Search the Community
Showing results for tags 'Writing'.
-
Gotta calm everyone down after all that drama in my last blog entry, gosh. Here's a nice story, super short and junk. I even illustrated it myself. IT'S ABOUT FISH
-
So recently the ECC got the heads-up that some of our recent reviews (particularly charity ones) have been discouraging rather than helpful. Cederak already made a response in the official ECC topic, but I wanted to give my own quick comment on this situation: In my reviews, I know I can get pretty critical, and getting that dropped on you out of nowhere can be disheartening. But please don't take the review as the be-all-end-all, or as just criticism for criticism's sake. I enjoy helping people with their writing, but if my reviews are giving an impression of being mean-spirited or too critical, that doesn't help anyone. I am always open to feedback on my reviews. Seriously! If there's a point you feel I was too harsh on, or if you want more explanation, or if you feel I just plain got it wrong, let me know! The downside of charity reviews is that they wind up being kind of one-sided because the author isn't explicitly looking for a ECC review, and that makes it harder to write a helpful review. Like Ced said, we're going to be shifting the style of charity reviews to be less of critiques and more of, well, reviews, but the above still applies (more than ever, really). I'm also going to try and adjust my reviewing style to get a better balance between discussing areas I think could use work and discussing the strong parts of a story. The above goes for my fellow critics as well. If you have any problems with any of our reviews, get in touch with the reviewer, or if you'd prefer not to directly do so just drop a PM to Steelsheen, the head of the ECC. Same thing if you have any comments on the ECC not related to a specific review, or if you don't want any charity reviews. Anyways, that's my bit on this. Happy writing!
-
Today our Acer laptop completely ran out of memory. It's not surprising, really. It's been telling us for months now that it's memory is almost full and during that time we've deleted as many old or unnecessary files as we could in an attempt to make more room on the hard drive. Yet today the inevitable has finally happened. Considering that deleting useless memory hasn't helped in the slightest, it appears we're either going to have to buy new memory for it or just buy a new computer entirely. I suspect we'll end up doing the latter because we've been talking about getting a new laptop for a while now (our current one is from 2007, you see, so it's quite old by computer standards). The reason this is relevent to BZP is because I am unable to open my Word documents without any memory. That means that, until this problem is resolved, I cannot post anymore new chapters of my currently-running comedy, BIONICLE: The Legend Imploded. Therefore, TLI is currently on hiatus for an indefinite period of time. I'm going to have to tell the rest of my family, but I have no idea what we'll decide to do next. I'll probably still be on BZP and Skype, though, since both of those are still working, but don't expect to see any new fanfics from me for a while, unfortunately. I'll try to keep y'all posted as we figure this out. -TNTOS- UPDATE: Looks like I spoke too soon. I guess someone must've deleted some files or something because our laptop has memory again. Not a whole lot, but enough that I can open Word documents again without any serious problems. Definitely going to need to figure out how to free up more memory, though, so this doesn't happen again. So expect another TLI chapter next Saturday, as usual.
-
The nice thing about writing a short story that turns into an epic is that you can have a reasonable turn-around time on chapters! Well, a chapter. If you count 'a week' as reasonable. Point is, The Shadow and the Sea is done. Read it! Critique it! Bop it! Point out canon discrepancies that I sort of just looked the other way on... it!
-
[12:12:29 AM] Andrew P: Hey any ideas for a bionicle flash fiction contest? [12:15:28 AM] Kakaru: okay uh [12:15:44 AM] Kakaru: "Broken Mask" [12:16:46 AM] Kakaru: "The Village" [12:17:33 AM] Kakaru: "A Canister Ashore" [12:19:08 AM] Kakaru: "The Great Mine" [12:19:47 AM] Kakaru: "City of Carvers" [12:20:10 AM] Kakaru: "Lightstone" [12:20:28 AM] Kakaru: "Archivist" [12:20:58 AM] Kakaru: "The Seven Warlords" [12:21:06 AM] Kakaru: "Tren Krom Break" [12:22:04 AM] Kakaru: "A Dark Hunt" [12:22:31 AM] Kakaru: "Bohrok-Kal" [12:23:15 AM] Kakaru: "Antidermis" [12:24:10 AM] Kakaru: "As the Mask Fell" [12:24:31 AM] Kakaru: "The Makuta's Blindness" [12:25:29 AM] Kakaru: "A New Leader" [12:25:54 AM] Kakaru: "The Order" [12:26:13 AM] Kakaru: "Death of a God" [12:26:47 AM] Kakaru: "The Morbuzakh" [12:27:31 AM] Kakaru: "Six Stones" [12:27:45 AM] Kakaru: "The Telescope by the Sea" [12:28:03 AM] Kakaru: "Impostors" [12:28:15 AM] Kakaru: "Titans" [12:28:46 AM] Kakaru: "As Time is Lost" [12:28:56 AM] Kakaru: "The Great Barrier" [12:29:29 AM] Kakaru: "The Rahi in the Snow" [12:29:35 AM] Kakaru: "Hivemind" [12:29:53 AM] Kakaru: "Surrender or Run" [12:30:40 AM] Kakaru: "The Great Temple" [12:31:37 AM] Kakaru: "The Honour of a Makuta" [12:31:53 AM] Kakaru: "Camaraderie" [12:32:39 AM] Kakaru: "Now Only Five" [12:33:08 AM] Kakaru: "Transformation" [12:33:26 AM] Kakaru: "Power Relinquished" [12:33:54 AM] Kakaru: "The Rahkshi" [12:34:07 AM] Kakaru: "Only Last Year" [12:35:10 AM] Kakaru: "Wake One, You Wake Them All" [12:35:59 AM] Kakaru: "The Bay" [12:37:31 AM] Kakaru: "Canyon of Unending Whispers" [12:37:40 AM] Kakaru: "The Coliseum" [12:37:58 AM] Kakaru: "Pakari" [12:39:37 AM] Kakaru: "Where Wisdom and Valour Fail" [12:39:54 AM] Kakaru: "The Queens" [12:40:14 AM] Kakaru: "Who You Once Were" [12:40:32 AM] Kakaru: "Chains of Karzahnii" [12:41:00 AM] Kakaru: "For Freedom We Rise" [12:41:29 AM] Kakaru: "Where Rocks Scream" [12:41:44 AM] Kakaru: "Awakening" [12:41:52 AM] Kakaru: "And in the End" [12:42:15 AM] Kakaru: "Once Reaching for the Sun" [12:42:35 AM] Kakaru: okay out of ideas [12:43:36 AM] Kakaru: pick -one-
-
The nice bit about posting an epic you know will only be three parts is that you can make an entry for every chapter without clogging up your blog! In any event, it's over here. Feedback is awesome as always, and fingers crossed the third and final part'll be up rather sooner.
-
Just finished revamping my library. What are the new things I added/changed? Here's a list for those interested: -New introduction -"Two Tales" and "What I Should have Said" added -Entire Glatorian Chronicles series edited into numerical order -"Genre" feature added, which tells you what kind of story a particular fanfic is -Edited summaries for several fanfics -New stories in the "COMING SOON" section -Better formatting I'm glad I got that out of the way. Been meaning to do it for a while but was intimidated by the size of my library. Now that it's done, I don't have to worry about it anymore, so yay and stuff. -TNTOS-
-
Soooo after only a year and 2 months...I finally have the next chapter up in my comedy, Mata Nui High School If you'd like to check it out and let me know what you think, that'd be great! Until then, remember disco is in this year! -Jordboy1
-
As a writer, I believe it is very important to read as much as you can. And not just in your preferred genre, either. Try to read in a variety of different genres, if possible, because good writing is good writing no matter what it is garbed in. As a matter of fact, read nonfiction books, too. Histories, philosophical/theological books, scientific books, personal memoirs, 'how to' books, etc, etc. Nonfiction not only works as research, but also aids writers in expanding their horizon and deepening their understanding of humanity. I truly believe that a writer can only ever truly become a great writer by understanding humanity to the best extent that he or she can, even if that requires discarding cherished beliefs in favor of those that make more sense in light of what the writer now knows. It's true that you won't be able to read every book out there, but you don't need to. You only need to read as many books as you can get. And this isn't a one-time deal, either, but something you do over a lifetime (if you're serious about writing, that is). It's also true that some books out there really, really, really suck. I mean, REALLY suck. They're so awful that it's all you can do to turn the page in the faint hope that maybe it will get better, only to be disappointed to discover the same drivel that was on the previous page. In that case, I suggest either putting the book down or figuring out just what is so bad about it so you can avoid duplicating such awfulness in your own writing in the future. On the flipside, you're bound to find some absolute gems, whether in fiction or nonfiction. You know what I'm talking about. The kind of books that you don't want to -- no, can't -- put down because they are so exciting, so interesting, perhaps even thought-provoking. They are the ones that inspire you, that challenge you to dare meet their standard of excellence. And so you place them on a tall mountain and attempt to reach them with all your might, even though you are aware you might never reach their stand of excellence no matter how hard you try, which actually gives you the impetus to try harder, rather than give up in frustration and anger at your own limitations. Comic books, movies, TV shows, short stories, plays, and other forms of storytelling media can be every bit as excellent as a good book. I say this partly to be fair and partly so that you will be encouraged to look for good storytelling in all media, regardless of how it is presented. Good stories are good whether presented on stage, in a bound book, or on a computer screen. And if you're a serious writer, you should strive with every good story to find out why it is so good and then apply that to your own writing as best as you can. Why am I writing all of this? I can't say. It's just a thought that popped into my mind recently. As I haven't wrote a substantial blog entry in a while, I thought it would be worth typing up and posting. Hope it's coherent, at least . -TNTOS-
-
I promise, it wasn't on purpose, things just got out of hand. It's over here, so take a gander. It's got Hahli, and that one alternate-universe Teridax who turned out to be a good guy and then got left in the dust by the storyline ending, and Rahkshi, and other fun stuff. It started as a short story, so the bulk of the thing's written. Expect three chapters. Feedback is awesome as always.
-
Link to Review here! Star Wars: Rise of the Dark Lords Prologue The year is 3,955 BBY. Twenty three years after Darth Revan disappeared into the Unknown Regions of space. After Darth Malak was defeated by Revan, and Revan disappeared, the title of Dark Lord remained untaken. That is until Darth Veldrin, A student of Revan, took to power. Darth Veldrin ruled right after Malak and his reign last for twenty years until he was betrayed by his own son, Darth Vith; who ended his father’s life.Darth Vith took his father’s place as Dark Lord. Darth Vith continues to hold the remains of the Sith Empire Revan forged. But the Empire was greatly weakened by the Republic and is all but scattered; few Sith show themselves on planets other than their own. But someone is coming. A new Dark Lord who will unite the Sith, and bring chaos to the galaxy. Chapter One: Into the Void Cemeron did not need too concentrate as he piloted his starship: the Ebon Hawk. Flying was like second nature to him, it did not require much thought. His old Dynamic-class freighter had been through quite a bit in the passed years. It had survived dangerous happenings like spice runs and space battles. But Cemeron trusted his vessel with his life.As he navigated through space he avoided incoming asteroids with delicate skill. His brow furrowed as the rocky outcroppings race past his ship. It seemed that they almost grazed the blast-glass before him; which protects him from the void of space beyond.He wasn’t far from the red world of Korriban; however, he had miss-judged a few hyperspace calculations and ended up further from the planet as he had wished; landing in an asteroid field.But asteroids did not really bother Cemeron; he was a veteran pilot and well versed with space travel. Cemeron’s dark eyes widened with shock as his ship started to shake wildly. Asteroids jumbled in a crazed sort of semi-dance, outside the Ebon Hawk. He had never seen them move like that in his entire life.He flicked random switches trying to stabilize whatever was causing the strange motion. Suddenly all the stars seemed to black out; consuming Cemeron in pitch black darkness. Likewise, the Ebon Hawk groaned and lost power, shaking even more then before.Cemeron’s droid companion stumbled into the cock-pit. “Query: What’s going on?” he said in his synthesized voice; which was hinting frustration.In return Cemeron grinded his teeth. “I have no idea HK, but this does not look good…” his words trailed off as the space around him lit up with radiant energy. Purple plasma shot out in all directions, melting asteroids in micro-seconds. Cemeron watched as more purple plasma formed lightning type tendrils that sliced through rock and metal like lightsabers to flesh.HK-47 was an old droid. He stood about six feet tall and was covered in orange and red armored plating. He had two glowing red eyes, a helmet looking face and a thin remotely human, orange plated body. HK had come with the ship, which Cemeron had bought from an alien dealer on Tatooine some years ago.The alien dealer had told Cemeron that the ship was ancient and had been through tons of battle. According to the dealer it had once belonged to Darth Revan, and the famous Jedi Exile.Cemeron had bought the ship because of the Darth Revan part. Cemeron had fought alongside Revan in the Mandalorian wars and respected him; that and the ship was supposedly the fastest in the Outer Rim region.HK-47 watched in what seemed to be fascination. Moments after, all the remaining asteroids shot forward toward where the purple plasma seemed to be emanating. Cemeron gasped in horror as he finally realized what he was looking at. The looming purple mass of electricity and swirling plasma was actually a giant black-hole. It seemed to be a tear in space itself; and Cemeron knew he was powerless against a force that powerful. Already his ship was moving steadily closer to it. He frantically flipped switches, trying to get the Ebon Hawk to power up, but it was useless.The world around Cemeron seemed to slow around him; his ship was a tiny ant compared to the massive disk of energy. All that could be heard was the crackling of plasma and the shuddering of metal.He accepted his fate and turned to his droid. “Strap in and shut-up.” he said darkly.HK’s robotic limbs whirred as he clanked over to the co-pilot’s seat and sat down. He fiddled with the seat-belt. “Statement: Yes master, meat-bag-sir” he replied sarcastically for a droid. Cemeron slammed his fist into the control panel. “Blast it all! I came to Korriban to learn to be a Sith and all I found was a giant death trap!” he said letting his anger pour out. He directed his anger toward the Jedi. Cemeron hated the Jedi because a Jedi had slaughtered his wife.Cemeron’s blast-glass frosted over and blocked out the epic view beyond. The angered Sephi looked into the tiny icy crystals reflecting his face. He was a haunted looking individual. Cemeron had long white hair, pulled into a smooth pony tail that fell down his back. He had a square jaw, and a crooked nose, that gave him a warrior's appearance. He had the customary long pointed ears of the Sephi, which differed them from humans.Cemeron stood at 6’4’’ and weighed 210 pounds of muscle. He had a sleek, but well toned body; one that was hardened by military service. His chest back and shoulders are quite scarred from battles.He turned away seeming disgusted that the face he was staring into, his own, would never get revenge. He was never going to become a Sith and destroy all those that had ruined his old life. An eerie purple glow filled the ship, and energy crackled everywhere, Cemeron looked as the tiny hairs on his arms stood on end. He cried out as the energy grew hotter, and more powerful, almost blinding. I’m going to be boiled alive! He thought before his mind-overloaded, and could no-longer comprehend what was going on around him.The Ebon Hawk disappeared into the deaths of the black-hole. A few moments after it was consumed, the portal seemed to shrink, and collapse in on itself; before it finally ceased to exist, in a flash of white light. All that it left behind was nothingness, just empty space. The stars winked back to life, revealing where the asteroid field once was, not even the pebble sized rocks had survived the black hole, nothing was left... Chapter Two: Crash-landings Never Feel Good HK-47 had been through his share of crashes before, so this was nothing new to him. His memory banks recalled crashing on the unknown world of the Rakata, Telos, and Malachor IV. His red eye beams snapped to life and his mechanical head swiveled. HK took in the surrounding cock-pit without saying a single word. The glass before him was cracked and broken, and a man sized hole dominated it.HK noticed that Cemeron was not present and his seat lay unbuckled; like usual. Shuddering pipes stuck out of the broken wall panels and lights turned on and off. Dark smoke poured from somewhere within the ship and electricity crackled over broken machinery. There was a metallic scream then a loud clunk as T3-M4 flew into the cockpit; sparkling with electricity and spewing droid-parts.HK tried to unbuckle himself to help his astromech droid companion, when he discovered his left arm was nothing but a sparking nub. The rest of his arm had been sliced right off and lost among the other scrap metal; that was now the ship. HK let out the closest thing he could to a sigh, and used his right appendage to free himself of his bonds.HK banged T3-M4 on his dome head before climbing out of the cock-pit. He slid down the front of the ship sliding right through a fire and singing his bottom. HK landed on the ground and a cloud of red dust plumed into the air. HK locked onto Cemeron’s position. He laid in the dirt a few feet away from the ship, submerged in a mound of red earth. HK clanked over to his master and poked him with a metal finger. “Commentary: Master, are you still functional?” he asked without emotion.Cemeron saw the face of Chrystal, his wife. She was smiling widely; her large red lips reflecting the bright twin suns of Thustra. Cemeron knelt by her and caressed her right cheek. Her skin felt cool to his touch and he hungered to hold her in his arms. He smiled for the first time in a long time; it was good to be back home. He looked away from her beautiful face; to stare at the scenery around him. He was standing on a tall balcony overlooking a glistening lake and fields of green. It felt like he had not been back in many years, but it still felt of home.Chrystal rubbed against him, her body soft against his own. Her angelic voice broke the silence. “What worries you?” she asked.Cemeron shrugged. “Something just feels… wrong” he admitted.Suddenly he felt a horrid pain in his back, like someone shoved a metal pole into his spine. He cried out and his eyes flashed to Chrystal. “Commentary: Master, are you still functional?” she asked in the voice of HK-47.Cemeron’s eyes snapped open and he groaned. His body hurt all over, almost like the ship had fallen atop him. He could feel his warm blood gushing out of several areas of his body; wetting the dirt around him. He tried to push up with one of his arms but searing pain shot through him and he fell back down into the dirt. He turned his gaze to his arm and froze, his arm was twisted horribly and one of his bones stuck through his skin like a knife. Cemeron feared he was going to bleed to death, he called out, his voice hoarse from lack of use. “HK, yes I am alive. Go get the Med-kit before I bleed to death!” he groaned.Cemeron looked down to see his arms slashed apart all over, huge pieces of glass sticking out of his skin. He moaned and then felt like he was about to puke. Suddenly the air left his lungs as he was lifted off the ground. He looked down and realized that he was somehow levitating. He struggled and looked around for the source of what had just happened. All he could see was the world around him. It was strange and ghostlike. The sky, dirt and rock were all red. The clouds whizzed by at alarming speeds; changing into strange shapes and writhing about, the strangest part was that they were pitch black. There was no sun, only a strange black ball of energy that seemed to move around of its own accord.A distant speckle of blue light slowly approached. As it drew nearer, it seemed to appear the shape of a humanoid; it was hard to miss as it was a stark contrast to all the red and black. The figure seemed to be floating above the soil, and it winked in and out of existence. But suddenly it seemed to take solid shape and features. A massive man stood before Cemeron, his gloved hand outstretched as if he was holding Cemeron up with his own fist.The stranger wore an ancient set of golden, spiked armor that was crusted with the blood, of what Cemeron assumed were enemies. He wore a matching tall helmet type contraption that made him over eight feet tall. He was huge and built like a Wookie. The man had two dark brows and beneath them never-ending glowing red eyes. He wore a small oiled black beard and a menacing grin. He looked Manock-**** crazy. Cemeron could not look away from his eyes; those eyes; they seem to lead into another universe…he thought.The armored figure spoke his voice chilling Cemeron to the bone. It sounded ancient and full of dark power. “At last you have come… We have been waiting for you Cemeron, for some time...” he said ominously. Cemeron felt a strange tingling sensation throughout his body and his pain ebbed and finally dispersed, replaced by a faint itchy feeling. Cemeron dropped from the air landing on his knees; he instantly went into a fighting stance, ready for anything.“Where am I?” he asked.The powerful man replied. “All will be revealed in time,” he cackled. “time… what is time, really? It does not truly exist; just a simple concept, a delusion…” he trailed off.“Who are you?” Cemeron asked.“Ah yes. I am Naga Sadow. Welcome to the Shadow Realm, or commonly The Void” Naga said.Cemeron had known of Naga Sadow, he was credited as one of the most powerful Dark Lords ever. He bowed right away.“That is impossible you died long ago.” he said.Naga Sadow chuckled. “Yes I died once, as did we all. That is how we came to The Void. Except for you of course, you came through the Black Hole we created.” he said. Cemeron stood.“We?” he said.Naga Sadow nodded. “All of the greatest Dark Lords and other sith ended up in The Void. This place is within the Force itself. It is the embodiment of the Dark Side. When a sith becomes one with the Force it is here that they appear.”Cemeron could not believe what he was hearing: Is this really true… Could I be dreaming? Or dead? He thought bitterly, unable to accept this fate. Naga Sadow as if he head Cemeron’s thoughts shook his head. “No, you live. That is for sure. We need you Cemeron; you see, without you and our teaching, our ways will slowly die, consumed by the Jedi; the force would become horribly unbalanced. You are the only hope of our ancient ways. We must form you into the new Dark Lord; if all our deeds are to not be forgotten” he said.Cemeron shook his head. “There already is a Dark Lord. Darth Vith.” He said.Sadow nodded. “Yes, but you are the one we seek. If Vith stays in power than the Empire will continue to crumble until nothing is left. You must stop him, you must rekindle the Dark Side.” He said. Naga Sadow put a gloved hand on Cemeron’s shoulder.“Out of a galaxy of souls, it was you that had the greatest urging, the greatest hatred for the Jedi. We have never felt anything like you before. Your force powers are so immense, they rival even mine, but you can only access a smidgen of your full potential. You could become the greatest Dark Lord that ever lived, and you will. Now swear loyalty to me and the rest of the Dark Lords and you will take your first step toward your true destiny!” he said his voice rattling the ground beneath Cemeron.Cemeron knelt before Naga Sadow. “Yes master, I swear loyalty to and the Sith.” he said, his voice full of dark passion.“Good... Good! Now rise; from hence forth you will be known as...” Naga Sadow replied.Naga Sadow then closed his red orbs; revealing his black eyelids. He seemed to meditate for an instant before finishing. “Darth Void!” he said.Cemeron felt a burning above his brow as he felt strange symbols appearing on his face. Cemeron stood; I’m Darth Void now… he thought. He looked to Naga Sadow; who then put a hand on Cemeron’s brow. “Now we must go…” he said.There was a flash of turquoise light and they were gone from where they stood. HK-47 finally emerged from the ship and looked around awkwardly. “Annoyed observation: Master? Where are y--” suddenly he too disappeared, letting the medical-kit drop too the red sand…
-
I have officially submitted my word count to the NaNoWriMo site, and it stands at 61,065 words. While this is short of my goal of approximately 80,000 words before the end of November, completion of this task and the first inklings of momentum in a long-distance writing ambition are reward enough. The novel at hand, which I consider concept art for a larger, more official canon, is entitled The Adventures of Mary. As this is an ongoing series, the working title for this particular installment is Pilot. I will continue to write into December, but for now I will fall back to reload and develop the concepts for the second batch of chapters. At present I am through with 12 chapters, and I covered an awful lot of stuff in each one, but this is only the tip of the iceberg. The great news is that I will be posting these chapters on a weekly basis, starting with the first Saturday of 2013. While it will be a while before the titular character, Mary, gets into the headlight, I encourage readers to stick around, because I wish to accomplish a big story that few web serials ever achieve. I have enough material and enough ideas for story that this will last for a while, and it will only get better as introduce a cast of characters that becomes more and more distinct over time. Also, look forward to the prologue, coming out on Christmas day! So if you're interested, keep an eye out for my blog, or the CoT Library should the current petition for one win official favor, and get yourself mentally prepared for a really, really long epic that will only improve. I will do everything within my creative power to see to it that this keeps you entertained, because this is all about you. 24601
-
Wisconsin pays little heed to such things as 'continuity of climate'. I support this claim with the evidence of it being 55 on Thursday where I was, and 20 with three inches of snow on Friday. In the James Bond movies, Q is now essentially Otacon, only British and with (presumably) less love of anime. November novels are nice. Writing as you like without making it into a race and juggling it with college is nicer. Jiro Ishii gave Kyugo Shindo a deLorean and his daughter an orange jacket solely for the Back to the Future joke 9 hours into Time Travelers. I have unholy amounts of work due Wednesday and Friday. Also, speaking of Time Travelers, my Japanese reading comprehension is decent, but far far far lacking in the kanji department. Professor Layton vs. Ace Attorney comes out on Wednesday. I have been waiting for this game for two years. The custom unit in Fire Emblem: New Mystery of the Emblem is absurdly broken. I am probably going to need to do a lot of said work early if I want to actually play Professor Layton vs. Ace Attorney on Wednesday. When both my mom and I are reading the same book, it's easiest for everyone involved to just turn it over to her and let her completely finish it, because she reads faster than any human should. I'm still waiting on feedback from those folks who offered to give that story of mine a look, so if you're reading this... sometime soon-ish? I know it needs work, I just want some other eyes to help me figure out where. So, how was your Thanksgiving?
-
Happy Thanksgiving to my fellow Americans. I'm going to spend the day with my family, eating turkey, ham, and pumpkin pie, as usual. Won't be eating until later in the day, though, because my oldest brother doesn't get off work until later in the afternoon, but I can wait for turkey and ham (I think ). Also, for those of you who care, today I successfully hit the 50k mark on my NaNo novel/fanfic, Dawn of the New Century. So I won for the fifth year running, which doesn't surprise me because I know how much I can write in an hour. The fic isn't finished yet, however, and will probably reach 60k or 70k before the month is over. I expect to continue writing it until early December. I've recently started rereading through my first comedy, My Bionicle Road Trip. It's not very good at all, with at least a dozen storytelling and writing mistakes per chapter, but I'm feeling the nostalgia overwhelm me as I read it. It's amazing how much of it I still remember. I find myself going "I remember that!" in almost every chapter. It's just fun to read with all of its errors and problems, reminding me of just how far I have come since my early days. -TNTOS-
-
Recently I have discovered this delightful little website called I Write Like. You basically paste an excerpt of your writing - blog posts, journey entries, comments, chapters of novels, short stories, poems, whatever - and the website tells you which famous writer you write like. The best part about this website is that you can do it over and over again, having it analyze excerpts of your writing from different stories. This I did and got different results almost every time. Here's the full list, with certain names bolded for emphasis: J. K. Rowling Dan Brown William Shakespeare Margaret Mitchell Kurt Vonnegut James Joyce Edgar Allen Poe James Fenimore Cooper Arthur Clarke Harry Harrison Douglas Adams George Orwell David Foster Wallace L. Frank Baum Rudyard Kipling Neil Gaiman H. P. Lovecraft I always knew J. K. Rowling had an influence on my writing style (whenever anyone asks who I write like, I tend to say Rowling). But Shakespeare? Joyce? And a bunch of other writers, most of whom I have heard about but never read? I'm thinking I channel the spirit of a different famous writer every time I sit down to write a story. How else can I be Shakespeare in one story and Joyce in another? Or Dan Brown and J. K. Rowling in the same story (Dimension Hoppers, for those of you who are curious)? Go on and try the website. Tell me what famous writers you write like in the comments below. -TNTOS-
-
So, hypothetically, if I had a 20k word story sitting completed save revision, would it be better posted as a short epic than as a very long short story? And hypothetically if I made it an epic, would ~7k long chapters work, do you think? Purely hypothetical question, you understand. Also: If I hypothetically wanted someone to read over this hypothetical story to give some feedback, would anyone be interested? Alright, I've got three pairs of eyes on this from this blog entry alone, so I think I'm good for the moment.
-
Per popular request of the Ambage, we tried to create a script-comedy live in one of our skype sessions. Editing fell to me (I hate you guys) and here's the result. This will hopefully be the last of it's kind, so don't expect guest stars or even a second chapter.So here it is, a legendary event in BZPower's history: The epic writers of today harken back to their ancient days of "ask" studio comedies in a fit of nostalgia-fueled bad judgement! Critics are spread wide on this heavily controversial topic: --- [6:15:26 PM] Kakaru: HI GUYS THIS IS THE "ASK THE AMBAGE" SHOW, WHERE BZPOWER'S MOST PROLIFIC WRITERS ARE STUFFED IN A LITTLE ROOM UNTIL THEY DISCUSS BANNED MEMBERS AND OTHER HORRORS UNEARTHED FROM THE DARK CORNERS OF BZPOWER.[6:15:41 PM] Kakaru: SOUND OFF, WHO'S HERE TONIGHT.[6:15:43 PM] Zarayna: XDXDXD[6:15:50 PM] Kakaru: ZAR![6:16:13 PM] Zarayna: Zar is Nick and Nick is Zar, but Zar is not Nick and Nick is not Zar.[6:15:52 PM] Nick Silverpen: APPROVED.[6:15:55 PM] Kakaru: AND NICK![6:15:54 PM] Aderia: Not me. I'm busy having a lif.[6:16:00 PM] Kakaru: AND ADERIA IS BUSY.[6:16:11 PM] Kakaru: HAVING A LIF.[6:16:23 PM] Kakaru: UNDOUBTEDLY STOLEN FROM OUR WARHOUS.[6:16:48 PM] Kakaru: SPECIAL GUESTS INCLUDE THE NIGH TUGYS![6:17:00 PM] Kakaru: AND GROCHI, THE RESIDENT EVIL![6:17:06 PM] Zarayna: Well, Kakaru, from my latest statement, people might be thinking we're going a little insane here. What's your thoughts?[6:17:18 PM] Aderia: Were you here when I used "meese" as the plural of "moose"?[6:17:20 PM] Kakaru: I'M RUNNING THIS SHOW DARNIT.[6:18:00 PM] Zarayna: This is an ask comedy, and I asked you a question. Is it not your purpose to answer?[6:17:28 PM] Kal Grochi: I'm not the resident evil.[6:17:37 PM] Kakaru: Shh yes you are.[6:17:35 PM] Kal Grochi: I'm the resident wild card.[6:17:41 PM] Kal Grochi: The resident evil is probably Ced.[6:18:04 PM] Kakaru: CEDERAK IS NOT HERE.[6:17:55 PM] Kal Grochi: Maybe somebody else.[6:17:57 PM] Kal Grochi: Aderia, is it you?[6:18:11 PM] Kakaru: RRGH[6:18:13 PM] Aderia: He's like a strawberry biscuit, Grochi. You're just jealous.[6:18:14 PM] Kal Grochi: Like -that- ever happens.[6:18:19 PM] Kakaru: TWELVE SECONDS IN AND WE'RE ALREADY DERAILED.[6:18:32 PM] Kal Grochi: I love you guys. --- [6:24:02 PM] Kakaru: Okay, let's get this boat sunk.[6:24:04 PM] Kakaru: HI GUYS THIS IS THE "ASK THE AMBAGE" SHOW, WHERE BZPOWER'S MOST PROLIFIC WRITERS ARE TAUGHT NECROMANCY UNTIL ALL REMNANTS OF PRETENTIOUS NOTIONS OF GOOD WRITING ARE PURGED FROM THEIR MINDS AND THEY DIE.[6:24:11 PM] Kakaru: WHO'S HERE WITH US.[6:24:30 PM] Zarayna: Well, Kakaru, there appears to be a Zar present.[6:24:44 PM] Zarayna: Where do the others hide themselves?[6:24:58 PM] Kakaru: In our warhous.[6:24:52 PM] Aderia: In bunkers with skylights.[6:25:02 PM] Kakaru: Shh Aderia.[6:25:06 PM] Kakaru: Go back to the warhous.[6:25:05 PM] Zarayna: But we're already stuck in one bunker.[6:25:10 PM] Zarayna: Who wants to be in another?[6:25:20 PM] Kakaru: Is that a legitimate question?[6:25:27 PM] Kakaru: You know the cameras are rolling, right?[6:25:30 PM] Zarayna: Yes it is. Count your blessings I say![6:25:47 PM] Zarayna hits his head against the ceiling.[6:25:57 PM] Kakaru: Darnit Zar, stoppit.[6:26:06 PM] Zarayna: If you can't pass five, I think you can still list them all.[6:26:11 PM] Zarayna rubs his head.[6:26:14 PM] Kakaru: Our ceiling isn't covered by overhead costs.[6:26:31 PM] Kakaru: *rimshot*[6:26:36 PM] Kakaru: Get it?[6:26:42 PM] Zarayna: Yes, I noticed. At least it is better than the damage of Grochi's headbutting?[6:27:05 PM] Kakaru: Er, that's technically not covered by our insurance either...[6:27:10 PM] Kal Grochi: I only headbutt people.[6:27:13 PM] Kal Grochi: Not ceilings.[6:27:22 PM] Aderia: And play harmonica over voice chat.[6:27:19 PM] Kakaru: Hi Grochi also.[6:27:23 PM] Kakaru: Back in the box with you.[6:27:31 PM] Kakaru: Aderia no[6:27:32 PM] Kakaru: Back[6:27:32 PM] Zarayna: And it is detrimental to stomachs, not to mention life.[6:27:35 PM] Kal Grochi: I've been on the chat numerous times without doing tha-[6:27:39 PM] Kakaru: Shh Grochi.[6:27:38 PM] Kal Grochi: NO NOT THE BOX[6:27:40 PM] Kakaru: BACK[6:27:42 PM] Kakaru: BACK[6:27:43 PM] Zarayna: I think out insurance plan needs to be changed.[6:27:47 PM] Kal Grochi: Why do I have to be put in the box?[6:27:51 PM] Kakaru: NO[6:27:55 PM] Kakaru: THE CAMERAS GROCHI[6:28:02 PM] Kakaru: YOU ARE ON CAMERA[6:28:06 PM] Kal Grochi: Wait, camera—Oh.[6:28:00 PM] Aderia: Come on, Grochi. We're not appreciated here.[6:28:10 PM] Kal Grochi jumps back into the box.[6:28:13 PM] Kakaru: Shoosh.[6:28:15 PM] Kakaru: Okay no wait.[6:28:18 PM] Kakaru: Don't go forever.[6:28:30 PM] Kakaru: We need people to send questions in to Zar.[6:28:44 PM] Zarayna: Aren't you questioning me?[6:29:01 PM] Kakaru: I don't know, you seem to have a lot of questions of your own here.[6:28:17 PM] Zarayna: So Kakaru, we're in yet another boring day in this bunker. How do you rate the air today? I think it's a little less breathable. Why is that?[6:28:39 PM] Kakaru: Er, the air is uh[6:28:47 PM] Kakaru: poisoned.[6:28:52 PM] Zarayna: Right.[6:28:57 PM] Zarayna: Explains the good smell.[6:29:10 PM] Zarayna: At least death doesn't hurt too much.[6:29:09 PM] Kakaru: And yeah, arsenic smells like almonds.[6:29:15 PM] Kakaru: Not that I'd know.[6:29:17 PM] Kakaru: heh heh[6:29:22 PM] Aderia: How is that comedic?[6:29:29 PM] Zarayna: Kakaru, is there something you're not telling us?[6:29:35 PM] Kakaru: Dark humour is what all the cool kids are into.[6:29:47 PM] Aderia: Because BZP is so full of those.[6:29:17 PM] Zarayna: I guess I like turning the tables.[6:29:47 PM] Zarayna: Aderia, have you ever seen Zar trying to turn a table?[6:29:59 PM] Zarayna: He can carry them around, but he's never tried turning them.[6:30:15 PM] Zarayna: I understand after the first tries his spiked mace comes out.[6:30:21 PM] Nick Silverpen: Hey is anyone besides Aderia and me doing the write off?[6:30:30 PM] Kakaru: Woah hi Nick again.[6:30:36 PM] Nick Silerpen: Hey Kakaru.[6:30:36 PM] Kakaru: (someone close the studio doors!)[6:30:49 PM] Kakaru: (and the box lid!)[6:30:48 PM] Aderia: Eli! he forgot to close them on his way out![6:30:48 PM] Zarayna: Good lord brothers, let us write![6:30:54 PM] Aderia: Somebody kickban him.[6:31:13 PM] Kakaru: kickban Zar[6:31:17 PM] Kakaru: no wait shoot[6:31:18 PM] Zarayna: Comedy chapter one done.[6:31:20 PM] Zarayna: (Cut!)[6:31:31 PM] Kakaru: That could have gone worse.[6:31:46 PM] Kakaru: NOW THE AFTERPARTY[6:31:50 PM] Aderia: TASTE THE RAINBOW[6:31:53 PM] Kakaru: I HAVE PRETZELS[6:32:02 PM] Aderia: (skittles, anyone?)[6:32:04 PM] Zarayna: I have a ketboard.[6:32:06 PM] Zarayna: Let's write.[6:32:10 PM] Aderia: dude[6:32:13 PM] Aderia: i want a ket board[6:32:16 PM] Kakaru: Ketboards for lif.[6:32:22 PM] Aderia: Gotta be better than a clatterboard.[6:32:27 PM] Kakaru: hahahaha[6:32:38 PM] Kakaru: What are you saying about my presence in voice chats.[6:32:34 PM] Zarayna: ...[6:34:43 PM] Zarayna: Chapter one is 774 words![6:34:48 PM] Zarayna: THIS COMEDY ROCKS[6:35:29 PM] Kal Grochi: (Can I come out yet?)[6:35:31 PM] Aderia: ELI![6:35:41 PM] Aderia: You missed the afterparty.After editing, 1143 words. Zar is a liar and a vagabond.
-
no NO NONONO YOU ARE NOT A POEMER WHY ARE YOU POEMING YOU ARE BAD WITH WORDS The blinding gleam of a world revealed A nation fallen, a people healed Canisters open, revealing their worth Tired feet breaking the surf A band of heroes together once more The ache of the journey, bloody and sore A ring of stones, powers combined To sacrifice duty for destiny's time The elders stand in the light of the isle The mountains and trees stretching for miles Matoran step out of their pods, unaware of the danger befallen a city down there Memories gone, a life come anew Village-huts from the ground; black, green and blue Circuits forsaken for the peace of the earth Ignorance, bliss, as evidenced by their mirth Yes, a life comes anew as the old city falls But a shadow murmurs in underground halls Peace cannot stand in the force of a gale The Makuta will rise to destroy and to kill
-
Official library topic for the worst of the worst. I'm necromancing my old writing, feel free to follow suit in your own blogs... IF YOU DARE Oh right fair warning, these all link to the archives, so it will log you out when you come back. Dark Lands (epic) Matau's Talk Show! (Remember when those were cool?) Inika Go To Wal-mart (shut up)
-
SO YEAH I GUESS I HAVE LIKE 240 POINTS OR SOMETHING SINCE I DID SEVERAL OF THESE MORE THAN ONCE NOT THAT IT MATTERS BUT I SUPPOSE THAT I SHOULD LOG THESE SINCE I'M A SLIGHTLY MORE INVOLVED AMBAGE MEMBER NOW Into the Sky(pe)! - Participate in a Skype Write Off (5 Points) Home Row Heavyweight - Finish a write off story with over 600 words. (15 Points) Manuscript Kiddie Pool - Post a short story. (10 Points) The Daunting Task - Post an epic. (15 Points) Not For the Faint of Heart - Write a substantial adventure. (10 Points) It's Close to Midnight… - Write a substantial thriller. (10 Points) Wrote one. 115 Do. Or do Not. There is No Try - Write a substantial sci-fi story. (10 Points) Vague Subject Matter - Post a story in Completely Off Topic. (10 Points) Here Lies Punctuation - Find at least 10 grammar/spelling errors in a story. (5 Points) Critical Thinking - Substantially review a short story. (10 Points) A Lovely Contestant - Participate in an official BZP Writing contest. (10 Points) Challenge Accepted - Enter an Ambage-hosted contest. (10 Points) I Don't do This for Free - Make Andrew beg you to write a story for him. (20 Points) Worth A Thousand Words - Create a piece of art for an Ambage project. (10 Points) No Rules! No Rules! - Fail to log your achievements for confirmation. (10 points) Dude, Where's My Anthology? - Take charge. (50 points) Troublemaker - Get banned from the Skype writeoff group five times. (20 points) Accredited - Use a conversation from the Ambage to write a college-level discourse. (30 points) Green and Purple - The official chat sucks anyways. (10 points) Salted Watermelon - Join the Ambage. (10 points) Before It Was Cool - Transfer membership to the Ambage from the BAG or other previous BZPower critics club. (20 points) An Cool Dude - Revise your story to make it BZPower-appropriate. (10 points) Cheating the System - Make your own achievement. (10 points) Can't Stop Me Now - Create over ten custom achievements. (20 points) Death Row - Get banned from the Skype Writeoff Group Indefinitely. (100 points) Saturday Night Massacre - Ban at least three Ambage members from the Skype chat in one night. (100 points) Come On Come On Hit Me - Ask to be banned. (20 points) Never Dead - Come back after being banned forever. (20 points)
-
Entry for fortnightly flash fiction contest since Andrew asked and oh no I don't have any homework at all and wasn't planning on writing one of my other stories for the Ambage at all but who's complaining am I right. Theme: Pathfinding. Wordcount: 964I feel lost. That's not even an awful metaphor either. I literally am not aware of my physical surroundings in their relation to where I want to be. Absolutely lost.The walls are white, painted cement like I remember them being for years. The ceilings are lit by rows of bright fluorescent lights, stretching endlessly down the halls. The floor is black and smells of rubber or crude oil. Petroleum based, anyways. Not like I care. The smell is awful, that's the important thing. When I recall my past in here, it seems --as though a vague mental image-- that it was almost a year ago. The floors have been getting darker and my lungs seem to grate with every breath.I hear footsteps padding down the hall, somewhere around the next corner. I slow down as I approach the next intersection and press myself against the wall. Within seconds the muted echoes approach and I plant a solid fist in the runner's stomach, sending him sprawling across the floor. I look down at his face with an immense amount of guilt as he gasps for breath. There are no mirrors in this place, true, but an external sense tells me that the face of this man is my own. Whether a clone, an apparition, or simply a psychological trick, I no longer care. I put my foot against his throat and do what I've done this entire time, to survive. I know that I am the only one in this maze, quite literally. Every version of myself that I've cut off through decisions in the past have been merged to a single universe, where I've been forced to confront every version of myself and destroy them. I suppose whoever engineered this think of it as am amusing metaphor, that I literally have to kill off every bad decision I've made and come to terms with who I've become in that time, but all I see is a twisted reality where I've become a killer.As his body dissipates into the ground, the stench of rubber seems to grow ever so slightly.I continue down the halls, feeling more cheated with every kill. I feel sick that I'm becoming desensitized to this, that the moral problems and emotional impact is dulled as my methods become more brutal, merciless, and stunningly effective.I make a right at the next intersection, followed by two lefts, a flight of stairs, and another right. There's no method to my choices any more. I used to agonize over the psychology of the maze, how every corner could be a setup to drive me into doing exactly what they want-- whoever they are. But now I just blindly decide on a whim, snapping back and forth, stopping occasionally to listen for the footsteps of myself.Oh, speak of the devil. Another apparition runs past a crossroad ahead, screaming. I lunge forward and give chase. My breaths come heavy now. The death toll of the day is starting to wear. I'll probably take a nap after this one. He's wearing a straitjacket. I quicky match his speed as he turns a corner. I twist my leg around his and plant my foot on the ground, effectively collapsing his gait. I grab his neck and arm as I pull my leg back, slamming him face-first into the ground with a splintering crack. His body slowly disintegrates into a swirling black mass, like a swarm of flies that crawl into the black floor. My stomach is upset and I slump against the wall, directly across from a doorway.Wait. There are no doors in this maze. I haul myself to my feet, wavering, and nearly puke with the excitement of this find. I take one step forward, then two, then I brace myself against the opposite wall with one hand and stop to take a deep breath and calm my stomach. I tentatively slide my fingers around the brass knob. It's cold, shiny and perfectly smooth. It's probably never been touched by my hand. I crack it open, and before I have time to regret my decision, I close my eyes and swing the door wide open.I sit up with a start, my fingers still clenched in midair. The hum of medical equipment fills the silence my ears had been accustomed to in the maze. The walls are still white, but there's something different. My body goes cold as I move my legs, realizing that it feels so different than what I had been doing in there. A doctor stands to my side, frowning."The training was supposed to go on for six weeks more," he remarked. Was he angry, disappointed, or was that just an observation? The feeling of being cheated fills my mind."May I refresh your mind? It's possible that the months in there have erased some of your memories. You are in a military training facility. Here we give you the most difficult of all tasks so that you may be ready for anything in the battlefield. You must know how to kill, and you must see the look in your own eyes as you do so. What have you learned?"None of this sounds familiar. This doesn't sound like something I would voluntarily ask for, and I feel no sense of duty or accomplishment at his words. It all just seems pointless. I stand up and waver for a moment as I regain my balance. Suddenly a new sensation fills my mind and I can't seem to push it back to my subconscious. The feel of solid ground beneath my feet. I'm no longer lost.I grab the doctor by the collar with only a tingling sense of regret in my mind."Let me show you."
-
PrologueIt was strangely appropriate that Madness was born in a time of chaos. At the time he was born, the world was in turmoil.Here is a sampling of what had happened. China had reclaimed Hong Kong, which voiced its opinions on the matter very loudly. Err…The USSR had broken up some years ago, leaving Captain America depressed and suicidal. Oops.About half of the world had professed atheism, sapping the strength and powers of the Æsir–Vanir gods in Asgard. Ouch.But most important of all, For some reason, people decided to blame mutants for everything, causing them to be the bogeypeople. Even the other, non-mutant heroes did that. Oh dear.That didn’t really affect Madness’ life yet, anyway. However, the first obstacle he ever had in his life was surviving the first few hours of his life.You see, the government of his country also decided to jump the bandwagon and blame the mutants for every problem that they faced. Eventually, they implemented a policy that stated mutants were to be killed, regardless of age or ability. Either that or it was to join the army for life.There was a lot of opposition to this, of course, and people protested, but the people protested soon disappeared or changed their minds quickly.The hospital in which Madness was born was run by moderate thinking people who didn't like the new mutant policy. They believed that everyone was equal, so they did not kill any mutant babies and falsified records concerning them.When Madness was born, he didn't display any untoward unusual baby traits (although he did have a more than average large head). He didn't speak complete sentences or fly around. In fact, he was a peaceful, quiet baby.Or so it seemed.Mutations ran in the Walker family, and Madness was no exception. (His father could program anything, his mother could sing enchantingly) When he eventually started crawling, his parents were delighted and amazed and slightly bit puzzled when they found he could traverse walls and ceilings without any help.All was peachy in the family, but it was not to last.Here's the review topic.
-
The little being opened its eyes slowly. It knew that it had eyes, and it knew where it was, and it knew what it was. I am a Tohunga, it thought. With trembling arms it pushed itself to sit up. Across from it, three cloaked beings watched intently. Its eyes focused and refocused, photoreceptors of metal shooting electricity back through tissue and wire alike to its central processor. The first of the three spoke not unkindly. "Please identify yourself." The little Tohunga's voice was shaky and uneven. "Tohunga unit #0001." In its throat, sensors collected data on the acoustics of its voice and silently tightened and loosened muscle to eliminate the unwanted vibration. The second of the three spoke hesitantly. "Please locate yourself." It responded more clearly this time. "I am at the staging area for project #4D4154414E5549." The third watched him silently for a moment longer than his compatriots, and then spoke simply. "Please name yourself." The other two beings turned in shock to their compatriot and began talking at once in hushed tones. The Tohunga paid them no heed - its central processor was overclocking itself, desperately searching its memory for a 'name'. Name. Locate name, it thought desperately. Name, name, name... no record. No record! I don't know! The third being showed no response to his companions' voices as he watched the Tohunga. It opened its mouth desperately to apologize, to explain, to excuse itself- "Takua," he blurted out. The squabbling voices fell silent. The third being seemed to consider it for a moment, then strode forward. Takua looked down nervously. The being put his hand atop the Tohunga's mask. "Takua," he said, satisfied, and drew a metallic finger along the top of the mask affectionately. "That's a good name, don't you think?" Behind him, his companions had begun to mutter amongst themselves. Takua looked up at the mask peering down at him and saw its seemingly painted-on lines reforming themselves into a smile. And Takua smiled back. -------------------------------------- So yeah. This is just a little prelude scene I wrote up based on the epic I'm off-and-on working on. A good chunk of it has to do with the days of Mata Nui's construction, so it felt somehow appropriate to use "Tohunga" instead of "Matoran". As an aside, the description I used here for the Great Beings was inspired by the art of an artist who I don't believe posts on BZP by the name of CalaveraUllapool. This is more of a flash fic than anything else, so I doubt I'll post it on its own in the library. Perhaps if some other one-off scenes come to mind I'll gather them together though as a sort of prologue to the epic itself. In any event, comments/critique are appreciated as always.
-
Life of a FatherI stare soothing at the big blue eyes,Looking up at me with innocence—Cerulean skies observing the lines and creases of my face. He wants to cry, upset at being near all the loud people—People clanging their glasses together in toasts to the bride and groom,People slapping each other’s backs in embraces,All oblivious to the sensitive ears of Little Liam—But he sees my face,Knows he is safe in my arms,And a smile spreads.His little face lights up, and I place a kiss on his head.I know he wants to sleep, so I rock him back and forth in my arms.Swinging and turning gently as his eyes slowly blink closed.I smile—this is the life a father.There is nothing greater. ~ :: ~Another poem written for my Creative Writing class. It was supposed to use some sound, and it could only be between 12-16 lines. I don't like the writing of this one as much as my Staring Oceans poem, but considering this one has babies, it kinda evens out. I was originally going to write about a church (I still will, sometime, probably), but after I held my cousin's baby last weekend this was all I could think about, haha. Enjoy! Comments and constructive criticisms are much appreciated.
-
Staring OceansOceans.They stare at youThrough the wooden edges of the frame.A snowy plane lines his cheeks, bushy and misshapenLike a wild plant, growing this way and that,Thinning here and there like his life.Soon it will all be gone.So will he.But he is still there for now, and he smiles at you,His bright blue eyes sparkling,His niveous beard a tangled mess.He looks at you in such a happy way—But such a strange way.He seems to be calling you,Inviting you.Perhaps he wishes to tell you a story.The twinkle in his eyes gives it away.Yes, this man has a story,A story he wants you to hear.Every day you see him come to this place.He brings with him a fishing line and a flag.An American flag, displaying it proudly as he goes.You see him tie the flag to the pier,And you watch it wave in the wind for a moment or two.The man watches with you, and smiles again—Pride.Pride for his country.He tells you how he had served in the military,Proudly bearing his uniform for four long years.Through trial and tribulation, he made it through.He made it home, when so many of his friends didn’t.You want to rush up and give him a huge hug—To tell him it’s okay.But you don’t.You realize he is hurting,You see it in those ocean-eyes of his, staring kindly at you.Yet, his smile remains. He is poor, coming here every day for his nightly meal of fish.Yet he does not complain. He simply smiles at you with his wrinkly face, and you smile back.And you both silently watch the vast ocean spread out before you.~ :: ~Now, there is a bit of explanation I need to post here. Usually I am against doing that (everything should be explained inside the story, not outside), but this was written for my Creative Writing class, and therefore had guidelines I needed to follow. The prompt was, paraphrased: "write a poem about a photograph. Start by describing the photograph, then tell a story about the person you described. Poem can only be 1 page long, and it cannot rhyme." So, because of that, I'm not completely satisfied with the ending, as I literally used every line I could (the title I even had to place in a header, because the poem was so long) and had to squish things together. But still, overall I am pretty happy with this. I haven't written a poem in literally years, so I'll definitely have to more, now, as I really enjoyed this. All comments/constructive criticisms are welcome! Enjoy!
