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Writing club
Tova:
You may already have encountered the concept of the Shitty First Draft. If not:
The Art of the Shitty First Draft
I think that one thing that great writers have in common is that harsh inner critic, but during that first draft, you need to tell that inner critic to STFU for a bit. It's hard, I know.
TorporChambre:
Interested? switching authorship, a next scene: loose, but some, narrative coherence---unreliable narrators? Anyone writes next of same story.
--- Quote ---Why fulfill today what safely delays to morrow?
--- End quote ---
Longtemps, the day, done. Sleep to order---donwanna. Letters swim, the paper composing, singleyed sare, dancing molassic, digits spindles sub broad handbacks. Shuffles,
my favrite an musician's, fortechous piano, neat poèm. Clean. The kitchenlight---blue tinsel forgotten by housemates long vacuate to dreams to discuss asleep, towards morrow's class---reminds a thirst. Night unsleeping. Sure. But that blue tinsellight searing; the longfinger, thumb choking sub brow; pace towards tepid clarity. Valve; gurgle---pitch tinsellight oughtta switched rising---burble---up instead cord pulled, reëying to---tirtchl---full: flickŋ. Sweet water. Sleepy.
Morituri:
Wanna play 'writing prompts?' I'll start:
"Mike! Damn glad to see you, I was just .... Say, you're looking younger than usual; is this the first time we met?"
N.N. Marf:
--- Quote from: Morituri on 08 Oct 2020, 02:28 ---"Mike! Damn glad to see you, I was just .... Say, you're looking younger than usual; is this the first time we met?"
--- End quote ---
Mike: ``Do I know you, mister? My parents said I shouldn't talk to strangers.''
--- Quote from: TorporChambre on 07 Oct 2020, 23:12 ---[...] Sweet water. Sleepy.
--- End quote ---
Ghosts, aliens, squamatic overlords.. it's all passé. Bygone art of the last knowers. Our world cannot live in such simple answers anymore. Contemporary youth are driven to solace in the ineffable, from complexities governing their days. That's where our rumors that the premiere, in his sleep, hears devil's whispers. They say God, but I know better. What are his instructions? File a few papers here, sign a few papers there. It's nothing! God! The truth of the matter is, those papers follow their chain of command, all down to this lone чекист cracking fresh instructions---burn after reading---to whisper in the president's ear:
LeeC:
I'm working on the synopsis to send in.
--- Quote ---In the far-flung future of the 41st millennia, under the rusty sands of Ophiuchus IV a dark secret sleeps. Aneksi, a Rustwalker, scavenges the desert with her friend Jaira for anything that will allow them to have a new life on a better world. Aneksi finds a damaged cyborg with co-ordinates to something big. Big enough to sell to the Adeptus Mechanicus and get her the new start she longs for, and away from this smog choked urban hellscape. Where she hoped to find her salvation, she uncovers an ancient alien war under the desert of her world. Lost in an ancient ruined city with danger around every corner, she must find her way back to warn the planetary governor without waking the abomination that would plunge the galaxy in darkness.
--- End quote ---
I'll need a one page (500 words) extract too. I am trying to figure what scene to send in. Should it be something atmospheric, exciting, a cliff hanger, or mysterious? I had one in mind, but for it to work it would need be about 3 pages long.
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