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Old 12-30-2017, 09:40 AM
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Default Mad Max funfix


Hated his idea from the very start. Told him not to go, but he did not listen. That fool could not give a rat's ass. He was crazy, obsessed and nobody could stop him.
It was bonkers and hard not to miss that bastard, everyone did. It felt like he took all the good with him. Everything changed for the worse and new gangs popped out from nowhere. Raiders came and went every other day. They nagged us to snitch him up to the big boys. The wanted to catch him alive, to torture and keep him like an animal.

There was no end to their assaults, so I stopped caring after a while. It became a routine that made my and Emma's life harder. Tried to go on with my business around the shack and hoped to make to most of this god-forsaken land. But damn those stupid raiders! Every time they came around, they pissed on my crops and ruined my traps. It would have been nice for a change, if they stopped coming here. Getting too old for this constant ordeal around my house. If only I had enough bullets to shoot them all, that would make me the happiest man on Earth.
***

“Hey Emma, look what I've got!” She acted not to listen while she fiddled with her metal box. As she did not say a word, I poked her on the knee. She hated whenever I did that to her. Emma heaved a sigh and pointed to the ground.

“For god's sake, put it there. I'll get to it in a minute! Can't you see I'm busy?”

Wanted to put down the slim coyote, but there was no place for it. All kinds of junk were in the way. There was not enough room in this stupid shack, so I dropped it in the middle. The corpse fell on some pots and made a huge rumble. Just left it where it flew and carried on. It felt good to be home and as my bones ached like hell.

“What did I just say? Not there, you idiot!” She slammed the box and jumped out of her bed.

Hold your horses woman! Who cares where I put it? It's my place and I do what I want!”

Emma just cursed at me like a sailor while my buttocks found its place. Took her ugly speech to the face and did not flinch once. However, as it was tiresome to listen, so after a while I chose to turn on my side. The long walk to the fields wore me down quite a lot. It made me fall asleep fast, just like a little child.

***

Cold hit my feet and woke me up. I looked around, but Emma was not there. The meat was prepared on the table and the knife was still red. For some reason the door was left half-open and almost blew our candle out. Took me a hot second to stand up, as my old legs were quite stiff. Something moved outside at that moment. “This isn’t right!” My gut told me to act with haste, thus it made me grab my hunting rifle and ran outside.

A hooded man, in a leather jacket stood outside. He was rubbing his shoes in the dust while Emma tried to escape. My heart started to race, while my hands were on the gun, ready to shoot.

Get the hell away from my wifey!”

The first bullet hit the man right in the chest and knocked him back. Did not stop there and fired the rest. He did not drop to the floor, just stood there like a crow to my surprise. He dusted off his chest and grunted like a boar. That was the moment when I realized it was over. An old fart like me could not outrun a youngster like him.

I stood there like an idiot, with my empty gun in hand. He ran up to me and grabbed my neck. His grasp was hard and made me choke on my lungs. The rifle slipped out from my fingers, while I tried to loosen his grip.

“Where’s the little man that lived here and had the gift of another’s?” the man spoke behind his scarf.

Could not understand a word he said, as I was about to faint. Then, when I thought it was over, wifey started to shout, like there was no tomorrow.

“Take this you bastard!”

She tried to shank the man on the side, but he juked it.

“Come back you punk!”

My throat hurt and it was difficult for me to breathe. I wished at that moment I did not smoke that much.

“Stop it, he’s gone for good. I don’t think he’ll be ever back!”

Emma just stood there a little, before she dropped to the floor. This man and his muffled voice reminded me of someone I knew, but was afraid to think of. My heart felt heavy as she wept in the dust. The strong smell of her urine hit my nose as I stepped closer.

She looked at me with a hopeless face. “What if he comes back George? What if he does something worse than killing us?”

Putting my hands on her shoulder just angered her even more.

Fine, woman, just stay there, if that's what you want! Get back in when you feel like it! And don’t worry, none would hump an old woman like you!”

After picking up my gun in the moonlight, my good old chair awaited me with open arms. Although, I stopped at the porch to check that old sawed off shotgun. Thought it went missing, but it still hanged where I left it. This whole thing bothered me a lot. Could not wrap my head around what happened to us, just a minute ago.

However, gave up on thinking as it made my head hurt. Had it with this awful day and chose to go back to sleep instead. It took her forever to come back in. Kept my eyes open just to see Emma close the door. Wanted to make sure she was all right. She did not say a word to me, as she stumbled across the shack. She tried to avoid my sight and went straight to bed.

“I'm glad nothing bad happened! You know that I still love you, right?”

Emma remained silent and did not move. I took that as a ‘yes’, just as I always do. The sounds of crickets helped us fall asleep that night.

***

The next day was somewhat different. Emma told me that there was something outside, before she left. A bottle lay on the floor, just under where the now missing shotgun was. It looked old and dirty. I popped it open and smelled the liquid. It turned out to be fresh water, to my great surprise.

“It must've been him, I'm sure of it! That sorry-ass man was here!”

Emma heard me as she came back with a bucket of water. “What are you mumbling about, you idiot?”

Nothing wifey, I’m just glad that we’re okay now.” I smiled at pretended that I was doing something important.


Last edited by overris; 01-01-2018 at 05:13 AM.. Reason: Updated POV
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Old 12-30-2017, 01:15 PM
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What’s your native language and how long have you been writing in English?
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Old 12-30-2017, 01:29 PM
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Originally Posted by brianpatrick View Post
What’s your native language and how long have you been writing in English?
It's Hungarian. Started writing around mid-elementary. Only began to write in English a couple of years ago. I'm in my late twenties.
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Old 12-30-2017, 08:51 PM
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Originally Posted by overris View Post
It's Hungarian. Started writing around mid-elementary. Only began to write in English a couple of years ago. I'm in my late twenties.


I’ve read your fan fiction piece a few times. And, aside from a straight critique of that piece I’ve noticed something. You said earlier that you are old fashioned and don’t write in first person.

This is something I’ve noticed with quite a few fiction writers here and elsewhere who’s first language is not English, but who nonetheless, write in the language. There is a subtle syntax disconnect in third person, and close-third, that almost disappears in their posts (which are, of course, in first person, because they are speaking themselves).

I say it “almost” disappears, but it doesn’t really. It’s just, first person allows for syntax errors because the narrator himself is not a native speaker—so, anything goes there.

A good example is Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness. His native language was Polish, but he wrote it in English. There are two first person narrators. An unnamed narrator who tells us about Marlow, and Marlow himself. Both narrators are distinct—a testament to Conrad’s genius—but both have odd syntax in English, that a native speaker can forgive because of the tone and POV of the novel.

In short, I think you should rewrite this piece (the max fan-fic), in first person. Tell it from the old man’s POV. It would add a depth and intimacy, lacking in your initial effort.

Or... third person is for fags... and nobody wants to be a fag😀😀😀




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Old 12-31-2017, 01:24 AM
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I’ve read your fan fiction piece a few times. And, aside from a straight critique of that piece I’ve noticed something. You said earlier that you are old fashioned and don’t write in first person.

This is something I’ve noticed with quite a few fiction writers here and elsewhere who’s first language is not English, but who nonetheless, write in the language. There is a subtle syntax disconnect in third person, and close-third, that almost disappears in their posts (which are, of course, in first person, because they are speaking themselves).

I say it “almost” disappears, but it doesn’t really. It’s just, first person allows for syntax errors because the narrator himself is not a native speaker—so, anything goes there.

A good example is Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness. His native language was Polish, but he wrote it in English. There are two first person narrators. An unnamed narrator who tells us about Marlow, and Marlow himself. Both narrators are distinct—a testament to Conrad’s genius—but both have odd syntax in English, that a native speaker can forgive because of the tone and POV of the novel.

In short, I think you should rewrite this piece (the max fan-fic), in first person. Tell it from the old man’s POV. It would add a depth and intimacy, lacking in your initial effort.

Or... third person is for fags... and nobody wants to be a fag😀😀😀
This boggles my mind. To my knowledge, all great literature was written in some form of third person. I grew up in a world, where first person was considered childish. Using first person is really something rare in my country or it was... I checked my copy of Game of Thrones. Don't tell me that Mr. Martin can get away using 3rd, just because he can. I don't understand why would anybody consider 3rd person being 'for fags'. Although, this perfectly explains why nobody cares about my writing.

Did some quick research, this is from writersdigest.com as I think that's what I'm using:

THIRD PERSON LIMITED OMNISCIENCE: The author enters the mind of just a few characters, usually one per chapter or scene. He stood stiff as a fence post, watching her come his way. What did she want? he wondered, as she approached. Then he saw the determination in her face. Good crackers! She was going to kiss him, no matter what.
She did, too, and he nearly fell over.


ADVANTAGES OF THIS POV:
• It has all the advantages of third person unlimited POV.
• You can concentrate the story by keeping to major characters’ (and strategic minor characters’) thoughts.
DISADVANTAGES OF THIS POV:
• There aren’t any, really; by imposing POV discipline, you minimize the downsides of unlimited omniscience.
This is from tarakharper.com. It also says that:

Is one narrative form better than others for a particular type of story? This depends again on your skill level as a writer, in the type of story you want to tell, and on the tone you want to set.
- Do you want more intimacy with all characters? Do you have a more sweeping canvas than a single, narrow view? Then perhaps you should pick third person.
- Do you want the single-eye view of the world? Do you want the reader to 'wallow' or be immersed in a single man's fallacies, triumphs, and fears? Consider first person.
Again, I just can't get over the fact that 'I look like a douche' using close 3rd. That's funny. I've also looked into writing in first person. I don't think I can ever do that. That's not how I think.

Welp, I guess I'll forever write for myself!
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Old 12-31-2017, 05:15 AM
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[QUOTE=overris

I grew up in a world, where first person was considered childish.


[/QUOTE]


You ain't in that world now, Bucky.
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Old 12-31-2017, 05:30 AM
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Originally Posted by Nick Pierce View Post
You ain't in that world now, Bucky.
Maybe. Than again, why no big author use it? I'd like to know.
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Old 12-31-2017, 06:49 AM
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Originally Posted by overris View Post
Maybe. Than again, why no big author use it? I'd like to know.
Unless you are the lead dog the view never changes.
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Old 12-31-2017, 07:06 AM
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Originally Posted by Nick Pierce View Post
Unless you are the lead dog the view never changes.

Hey, does this post make my voice sound husky?
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Old 12-31-2017, 07:15 AM
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Originally Posted by Nick Pierce View Post
Hey, does this post make my voice sound husky?
Bark
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Old 12-31-2017, 07:24 AM
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Default Back to basics

I gave it some thought and I think I'll try rewriting it in first person.

To be honest, I've never done such a thing and it's really hard to wrap my head around. I'm used to the fact that I can show what ever the plot demands. First POV feels like a big restriction/disadvantage. Although, having to work for something is ultimately better.

Funny that I'm doing this on new year's eve.

Last edited by overris; 12-31-2017 at 07:31 AM..
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Old 12-31-2017, 08:17 AM
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I was just joking about third person being for fags.


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Old 12-31-2017, 08:49 AM
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Originally Posted by brianpatrick View Post
I was just joking about third person being for fags.


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Well, apart from you guys here on writersbeat, nobody pointed out this obvious flaw. I never really knew why everybody stopped talking to me, after I showed them one of my writings (lol ). I'm sure it wasn't intentional, but over the years it grew on me. I kept asking why, but couldn't figure it out. I always thought that my grammar was so bad that it made people vomit. And as I'm a nobody, they could just shrug it off and go on there merry ways. So all in all, I've started to feel like a douche. Maybe I should become one, for giggles... muhahahaha
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Old 12-31-2017, 08:56 AM
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Originally Posted by overris View Post
Maybe. Than again, why no big author use it? I'd like to know.


Heart of Darkness-Conrad
Post Office-Bukowski
The Great Gatsby-Fitzgerald
To kill a mockingbird-Lee
Mother Night and Cats Cradle-Vonnegut
Gullivers Travels-Swift
The adventures of Huckleberry Finn-Twain
The Sun also Rises-Hemingway
The Stranger-Camus
A Clockwork Orange-Burgess
Lolita-Nabakov

Just to name a few...


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Old 12-31-2017, 09:16 AM
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Originally Posted by brianpatrick View Post
Heart of Darkness-Conrad
Post Office-Bukowski
The Great Gatsby-Fitzgerald
To kill a mockingbird-Lee
Mother Night and Cats Cradle-Vonnegut
Gullivers Travels-Swift
The adventures of Huckleberry Finn-Twain
The Sun also Rises-Hemingway
The Stranger-Camus
A Clockwork Orange-Burgess
Lolita-Nabakov

Just to name a few...


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What I should've written "why not all authors use this these days? "
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Old 12-31-2017, 10:41 AM
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First person narratives are even more popular these days than ever, I think.


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Old 12-31-2017, 11:00 AM
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Originally Posted by brianpatrick View Post
First person narratives are even more popular these days than ever, I think.


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Seems like it. Wattpad is full of it... Full of romance.
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Old 12-31-2017, 11:10 AM
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Heh. Wattpad is full of a lot of stuff. Like a dirty diaper.


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Old 12-31-2017, 11:20 AM
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Originally Posted by brianpatrick View Post
Heh. Wattpad is full of a lot of stuff. Like a dirty diaper.


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I'm amazed, that some of the stuff there have millions of views.
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Old 12-31-2017, 11:57 AM
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Yeah, me too.


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Old 01-01-2018, 05:14 AM
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Okay, rewrote the entire thing in first person. I've replaced the first post.
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Old 01-01-2018, 08:15 AM
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("...the great authors are not the ones we know today but those who'll be remembered tomorrow when we're no longer around I guess..." ventured the goblin who would just love to be thought childish though, adding "...ah yes, childish forever, go for it, btw have you got the "third" version still, I would just like to make the comparison side by side with the version in "fist" to judge for myself so to speak, not that I'll judge though, nor that my opinion will be worth anything neither, I mean I know what is "classic" today, I mean we all agree on that, but what of any of this that will classic in the future is anyone's guess...", whereupon the goblin, who had got out the house to hit the town, had fast learned that bar from one bistro geneva was as good as dead, or better or worse the dead even, not really being sure on that count, sighing "...ok, here's your chance mortals, write away and I'll read just anything you post now, why, because if I don't read your fiction here I'll be stuck in my reality still, where my reality has a lot to answer for in the absence of words like awsome and stupendous...", and where most things were like better than geneva on a cold wet closed day he imagined, the credits read "this post was written on behalf of goblins everywhere and of one goblin in particular")

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Old 01-01-2018, 08:38 AM
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Originally Posted by fleamailman View Post
("...the great authors are not the ones we know today but those who'll be remembered tomorrow when we're no longer around I guess..." ventured the goblin who would just love to be thought childish though, adding "...ah yes, childish forever, go for it, btw have you got the "third" version still, I would just like to make the comparison side by side with the version in "fist" to judge for myself so to speak, not that I'll judge though, nor that my opinion will be worth anything neither, I mean I know what is "classic" today, I mean we all agree on that, but what of any of this that will classic in the future is anyone's guess...", whereupon the goblin, who had got out the house to hit the town, had fast learned that bar from one bistro geneva was as good as dead, or better or worse the dead even, not really being sure on that count, sighing "...ok, here's your chance mortals, write away and I'll read just anything you post now, why, because if I don't read your fiction here I'll be stuck in my reality still, where my reality has a lot to answer for in the absence of words like awsome and stupendous...", and where most things were like better than geneva on a cold wet closed day he imagined, the credits read "this post was written on behalf of goblins everywhere and of one goblin in particular")
My word of choice was indeed a bit harsh. I didn't want to diminish nobodies work. Nevertheless, I should be glad that brianpatrick pointed out this in the first place. I need to change, now’s as good a time as any. I'll get the hang of it and hopefully write something that will please the mind.

I'll send it to you in a pm, if that's ok.
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Old 01-01-2018, 09:33 AM
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Originally Posted by overris View Post
Hated his idea from the very start. Told him not to go, but he did not listen. That fool could not give a rat's ass. He was crazy, obsessed and nobody could stop him.
It was bonkers and hard not to miss that bastard, everyone did. It felt like he took all the good with him. Everything changed for the worse and new gangs popped out from nowhere. Raiders came and went every other day. They nagged us to snitch him up to the big boys. The wanted to catch him alive, to torture and keep him like an animal.

There was no end to their assaults, so I stopped caring after a while. It became a routine that made my and Emma's life harder. Tried to go on with my business around the shack and hoped to make to most of this god-forsaken land. But damn those stupid raiders! Every time they came around, they pissed on my crops and ruined my traps. It would have been nice for a change, if they stopped coming here. Getting too old for this constant ordeal around my house. If only I had enough bullets to shoot them all, that would make me the happiest man on Earth.
***

“Hey Emma, look what I've got!” She acted not to listen while she fiddled with her metal box. As she did not say a word, I poked her on the knee. She hated whenever I did that to her. Emma heaved a sigh and pointed to the ground.

“For god's sake, put it there. I'll get to it in a minute! Can't you see I'm busy?”

Wanted to put down the slim coyote, but there was no place for it. All kinds of junk were in the way. There was not enough room in this stupid shack, so I dropped it in the middle. The corpse fell on some pots and made a huge rumble. Just left it where it flew and carried on. It felt good to be home and as my bones ached like hell.

“What did I just say? Not there, you idiot!” She slammed the box and jumped out of her bed.

Hold your horses woman! Who cares where I put it? It's my place and I do what I want!”

Emma just cursed at me like a sailor while my buttocks found its place. Took her ugly speech to the face and did not flinch once. However, as it was tiresome to listen, so after a while I chose to turn on my side. The long walk to the fields wore me down quite a lot. It made me fall asleep fast, just like a little child.

***

Cold hit my feet and woke me up. I looked around, but Emma was not there. The meat was prepared on the table and the knife was still red. For some reason the door was left half-open and almost blew our candle out. Took me a hot second to stand up, as my old legs were quite stiff. Something moved outside at that moment. “This isn’t right!” My gut told me to act with haste, thus it made me grab my hunting rifle and ran outside.

A hooded man, in a leather jacket stood outside. He was rubbing his shoes in the dust while Emma tried to escape. My heart started to race, while my hands were on the gun, ready to shoot.

Get the hell away from my wifey!”

The first bullet hit the man right in the chest and knocked him back. Did not stop there and fired the rest. He did not drop to the floor, just stood there like a crow to my surprise. He dusted off his chest and grunted like a boar. That was the moment when I realized it was over. An old fart like me could not outrun a youngster like him.

I stood there like an idiot, with my empty gun in hand. He ran up to me and grabbed my neck. His grasp was hard and made me choke on my lungs. The rifle slipped out from my fingers, while I tried to loosen his grip.

“Where’s the little man that lived here and had the gift of another’s?” the man spoke behind his scarf.

Could not understand a word he said, as I was about to faint. Then, when I thought it was over, wifey started to shout, like there was no tomorrow.

“Take this you bastard!”

She tried to shank the man on the side, but he juked it.

“Come back you punk!”

My throat hurt and it was difficult for me to breathe. I wished at that moment I did not smoke that much.

“Stop it, he’s gone for good. I don’t think he’ll be ever back!”

Emma just stood there a little, before she dropped to the floor. This man and his muffled voice reminded me of someone I knew, but was afraid to think of. My heart felt heavy as she wept in the dust. The strong smell of her urine hit my nose as I stepped closer.

She looked at me with a hopeless face. “What if he comes back George? What if he does something worse than killing us?”

Putting my hands on her shoulder just angered her even more.

Fine, woman, just stay there, if that's what you want! Get back in when you feel like it! And don’t worry, none would hump an old woman like you!”

After picking up my gun in the moonlight, my good old chair awaited me with open arms. Although, I stopped at the porch to check that old sawed off shotgun. Thought it went missing, but it still hanged where I left it. This whole thing bothered me a lot. Could not wrap my head around what happened to us, just a minute ago.

However, gave up on thinking as it made my head hurt. Had it with this awful day and chose to go back to sleep instead. It took her forever to come back in. Kept my eyes open just to see Emma close the door. Wanted to make sure she was all right. She did not say a word to me, as she stumbled across the shack. She tried to avoid my sight and went straight to bed.

“I'm glad nothing bad happened! You know that I still love you, right?”

Emma remained silent and did not move. I took that as a ‘yes’, just as I always do. The sounds of crickets helped us fall asleep that night.

***

The next day was somewhat different. Emma told me that there was something outside, before she left. A bottle lay on the floor, just under where the now missing shotgun was. It looked old and dirty. I popped it open and smelled the liquid. It turned out to be fresh water, to my great surprise.

“It must've been him, I'm sure of it! That sorry-ass man was here!”

Emma heard me as she came back with a bucket of water. “What are you mumbling about, you idiot?”

Nothing wifey, I’m just glad that we’re okay now.” I smiled at pretended that I was doing something important.

Well it's now readable (after a fashion).

Three elements of a story:
Inception
Arc
Denouement

Number three is wanting with this piece.
Yeah, I know it is part of a whole.
Does that mean you can't tie the strands in a bow until the next installment?
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Old 01-01-2018, 09:37 AM
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Oh, yeah - atta boy.
Keep going.
You are on a good tack.


Now I'm wonderin' where Emma learned to cuss like a sailor.
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  #26  
Old 01-01-2018, 09:46 AM
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You’re going to have to dig for the meaning in Nick’s crits, but he never disappoints. Okay, well, sometimes he does, but I digress.

Anyway... this is much better, IMHO.

There is a life in the characters that was stilted in the third-person POV.

First person is a nasty little bitch of vulnerability. It makes you think about how you feel, even though the characters are not you at all.

Can you post some of your original fiction here somewhere?

I’d like to read it.

If you’re shy you can PM it.


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk Pro
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Old 01-01-2018, 10:02 AM
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Originally Posted by Nick Pierce View Post
Well it's now readable (after a fashion).

Three elements of a story:
Inception
Arc
Denouement

Number three is wanting with this piece.
Yeah, I know it is part of a whole.
Does that mean you can't tie the strands in a bow until the next installment?
Yes and no. I'll try to explain it, as best as I can. You see, after my big flop last year things seemed a little chaotic around here (ext/int reasons). I had no idea If I had the time to write again... But, it turned out otherwise (although I really wanted to work on my books), I knew things had to change (as in improve my skills). So, I wrote a short story about a chase. Then this one. I didn't go for anything else, just to sit down for an hour and write something. I had no intentions of bringing this story anywhere, but the more "chapters" I wrote, the more interested I've become. So, it became this "never-ending" thing, currently with 8 parts. It's really something that I didn't plan ahead, just did out of sheer passion, for writing (you know, I have to). I was afraid of giving up writing again, as I know how hard is it to get back to that mindset. Did multiple times in my life, which I now deeply regret. So, writing some short-story like scribbles seemed the perfect compromise. Besides, no one read them, so it didn't matter.

(Also, thinking back, this part supposed to be a prologue like attempt. Not related to the story at all.)
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Old 01-01-2018, 10:07 AM
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[QUOTE=overris

Yes and no.

[/QUOTE]

Ever loose an arrow?
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Old 01-01-2018, 10:09 AM
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Originally Posted by Nick Pierce View Post
Oh, yeah - atta boy.
Keep going.
You are on a good tack.


Now I'm wonderin' where Emma learned to cuss like a sailor.

She's a sand pirate. *cough*
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Old 01-01-2018, 10:14 AM
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[QUOTE=brianpatrick

You’re going to have to dig for the meaning in Nick’s crits

[/QUOTE]


You seen Circle of Iron?


Binding an elephant with the web of a spider.
Is this not a definition of an artful audience capture technique?
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