr... Thank you, Eric said
Eric felt that manners were always appropriate even in the face of danger
- It’s the machine room, Master
Eric climbed down the metal ladder. Instantly the heat and smell of burning coal hit him in the face. It smelled like ancient dust and hot metal. Well, he was used to it. Down in the Eisenschwärze it was always like this, the smoky smell greeted him like an annoying, albeit loyal friend. It made him feel a bit better, it felt like home.
But in the Eisenschwärze he didn’t have to listen to the deafening clanking of cogwheels and pistons like here. Each dwarven family took pride in making perfectly fitting machinery and oiling it to the point where it made no more sound than a silk rubbing against silk.
Ugh, these worker-dwarves have no idea how to make good machinery, he thought while setting his foot down on the dusty ground.
- Master Ambassador? said the servant peeking his head into the square hole where the false tilestone was supposed to be.
- Yes?
- I’m going to close the door so they won’t find you, but I’ll leave you the key and I will tell the Duke that you are here.
- Alright, you will do that and I will stay here.
The servant smiled politely, threw Eric the strange key then pulled up the tilestone and shifted it into its slot.
Eric climbed up the ladder and turned the key in the stone. The clockwork clicked into place.
He sat down and let out a sigh of relief, he was safe now. Someone would come get him when the siege was over and he would soon be back home.
He sat down, leaning against a wall and tried to sleep among the clanking cogwheels. But there was another noise, something else. A scratching maybe? Whatever it was, it died down before Eric could focus on it. So he closed his eyes again.
Something big and black moved in the shadows behind a pipe just before Eric closed his eyes. Just as soon as he closed his eyes he threw them wide open again, quickly scrambled to his feet and took a look at the room around him. Nothing. He unhooked the oil lamp from the ceiling and walked into the center of the room, carefully illuminating everything as he went along only to find nothing more than turning wheels and pipes.
I’m getting jittery by all this fighting, he thought and went back to the ladder, sat down and put the lamp down beside him all the while keeping a watchful eye on the room.
There it was again! He could have swore he saw something lurking in the shadows. He lifted the lamp into the air, trying to see more of the room. More nothing, what the hell is going on? He was now more alert then ever. He tried to look at everything at once, always seeing a shadow moving at the outskirts of his field of view.
Eventually thought, his body gave up and he fell asleep leaning against the wall. He slept very uneasily even thought he was dead tired from being up all night and his dreams was filled to the brim with dark spirits twisting around pipes, hiding just out of view.

[Reudh]

I'll sign up as a mentor. I've got very good English skills, and I've had a background in reading and writing from a very early age. I can critique quite well, having learnt to in a diploma class.

Kattaroten:

-Some punctuation is a little fuzzy. If Eric is referred to as Eric the dwarf, as dwarf is a title in this case, perhaps it should be "Eric the Dwarf".

-The action in the first paragraph is superb. I can see what is happening merely by glancing at key words; and that is most definitely what is needed in an action scene. Well done.

-Some syntax errors ("fear for own safety" should be "fear for HIS own safety") but nothing critical.

-I can see that you've taken the 'splitting ideas into paragraphs' and emphasising a statement by using it in its own paragraph. Well done again.


Second paragraph:

-Minor punctuation errors. Mans should be man's, as he owns the sword.

-The thought not being encased in quotes is fine, often it's a stylistic choice. Some people are irritated by thoughts not being encased in quotes, but others aren't. Me personally? I don't mind.

-I like the way you emphasise the moment "Without warning, without any kind of sound". Repeating an idea in this way is very useful to communicate a character's fear and terror.

-The sentence 'Eric waited what must have been...' is a little clunky. It would work better if there's a break in sentences between 'open the cupboard' and 'the doors swung open with a creak.'

-'He peeked out, nothing...' - the comma could be replaced with a semi colon. Semicolons work like a longer pause with an unspoken 'and' after the semicolon. 'He peeked out; nothing, the corridor was as void of life as the room with the dead man.'

-'...the coast was clear everywhere' is a preonasm. That's when part of a statement is made redundant by the previous part. To say the coast was clear infers that it is completely clear, so 'everywhere' is not needed.

Third paragraph:

-It's unclear who you're referring to with 'His breastplate'. Assume the average reader will not understand. You and I know you're referring to the dead man, not Eric, but this should probably be changed to 'The dead man's breastplate...'

-'Cleft' is an absolutely perfect choice of word. Cleft means 'V-shaped hole', like what a sword cutting partway through a body would be.

-'...him and the floor, there was a lot of blood, more than Eric had ever seen.' This is clunky, but would work well as two sentences. Replace the first comma after floor with a full stop and start a new sentence, so that it becomes 'Blood covered him and the floor. There was a lot of blood, more than Eric had ever seen.'

-Call me crazy, but when Eric considers how much blood is contained in the man it could use a hyphen ( - ) where the comma is. I may be wrong, as I used to over use hyphens.

-Where Eric enters a foetal position, although this part of the paragraph sound awkward when I read it out, in my mind it works fine.

-You forgot a full stop after 'windows.'

-The knocking down of the chair part works well. No comma is needed after 'echoed'.

-The 'no' after the initial one does not need capitalisation. 'No, no, no, no!'

-The little action scene of Eric trying to get back into the cupboard works, however 'Barely being able to close the door before someone burst through the door' is a sentence fragment. It's not clear who is referred to. The correct phrasing would be: 'Eric was barely able to close the cupboard door before someone burst through into the room.'


Fourth paragraph:

-The initial few sentences leading up to the dialogue is fine. I can't find anything wrong with it. Unless you weren't trying to deliberately emphasise the steps between the servant walking to the door and opening it, but otherwise it's fine.

-The dialogue MUST be in 'speech marks' or "quote marks" - either are fine, but you must be consistant in what you use.

-I see you start a new line for each new piece of dialogue. That's good. That helps readers see who is talking.

-The rest of the paragraph is fine, besides the final sentence. That needs to be split into two sentences after 'light of dawn'.


Fifth paragraph:

-It's not clear who is looking for the key in his vest.

-'castles many tilestones' needs to 'castle's many tilestones' as the castle owns the tilestones.

-New sentence starting from 'When he turned the key'.

-Instead of 'thumps was heard' it should be 'thumps were heard'. If something plural is acted upon by a verb, it should be 'were' rather than 'was'. If it was a singular, as in 'A thump was heard', it would be fine.

-As I said, dialogue requires quote marks or speech marks.

-I enjoy the small part of the paragraph where Eric thinks about the Eisenschwärze. There is no fault I can find with it. Well done.

-The simile 'no more sound than a silk rubbing against silk' is very good. I liked it a lot.

-The dialogue is quite good, if a little stiff and formal.

-The remainder of the paragraph is very good. There are minor mistakes in punctuation and grammar, but besides that it's fine.

-'I'm getting jittery by all this fighting' should be 'I'm getting jittery FROM all this fighting.'

-Swore should be sworn.

-In the final part, 'eventually thought,' should be 'eventually though'.

-'Dead tired' doesn't really work in fantasy as it's modern slang. 'Absolutely tired' could work better.

-Start a new sentence from 'his dreams.' Remove 'and'.
I've spoilered a new marked up version for you in a new post.

[Reudh]

Spoiler: Proofread version of Eric the Dwarf, by Kattaroten. (click to show/hide)

 
Steel clashed against steel when the heavy swords slammed together. Eric the Dwarf curled up and quickly pulled his head in behind the cupboard door. All he could see was the little space between the doors of the cupboard. Blow after blow was parried and retorted.
He flinched when he heard a deeper thud and a scream muffled by a great helm. He cautiously peeked into the room through the crack:
He could see two men, both clad in armor. One was lying on the floor, bleeding, the other, standing over him looking down on to his slain foe.
Now Eric did not only fear for his own safety, he feared for his very life. His heart beat uncontrollably like a steam piston. He held his breath as long as he could, but the man just stood there.

Shaking like a twig, Eric started to cry.

Blood dripped from the man's dented sword.

Why won’t he leave? Why won’t he leave? Eric thought. He clenched his fist so hard they went white. Why won’t he leave?!

Without warning, without any kind of sound, the man took a step back, sheathed his sword and walked away.
Eric waited what must have been almost an entire hour before he dared open the cupboard. The doors swung open with a creak. Nobody but the dead man on the floor could be seen. Eric hopped out of the cupboard and pattered to the door of the room.
He peeked out, nothing, the corridor was as void of life as the room with the dead man.
Only when he had assured himself that the coast was clear and that he was safe, did he dare to look upon the slain man.

His breastplate was almost cleft in half. Blood covered him and the floor. There was a lot of blood, more than Eric had ever seen. He sat down in shock and just let his eyes take in all the blood. How could one man possibly contain that amount of liquid?
He shook his head and pulled his legs back, close to his body with his arms tightly wrapped around them. Time passed, and Eric completely lost track of time. It might have been an hour, it might have been all night. It probably was all night, the clear light of dawn shone in through the windows.

The solemn silence was broken when he heard footsteps in the corridor outside. He jumped at the noise and knocked down a chair. It tumbled on to the hard rock of the floor making a clear wooden noise that echoed, again and again.
No, no, no, no! he thought, pure terror slowly crawling its way from his mind down his feet as he heard the unbelievably loud noise of the chair hitting bare stone. After a few seconds of being frozen in place, the signal to flee reached his feet and he threw himself into the cupboard again. Eric was barely able to close the cupboard door before someone burst through the door.

Eric cowered in the cupboard as he heard steps closing in on it. They were soft and not very heavy. A servant in the castle maybe? It couldn’t have been one of the knights, it would have made a huge racket, right? Right?
A shadow fell on the cupboard, blocking the little glimpse of light that came in through the space between the doors. The cupboard doors opened. The face of a pale man showed itself.
"Master Ambassador?" he said.

Eric eased up a bit and felt some confidence return.
"Er... well... yes," Eric said.

"What in the name of the seven hells are you doing here?" the servant asked as he extended a hand to help Eric out of the small cupboard.

"I was just here in my chambers when I heard the rocks hitting the walls, so I hid, alright?" Eric replied. "I had nothing to do with that mans death, I swear! I don’t even know who it is!"

"No one’s accusing you of anything, let’s just get you to safety. Follow me, Master Ambassador," the servant said.

Eric simply had to ask a question.
"Where are we going? What’s going on? Have we repelled the siege?"
The servant shifted a bit uneasily and said "Someone else will explain better, let’s just go!"

The servant cautiously stepped over the corpse and hurried out of the room. Eric paused for a moment then regained his focus and ran after him. He guided Eric along corridors lit with the light of dawn; the light was so sharp it blinded him.

He followed the tall, thin figure of the servant until he stopped at a dead end. The servant then searched the many pockets of his vest and pulled out a very odd key with twists, turns and strange spirals. The key went in to a slot on the floor in one of the castle's many tilestones- when he turned the key lots of clicks and thumps were heard as some hidden clockwork worked. The stone fell down into a shadowy room lit by a single oil lamp, right there, under the floor.

"A safe place, Master Ambassador," the servant said.
"Very well... errr... thank you," said Eric.

Eric felt that manners were always appropriate even in the face of danger

"It’s the machine room, Master," said the servant.

Eric climbed down the metal ladder. Instantly the heat and smell of burning coal hit him in the face. It smelled like ancient dust and hot metal, but he was used to it. Down in the Eisenschwärze it was always like this: the smoky smell greeted him like an annoying, albeit loyal friend. It made him feel a bit better, it felt like home.

But in the Eisenschwärze he didn’t have to listen to the deafening clanking of cogwheels and pistons like here. Each dwarven family took pride in making perfectly fitting machinery and oiling it to the point where it made no more sound than a silk rubbing against silk.

Ugh, these worker-dwarves have no idea how to make good machinery, he thought while setting his foot down on the dusty ground.

"Master Ambassador?" said the servant, who peeked his head into the square hole where the false tilestone was supposed to be.

"Yes?" Eric replied.

"I’m going to close the door so they won’t find you, but I’ll leave you the key and I will tell the Duke that you are here," said the servant.

Eric sighed. "Alright, you will do that and I will stay here," he said.

The servant smiled politely, threw Eric the strange key then pulled up the tilestone and shifted it into its slot.
Eric climbed up the ladder and turned the key in the stone. The clockwork clicked into place.
He sat down and let out a sigh of relief; he was safe now. Someone would come get him when the siege was over and he would soon be back home.
He sat down, leant against a wall and tried to sleep among the clanking cogwheels. But there was another noise, something else. A scratching maybe? Whatever it was, it died down before Eric could focus on it. So he closed his eyes again.

Something big and black moved in the shadows behind a pipe just before Eric closed his eyes. Just as soon as he closed his eyes he threw them wide open again, quickly scrambled to his feet and took a look at the room around him. Nothing.
He unhooked the oil lamp from the ceiling and walked into the center of the room, carefully illuminating everything as he went along only to find nothing more than turning wheels and pipes.
I’m getting jittery from all this fighting, he thought and went back to the ladder, sat down and put the lamp down beside him, all the while keeping a watchful eye on the room.

There it was again! He could have sworn he saw something lurking in the shadows. He lifted the lamp into the air, trying to see more of the room. Still nothing! What the hell is going on?
Eric was now more alert then ever. He tried to look at everything at once, always seeing a shadow moving at the outskirts of his field of view.
Eventually though, his body gave up and he fell asleep leaning against the wall. He slept very uneasily even though he was very tired from being up all night. His dreams were filled to the brim with dark spirits twisting around pipes, hiding just out of view.

I liked reading this... Eric's a pretty likeable character.

[Urist McScoopbeard]

If I may suggest something (keep in mind that I have no right to actually critique any work) for this latest story, you should define Eric The Dwarf's thoughts ex.) with italics, bold letters, different markings, etc. Also fantastic action man, I felt like I was right there in the cabinet hiding with Eric.

[Kattaroten]

Wow, thanks a lot Reudh, that helps in so many ways. Ill try to keep everything you said in mind as i keep writing.
The formal language was a choice I made though, as he is supposed to be an ambassador. He would probably always be very formal with strangers since that is what he is taught to be, even in a situation where he was scared to death. The servant was probably also taught to formal with nobles, officials and such. I don't know if it made any sense. This is actually my first time writing more than two or three lines of dialogue. So it may have looked strange.

But still, I'm really happy someone liked it. If you want, I can post the next few pages when I'm done with them.

[Reudh]

If this is your second language, then I would say that this is amazingly written. The last story I wrote in another language was hopelessly simple.

I attempted to write a little story for year eleven Japanese a few years back about a small boy called Wilson who struggled to understand the city I live in's weather. Don't have it anymore... but what I remember of it it was very fragmented and poorly written, to the extent of "Wilson is a young boy. He is seven. He lives in Victoria, Australia. He doesn't like the heat."

[Tiruin]

I liked it muchly!

Also, "he" clenched his fist so hard they went white? Singular-Plural?

[Kattaroten]

Also, "he" clenched his fist so hard they went white? Singular-Plural?

Seems like I missed an "s" in there, it's supposed to be fists

[Supermikhail]

So, I've been itching to write here again, and it may turn out woeful. I apologize strongly in advance because what I'm about to write (or the very fact of my writing it) may be unpleasant to people.

[REDACTED. REASON: DANGEROUS COMMUNIST PROPAGANDA]

But, in case I or anyone else takes this seriously, I'd like to remind myself/them that this is probably a bad idea based on the fact that I am the creator of the "Writers Guild" thread and it wasn't exactly thriving, as opposed to this one, which seems alive and kicking so far. Also, I'm sort of crazy (as in, about to be put into a mental hospital for therapy), so you're probably legally forbidden to take me seriously, unless you're a qualified medical person.

[Vehudur]

Posting so I don't forget about this thread, which I plan to put some time into as soon as I have some to spare.