Frownland

It would be better if his name was Nate.

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Studies show that when a given norm is changed in the face of the unchanging, the remaining contradictions will parallel the truth.

rubber soul

Wild thread. I think I may have mentioned I'm a refugee from a writing forum. I've only actually one book though. It's about a zany reporter's visit to Hell. She meets all sorts of characters like Bruce the Troll, Lenny Le Darke (otherwise known as Satan) and his wife, Mrs. Satan, who likes to give out cookies. Yeah, it's a little demented.

Trollheart

... if it's a boy.
I believe she did call him Nate, at one point, didn't she? That would be a pet name or endearment, but given that they're breaking up over multiple affairs, probably not likely to use it very much.
You should post some extracts here. Sounds interesting. Dante in the 21st century, eh?

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Trollheart: Signature-free since April 2018

rubber soul

Sort of. I based it partly on that. I'm going over some editing now. Once I'm totally happy with it I'll post a little bit of it.

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Mondo Bungle

novel finna be a masterpiece

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Mondo Bungle

Abstraction (excerpt)

I found myself in an immense building constructed of translucent, almost crystalline material. My vision was overwhelmed by an extensive palette of deep blues, occasionally crossing into more violet hues. The walls and ceiling (which towers above a second floor of the building), even the floor, it was all such an immaculate display of shimmering effervescence. It was heavily populated within the walls, but the clamor of the crowd sounded distant to myself as I walk forward in awe. I would encounter steep escalators and overhead balconies, so many exquisite structures that all shared the same magnificent, glossy radiance. Many of the patrons donned, winter clothes, but it is anything but cold. At all angles I was surrounded by thick and wide windows that housed different rooms filled with all sorts of wonders. The only worldly comparison I could draw would be a massive shopping mall constructed entirely, perhaps, of ice. The air was heavy with a similar exuberance. The people, the architecture, it was all so much to take in. I couldn't adequately explain the plethora of emotions that all at once surged throughout the vessel that was myself. But above all, I was a beacon of delightful curiosity. Everything that surrounded me seemed to have some meaning or purpose, all relative, and I stood at the center able to absorb myself into a completely new universe of information at will. In an instant, like a finger snap, I would be subject to an entire lifetime of new possibilities, relationships, events both past and present, experiences, emotions, and yet all of it remained familiar, never out of place. The great building was filled with everyone I'd ever interacted with, and I'm in the center, the focal point of this entire spectacle. I was wrapped in this intense feeling that whatever presented itself to me, from whatever direction or person or object, that it would simply be, true.

A young man comes to my side, long sleeve green turtleneck sweater and noticeably bald beneath his striped beanie. I didn't immediately gather who he was.

"She wants me to let you know that she really cares about you." He said. "We both do." We made our way to one of the escalators and started upward. "She talks to me about it all the time, how she wishes you'd stop." He pulled a cellphone from his pants pocket to show me. Though the text was only purple-ish characters unknown to me, I noticed a photo of a familiar face. From school. From third grade until, now I guess.

"I'm sorry." I began with regret. "I truly am." Deep down the feeling came, longing for that face, though throughout the years I could never realize it, always managing to reject its urge to surface. I foolheartedly push aside any attempts at that sort of bond that I'd hoped for all along. I don't know why, it would seem to happen out of my control. And so we were friends. For a while, I suppose. It dwindled, no real reason, just less and less exposure to the point where we might as well be perfect strangers today. And like a meteorite from the sky, I felt it all again, condensed into a picture shown to me by a fellow I can't say I even know. But I did. We reached the top floor and he develops a more cheerful demeanor.

"We went and saw a really great movie last night. We thought you would've liked it."

"Oh." I sighed. Instantaneously he returned to the forlorn tone with which he approached me.

"She hates to see you gone down this road." I felt a chalky sensation fill my mouth like gravel. Synthetic. Pills. That was it. A surplus of pharmaceuticals, seemingly generating naturally in place of saliva. I opened my mouth to empty it, but snapped it shut, as if I were reluctant to let go of the drugs. "Dude." I could feel her contempt throbbing in the word from my new companion. I began chewing the mouthful, not at all fearful of an overdose, and swallowing the horrid tasting pharmaceutical cement. I wanted to talk, but couldn't risk losing this mother load.

"I don't need you to worry about me!" I dropped to my knees and let out this frustrated declaration. It seemed like the words and inflection came from someone else entirely, as I focused instead on the pasty strings of powdery dribble hanging from my lips. "I'm completely fine!" Once again unrestrained like a beast crying from within me, I didn't intend these utterances at all. In fact I began to pity this person frothing at the mouth on the floor. I must be making quite a scene. Shakily I lifted my head to get a view of the reaction I must have stirred up in my acquaintance, but guilt struck me like a dagger in the side when my gaze met that of the picture on the phone. She stood over my quivering, hopeless form solemnly. And with just one glance I felt all that repressed longing and desire, dare I say, love. I felt it burned to a crisp. That love must have been shared on a level deeper than I could ever dig, and this moment I felt it die, the ashes of which fell and scattered around the pathetic mass on the floor, in the form of that worried gaze.

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Trollheart

Yo. I don't want to keep being negative, but you need to know you're mixing your tenses. Again. One part of a sentence it's "I was" and next it's "I am", just as an example. You might want to check that. It's easy to do, I know, but re-reads usually sort it for me. Just a friendly reminder. Good stuff otherwise, and about as weird as you normally write.

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Trollheart: Signature-free since April 2018

The Batlord

It's not negative. ****ed up tenses stand out like a sore thumb to anyone with a brain. Anything with that kind of easy **** to notice immediately feels like garbage fanfiction and invites ridicule no matter how good the story, cause we've all read that kind of poorly edited **** that simply begs to be ignored. It's that kind of **** that makes someone immediately press the Back button cause clearly the author is not competent.

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rubber soul

I'm still a bit new so I'm not sure about everything here, but is this thread protected from non-members? The reason I'm asking is because if you intend to have your writing published it would be difficult to get a publisher if it is on a board any internet user could see. Basically once posted on the internet it is considered published and you'd probably have to self-publish your book if that was your intent. A professional would likely not want to publish something the public can already see.

Anyone who wants to scream, "I knew that, dummy", please feel free.

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Oriphiel

Damn. There go my dreams of publishing the Frownfiction.

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