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I did a couple critiques over in the other thread and didn't post anything. I'd love to get this Thunderdome entry from a while ago picked apart: Check Engine (644 Words) Nothing. Not a god drat thing. Somewhere there’s this guy laughing his rear end off because he tricked some guy up in Newfoundland into paying $90 for a cactus. I could have paid for the whole night with that. I’m going to head down to the festival anyway. The cab pulls into the driveway. It’s an old piece of poo poo, but gently caress, I’m just getting a run downtown. The driver backs out of the driveway, “Where to, my buddy?” “George Street.” “Busy down there tonight. My jesus, there’s some nice lookin’ young women around.” “Oh yeah?” “I don’t know how half of ‘em don’t freeze. Goin’ around with nothing on.” We’re driving down Main Road and holy poo poo. Someone’s grabbed hold of my brain and they’re pulling it in three directions. I don’t say a word. We’re driving past the dairy farm. I’m glad the cows are alive. Does their life matter once they're dead? Does anyone know they exist? Ping. The check engine light comes on. It’s the car screaming, “For the love of god! I’m going to die.” The cab driver floors it. This car is dying. It dies just like a man. The doctor/mechanic says “I’m sorry sir, you have cancer/a cracked engine-head.” Is there a difference? Am I just a car? Am I a machine made out of meat? Maybe the only difference between us is a few misplaced atoms. I’m just a machine made out of meat, pretending I don’t have a one track mind and that I have this god and that I’m special. A machine built to pass on DNA and that’s it. A car is a machine that carries people. People are machines that carry DNA. I’m a machine. Oh gently caress I’m just a machine. The cab driver interrupts my thoughts, “It’s alright, me buddy, it’s only the check engine light.” He knows about the mescaline. He has to. How could he? He can’t. He knew I was looking at the light. “You’re some quiet.” It’s sinister. This man is sinister. The universe is sinister. Fump! The car misses. Fump! It misses again. “You loving piece of poo poo!” Fump! Fump! Fump! “Sorry me son, I’m gonna have to bring her into the shop. My buddy got one just down the road.” We pull into the garage. He picks up his radio and calls another cab for me. I get out. The cab driver talks to the guy at the garage. I go off to the side of the building to wait for the cab by myself. I watch them talk. I know every word they’re saying. High b’y, high as a fuckin’ kite. What are ya gonna do? Call the cops I ‘spose. They’ll cart him off in the paddy wagon. It’s all a big loving trap. Washroom. Go in. Left foot right foot. I lock the door. I’m safe. No one exists outside this little box. I’m just a sperm machine floating through space in my own, quiet little box. I always existed in the box. Nothing else ever did. Never outside. Never in. The mirror this is not me the me in the mirror is not the me in my head is this the me that everyone else sees the machine the truck the pulley the shovel Calm down. Breathe slower. Nobody knows. Nobody knows you bought a cactus. No one knows you made cactus tea. You look fine. You look normal. Smile. People go down the street high every night and nobody knows. I scrawl, “Everything is OK  ” on my hand. You can do this. I look at my hand. “Everything is OK .” Thanks hand. I leave the washroom and walk around to the back of the garage. Hordes and hordes of corpses. Broken down. Beat up. Every year, make and model you can imagine. My fellow machines.
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Jan 8, 2013 17:26
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supermikhail posted:Not quite a critique of "Check engine", but that thing set me wondering if there's indeed a niche for so much swearing in published literature. Also, for me the high point of trip reports has been descriptions of visual hallucinations. Although I guess those may be cliche nowadays. However, the theme could have been conveyed better with something visual instead of the cows thing, which sounded a bit pathetic. Mescaline isn't generally as visual as other psychedelics. Like, it IS there, but the effects on your train of thought and excessive paranoia are far more pronounced. If you read most of the trips for mescaline, it's more about a feeling of connectedness with the universe and constant epiphanies, most of which are wrong. I can't find it now, but there is a quote from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas where Thompson explains how Mescaline is more inclined to twist and contort something that already exists as opposed to straight up visual fabrication like LSD. Visuals on mescaline are generally more along the lines of say, "Wow everything is so dirty" as opposed to, "Look at this space monkey." That's not to say it like, never ever happens, but focusing on the visuals with mescaline is like talking about this peanut butter and jam sandwich you ate on top of the Empire State Building, instead of talking about the view. I'm not sure what you mean when you say the cows thing sounds pathetic. Would you mind clarifying a little? It's taken from something someone one mescaline said to me once, but if it comes off that way, I would like to clear that up. Zack_Gochuck fucked around with this message at 17:51 on Jan 13, 2013 |
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Jan 13, 2013 17:37
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You should critique some else's work before you post anything. It generally works on a 1:1 basis. Give at least one critique for every piece you want to post. No one has critiqued Baldbeard yet.
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Feb 6, 2013 00:38
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Echo Cian posted:Good points, especially that one. How about "Cold was seeping through my furs by the time..." or is that still off? I think linkers like "by the time" are generally viewed as wordy and cliché. Can you do this in sort of a separate sentence and use a word other than cold like Great Rumbler suggested? You use the word cold like four or five times in a 1100 word story. Something like, "I stood still until the sweat froze to my skin" or even "I stayed in place until the heat escaped my furs." Even those seem a tad on the wordy side, you can probably some up with something better. It's not the kind of thing you lump into a paragraph with other sentences anyway, it's more the sort of thing you want to put as a one-line paragraph by itself so the reader gets a sense of distance and time because the phrase is just out there standing alone in a field of white, just like your protagonist. I feel like it'd be more effective with the minor visual offset. You should only use the verb "to be" in all its forms if it's absolutely necessary, even in non-fiction. It's just such an invisible word that it's a waste, and action verbs are more exciting and engaging. In this example, why would you say "Cold was seeping" instead of "Cold seeped?" You don't need two verbs in a row. It's the same way you wouldn't say, "Fred was mad" in a story, you'd say "Fred growled" or "Fred shouted" or "Fred swore and kicked the can across the room." Zack_Gochuck fucked around with this message at 17:18 on Feb 19, 2013 |
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Feb 19, 2013 16:50
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Sid Vicious posted:Just for the record, I have no education in creative writing, its just something I enjoy doing sometimes. With that in mind here is my short story Shirt Bot. Its mostly stream of consciousness that I just decided to put down on paper, so I apologize if the ending feels abrubt. I'm also not very good at staying in tense/perspective so I hope I did alright this time around. Would love some critique and opinions on it, thanks everyone. The problems here go way beyond grammar, passive sentence structure, and tense issues. A couple of things: Writing 101: Showing vs. Telling. Here's a couple explanations from around the web. You can google more: http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/there-are-no-rules/showing-vs-telling-in-your-writing http://www.readwriteandedit.com/showvstell.html Second, there's absolutely no climax. The only thing close is when shirt-bot tries to cross the border. There needs to be a point where the protagonist reaches his lowest low, where it looks like he will never reach his goal, this is known as the act-two turning point. The hero generally, there are obviously infinite variations, picks himself up, dusts himself off, and takes one last crack at reaching his goal. One last desperate bid. In order for this to work there needs to be a conflict. Two parties who want opposite things need to be in some sort of struggle against each other. There is no real conflict in your story. You are writing around the conflict because conflict is hard. Real, drag you out by the hair, beat the ever-loving poo poo out of you conflict in this sort of story. I'll help you out, here's what you need to focus on, shirt-bot is trying to get the Mexico to distribute shirts. A border guard won't let him cross the border. He tries everything and just when it looks like he's never going to make it... (This is where your climax goes). I hope that helps somewhat. Really, you need to get some of the fundamentals down pat. Right now your story is sort of just this happened then this happened then this happened. The end. It needs to be this happened but this happened therefore this happened until finally this happened. The end. You need some sort of arc for any story to work, even old ghost stories kids tell around the campfire have an arc. Does that make sense? Zack_Gochuck fucked around with this message at 12:38 on Mar 19, 2013 |
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Mar 19, 2013 12:32
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I'm not trying to be a dickhead, but like, is your non-fiction writing for journalism as heavy-handed? I've worked in a couple of radio newsrooms writing copy, and I know you want that poo poo as concise and to the point as possible.
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Apr 10, 2013 21:48
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You guys should totally critique each other's work.
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May 6, 2013 15:03
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