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Old 10-16-2009, 09:59 AM   #21 (permalink)
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Dude... I don't care about your description. You can hype your writing with colorful adjectives all you want but that was NOT MY INTENTION of starting this thread.
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Old 10-16-2009, 11:14 AM   #22 (permalink)
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Well you had ****ty intentions then. Writers, and all artists, really, are funny about sharing their work with others, especially works in progress and ESPECIALLY over the internet where it's so easy to copy and paste and steal other people's ideas. Get over it or I'll slash your face.
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Old 10-16-2009, 05:21 PM   #23 (permalink)
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Originally Posted by Malicious Wakizashi View Post
So far. Give 0 **** about what has been posted. This was not the intention of the thread I haven't read your comments I'm sure they were wonderful. Here is something I've been working on, its full of holes, it helps if you've read Fahrenheit 451:

Mildred is placing one slice of bread over another topped with roast beef, onions, tomatoes, lettuce, and provolone, on a plate on the tile kitchen counter, when sheer energy tears her to shreds, and what remains of the house is a small pile of smoking, crumbling carbon in a smoldering, gray wasteland. The monotone scene blends to a sickly yellow hue. “Oh Jesus!”...
“Montag you alright?”
“Who? … Granger... yeah... yeah... just a nightmare.” The sun was just a splinter above and glistening off the puddle by the decrepit highway. Montag gets up from his mat on the grass and pisses on some bushes.
“We're cooking some oatmeal, do you want any?” Yells Granger.
“No thanks,” says Montag, and walks further to the stream. Montag imagines food wrappers and aluminum cans vaporizing in the nuclear blast, transmuting into this green, semi-viscous liquid. Below the opaque mask and scattered plastic, agitation free, lies a layer of ash. He presses his face close to the murkiness. A gleaming object transcends the grain. Montag dips his hand in the water and reaches into the ash and grain, as if an ice cream scooper, and lifts a golden locket and chain. Flipping it open, Montag scratches away a grimy photograph, and thinks of replacing it with leaves.
Montag gets back to the camp, where Yogurt wearing an enthused expression, giving a sermon in front of a seated crowd.
“I read a lot in a warehouse with sketchy kids hiding from firefighters. I find that getting in the zone where I can transmit books throws me back in that warehouse. I remember the glossy purple, designed, drum set they had, whose bass drum some piece of **** kicked and sat in. I can touch some old fart's face, feel the wrinkles like a split open tree.”
This sermon is bull****, Montag thinks, and decides to not feed Yogurt's fire by listening to his dribble.
“Hey Montag, come here a sec, I wanna introduce you to someone,” yells Granger, over by the picnic table left of the highway just shy of the woods.
“Montag, meet Hesus. He used to be a librarian, before the firefighters got him,” Granger says.
“M-M-Montag pleased to...” a blank expression of day dreaminess, drooping mouth, and saliva gathering at the lower lip, displaces Hesus's sentence.
“You too,” says Montag, and he reaches out to shake Hesus's hand. “Are you feeling okay?” Montag asks.
“Umm, Hesus was lobotomized by firefighters for librariating a grand book trade; he can recite books from his black market days, which is why we're gathered here today,” says Granger.

The recounting takes a turn for the worst. Gary's closed, placid expression explodes into widened eyes that stare with Dionysian fury at Montag's face; lips recoil, a deranged yell escapes his teeth.
“Oh ****,” yells Granger, “Hesus is freaking out, maybe he's re-experiencing his capture by the firefighters, watch your neck.”
“Leave me alone you stupid ****ing piiigs! You can burn books but spirit burns in me, ****eeers!” Hesus dashes into the woods and within meters is lost from sight. A high pitched scream drowns into a hiss.
“Ah, ****. I feared this might happen,” says Granger, “I think Hesus might still be experiencing the effects of a drug I administered to ease the recital. He'll most likely mellow out, though, when it wears off, if I had a dart gun I'd attempt to sedate him, but I don't, so I won't.” The others look around bummed.
Montag goes to sit under the highway, breathes in the wasted city on the horizon, reminds himself of his progress, looks up at the starry sky, wonders what, if any, was Mildred's concluding thought, and remembers the sandwich from the dream. He feels tired, lies on his mat, slipping easily into sleep.
The next morning Montag gets up and eats oatmeal with Grangers and the others. “Hey Montag, Hesus is going to tell us about his escape from the firefighters in a minute, he's in the woods now getting prepared,” Granger says.
“Word,” says Montag, hastening his munching to walk into the woods to a grassy clearing where Hesus is on a wooden chain in front of a small, seated group, housed by foliage.


The thing about art....well once you put it out into the world it loses its integrity as your creation, perhaps even your original purpose. Thats one reason we aren't just filling these pages with little snippets of what may or may not be genius. The same goes for the thread itself. Once you gave up your control over it by starting it (and since ur not a mod) it became ours to do what we will with it. I think it just needs a little more time to start up.

As for your work....It isn't clear whats going on. It might clear up when you add more to it, but in and of itself it just isn't done, much less ready for critique. Also, whenever you take it upon yourself to continue the work of a fellow artist (and in this case, also a fellow activist) you owe it to that person to uphold the integrity of their art. Im fairly sure Bradbury wouldn't have used swear words quite so liberally as you have. Also, since you are using some of the same characters with the same names, its important to keep at least similar voice and style to the original so that it makes sense in conjunction with Farenheit 451. By all means keep sharing, but this just didn't do it for me.
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Old 10-16-2009, 05:50 PM   #24 (permalink)
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Get over it or I'll slash your face.
Hahahahah suck it flamer suck it looooong and hard.
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Old 10-16-2009, 05:52 PM   #25 (permalink)
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Starting on a novel, a sword in sorcery yarn that satires high-fantasy epics and has more gothic and grizzled leanings. Escapist heroic fantasy with subjects a little too touchy for Salvatore and Tolkien. That and a drug-induced, surreal 70's exploitative romp thrown in for fun.
SORry I SORT Of snapped at you. IT sounds juicy but I will believe it when I SEE it namean/
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Old 10-16-2009, 05:56 PM   #26 (permalink)
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its important to keep at least similar voice and style to the original so that it makes sense in conjunction with Farenheit 451.
yeah. i'm trying to explore my style, at this stage, and this was for an excercise where we had to think of how a character from a book came upon an unusual object. I PICKED MONTAg and him getting the book a brave new world but that part where hesus recounts the book was bad so i cut it.
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Old 10-16-2009, 06:39 PM   #27 (permalink)
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Well you had ****ty intentions then. Writers, and all artists, really, are funny about sharing their work with others, especially works in progress and ESPECIALLY over the internet where it's so easy to copy and paste and steal other people's ideas. Get over it or I'll slash your face.
Dude, you need to post more.
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Old 10-16-2009, 08:45 PM   #28 (permalink)
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SORry I SORT Of snapped at you. IT sounds juicy but I will believe it when I SEE it namean/
I found it funny actually, I hope to exceed expectations.

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Old 10-17-2009, 07:38 AM   #29 (permalink)
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Hahahahah suck it flamer suck it looooong and hard.
What are you, like 5 years old?
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Old 10-17-2009, 12:04 PM   #30 (permalink)
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YUP. 5 years old as a mother****er. Btw tell your mom we should really get back together sometime.
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