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do you write? (as a hobby) (pg. 2)
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| wotyzoid |
| quote: | Originally posted by Demoted
Yes. Though I certainly don't attempt to get any of it published. |
+1. Not now yet, anyway. My english teacher and my creative writing teacher say I should, though. :conf: |
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| MrJiveBoJingles |
| quote: | Originally posted by Lira
Yes, probably. I'd love to write it in English but, given my unsatisfactory command of the English language, I think it'd be way too pretentious to write in a language other than my own. |
Your command of written English is better than that of most native speakers.
I would like to read some excerpts in English. |
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| SYSTEM-J |
| quote: | Originally posted by MrJiveBoJingles
And you never made that thread about "ordinary literature," did you? |
And you never read that short story I sent you, even though you asked to see it. |
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| Demoted |
| I mainly just hijack enydo's account and post short anecdotal accounts of incest and rape. |
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| MrJiveBoJingles |
| quote: | Originally posted by SYSTEM-J
And you never read that short story I sent you, even though you asked to see it. |
I did read it, actually. :p |
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| Lebezniatnikov |
I do fairly frequently - I find it to be a cathartic activity. Whenever I try fiction, I hate the result. My prose feels stilted and awkward to myself, so I've never shared it. And I think I've actually deleted or trashed most of it, for fear someone would find it and read it.
My non-fiction (essays, op-eds) are a bit better in my opinion and I've had a few blogs to post them on, but only recently did I start sharing a url for the most recent iteration. |
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| MrJiveBoJingles |
| quote: | Originally posted by Lebezniatnikov
Whenever I try fiction, I hate the result. My prose feels stilted and awkward to myself, so I've never shared it. |
Same.
Actually, I did share one in college and was told it sounded too "writerly" -- meaning affected, I guess -- which helped quell my ambitions. |
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| wotyzoid |
| Jesus, you guys are making me doubt my own writing now with all this criticism. |
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| MrJiveBoJingles |
| quote: | Originally posted by wotyzoid
Jesus, you guys are making me doubt my own writing now with all this criticism. |
Are you writing in English or Portuguese? If in English, I can read some and critique it. |
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| wotyzoid |
English, well here's three vignettes I wrote for creative writing:
Doors
We hardly ever think about a door. It’s nothing but a mere simplicity of civilization. However, it is also the separation between in and out and depending on how those two existences work out differently in your perspective it can be the separation of everything. This may seem like a rant, but I advise you to attentively notice your door and really ponder about the things you have experienced after crossing it and being swallowed by the real world. What have you seen? What have your lived? What have you learned? What have you become? Is it really just a door?
The Loft
We crossed the door, leaving our homes at children’s bedtimes, taking adventure as a calling and immersing in it as a duty. We were children indulging in things that shall remain nameless. We arrived around 11: 30 at this broken up loft, artfully vandalized by those who inhabited it. A dark room full of strangers and repetitive music yet with the soul of a thanksgiving dinner table is hard to take in all at once; so we joined and danced until about 5 in the morning when the concept was more than lucid and our cheeks hurt from all the joy.
The Joy of Living
I rant once again about this joy, the joy of dancing among strangers in pitch black, the joy of leaving the comfort of your television and getting lost somewhere you have never gone before, the joy of living. Yesterday I had an illuminating experience, one enlightening enough to make me seem delusional and unbalanced to anyone reading. But it went far beyond the influence of anything-it was living. Yesterday I realized that our life is all about the rare moments where you truly notice the things around you, where you forget all your problems. Life is about the peculiar moments living. |
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| Lebezniatnikov |
| quote: | Originally posted by wotyzoid
Jesus, you guys are making me doubt my own writing now with all this criticism. |
I think you do it already. The samples you posted show a pronounced awareness of your audience - I do the same thing, but the awareness usually dominates and changes the prose in ways I don't like. I think it's awesome that you can be aware of your audience and own it. |
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| MrJiveBoJingles |
Hopefully this helps.
| quote: | Originally posted by wotyzoid
English, well here's three vignettes I wrote for creative writing:
Doors
We hardly ever think about a door. It’s nothing but a mere simplicity [Are you sure "simplicity" is the word you want? Reads oddly to me.] of civilization. However, it is also the separation between in and out and depending on how those two existences work out differently in your perspective it can be the separation of everything. This may seem like a rant, but I advise you to attentively notice your door and really ponder about the things you have experienced after crossing it and being swallowed by the real world. What have you seen? What have your lived? What have you learned? What have you become? Is it really just a door?
The Loft
We crossed the door, leaving our homes at children's bedtimes, taking adventure as a calling and immersing ["Immerse" is a transitive verb, needs an object. Although it's clear what you mean here, so it might be okay to let the grammar slide.] in it as a duty. We were children indulging in things that shall remain nameless [Not clear from this paragraph why they have to "remain nameless," this sounds deliberately "arty" and affected without any context.]. We arrived around 11:30 at this broken up loft, artfully vandalized by those who inhabited it. A dark room full of strangers and repetitive music yet with the soul of a thanksgiving dinner table [Not sure what the Thanksgiving allusion is supposed to mean.] is hard to take in all at once; so we joined and danced until about 5 in the morning when the concept was more than lucid [Not sure how a concept can be "more than lucid."] and our cheeks hurt from all the joy.
The Joy of Living
I rant once again about this joy, the joy of dancing among strangers in pitch black ["Pitch black" is kind of a cliche, might want to avoid it.], the joy of leaving the comfort of your television and getting lost somewhere you have never gone before, the joy of living [Don't need "joy of living" here, it's vague and takes away from the force of the more specific previous clause]. Yesterday I had an illuminating experience, one enlightening enough to make me seem delusional and unbalanced to anyone reading [Reads weirdly, people don't normally think of an "enlightening experience" as one that will make you seem "delusional," since enlightenment is the removal of delusion. Might want to use another adjective.]. But it went far beyond the influence of anything-it was living. Yesterday I realized that our life is all about the rare moments where you truly notice the things around you, where you forget all your problems. [The sentiment of this last sentence is good, but the plain delivery of it makes it sound a bit didactic.] Life is about the peculiar moments living. |
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