16 more posts in this thread. [Missing image file: repin - ivan the terrible and his son.jpg]
In the past year and a half I have changed my life a lot, mostly for the better. I've also encountered two murderers in this time, having lived with one and been employed by another. One of these individuals was shot by police, while the other is out of prison as the charges have been stayed due to inconsistencies with the evidence.
One of the improvements is that I've recently started browsing /lit/ (former /v/ browser, current /mu/ and sometimes /fit/ browser). This board has helped to reignite my desire to be a writer, which had been trampled out of me during my teen years by my desire to fit in, yet I'm unsure where to start.
Would it be in poor taste to write about my experiences encountering these killers? I don't want to write something to just get readers based on their names, so maybe I should do it as fiction? What do you think /lit/?
I know my writing is terrible, if there are grammatical errors in this post please point them out. I haven't been in school since 2008 when I graduated high school.
3 more posts in this thread. [Missing image file: peep.jpg]
I'm writing a novel, I've written 37,000 words, I've only just got to the point where I am comfortable editing my own work, and it's probably about 25% unnecessarily bloated descriptions. And another 25% of the body are things which add to the image but are not a part of the plot - things the story can be told without.
I know this is a problem. I suppose because I'm finally confident enough to be ruthless, I need to know HOW MUCH of a problem this is. Is editing worth pursuing, or should I attempt a rewrite, keeping strictly to clean prose?
Tl;dr my novel reads like Wilde not Hemingway, help?
8 more posts in this thread. [Missing image file: 400362_10151102129202227_1682569742_n.jpg]
I’ve begun my voyage in a paper boat without a bottom; I will fly to the moon in it. I have been folded along a crease in time, a weakness in the sheet of life. Now, you've settled on the opposite side of the paper to me; I can see your traces in the ink that soaks through the fibre, the pulped vegetation. When we become waterlogged, and the cage disintergrates, we will intermingle. When this paper aeroplane leaves the cliff edge, and carves parallel vapour trails in the dark, we will come together.
Dunno if this is the place to ask but I've been trying to decipher what the fuck the speak is talking about in this quote. For those who don't know it's from the "game" titled, "Dear Esther".
Anyone wanna help me out? This game has quite a few quotes that really stand out to me for some reason, yet I have no idea what in the hell they mean!
Picture unrelated: My pirate kitty