Print

Please login or register.
1 Hour 1 Day 1 Week 1 Month Forever
Login with username, password and session length

[Cheesecake]

Thanks, man! ^^ It's been a long, long time since I wrote in that kind of format, it seems I kinda forgot how to.

Spoiler: This thing, though (click to show/hide)

 "You must. Aye, I'm not pleased that my son's son must face me, I'd much rather you dashed your head upon the ground." He smiled, and Ko found it crueler and wilder than the snarl of the pelt he wore. "Yet you remain, and if no child returns to the village with the pelt, our spirits will have been dishonored in the eyes of our god."

I don't believe it needed a new indent, since it's still the same dialogue. It was just a pause, to show he started smiling. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate you fixing it up and everything. _{(And for the record, I do take my own writing seriously )}

[sjm9876]

Just dropping in a thing I've been working on that may form the introduction to a forum game at some point or other.
Not especially pleased with it, but staring at it for the past three days has made no difference, so any feedback is obviously welcome.

Spoiler: Scene (click to show/hide)

   Redlea, a sprawl of steel and concrete, full of life, dark corners, and death.  A city of hunters and hunted, of heroes of monsters, the hungry and the herd.  Three of these hunters come now, down towards this shadowy dead end.
   The first is a short, broad man.  He is dressed all in black, his over large trenchcoat dragging slightly on the ground and giving him an almost comedic appearance.  A ginger beard hangs down to his belt, and he walks calmly, without a worry in the world.  Beneath the coat is a much more serious arsenal - axes, daggers and stakes of all sizes and materials.
   His partner, the second, is a gaunt, tall figure.  Eyes dart from side to side beneath bushy brows, the only hair on his face.  He wears a leather jacket, tassels and all, stained from decades of wear.  The jacket hides a pair of pistols that look almost handmade, which his fingers now find.
   The third is not a hunter today.  She is the prey.  She seems human, if a little pale, but for the black blood leaking from a gash in her brow.  Her dark jeans hide another wound on her leg, causing her retreat to be a halting, limping thing.  As she reaches the dead end, she turns, and her iris turns black.  Blood rushes into her skin as she rapidly sidesteps a bullet, exhausting her reserves still further.  The short one is close now, and a pair of cold iron axes glint in the moonlight.  Blood wells to her skin again, and her back rips open.  A pair of dark wings tear apart her top, the displaced skin sloughing to the ground.  She rises into the air with a single powerful beat of her wings, barely staying aloft as an axe is hurled through the newly formed leathery skin.  Still she manages to flop onto the rooftop before the tall one can ready his aim.
   The short one grunts, frustrated by his own complacency.  With two fingers he picks up the lost skin, and examines it for a moment, shaking his head.  Then he motions to a nearby drainpipe, and they climb.  He reaches the roof to find the tall one on his knees, inspecting a pool of black blood.  The trail of a dragged wing leads away towards a smashed skylight.  The drop is short, and the two hunters take up positions on opposite sides before leaping down.
   The interior is abandoned, spare a pair of mattresses in the corner.  A whimpering noise comes from a nearby room, and the hunters approach in time to see the body of a squatter thud to the ground.  The hunted turns to face them, no longer afraid.  The tear in her wing is gone, and as she wipes away the blood from her forehead, no more follows in its wake.  A bullet flies towards her, only to be swatted aside by a wing momentarily as hard as iron.  The blackness has spread to fill her whole eye, an abyss that causes the tall one to shift his aim, and a bullet strikes the short one in the leg.  He collapses to the floor as another bullet strikes his head, and the tall one steps over the corpse into the hunter’s arms.  A minute later, he too collapses, body drained of all blood. 
   The hunter wipes her mouth clean, and takes the shirt off the squatter.  A snug fit even with wings retracted, but a fit nonetheless. She leaves through the front door, just another shadow in the night.

[Insanegame27]

So I'm terrible at writing scenes without action in them so I decided to make a story which revolves around complex social interactions as the driving point.
What I have of the plot so far is below:

Spoiler: plot (click to show/hide)

Set ten years from now, a group of friends meet in a cafe to see where everyone has gotten to in life. Three of the eight went into the military. As the group of friends are reminiscing, the three who went into the military get a message that they are needed at base urgently. They leave the cafe and the remaining five continue talking. As the three military people are getting back into their cars, a suicide bomber blows up the cafe, killing three of the friendgroup and hospitalising the other two.


The characters are expies/carbon copies/pretty much me and my friendgroup, told in 3rd person with a narrator who only has knowledge of my character's thoughts. I'm aiming to be as brutally honest about everything, including my feelings about the people involved. None of my friends know which of them I am killing off.

[GiglameshDespair]

Just dropping in a thing I've been working on that may form the introduction to a forum game at some point or other.
Not especially pleased with it, but staring at it for the past three days has made no difference, so any feedback is obviously welcome.

Spoiler: Scene (click to show/hide)

   Redlea, a sprawl of steel and concrete, full of life, dark corners, and death.  A city of hunters and the hunted, of heroes and monsters, of the hungry and the herd. (Are you sure you meant to use 'hungry'? That doesn't contrast against herd very well. Predators, perhaps?)  Three of these hunters come now, down towards this shadowy dead end.
   The first is a short, broad man.  He is dressed all in black, his over large trenchcoat dragging slightly on the ground and giving him an almost comedic appearance.  A ginger beard hangs down to his belt, and he walks calmly, without a worry in the world.  Beneath the coat is a much more serious arsenal - axes, daggers and stakes of all sizes and materials.
   His partner, the second, is a gaunt, tall figure.  Eyes dart from side to side beneath bushy brows, the only hair on his face.  He wears a leather jacket, tassels and all, stained from decades of wear.  The jacket hides a pair of pistols that look almost handmade, which his fingers now find.
   The third is not a hunter today. (But she was just described as a hunter.)  She is the prey. (If she is being followed, it feels counterintuative to have her as the third; the narrative structure would suggest she is the last one when that is not the case.) She seems human, if a little pale, but for the black blood leaking from a gash in her brow.  Her dark jeans hide another wound on her leg, causing her retreat to be a halting, limping thing.  As she reaches the dead end, she turns, and her iris turns black.  Blood rushes into her skin as she rapidly sidesteps a bullet, exhausting her reserves still further.  The short one is close now, and a pair of cold iron axes glint in the moonlight.  Blood wells to her skin again, (Did it go away from rushingto her skin before?) and her back rips open.  A pair of dark wings tear apart her top, the displaced skin (This implies her top was made of skin. Displaced skin and cloth, perhaps?)sloughing to the ground.  She rises into the air with a single powerful beat of her wings, barely staying aloft as an axe is hurled through the newly formed leathery skin.  Still she manages to flop onto the rooftop before the tall one can ready his aim. (If she's beating her wings more, it might be suitable to mention that at some point in the previous sentences.)
   The short one grunts, frustrated by his own complacency. (Complacency in what?) With two fingers he picks up the lost skin, and examines it for a moment, shaking his head.  Then he motions to a nearby drainpipe, and they climb.  He reaches the roof to find the tall one on his knees, inspecting a pool of black blood.  The trail of a dragged wing leads away towards a smashed skylight.  The drop is short, and the two hunters take up positions on opposite sides before leaping down.
   The interior is abandoned, spare a pair of mattresses in the corner.  A whimpering noise comes from a nearby room, and the hunters approach in time to see the body of a squatter thud to the ground.  The hunted turns to face them, no longer afraid.  The tear in her wing is gone, and as she wipes away the blood from her forehead, no more follows in its wake.  A bullet flies towards her, only to be swatted aside by a wing momentarily as hard as iron.  The blackness has spread to fill her whole eye, an abyss that causes the tall one to shift his aim, and a bullet strikes the short one in the leg.  He collapses to the floor as another bullet strikes his head, and the tall one steps over the corpse into the hunter’s arms.  A minute later, he too collapses, body drained of all blood. 
   The hunter wipes her mouth clean, and takes the shirt off the squatter.  A snug fit even with wings retracted, but a fit nonetheless. She leaves through the front door, just another shadow in the night.

This is rather late feedback, but eh.
As per normal check in the spoiler.

So I'm terrible at writing scenes without action in them so I decided to make a story which revolves around complex social interactions as the driving point.
What I have of the plot so far is below:

Spoiler: plot (click to show/hide)

Set ten years from now, a group of friends meet in a cafe to see where everyone has gotten to in life. Three of the eight went into the military. As the group of friends are reminiscing, the three who went into the military get a message that they are needed at base urgently. They leave the cafe and the remaining five continue talking. As the three military people are getting back into their cars, a suicide bomber blows up the cafe, killing three of the friendgroup and hospitalising the other two.


The characters are expies/carbon copies/pretty much me and my friendgroup, told in 3rd person with a narrator who only has knowledge of my character's thoughts. I'm aiming to be as brutally honest about everything, including my feelings about the people involved. None of my friends know which of them I am killing off.

That is not enough writing to make a worthwhile judgement, but my personal opinion on self-inserts is that they are typically pretty awful.

-----


Anyway, my own writing:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Of all beasts, Man alone loves fire.
 
Humans and flame are entwined like lovers. Man creates it, nourishes it, worships it, and fire elevates man from his beastly nature. It is little wonder that Fire is the oldest magic. Through the dancing embers, Man saw the patterns of the world, and beseeched them to change.
 
With fire, Man illuminated the dark.
 
Deep in the corners of the world, man discovered the gods. The Sleeping Mountain. The Wandering Goat. The Whispering Gale. The Laughing Desert. They looked upon Man, and changed him to their whims. From humans came the bold Harpies, the skittering Bael, and the noble Phygria. They bestowed their light upon Man, and taught him of the arts of creation. There was harmony, for Man loved the children the gods had made.
 
With fire, Man forgot they ever feared the dark.
 
The fires of funeral pyres gave brief life in the cinders to the spirits of the dead. They spoke to Man, and the ashen hearts of the dead made them tell of the secret at the heart of the world. Man had long forgotten to fear the deep corners of the world, for fire could illuminate all, or so they believed. Thus Man descended to the heart of the world, seeking, searching, with no fear.
 
With fire, Man found the secret of the world.
 
Man remembered why they once feared the dark.
 
----
 
Centuries have passed. From beneath the aegis of the gods, the children of Man have crept forth as the Dark receded. The land the Dark once covered has become strange and unearthly, filled with strange beasts and monstrous undead… and studded with tall, silver towers.
For Man, realising his doom, had built grand lighthouses, and within them slept what Man could be saved from the dark. Man has woken to a strange new world, and like the tide, the Dark may yet return.

[TD1]

I liked the premise, and the writing style was immersive.

With fire, Man found the secret of the world.
 
Man remembered why they once feared the dark.

This felt a tad abrupt to me, though.

[sjm9876]

@ Gigla: Cheers

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Of all beasts, Man alone loves fire.
 
Humans and flame are entwined like lovers. Man creates it, nourishes it, worships it, and fire elevates man from his beastly nature. It is little wonder that Fire is the oldest magic. Through the dancing embers, Man saw the patterns of the world, and beseeched them to change.
 
With fire, Man illuminated the dark.
 
Deep in the corners of the world, man discovered the gods. The Sleeping Mountain. The Wandering Goat. The Whispering Gale. The Laughing Desert. They looked upon Man, and changed him to their whims. From humans came the bold Harpies, the skittering Bael, and the noble Phygria. They (The gods, or the other races?) bestowed their light upon Man, and taught him of the arts of creation. There was harmony, for Man loved the children the gods had made.
 
With fire, Man forgot they (he? Appears to be singular elsewhere.) ever feared the dark.
 
The fires of funeral pyres gave brief life in the cinders (from their? not sure exactly what to use instead, but I had to pause a moment to wrap my head around what was happening in this sentence.) to the spirits of the dead. They spoke to Man, and the ashen hearts of the dead made them tell of the secret at the heart of the world. Man had long forgotten to fear the deep corners of the world, for fire could illuminate all, or so they believed. Thus Man descended to the heart of the world, seeking, searching, with no fear.
 
With fire, Man found the secret of the world.
 
Man remembered why they once feared the dark.
 
----
 
Centuries have passed. From beneath the aegis of the gods, the children of Man have crept forth as the Dark receded. The land the Dark once covered has become strange and unearthly, filled with strange beasts and monstrous undead… and studded with tall, silver towers.
For Man, realising his doom, had built grand lighthouses, and within them slept what Man could be saved from the dark. Man has woken to a strange new world, and (but? would likely depend on the exact shade of meaning you were going for.) like the tide, the Dark may yet return.

Well written as per Couple of small thing in the spoiler.

[GiglameshDespair]

I liked the premise, and the writing style was immersive.

With fire, Man found the secret of the world.
 
Man remembered why they once feared the dark.

This felt a tad abrupt to me, though.

It was kind of meant to be. I didn't really want to get into what they found or what it did, since it's the intro lore for a game I'm planning, but perhaps it's too abrupt.
"Then shit got real" doesn't quite fit, though.

@ Gigla: Cheers

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Of all beasts, Man alone loves fire.
 
Humans and flame are entwined like lovers. Man creates it, nourishes it, worships it, and fire elevates man from his beastly nature. It is little wonder that Fire is the oldest magic. Through the dancing embers, Man saw the patterns of the world, and beseeched them to change.
 
With fire, Man illuminated the dark.
 
Deep in the corners of the world, man discovered the gods. The Sleeping Mountain. The Wandering Goat. The Whispering Gale. The Laughing Desert. They looked upon Man, and changed him to their whims. From humans came the bold Harpies, the skittering Bael, and the noble Phygria. They (The gods, or the other races?) bestowed their light upon Man, and taught him of the arts of creation. There was harmony, for Man loved the children the gods had made.
 
With fire, Man forgot they (he? Appears to be singular elsewhere.) ever feared the dark.
 
The fires of funeral pyres gave brief life in the cinders (from their? not sure exactly what to use instead, but I had to pause a moment to wrap my head around what was happening in this sentence.) to the spirits of the dead. They spoke to Man, and the ashen hearts of the dead made them tell of the secret at the heart of the world. Man had long forgotten to fear the deep corners of the world, for fire could illuminate all, or so they believed. Thus Man descended to the heart of the world, seeking, searching, with no fear.
 
With fire, Man found the secret of the world.
 
Man remembered why they once feared the dark.
 
----
 
Centuries have passed. From beneath the aegis of the gods, the children of Man have crept forth as the Dark receded. The land the Dark once covered has become strange and unearthly, filled with strange beasts and monstrous undead… and studded with tall, silver towers.
For Man, realising his doom, had built grand lighthouses, and within them slept what Man could be saved from the dark. Man has woken to a strange new world, and (but? would likely depend on the exact shade of meaning you were going for.) like the tide, the Dark may yet return.

Well written as per Couple of small thing in the spoiler.

Ah, brilliant. Thanks.

[Solifuge]

Hey y'all. I'm here to bemoan some writin' problems of mine, and maybe hopefully find some pointers?

I have a Fiction problem; specifically, I have extreme trouble whenever I want to imagine a setting that operates on non-realistic or magical rules, or which ignores the rules and elements of our universe, or which is otherwise set in a simplified fictional reality. When I start writing characters or creating a setting, I keep getting caught up in thinking about things in terms of Planets and Biology and Conservation of Energy and Things That Happened and other forms of realism that I can't help but take for granted. Some of the time, this style of setting works, but it's more often been a hurdle for me as a writer. I LOVE simplified, imaginative settings that are a significant departure from the one we know, and that's closer to what I want to be writing most of the time. That aside, it seems like avoiding Mostly Realistic ideas frees up a bunch of room for stronger archetypal characters, unexpected worldbuilding and situations, and that whole sense of discovery and surprise that sort of fiction conveys.

TL;DR, science and pre-existing knowledge is bogging down my writing, and getting in the way of my ability to think magically, and/or create certain kinds of surreal/imaginative situations and settings. Moreover, not only is it hard to challenge this taken-for-granted realism all the time, it's also using up a bunch of mental cycles I'd rather be using creating meaningful situations and characters. How do you compartmentalize realistic elements or scientific understanding of Earth, people, physics, the Universe, or whatever when creating settings? And how do you foster that ability?

[Parsely]

I think I'm a lot like you. I've tried writing hard sci-fi and it didn't work out so great. I still want to write hard sci-fi, but I also want to write fantasy that's grounded without being restrained. So what I do when I want to write magic is think about magic not always in terms of actual science, but always with RULES in mind. Not only is this a good narrative practice, but creatures and magical things that rely on rules are not far from actual science, without going full: doing back of the envelope calculations to see if this is allowed to happen. Whenever you feel like breaking out the calculator or doing research (VERY tempting when you're sitting in front of a computer and you know how to use it), just stop yourself and think about what's logical within your frame of mind. Not writing down the scientific explanation, even if it's only for you and never intended for the readers, can also help divorce you from that way of thinking.

Edit: Me and GiglameshDespair have been writing a setting together that's about medieval people who find mechs buried underground and start using them. It's super liberating after crunching so much time into my hard sci-fi comic just to make sure all the space travel and shit was legit. By the time I got to the actual storytelling I was completely exhausted. We're telling this story from the perspective of the medieval characters, so there's never any science involved. We can come up with plausible explanations that make us happy without needing to explain it to the reader, which IMO is the reason I focus so much on science in a story (for the READER's sake; the reader is also me, because I want to write stories I would like to read) If you adopt the mindset of an ignorant character, it helps you to distance yourself from the science behind the scenes.

[sjm9876]

To echo GUNIN, rules for magic would be my number one point. Your fantasy world doesn't have to be completely fantastical, but if you decide beforehand what rules you're allowed to break, under what circumstances, it's a huge help, and gives the world quite a strong grounding. What I often do is come up with a cool fantasy scenario I want to happen, figure out what rules I need to break to get there, and then - and this is the important point - rewrite them so that there's room for it to happen. If your brain can't deal with empty rule space, don't make it, just give it more space to work with.

For example, there was a world of mine, The Lone Isle. It was essentially a hunk of land floating adrift in the endless void, yet still functioning like a normal world, with day/night, gravity etc. The main fantasy element was runic magic v free magic, with incredibly powerful beings being able to harness free magic to basically do anything, because the world's magic = power to break all the rules. Rune magic let this be controlled. My solution to making this all work in my mind was to make one of the first beings, back when free magic was all the rage, actually inscribe runes on the underside of this hunk of rock. In the very centre it created a sort of lexicon that contained all the runes. Said being then basically poured his own power into it, so people harnessing rune magic were basically harnessing the being's power.
The key point is, that to the people in the world, it was basically earthlike + rune magic + creatures of great power. The rest of it was just there to satisfy my brain and maybe reward really scientific players (as this was for a game).

[GiglameshDespair]

To echo sjm and GUNIN...

Make your magic systems internally consistent. That it can do impossible things should be a given - it's magic - but internal consistency is absolutely key in making it feel like you're not just pulling it out your butt.

[Solifuge]

Ah, sorry. I wasn't really talking Magic or Magic Systems, so much as developing my own capacity for Magical Thinking; something like old world mythology, or the way historic people viewed the world when it was largely unknown and ill-defined. Anything could be across or under the ocean, gravity could be invisible intangible bungee chords tying living things to the center of the earth, etc. In fact, all that thinking about the elements of plot and setting and story in terms of causality and science and rules is pretty much precisely the problem I have!

What I was trying to say, in another way; having learned a lot about how and why the Universe and Earth is the way it is, it keeps getting in the way of my ability to imagine simplified, surreal, or non-realistic settings.  I want to develop my ability to step outside the realm of rationality, or away from the assumptions and For-Granteds that I carry everywhere in my day-to-day life. I'm not saying "throw out all rationality" either; introducing consistency and rules (when it actually -does- help rather than bog down the story) is easy enough later, once I have a good foundation that's significantly removed from Stuff-As-It-Exists, you know?

The main thing I'm working at is developing an ability to step outside that whole Rational, systematic, causality-minded mindset, and get closer to the sense of confused wonder and awe that inspired early humans to think about mythology and magic in the first place, so I can use that mindset as a tool for creating things. I'm often not even aware of half the assumptions I make about the nature of everything; fundamentally surreal or Magical Thinking is a headspace I only seem to be able to access well when I'm dreaming, but it's been a really helpful and liberating creative tool the few times I've been able to use it. In a nutshell, I'm hoping to be able to get better at creativity where I don't start from a Real World baseline when I'm awake.

Sorry again if this is horribly vague again. I don't know how else to convey this. >_<;

[GiglameshDespair]

Take acid

Not sure really how to help with that. A lot of magical thinking seems to just be connecting things based on similar elements.

Hmm.

Maybe you could try it from the opposite direction? Make a fantasy pantheon, healing herbs and magic rituals, and then reverse it - why is this herb good for the blood? Maybe because it's a similar red, or looked like a heart when it flowers. Why did that mountain form? Well, it was where a giant sat down and died - see, that rocky crag looks like his face.
Whether or not that pantheon and magic is real is besides the point. For the purposes of belief, treat it like it did.

But as I said, I don't really know hoe to help with getting into the mindset. It's not something I've ever personally had trouble with.

[sjm9876]

So, for want of a better term, it's a lack of imagination? (Not in the insulting way )

Yeah, that's a bit of a bugger to fix.

As an exercise. maybe introduce a single fantasy element - doesn't have to be original, you could easily nab one from elsewhere - and think through how that would impact a non-fantasy world when you added it. Rinse and repeat. Not really sure how helpful this would be, but seems like it might help?

[Solifuge]

Nah it's not insulting/rude at all; aphantasia seems to run in my family, and I have problems with certain kinds of imagination, including a weak/fuzzy ability to visualize imagery and such in my mind's eye. Example: I learned to do visual art by externalizing my imagination on paper/digitally and iterating on it a lot. Don't think starting a drug habit is the way to cheat at magical thinking either. :3

Anyway, posting here was kind of a desperation move. I'mma just keep working at it until I find a process that works, and see what I can do. Much obliged for the pointers!