And the thing is, I like my evil like I like my men: evil. You know, straight up, black hat, tied to the train tracks, soon my electro-ray will destroy metropolis BAD.

Buffy ,'Sleeper'


The Great Write Way, Act Three: Where's the gun?

A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.


Wolfram - May 07, 2008 2:58:24 pm PDT #116 of 6681
Visilurking

I hope we're allowed more than one.

Riddance

Dropping the receiver, she could still hear his girlfriend's screams. She sat down, numb.

Her son's final words echoed like the gunshot that followed. "I'm tired of being your burden. Goodbye."

Despite herself, her first emotion was relief.


SailAweigh - May 07, 2008 3:05:36 pm PDT #117 of 6681
Nana korobi, ya oki. (Fall down seven times, stand up eight.) ~Yuzuru Hanyu/Japanese proverb

As many as you want, Wolfram.


Typo Boy - May 07, 2008 4:14:10 pm PDT #118 of 6681
Calli: My people have a saying. A man who trusts can never be betrayed, only mistaken.Avon: Life expectancy among your people must be extremely short.

Wow! that has major impact.


Wolfram - May 07, 2008 5:01:45 pm PDT #119 of 6681
Visilurking

Thanks, I'm trying to work on condensing as much as possible. Also I'm really bad at descriptive prose.


Beverly - May 07, 2008 8:37:31 pm PDT #120 of 6681
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.

I think that's better than the opposite, Wolfram. Sometimes the story gets lost in the descriptive detail.

Paraphrasing Amadeus, "Too many words!"

I do like writers who go for more senses than sight and sound, however. In my opinion, nothing grounds fiction more than the temperature, density, moisture content of air moving on skin, texture, and the scents your characters identify and what those evoke.

"The hot, dry air scorched as his lungs sucked it in, and leached moisture from him as it was pushed out again. His throat felt scraped and raw. The dumpster behind him was due for collection: a fine old stew of human leavings percolated in the heat, but underneath that aroma was oil, grease, engine lube and solvent.

"His thin t-shirt was soaked and sucked at his skin, chafing, especially beneath the shoulder rig."

Tell me what's going on there. No action, no visual or auditory description. You know nothing about the POV character except gender and he's wearing a gun. But are you in the scene? Can you feel the heat, the sweat, the dry mouth? These are the things I look for. Don't tell me, put me there.

But that's just me.


hippocampus - May 08, 2008 4:13:05 am PDT #121 of 6681
not your mom's socks.

But that's just me.

us.


Wolfram - May 08, 2008 5:31:08 am PDT #122 of 6681
Visilurking

Damn that's good writing. Will have to practice some of that.


Beverly - May 08, 2008 7:12:52 am PDT #123 of 6681
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.

Pfft. That, and world building, character defining, are what I can do fairly well. But I can't find a story to tell, or sustain one.

Heh. DH, reading over my shoulder, "You always were a method actor."


Miracleman - May 08, 2008 7:24:40 am PDT #124 of 6681
No, I don't think I will - me, quoting Captain Steve Rogers, to all of 2020

That, and world building, character defining, are what I can do fairly well. But I can't find a story to tell, or sustain one.

I suffer from this syndrome as well. We should start a support group.


Wolfram - May 08, 2008 7:57:05 am PDT #125 of 6681
Visilurking

We should start a support group.

looks at thread slug

Isn't this?