Posts tagged writing

 Sari was never one for romance.

Read more …

The beginning of a story about an aspiring Broadway actress named Sari. She’s half black, half Indian. Enjoy.

Read more …

 She arched her back, an almost purr-like moan slipping from between her lips. I tried not to stare but the smooth curve of her spine captivated me, mesmerized me. I tried to swallow but my throat was dry. She smiled a coy smile, eyes shadowed by her bangs. My fingers twitched, wanting nothing more than to just reach out and run them through her hair. She beat me to the punch, though, and combed her fingers through her hair, tossing back her head. I bit my lip lightly as she tossed a flirty smile my way again, a light hand sweeping across her chest, drawing my eyes downward. I tried to shake and clear my head but when I met her gaze again she had a seductive smile full of telling promises and eyes of mystery. She reached out a hand and our fingers slipped together, fitting easily. My heart skipped a beat and spinning on a sharp heel she lead me away from today and we entered the night.

            My breath hitched lightly as long fingers danced down my rib cage. My own fingers tightened their grip on the thin cotton shirt. Our hot breath mingles before the delving of tongue.

            Hot, hot, hot. Teeth clash in a messy battle of dominance. Swollen lips push, push, push. Closer. Always closer.

            Hand in hand, fingers laced as legs tangle and skin rubbed against skin. Fumbling fingers searching for more skin. More, more, more.

            Melting into the sheets, clothes falling through the floor. Closer still, skin touches skin with electric sensitivity. Love and lust become one, sweet friction, smooth sliding. Bodies fit together with the slip of emotion.

            One, one, one. All else forgotten, oblivion reached. Twisting, writhing bodies push. Closer. More.

AN: Will probably come back to this and expand on it and tack on more senses than touch. I just wanted to play with touch.

Like, I honestly feel so sorry for them. Because they’ve mostly got all this creativity in them and they’re just trying to find a way to let it flow and so they take a stab at writing and it’s just. They get picked on and made fun of and I feel so bad. Because writing is such a personal thing and sometimes it’s someone’s only outlet and to have people just make fun of it but no one to offer help at all just sucks. I just feel so sorry because I want to reach out and help. 

I’ve heard that if you fall for a really long time, you don’t even notice you’re falling, in fact, you feel like you’re suspended in air. I think that’s why people like drop towers at amusement parks. I’ve been on one of those once, most terrifying experience of my life. My heart trying to claw its way up my throat, my stomach rolling. It’s a terrible way to describe falling in love, but it’s very accurate. Drop towers happen much faster, though, and you can always turn your back to them if you get too scared. Falling in love gives you no choice and once it starts, you’re strapped to that seat and like hell you’re getting free. I think the worst part was actually being in love, being on the ground. You stumble around, going from ride to ride, trying to forget that drop tower because there’s no way you could have actually experienced that! But you obviously can’t ignore the drop tower because it’s right in the middle of the park and it’s like 300 feet tall and all you can hear is people’s screams and it’s always in sight and to get anywhere else, you have to pass it so it’s not like you can just forget about it. And it doesn’t help that you actually really liked the drop tower because it gave you a fantastic rush and the colors are very nice and the harness made you feel safe and it’s different because it’s not boring like the bumper cars or intense like the roller coasters and you don’t feel like you’re slipping out of the seat or off the wall because you have that harness you can hold onto and you don’t even need to open your eyes because who needs to see that park? It’s just a park and you’ve got the drop tower to make you feel good, you don’t need those other rides. 

And then the analogy ran out.

3leaf:

writingadvice:

by Chuck Palahniuk

In six seconds, you’ll hate me.
But in six months, you’ll be a better writer.

From this point forward—at least for the next half year—you may not use “thought” verbs. These include: Thinks, Knows, Understands, Realizes, Believes, Wants, Remembers, Imagines, Desires, and a hundred others you love to use.

The list should also include: Loves and Hates.
And it should include: Is and Has, but we’ll get to those later.

Until some time around Christmas, you can’t write: Kenny wonderedif Monica didn’t like him going out at night…”

Instead, you’ll have to Un-pack that to something like: “The mornings after Kenny had stayed out, beyond the last bus, until he’d had to bum a ride or pay for a cab and got home to find Monica faking sleep, faking because she never slept that quiet, those mornings, she’d only put her own cup of coffee in the microwave. Never his.”

Instead of characters knowing anything, you must now present the details that allow the reader to know them. Instead of a character wanting something, you must now describe the thing so that the reader wants it.

Instead of saying: “Adamknew Gwen liked him.” You’ll have to say: “Between classes, Gwen had always leaned on his locker when he’d go to open it. She’s roll her eyes and shove off with one foot, leaving a black-heel mark on the painted metal, but she also left the smell of her perfume. The combination lock would still be warm from her butt. And the next break, Gwen would be leaned there, again.”

In short, no more short-cuts. Only specific sensory detail: action, smell, taste, sound, and feeling.

Typically, writers use these “thought” verbs at the beginning of a paragraph (In this form, you can call them “Thesis Statements” and I’ll rail against those, later). In a way, they state the intention of the paragraph. And what follows, illustrates them.

For example:
“Brenda knew she’d never make the deadline. Traffic was backed up from the bridge, past the first eight or nine exits. Her cell phone battery was dead. At home, the dogs would need to go out, or there would be a mess to clean up. Plus, she’d promised to water the plants for her neighbor…”

Do you see how the opening “thesis statement” steals the thunder of what follows? Don’t do it.

If nothing else, cut the opening sentence and place it after all the others. Better yet, transplant it and change it to: Brenda would never make the deadline.

Thinking is abstract. Knowing and believing are intangible. Your story will always be stronger if you just show the physical actions and details of your characters and allow your reader to do the thinking and knowing. And loving and hating.

Don’t tell your reader: “Lisahated Tom.”

Instead, make your case like a lawyer in court, detail by detail.

Present each piece of evidence. For example:
“During roll call, in the breath after the teacher said Tom’s name, in that moment before he could answer, right then, Lisa would whisper-shout ‘Butt Wipe,’ just as Tom was saying, ‘Here’.”

One of the most-common mistakes that beginning writers make is leaving their characters alone. Writing, you may be alone. Reading, your audience may be alone. But your character should spend very, very little time alone. Because a solitary character starts thinking or worrying or wondering.

For example: Waiting for the bus, Mark started to worry about how long the trip would take…”

A better break-down might be: “The schedule said the bus would come by at noon, but Mark’s watch said it was already 11:57. You could see all the way down the road, as far as the Mall, and not see a bus. No doubt, the driver was parked at the turn-around, the far end of the line, taking a nap. The driver was kicked back, asleep, and Mark was going to be late. Or worse, the driver was drinking, and he’d pull up drunk and charge Mark seventy-five cents for death in a fiery traffic accident…”

A character alone must lapse into fantasy or memory, but even then you can’t use “thought” verbs or any of their abstract relatives.

Oh, and you can just forget about using the verbs forget and remember.

No more transitions such as: “Wanda remembered how Nelson used to brush her hair.”

Instead: “Back in their sophomore year, Nelson used to brush her hair with smooth, long strokes of his hand.”

Again, Un-pack. Don’t take short-cuts.

Better yet, get your character with another character, fast. Get them together and get the action started. Let their actions and words show their thoughts. You—stay out of their heads.

And while you’re avoiding “thought” verbs, be very wary about using the bland verbs “is” and “have.”

For example:
“Ann’s eyes are blue.”

“Ann has blue eyes.”

Versus:

“Ann coughed and waved one hand past her face, clearing the cigarette smoke from her eyes, blue eyes, before she smiled…”

Instead of bland “is” and “has” statements, try burying your details of what a character has or is, in actions or gestures. At its most basic, this is showing your story instead of telling it.

And forever after, once you’ve learned to Un-pack your characters, you’ll hate the lazy writer who settles for: “Jim sat beside the telephone, wondering why Amanda didn’t call.”

Please. For now, hate me all you want, but don’t use thought verbs. After Christmas, go crazy, but I’d bet money you won’t.

(…)

For this month’s homework, pick through your writing and circle every “thought” verb. Then, find some way to eliminate it. Kill it by Un-packing it.

Then, pick through some published fiction and do the same thing. Be ruthless.

“Marty imagined fish, jumping in the moonlight…”

“Nancy recalled the way the wine tasted…”

“Larry knew he was a dead man…”

Find them. After that, find a way to re-write them. Make them stronger.

(via citrusunderpressure)

            I hold my breath as he glides his fingers down wrist and up my arm, up my shoulders, up my neck, and finally he stops at my cheek. I lean into his warm touch. He’s gentle as his other hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling my closer. I smile as I pull back just before our lips touch. His nose crinkles in that cute way that reminds me of the bunny I used to own back when I was a child. I rise to my tippy-toes, kissing his nose. He doesn’t pull away as I did. He’s not afraid of becoming attached because he already is.

            I smile again as he tries to pull me into a kiss again. I sigh a slightly weary sigh as I give in, just this once. I think he notices, but he doesn’t comment. He never does. Because he believes he’s in love. Ah, this probably isn’t fair. But it does feel nice, I’ll admit. It feels nice to be loved after not feeling it for years.

            He pulls me into one more kiss, one more guilt-ridden kiss, and I decide tomorrow I will tell him. Tell him myself that maybe, just maybe, this isn’t working out. For now I’ll just let him love me. Because it feels nice.