Creative Writing discussion
Free Write
>
A Collection of Random Writing
date
newest »
newest »
Mod
I suggest you add more imagery and more emotion. Also being more vague on some topics could help too. Like when you said that she didn't want to go in the house, don't say why she didn't want to. As for the part when she talks about the sunset- beautifully written.
Even though the names are not for sure, i liked not knowing the names. Perhaps if you add onto this, work in the names later, but i would keep the names hidden for a while.
Use the 5 senses.
and last note:
Keep dialog to a minimum if not "important". if the dialog is just "filler" dialog, then try and add something before, and after what is said.
I know that those are a lot of things to do, but you said you would just like feedback, and honestly, it is nice. I like the attitude of the main character with a friend to back her up. I like where you started the scene (but you might want to put a little more into the opening paragraph). It was good, i enjoyed reading it. Keep Writing ;)
Thank you for the feedback. I really appreciate it.As far as imagery goes, I didn't want to add to many just yet until I know where I'm going to put this scene (for example, if it's not the beginning of whatever this might be a part of, and I've already given the imagery about the scene in a previous part, then the imagery here is unneeded.) But I unerstand that I should have added more to this seeing as how I haven't incorporated it into anything yet.
And also, this is a very rough draft, so I expected it to be bland. I'm still trying to figure out why she was sitting on the cliff in the first place, and I also haven't had a good opportunity to sit down and revise everything.
I do have a question: I just skimmed over the scene again, but I might have missed it: did I reference anywhere that the protagonist was a girl, or did you assume? I'm not saying you're wrong; quite the opposite, really.
And about the opening paragraph; what should I add to it?
Mod
I was just taking the hint. And also, for some reason. It just feels like it is written in perspective of a girl.
You should put the beginning part up.
And if you don't mind my asking, what is the overall plot?
2/3 people who answered that question--including you--said a girl, and the other thought the character was a boy.I know I should. ^^'
I'm actually figuring that out. This was just an incomplete scene.
Mod
i liked it hehe I cant wait to see what names you choose.
The Incident of Ellen RueEllen Rue was not happy. She was not sad nor mad. She was not emotional, but she did not feel emotionless. She did not feel dread, nor grief, nor guilt, nor shame. She did not feel she felt anything, but all the same, she knew she did feel something in the end.
Ellen Rue was in a pool. She was not swimming. But she did not drown.
Ellen Rue had one ear. She did not hear. But she heard them scream.
Ellen Rue had her eyes open. She did not see. But she saw very clearly where she was.
Ellen Rue had a nose. She did not smell. But there was the pungent smell of something burning.
Ellen Rue had ten fingers. She did not touch. But she touched each of them before she left.
Ellen Rue had her tongue. She did not taste. But she tasted clouds when they passed into her mouth.
Ellen Rue had no skin, no muscle, no bone, no feel. Yet she swam through a pool, up and up and up.
Ellen Rue was not very rueful at all.
Mod
I way trying something new, and then came up with Ellen Rue, who was about to be called Elan (Ah-lahn) Rue.
If any of you guys have any criticism for The Incident of Ellen Rue, please let me know. I plan to enter it into my school's literary magazine, Inkblot. That or my spoon in the dishwasher story.
Oh: I also don't have any names yet, so there'll be a couple of strange-sounding sentences that have pronouns where the proper noun should be.
http://www.goodreads.com/story/show/2...
I was sitting on the cliff by the ocean--well, it wasn't really a cliff so much as a big rock on the beach yards away from the shore and even more from the house, but we call it a cliff for whatever reason. Grandpa probably said something about it in one of his stories, but I probably didn't pay attention.
The back of my shoes hit the rock of the cliff, and then bounced off, and hit the rock, and bounced off, and hit the rock, and bounced off, and hit the rock, and bounced off, as I kicked my legs. I guess I was trying to do something to keep myself occupied no matter how stupid the thing was. I was bored, but I didn't want to go back inside, since there was nothing to do inside, either.
The sun was setting. I never liked sunsets. I didn't like the yellows and reds, I didn't like how it turned the ocean a hideous orange color, and I most certainly didn't like the feeling of how it was bright enough to see everything, but not bright enough to see everything clearly, so a brighter--artificial --light was needed. It's like in restaurants that dim the light and the lights themselves are hard to see, so the space around them is hard to see, and there are candles on the tables that they expect you to be able to read the menus with. It's like, you could just turn on the lights and we could actually read and see people's faces.
I stopped kicking. I thought I heard someone climbing up. I thought I knew who it was, and I was right. It couldn't have been little Penelope, since she was too young to have climbed up here, and it couldn't have been Mom or Dad, since they were too busy either sleeping or taking care of Penelope.
"Hey," I said, scooting over for him.
"Hey," he replied, sitting next to me.
It was quiet for a moment. Neither one of us was good at starting a conversation.
"So..." I started.
"So," he repeated.
"How're you?"
"Horrible."
"Oh, that's good."
We both grinned, and the awkward faded. The old joke always did that. One of us would ask, "How are you?" and then the other wouldn't say the stereotypical and grammatically incorrect answer of, "I'm good," and would instead say something like, "Terrible" or "Horrible" or "Crappy", etcetera, and then the first would continue as if the second had said, "I'm good."
We talked for a while, well past sunset (thank God it passed). We somehow managed to get onto the subject of anagrams, which proceeded to compound words and misconceptions of them, like "dandelions" could be "dandy lions" or "otherwise" could be "other wise", and then we were laughing at some drowning fish joke. It was one of those moments where anything could be ridiculously hilarious.
He said something I don't remember-- it was most likely something immature, but I was cracking up badly--and I had forgotten we we were sitting on the cliff so of course, so, me being half insane from laughing so much, I fell.
Well, almost fell. He grabbed my wrist before I could. Everything went quiet, as if we'd never been laughing and cracking ridiculous jokes we wouldn't remember ten minutes later.
I sat back down.
"Sorry," I muttered.
"Not your fault."
Yes it was! I would have loved to have screamed. But I didn't, so instead, I said, "I guess." And then it was quiet again. I only realized then (don't ask me why) that we hadn't looked at each other the entire time we'd been messing around. We'd just sat around and stared at nearly everything but each other. Unintentionally, of course. Right?
I looked up at him and he was looking at me--which, admittedly, was a bit strange. An awkward sort of smile grew on both of our faces.