Writing is the process of taking the idea you think is awesome and discovering it is shit when you actually try to write it, but in the process discover something better. Or worse. It depends really.
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NeoGAF Creative Writing Challenge #115 - "Boxed In"
- Thread starter Tangent
- Start date
- Status
<3 Thanks! I needed that.
Wise words. I guess I better go discovering then
Sikamikanico
#1 Dad
I've never participated in this kind of thing before - is it basically write a short story that touches on the theme "boxed in"?
Correct?
STEALTH EDIT: Just saw the FAQ...
Correct?
STEALTH EDIT: Just saw the FAQ...
Correct! How you interpret the theme is completly up to you.
Sikamikanico
#1 Dad
And this closes today...I'd better get a move on then!
Don't worry. You still have like 19 hours, or so, left. That is plenty of time. I think most entries pop up around the deadline +/- one hour
A thousand words in. I wish I hadn't left this until the last minute because I had the idea very early on. However much I edit and rewrite I'm not going to do this story the justice it deserves because it's probably the best short story idea I've had in a long while.
Hope everyone else is having a productive afternoon/evening.
Hope everyone else is having a productive afternoon/evening.
Not on this, I'm not. It seems like my job has been in infinite crisis mode all quarter : /
Same here. Like always I had the idea really fast but ended up writting it last minute. Luckily I have convinced myself that it wouldn't change the quality of my stories if I did it earlier... Ah, self-deception is a bliss
Your last effort turned out just fine, was in my top three if I remember, so it's working out for you!Same here. Like always I had the idea really fast but ended up writting it last minute. Luckily I have convinced myself that it wouldn't change the quality of my stories if I did it earlier... Ah, self-deception is a bliss
I've just completed my first draft. Came in at 1,900 words so I'm going to have to tidy it up and lose a hundred words along the way. Really enjoyed writing this.
The Dying Art of Mime - 1800 words.
SquiddyCracker
Banned
I'm pulling a ronito.
Yes, that is now a thing.
...
Sorry, ronito
Yes, that is now a thing.
...
Sorry, ronito
I'm pulling a ronito.
Yes, that is now a thing.
...
Sorry, ronito
As someone who came to this thread only like five or six challenges ago. What does that mean?
It means he is writing about donkeys. Or possibly Al Roker.
Great! ... ... So, one insider joke got answered with another... I feel so enlightend.
...
Sorry did not want to sound grumpy. But I'm tired and still loving and hating my story in really short intervals. Ah I want to go to bed. But i have to finish (It's almost 2 am here)
Edit: I think I just understood what SquiddyBiscuit meant... I'm gonna go to bed now.
SquiddyCracker
Banned
I thought I was referring to when ronito only submit a 100 word story excerpt (which doesn't happen that often).
It was an awful inside joke
It was an awful inside joke
I thought I was referring to when ronito only submit a 100 word story excerpt (which doesn't happen that often).
It was an awful inside joke
Jupp I just got that. Not your fault. Mine.
Aw man. I was all excited.I thought I was referring to when ronito only submit a 100 word story excerpt (which doesn't happen that often).
It was an awful inside joke
SquiddyCracker
Banned
Aw man. I was all excited.
Don't worry, it's my fault.
Anyway, without further ado, here is my contribution:
For thou is but one
The wind rustle in the ashen grey leaves of the Eywirian Birch trees surrounding the meadow, encircling the man standing in the middle of the grassy field. His hair is dark, and would if it wasn't for a streak of darkest blue, be as black as night. It is gently tugged by the caressing touch of the air, the entwined locks of silken strands moving but a fraction. His brown grey irises are unfocused, as if he is not registering what he sees with those vaguely slanted eyes of him. They are framed by the dark hair, and suggest the same sharpness of nature his pointed ears do.
Yes, pointed ears, for he is half-aelven - the fruit of the laborous love between an elven man and human womyn - or perhaps the other way around?
He sits down, his lilac tunic with brown sleeves and dark trousers creasing a tad, and his eyes close. Next to him is a long trident, the middle-prong of it shimmering as if it is the surface of sun-struck water, and a rugged backpack filled with assorted items. As he sit there cross-legged under the grey sky and naked nature, he moves his right hand (oh, so slender, but not quite as slender as that of a true aelf!) into his frazzled edge tunic pocket - and removes a shiny circle small enough to fit in his palm.
He strokes it.
Once, twice, then waits.
A third time. A fourth.
The number of the woken one.
His reddish lips, so out of place with the pale aelven-like skin of his face, moves, as if to whisper. For he is praying, to his one true lord.
Guess I better get started as well...
The Chinese Room (~1600)
British Monsoon
Member
Winter came in full force that year, the wind howling down through the mountain passes and bringing with it deep flurries of snow that clung tight to the land. Huddled in their houses, the people waited. They had become adept at waiting. Waiting for the winds to die down, the snows to falter, the ice to melt. When not under winter's grasp their whole year was spent in preparation for the winter to come and, when the winter innexorably arrived, they waited to start it all over again. It was a hard life, cold and harsh the year round, isolated to the extreme and matching well the demeanour of the men who lived it.
One such man sat staring at his hearth, wrapped tight in a bundle of furs. His fingers worked the ornate carvings on the hilt of an axe, ancient and worn, that had been passed down between father and son for generations. Though winter had barely set in, he waited for the Thaw with a dark anticipation, the anger building in him as the temperature dropped. It was a matter of honour and Agamar could bear no more slights. Tevan was too stubborn by far, that had always been his problem, and it blinded him to the realities of his situation.
Yes, it was true that the land Agamar owned had once belonged to Tevan's line, that it was among some of the most fertile land in the valley, but it had come fairly to Agamar's father's father over a hundred cycles ago. It was Agamar's now by right, yet still Tevan lusted over what he felt should be his, though he would never say it. No, instead all Agamar received were poisoned looks and the whispers of his fellows behind his back. They all knew that, thanks to land gained two generations past, Agamar ate better than the rest, that Agamar's larders were stocked against even the hardest of winters, and they hated him for it.
Tevan's land was mean and impoverished, more rock and oozing bog than field or pasture, and Agamar had at last come to the end of his patience with the way his neighbours looked down upon him, in spite of the honour his line and land should accord. So, upon advice from his brothers, he went to Tevan's hold with open arms, towing sleighs of provisions in his wake. But Tevan wanted no charity and would not even let Agamar into his hall, naming him thief and honourless. Agamar had to be held back from cutting the man down there and then and doing Tevan's family a favour. He stalked off back to his own hall, leaving the sleighs where they lay.
The snow had covered them now, too. Three indistinct humps sitting untouched when the blizzards came. Agamar again cursed Taven's stubborness. It was he who was forcing Agamar's hand here, he who could not see the confrontation he provoked. It was a matter of pride, a matter of honour and one that could no longer be settled with words. So, with dark thoughts playing across his troubled brow, Agamar waited, as they all did in the valley. Waiting for the Thaw and, for Agamar, the day he would regain the respect and honour he so rightfully deserved.
When the Thaw came at last to the valley and the winds died down and the snows faltered and the ice melted, the people wearily crept out from their halls and began the rituals and routines innexorably linked to this time of year. First and foremost, they checked up on their neighbours, some out of kindness, others out of curiosity. It wasn't uncommon for death to silently take his fill during the winter sleep, or for dark deeds to transpire behind doors locked on the inside, snow-bound without. Arguements often boiled in the confined and cramped halls.
Agamar had only one thing on his mind, however, as he stalked through the melting slush, down the hill towards Tevan's hall. The oaken doors remained steadfastly shut, Agamar's sleighs still sitting, fully laden, outside. He brandished his axe and slammed the hilt three times to the door. There was no answer from inside. A crowd had begun to gather and Agamar rousted the men into helping him force the doors. After much crashing, the bar finally gave way and the door swung inward.
As cold as it was outside, it was colder still within. The next thing Agamar noticed was the stench and with that his anger seemed to fade away. There, by a long-extinguished hearth, huddled together for warmth, was Tevan and his family. His wife, his mother and his daughters, all clutching tight to their father and husband and son who sat, crosslegged, with his own father's axe across his lap. Agamar still despised the man, still despised his rigidity and stubborness, but he had not wanted things to end like this.
He took up Tevan's axe and tied the loop to his belt, before stepping weakly from the hall. All around him were staring faces, uncaring, incriminating eyes that screamed "you did this". They hated him, he knew. They would always hate him, for he had prospered from his forefather's deeds more than his own and, when at last pushed to sympathy, it was more from a desire to see his rival subdued and in his debt. He would always be a small man to them, while, in death, Tevan was larger than life. A true man of the valley, who sacrificed his line for a sense of honour. Agamar spat at the thought and, with one last glare to the assembled masses, stalked home to his halls, bereft of any warmth.
One such man sat staring at his hearth, wrapped tight in a bundle of furs. His fingers worked the ornate carvings on the hilt of an axe, ancient and worn, that had been passed down between father and son for generations. Though winter had barely set in, he waited for the Thaw with a dark anticipation, the anger building in him as the temperature dropped. It was a matter of honour and Agamar could bear no more slights. Tevan was too stubborn by far, that had always been his problem, and it blinded him to the realities of his situation.
Yes, it was true that the land Agamar owned had once belonged to Tevan's line, that it was among some of the most fertile land in the valley, but it had come fairly to Agamar's father's father over a hundred cycles ago. It was Agamar's now by right, yet still Tevan lusted over what he felt should be his, though he would never say it. No, instead all Agamar received were poisoned looks and the whispers of his fellows behind his back. They all knew that, thanks to land gained two generations past, Agamar ate better than the rest, that Agamar's larders were stocked against even the hardest of winters, and they hated him for it.
Tevan's land was mean and impoverished, more rock and oozing bog than field or pasture, and Agamar had at last come to the end of his patience with the way his neighbours looked down upon him, in spite of the honour his line and land should accord. So, upon advice from his brothers, he went to Tevan's hold with open arms, towing sleighs of provisions in his wake. But Tevan wanted no charity and would not even let Agamar into his hall, naming him thief and honourless. Agamar had to be held back from cutting the man down there and then and doing Tevan's family a favour. He stalked off back to his own hall, leaving the sleighs where they lay.
The snow had covered them now, too. Three indistinct humps sitting untouched when the blizzards came. Agamar again cursed Taven's stubborness. It was he who was forcing Agamar's hand here, he who could not see the confrontation he provoked. It was a matter of pride, a matter of honour and one that could no longer be settled with words. So, with dark thoughts playing across his troubled brow, Agamar waited, as they all did in the valley. Waiting for the Thaw and, for Agamar, the day he would regain the respect and honour he so rightfully deserved.
When the Thaw came at last to the valley and the winds died down and the snows faltered and the ice melted, the people wearily crept out from their halls and began the rituals and routines innexorably linked to this time of year. First and foremost, they checked up on their neighbours, some out of kindness, others out of curiosity. It wasn't uncommon for death to silently take his fill during the winter sleep, or for dark deeds to transpire behind doors locked on the inside, snow-bound without. Arguements often boiled in the confined and cramped halls.
Agamar had only one thing on his mind, however, as he stalked through the melting slush, down the hill towards Tevan's hall. The oaken doors remained steadfastly shut, Agamar's sleighs still sitting, fully laden, outside. He brandished his axe and slammed the hilt three times to the door. There was no answer from inside. A crowd had begun to gather and Agamar rousted the men into helping him force the doors. After much crashing, the bar finally gave way and the door swung inward.
As cold as it was outside, it was colder still within. The next thing Agamar noticed was the stench and with that his anger seemed to fade away. There, by a long-extinguished hearth, huddled together for warmth, was Tevan and his family. His wife, his mother and his daughters, all clutching tight to their father and husband and son who sat, crosslegged, with his own father's axe across his lap. Agamar still despised the man, still despised his rigidity and stubborness, but he had not wanted things to end like this.
He took up Tevan's axe and tied the loop to his belt, before stepping weakly from the hall. All around him were staring faces, uncaring, incriminating eyes that screamed "you did this". They hated him, he knew. They would always hate him, for he had prospered from his forefather's deeds more than his own and, when at last pushed to sympathy, it was more from a desire to see his rival subdued and in his debt. He would always be a small man to them, while, in death, Tevan was larger than life. A true man of the valley, who sacrificed his line for a sense of honour. Agamar spat at the thought and, with one last glare to the assembled masses, stalked home to his halls, bereft of any warmth.
HEY MAN! You can't capture my dialog style! (Plus my dialog would feel trapped, and boxed in.)
Dang I can't believe you write so well in a language that's not native. If I tried that, a 2 year old would laugh at me. Sometimes, procrastinating til the very end produces the best stuff. But maybe that's just an excuse to keep on procrastinating...
That's going down in history.
Wow you've peaked my interest! But I hope Cyan didn't see your somewhat subtle disclaimer.
Yikes. :-( Working is so overrated...
Yes!!!! I knew it! Cyan bringing back Searle! I think I can count at least 3 stories of yours with The Chinese Room.
You sure love that room. It's all just so... CUTE. (Mwwooohahaha!)Okay, here's my story. "Laughing at What You Can" (1277 words)
The Living Situation
Rolling with nonfiction this time. Standard password.
Rolling with nonfiction this time. Standard password.
Yeah, probably not.
Didn't end up having any dialogue in my story, anyway.Haha, you're right. I guess Searle made an impression on me!Yes!!!! I knew it! Cyan bringing back Searle! I think I can count at least 3 stories of yours with The Chinese Room.
Hey!
Aha, you did a story after all! Right on.
Ch'yeah, has that ever actually happened?
Just a Small Town Girl (1800 words).
Living in a lonely world?
Is discussing your own story at all frowned upon? I didn't realise, thought it was only bad etiquette to do so in the same post as the one in which the story is posted. I didn't intend to double post either, its just that no one posted in between. But I'll avoid mentioning my own work in the future, can see how it could be perceived.
Looking forward to checking out everyone's stories later today.
toddhunter
Member
I think the comment was related to Cyan having a thing about people putting disclaimers on their stories about how bad they are... Or something.
I'm always happy to hear about the work people did.
Don't worry about that, it's totally fine! We all bitch about coming up with ideas and writing and blah de blah. What I get on people's cases for is "here is my story which is terrible and you will hate, thanks, enjoy!"
battered and bruised,
with nothing to wear,
grip fast the cross,
shiver.
fashion a blanket,
keep her warm,
her eyes reveal
an inner storm,
the lows they cast
are nowhere near...
everything will be OK now I say,
she nods, the ambulance door shuts,
I'm sorry, I say, as she is taken away.
I stare at him, handcuffed, sitting in the back seat,
my brain fails me, and I turn up the music.
shiver, shiver, shiver,
the lows they cast are nowhere near.
with nothing to wear,
grip fast the cross,
shiver.
fashion a blanket,
keep her warm,
her eyes reveal
an inner storm,
the lows they cast
are nowhere near...
everything will be OK now I say,
she nods, the ambulance door shuts,
I'm sorry, I say, as she is taken away.
I stare at him, handcuffed, sitting in the back seat,
my brain fails me, and I turn up the music.
shiver, shiver, shiver,
the lows they cast are nowhere near.
I think I wrote my last few entries in that time frame.
SquiddyCracker
Banned
Alright, now I feel like I'm missing crucial context...You and your chinese room
My expectations are high!
The Entries:
Steriletom - "The World Turned Upside Down"
Aaron - "Burned in a Box"
CoffeeExpress - "Hoi-Polloi"
toddhunter - "Just a box"
GRW810 - "The Dying Art of Mime"
SquiddyBiscuit - "For thou is but one"
Cyan - "The Chinese Room"
Bootaaay - "The Thaw"
Tangent - "Laughing at What You Can"
Mike M - "The Living Situation"
Nezumi - "Refreshments"
Sober - "Just a Small Town Girl"
Ashes1396 - "the lows you cast are nowhere near"
Steriletom - "The World Turned Upside Down"
Aaron - "Burned in a Box"
CoffeeExpress - "Hoi-Polloi"
toddhunter - "Just a box"
GRW810 - "The Dying Art of Mime"
SquiddyBiscuit - "For thou is but one"
Cyan - "The Chinese Room"
Bootaaay - "The Thaw"
Tangent - "Laughing at What You Can"
Mike M - "The Living Situation"
Nezumi - "Refreshments"
Sober - "Just a Small Town Girl"
Ashes1396 - "the lows you cast are nowhere near"
SquiddyCracker
Banned
The Chinese room is just an interesting philosophical thought experiment.
Mine is finished, can I still submit it?
EDIT: I am posting anyways http://dl.dropbox.com/u/48427668/Room 84.pdf , pass is neogaf. The name is Room 84 and it's just 690 words
I am really sorry my girlfriend distracted me and I forgot to post the link .
EDIT: I am posting anyways http://dl.dropbox.com/u/48427668/Room 84.pdf , pass is neogaf. The name is Room 84 and it's just 690 words
I am really sorry my girlfriend distracted me and I forgot to post the link .
So, it's time for some feedback. Pretty diverse bunch this time around.
Steriletom - "The World Upside Down"
You style is very good. Describtions and dialogue are all well crafted in my opinion. The story itself didn't do much for me though. I don't know, I guess I was expecting just a little something extra in the whole what-if-the-rest-of-the-world-would-turn-on-the-US-scenario. Some twist or something.
Aaron - "Burned in a Box"
As always very well written. I liked the atmosphere and the thought of a world that is basically reduced to closed of "islands". The ending did confuse me though. The way that american agent suddenly pops up just seemed so alien and comical out of place. Could be that was the effect you wanted but it put me off a little.
Coffee-Express - "Hoi Polloi"
In some ways you gave a really good descriptions of mindless deskjobs and how they can be straining the mental health of a human being. The problem I had was that you made your main character a little bit to unlikable for my taste. Instead of having sympathy for the man I kinda got the feeling that he deserved this for being an outright asshole. The fact that he did acknowledged that himself wasn't really enough to counter the rest.
toddhunter - "Just a Box"
Wait...what? Well thank you very much, now my brain hurts... I don't even know how to give feedback on this, because I honestly don't know if I loved or hated it. Would I open the box? I don't know? I can't even reach the box can I? How can I open it then. But wait I don't even exist because there is nothing outside of the lager shed and since I'm not in the shed I don't exist... or am I in the shed and don't realize it?
OK, serious now. Just like in your last piece you really seem to have a talent of writing those nice little paradoxes. I couldn't do that. i have to massage my brain just from reading your story
GRW810 - "The Dying Art of Mime"
I really liked that one. You were definitly right in thinking that you had an awesome idea, because, well, you did. A few minor nitpicks from me though. I thought that in the begining you were a bit too factual. I would have wished that you'd have painted his love for mime and the begining of his career a bit more colorful, so that it would stand in bigger contrast to the creeping horror and threat of the end of your story, which I thought you portrayed really well. Furthermore I think maybe that the other people becoming suddenly able to feel the barrier as well was a bit to much. I would have found it better if he had just suffocated on stage without everyone knowing why. But again this is just nitpicking. Really great idea and I liked that you did not reveal what happens to him. I liked to imagine that he made a deal with the devil to become the best mime artist ever and that was how the devil got him in the end.
SquiddyBiscuit - "For thou is but one"
The writing and imagery is really good, beautiful even, but there isn't really much story to it which is sad because i would have liked to read some more. Not really sure what about the story has something to do with boxed-in though.
Cyan - "The Chinese Room"
I really like the idea of giving life to a thought-experiment like that. Made me spent half an hour thinking about Schrödinger's cat sitting in the box, pondering the meaning of life and death... what is it with thought experiments and enclosed spaces anyway...
Besides that there is nothing much to say. great idea and well written.
Bootaaay - "The Thaw"
I think I have repeatedly told you how much I like your writing style. This piece is no exeption. And this time I especially like that it is not as open or abruptly ended like some of your other entries. I thought it had the quality of a twisted fable to it. With a rather dark moral however.
Tangent - "Laughing at What You Can"
I thought that the two parts of your story didn't connect that well. In my understanding you wanted to show the discrepancy between taking a bad situation and trying to muster it with as much laughter as possible and being a joker who is expected to be the one who is always funny. And though I think that you delivered the first really well, I had problems with the second. Maybe it was because the relationship between the main character and the friends just didn't come over as much as did the relationship between the family members.
Mike M - "The Living Situation"
So, this is really not fiction, eh? Hard to give feedback then I have to admit. The writing was good and I think that you brought your point across in a real good matter. If I recall correctly you made a thread about this some months back, yes? There are some question I have though. So your nephew suffers from quite a range of, in lack of a better word, dissorders. But he still goes to regular school? Aren't there schools specialized in taking care of children like your nephew? I ask, because my stepmother is a teacher for mentally challenged or disabled children and from what I know about her job your nephew should fit right in there. Other than that I can understand that this situation is probably not easy to handle and you have my respect for trying to make the best out of it.
Sober - "Just a Small Town Girl"
It's a nice little slice of life story. The style is simple but suits the tale you tell very good. The way the boy reacts at the end left me wondering though how Lindsey's story will go on. Some part of me fears that she might never leave Bliss, despite all her hopes.
Ashes1396 - "the lows you cast are nowhere near"
It's poetry. I could not say if it is good or bad poetry. I liked the flow of it though. Almost a bit songlike.
Rafy - "Room 84"
I don't know how the rest feels about it, but since no one has voted so far I think it is OK to include you even though you are quite late, but don't let it happen again
I liked the story. You did a great job of describing the surreal, random and frightening qualities of a dream. That being said I didn't think your story needed the last paragraph. I would have let it open. The explaination at the end destroys some of the atmosphere i think.
Puh. I always forget how much time this takes. Well without much further ado, here are my votes:
1.)GRW810 - "The Dying Art of Mime"
2.)Cyan - "The Chinese Room"
3.)Bootaaay - "The Thaw"
HM:toddhunter - "Just a box"
Steriletom - "The World Upside Down"
You style is very good. Describtions and dialogue are all well crafted in my opinion. The story itself didn't do much for me though. I don't know, I guess I was expecting just a little something extra in the whole what-if-the-rest-of-the-world-would-turn-on-the-US-scenario. Some twist or something.
Aaron - "Burned in a Box"
As always very well written. I liked the atmosphere and the thought of a world that is basically reduced to closed of "islands". The ending did confuse me though. The way that american agent suddenly pops up just seemed so alien and comical out of place. Could be that was the effect you wanted but it put me off a little.
Coffee-Express - "Hoi Polloi"
In some ways you gave a really good descriptions of mindless deskjobs and how they can be straining the mental health of a human being. The problem I had was that you made your main character a little bit to unlikable for my taste. Instead of having sympathy for the man I kinda got the feeling that he deserved this for being an outright asshole. The fact that he did acknowledged that himself wasn't really enough to counter the rest.
toddhunter - "Just a Box"
Wait...what? Well thank you very much, now my brain hurts... I don't even know how to give feedback on this, because I honestly don't know if I loved or hated it. Would I open the box? I don't know? I can't even reach the box can I? How can I open it then. But wait I don't even exist because there is nothing outside of the lager shed and since I'm not in the shed I don't exist... or am I in the shed and don't realize it?
OK, serious now. Just like in your last piece you really seem to have a talent of writing those nice little paradoxes. I couldn't do that. i have to massage my brain just from reading your story
I so would open that box
GRW810 - "The Dying Art of Mime"
I really liked that one. You were definitly right in thinking that you had an awesome idea, because, well, you did. A few minor nitpicks from me though. I thought that in the begining you were a bit too factual. I would have wished that you'd have painted his love for mime and the begining of his career a bit more colorful, so that it would stand in bigger contrast to the creeping horror and threat of the end of your story, which I thought you portrayed really well. Furthermore I think maybe that the other people becoming suddenly able to feel the barrier as well was a bit to much. I would have found it better if he had just suffocated on stage without everyone knowing why. But again this is just nitpicking. Really great idea and I liked that you did not reveal what happens to him. I liked to imagine that he made a deal with the devil to become the best mime artist ever and that was how the devil got him in the end.
SquiddyBiscuit - "For thou is but one"
The writing and imagery is really good, beautiful even, but there isn't really much story to it which is sad because i would have liked to read some more. Not really sure what about the story has something to do with boxed-in though.
Cyan - "The Chinese Room"
I really like the idea of giving life to a thought-experiment like that. Made me spent half an hour thinking about Schrödinger's cat sitting in the box, pondering the meaning of life and death... what is it with thought experiments and enclosed spaces anyway...
Besides that there is nothing much to say. great idea and well written.
Bootaaay - "The Thaw"
I think I have repeatedly told you how much I like your writing style. This piece is no exeption. And this time I especially like that it is not as open or abruptly ended like some of your other entries. I thought it had the quality of a twisted fable to it. With a rather dark moral however.
Tangent - "Laughing at What You Can"
I thought that the two parts of your story didn't connect that well. In my understanding you wanted to show the discrepancy between taking a bad situation and trying to muster it with as much laughter as possible and being a joker who is expected to be the one who is always funny. And though I think that you delivered the first really well, I had problems with the second. Maybe it was because the relationship between the main character and the friends just didn't come over as much as did the relationship between the family members.
Mike M - "The Living Situation"
So, this is really not fiction, eh? Hard to give feedback then I have to admit. The writing was good and I think that you brought your point across in a real good matter. If I recall correctly you made a thread about this some months back, yes? There are some question I have though. So your nephew suffers from quite a range of, in lack of a better word, dissorders. But he still goes to regular school? Aren't there schools specialized in taking care of children like your nephew? I ask, because my stepmother is a teacher for mentally challenged or disabled children and from what I know about her job your nephew should fit right in there. Other than that I can understand that this situation is probably not easy to handle and you have my respect for trying to make the best out of it.
Sober - "Just a Small Town Girl"
It's a nice little slice of life story. The style is simple but suits the tale you tell very good. The way the boy reacts at the end left me wondering though how Lindsey's story will go on. Some part of me fears that she might never leave Bliss, despite all her hopes.
Ashes1396 - "the lows you cast are nowhere near"
It's poetry. I could not say if it is good or bad poetry. I liked the flow of it though. Almost a bit songlike.
Rafy - "Room 84"
I don't know how the rest feels about it, but since no one has voted so far I think it is OK to include you even though you are quite late, but don't let it happen again
I liked the story. You did a great job of describing the surreal, random and frightening qualities of a dream. That being said I didn't think your story needed the last paragraph. I would have let it open. The explaination at the end destroys some of the atmosphere i think.
Puh. I always forget how much time this takes. Well without much further ado, here are my votes:
1.)GRW810 - "The Dying Art of Mime"
2.)Cyan - "The Chinese Room"
3.)Bootaaay - "The Thaw"
HM:toddhunter - "Just a box"
This is a question I get a lot. There aren't any designated schools in the area, no. They try and keep him mainstreamed as much as possible, and he has a special ed class for one period instead of PE for his behavioral issues. There's also a few other accommodations, like being to take work that was supposed to be completed in class home to finish since he can't possibly complete it in the time allotted, and homework is due when he gets it done. He barely avoids outright failing classes, but it takes a Herculean amount of effort to get him even that far.
Rafy - "Room 84"
I don't know how the rest feels about it, but since no one has voted so far I think it is OK to include you even though you are quite late, but don't let it happen again
I liked the story. You did a great job of describing the surreal, random and frightening qualities of a dream. That being said I didn't think your story needed the last paragraph. I would have let it open. The explaination at the end destroys some of the atmosphere i think.
Thanks for the feedback. I believe that the last paragraph is the one that is the most scary of any other part because you actually realize that the dream is essentially reality.I took the dreaming process and reversed in, instead of using a reason or a base for the dream, I started from the dream and ended with what brought it to life. It's not as polished as I would have wanted but it's fine.Thanks again.
Now let's get to the ratings and feedback.
1)toddhunter - "Just a box"
I am so mind fucked right now that I do not even want to know what's inside the box (probably another box). I loved how you used those paradoxes and it really made me laugh sometimes. Ingenious is all I can say, though I would advise to give a free aspirin with it in case you publish it.
2) GRW810 - "The Dying Art of Mime"
I just loved the writing so much.A complex yet simple idea.I especially liked it because you did something similar to what I did (something created by imagination becomes or is reality in the end ). I too think you should have added a bit more colors to his past and not just state facts.
3) Cyan - "The Chinese Room"
I can't think of anything I did not like in your story, maybe it should have been a bit more fast paced, other than that I thought it was very good.
Steriletom
Member
Nezumi, thank you for the feedback. Yeah, I realized the story was cookie-cutter--I just wanted to write it anyway.
I'd like to give more detailed critiques to participants in future threads, but this week I am tight on time. I will say that nobody wrote anything embarrassingly terrible. Below are my top three in order:
1. Bootay. The Thaw.
-I generally despise the idea of short story fantasy but this resonated with me for some reason and the ending actually surprised me. You used half the prompt to define two separate characters very well and I actually gave a shit about the outcome. Your prose was good-but not extraordinary-and I did not pick out any technical issues, which puts it at pretty much the upper echelon of fantasy writing.
2. GRW810. The Dying Art of Mime.
-Too much exposition and "telling" in the first third. You would have been my number one, otherwise.
3. Cyan. The Chinese Room.
Too many words spent explaining the cipher system and the tasks the protagonist undertook. Otherwise, this would have been number two.
I'd like to give more detailed critiques to participants in future threads, but this week I am tight on time. I will say that nobody wrote anything embarrassingly terrible. Below are my top three in order:
1. Bootay. The Thaw.
-I generally despise the idea of short story fantasy but this resonated with me for some reason and the ending actually surprised me. You used half the prompt to define two separate characters very well and I actually gave a shit about the outcome. Your prose was good-but not extraordinary-and I did not pick out any technical issues, which puts it at pretty much the upper echelon of fantasy writing.
2. GRW810. The Dying Art of Mime.
-Too much exposition and "telling" in the first third. You would have been my number one, otherwise.
3. Cyan. The Chinese Room.
Too many words spent explaining the cipher system and the tasks the protagonist undertook. Otherwise, this would have been number two.
My comments:
Sterilietom -- The World Turned Upside Down: I really love clandestine secrets of the government type stuff, hidden passages and secret organizations, that sort of stuff. I liked where you were going with the almost MIB-esque rendition of the trip to the War Room. Im pretty sure the actual War Room is a bit more mundane, but whos to say how things wont have changed by the time we have the 49th president in office. I think the last couple of paragraphs explaining the entire backstory was a bit of a fumble. It provided needed insight into the events preceding those that occur in the story, but it was just sort of a big info dump that I think could have been better explored through debate with the president over how his actions had brought them all to this point. Nice interpretation of the theme, though.
Aaron -- Burned in a Box: Initially I was confused why a Frenchman was introducing himself as a German national with the surname of Volkner, it took a bit to realize that was his greeting to the narrator. Also, youd think espionage charges would result in a bit more than a dishonorable discharge : ) Nice piece of near-futurism (though the repeated mention of a fax machine seems anachronistic as a result), which Im already in the mood for since Im playing Revengenance. I think the final confrontation was a bit of a misfire though; up to that point it had been played fairly straight, and then we have this showdown with some Doc Savage/Venture/Quest pastiche whos seemingly operating by different rules than everyone else in the story. I wasnt sure if it was being played for humor, or if Jack Blaine and his troupe really were suffering from dementia, but the word count is the word count...
CoffeeExpress -- Hoi-Polloi: Damn dude, tell us how you really feel : ) I liked the flow of much of this, though I think I would have broken a couple of the paragraphs into smaller ones. The part about faking a cough every second day leaped out as a particularly pyrrhic way to prank coworkers, as that would hurt after a while for seemingly no real benefit. Also, would have to disagree with the narrator's insistence that they're not bitter, 'cause... Damn... Though perhaps hes not bitter, in which case hes got some serious misanthropy issues. Some choice turns of phrase to be had in there, I especially liked the bit about the clock handing out verdicts. Really bleak, but I suppose the prospect of working a cubicle farm for the rest of your employable life is precisely that.
toddhunter -- Just a box: I think of all the submissions of yours that Ive read, this was my favorite. You had kind of a Douglas Adams-esque thing going on in describing the box that I enjoyed. I think your central conceit of the paradoxical nature of the boxes containing things that no one can enter to obtain was muddled by the references to people overlooking the box in search of the tool they were after, followed by references that no one could get in there in the first place. I dont think you needed the paradox beyond the fact that if anyone knew what the secret inside the box was, it wouldnt be a secret, and the shed and warehouse (cause really, thats what a shed full of sheds would be) could have been perfectly normal.
GRW810 -- The Dying Art of Mime: First thing that popped into mind when I read the title. Apparently, not far off. Heh heh. This one touched on some half-remembered story I read in a book about a radio show host touring a haunted house and making shit up, but was so convincing that the audience believed it and it came to pass through the force of collective belief. Or Mage: The Ascension's notion of consensual reality. I eat that shit up with a spoon. That isn't quiiiiiite what we've got here, but it's close enough for jazz, so nicely done. My one note would be that if this guy was such a virtuoso of mind over matter, you'd think he'd recognize the danger of what he was attempting and retire : )
SquiddlyBiscuit -- For thou is but one: Well, what was there was done well.
Cyan -- The Chinese Room: I know the narrator says the tasks are somehow never boring, but good lord this sounds like a special kind of hell : / I still think I would have liked to have known what happens if the narrator makes a mistake during his transcription. I cant imagine hes punished with more transcriptions if he somehow never finds them boring. Gives me the similar feeling from the first time I saw Cube. Only with more paperwork. Heh heh. Oddly enough, I think I liked it more before I looked up the thought experiment, though that did explain the name.
Bootaaay -- The Thaw: Got to say that this prompt seems to have spawned a lot of bleakness. While this was another short entry, you managed to cram a lot of story into not a lot of words. Nicely done. Usually I don't go for the featherweight word count entries.
Tangent -- Laughing at What You Can: Heh, the title is boxed in. Nice. Very bittersweet tale, Ive definitely had those moments that are only funny if youre already acclimated to the situation that other people probably wouldnt find very humorous. I still have to say that my absolute favorite part of this is the use of translation footnotes for the persian throughout, only for the very last one to be to be a translation of slang employed by 20-somethings.
Mike M -- The Living Situation: Well, my experiment met with some success, as I got some excellent feedback from Cyan and Tangent before I finalized this one, and hopefully they think they got something worthwhile from me. Its not really a story, as it has no plot or anything, but it firmly entrenched itself in my head when I gave thought to being boxed in. Just didnt initially think Id be writing about me : /
Nezumi -- Refreshments: I have to say that in writing a piece about anthropomorphized drinks having the characteristics of people associated with their consumption or place of origin, milk is maybe the toughest one I can think of. Maybe they would have a preoccupation with getting enough calcium? I was also wondering why the Coke wasnt portrayed as being hyper caffeinated, but then the Red Bull came along and filled that vacancy. Couldnt help but notice that the Milk was referred to as a she but all the other ones were it. I guess since milk comes from females, that would be one way of ascribing characteristics to the milk, or am I just reading too much into a mistake? Heh heh. Actually kind of interested in how cheesecake soda would taste...
Sober -- Just a Small Town Girl: I was genuinely expecting Jordan to be born and raised in south Detroit. Overall an entirely solid piece of work, but I felt like it was missing an ending. I was reading it expecting something to happen, and all we got was her making a decision to run off to backpack Europe. I'd have probably cut out the bits about not knowing where countries are in Europe (which actually kind of undermines the notion that she's university-bound) and put the words saved towards describing at least the pick-up by Jordan to go to the airport. Nice little bit of realism when we're usually awash in fantastical stuff.
Ashes1396 -- the lows you cast are nowhere near: So it's to be poetry, is it? Very well, I'll at least take a stab at critiquing this time. It's a short piece, but suitably haunting. I think the situation and what's transpired is easy enough to pick up on, but I confess ignorance of what a phrase like "the lows they cast are nowhere near" is trying to convey. My best guess is that it pertains to the tendency people have to lower their gaze and avert their eyes from unpleasant things?
Rafy -- Room 84: I'll read it anyway : ) First thing that springs to mind is Event Horizon x a rave. You had plenty of words to burn, you could have gone a lot further with this. The explicit mention that the room was labeled Room 84 with the revelation that it was the subconscious interpretation of its surroundings seems to invite an encounter with this Room 84 in the waking world, but we don't get it. What's Room 84 like outside of dreams that this is what the narrator's subconscious produces to process it? I want to know!
My Picks:
1.) Bootaaay
2.) GRW810
3.) Cyan
HM: toddhunter
Sterilietom -- The World Turned Upside Down: I really love clandestine secrets of the government type stuff, hidden passages and secret organizations, that sort of stuff. I liked where you were going with the almost MIB-esque rendition of the trip to the War Room. Im pretty sure the actual War Room is a bit more mundane, but whos to say how things wont have changed by the time we have the 49th president in office. I think the last couple of paragraphs explaining the entire backstory was a bit of a fumble. It provided needed insight into the events preceding those that occur in the story, but it was just sort of a big info dump that I think could have been better explored through debate with the president over how his actions had brought them all to this point. Nice interpretation of the theme, though.
Aaron -- Burned in a Box: Initially I was confused why a Frenchman was introducing himself as a German national with the surname of Volkner, it took a bit to realize that was his greeting to the narrator. Also, youd think espionage charges would result in a bit more than a dishonorable discharge : ) Nice piece of near-futurism (though the repeated mention of a fax machine seems anachronistic as a result), which Im already in the mood for since Im playing Revengenance. I think the final confrontation was a bit of a misfire though; up to that point it had been played fairly straight, and then we have this showdown with some Doc Savage/Venture/Quest pastiche whos seemingly operating by different rules than everyone else in the story. I wasnt sure if it was being played for humor, or if Jack Blaine and his troupe really were suffering from dementia, but the word count is the word count...
CoffeeExpress -- Hoi-Polloi: Damn dude, tell us how you really feel : ) I liked the flow of much of this, though I think I would have broken a couple of the paragraphs into smaller ones. The part about faking a cough every second day leaped out as a particularly pyrrhic way to prank coworkers, as that would hurt after a while for seemingly no real benefit. Also, would have to disagree with the narrator's insistence that they're not bitter, 'cause... Damn... Though perhaps hes not bitter, in which case hes got some serious misanthropy issues. Some choice turns of phrase to be had in there, I especially liked the bit about the clock handing out verdicts. Really bleak, but I suppose the prospect of working a cubicle farm for the rest of your employable life is precisely that.
toddhunter -- Just a box: I think of all the submissions of yours that Ive read, this was my favorite. You had kind of a Douglas Adams-esque thing going on in describing the box that I enjoyed. I think your central conceit of the paradoxical nature of the boxes containing things that no one can enter to obtain was muddled by the references to people overlooking the box in search of the tool they were after, followed by references that no one could get in there in the first place. I dont think you needed the paradox beyond the fact that if anyone knew what the secret inside the box was, it wouldnt be a secret, and the shed and warehouse (cause really, thats what a shed full of sheds would be) could have been perfectly normal.
GRW810 -- The Dying Art of Mime: First thing that popped into mind when I read the title. Apparently, not far off. Heh heh. This one touched on some half-remembered story I read in a book about a radio show host touring a haunted house and making shit up, but was so convincing that the audience believed it and it came to pass through the force of collective belief. Or Mage: The Ascension's notion of consensual reality. I eat that shit up with a spoon. That isn't quiiiiiite what we've got here, but it's close enough for jazz, so nicely done. My one note would be that if this guy was such a virtuoso of mind over matter, you'd think he'd recognize the danger of what he was attempting and retire : )
SquiddlyBiscuit -- For thou is but one: Well, what was there was done well.
Cyan -- The Chinese Room: I know the narrator says the tasks are somehow never boring, but good lord this sounds like a special kind of hell : / I still think I would have liked to have known what happens if the narrator makes a mistake during his transcription. I cant imagine hes punished with more transcriptions if he somehow never finds them boring. Gives me the similar feeling from the first time I saw Cube. Only with more paperwork. Heh heh. Oddly enough, I think I liked it more before I looked up the thought experiment, though that did explain the name.
Bootaaay -- The Thaw: Got to say that this prompt seems to have spawned a lot of bleakness. While this was another short entry, you managed to cram a lot of story into not a lot of words. Nicely done. Usually I don't go for the featherweight word count entries.
Tangent -- Laughing at What You Can: Heh, the title is boxed in. Nice. Very bittersweet tale, Ive definitely had those moments that are only funny if youre already acclimated to the situation that other people probably wouldnt find very humorous. I still have to say that my absolute favorite part of this is the use of translation footnotes for the persian throughout, only for the very last one to be to be a translation of slang employed by 20-somethings.
Mike M -- The Living Situation: Well, my experiment met with some success, as I got some excellent feedback from Cyan and Tangent before I finalized this one, and hopefully they think they got something worthwhile from me. Its not really a story, as it has no plot or anything, but it firmly entrenched itself in my head when I gave thought to being boxed in. Just didnt initially think Id be writing about me : /
Nezumi -- Refreshments: I have to say that in writing a piece about anthropomorphized drinks having the characteristics of people associated with their consumption or place of origin, milk is maybe the toughest one I can think of. Maybe they would have a preoccupation with getting enough calcium? I was also wondering why the Coke wasnt portrayed as being hyper caffeinated, but then the Red Bull came along and filled that vacancy. Couldnt help but notice that the Milk was referred to as a she but all the other ones were it. I guess since milk comes from females, that would be one way of ascribing characteristics to the milk, or am I just reading too much into a mistake? Heh heh. Actually kind of interested in how cheesecake soda would taste...
Sober -- Just a Small Town Girl: I was genuinely expecting Jordan to be born and raised in south Detroit. Overall an entirely solid piece of work, but I felt like it was missing an ending. I was reading it expecting something to happen, and all we got was her making a decision to run off to backpack Europe. I'd have probably cut out the bits about not knowing where countries are in Europe (which actually kind of undermines the notion that she's university-bound) and put the words saved towards describing at least the pick-up by Jordan to go to the airport. Nice little bit of realism when we're usually awash in fantastical stuff.
Ashes1396 -- the lows you cast are nowhere near: So it's to be poetry, is it? Very well, I'll at least take a stab at critiquing this time. It's a short piece, but suitably haunting. I think the situation and what's transpired is easy enough to pick up on, but I confess ignorance of what a phrase like "the lows they cast are nowhere near" is trying to convey. My best guess is that it pertains to the tendency people have to lower their gaze and avert their eyes from unpleasant things?
Rafy -- Room 84: I'll read it anyway : ) First thing that springs to mind is Event Horizon x a rave. You had plenty of words to burn, you could have gone a lot further with this. The explicit mention that the room was labeled Room 84 with the revelation that it was the subconscious interpretation of its surroundings seems to invite an encounter with this Room 84 in the waking world, but we don't get it. What's Room 84 like outside of dreams that this is what the narrator's subconscious produces to process it? I want to know!
My Picks:
1.) Bootaaay
2.) GRW810
3.) Cyan
HM: toddhunter
My story is full of symbolisms and uses a few words to paint a very broad yet detailed picture of today's reality. Room 84 reppresents today's society , the number 84 was used as a reference to George Orwell's 1984. I chose to narrate the story in a similar way as Dante did in his "Divine Comedy" (hence using lating writing on the arches) do add a tiny bit of movement effect. So the narrator had a dream about modern society and imagined it in his own way. I did not think this would be that hard to understand but now that I see that other people had problems, I might not go as heavy with symbolisms next time. The boxed in factor I think is pretty clear, the narrator feels trapped in modern society and it's rules.
I think the Room 84/1984 correlation might be too opaque to serve the function you're wanting it to. The symbolism up until that point is straight forward enough, but then the Room 84 mention puts me onto thinking it's about something more specific than society as a whole.
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