Sid Vicious posted:

Okay yeah that makes a lot of sense, thanks. Back to the ol' writing board. Is that a saying?

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.

Shirt Bot

This is a tale about Shirt Bot, the shirt deploying robot. He was created specifically for the purpose of deploying is exactly the right word because it's so wrong. You have me. shirts to people who didn't have a shirt of their own. Don't argue it's a much more common plight than you might believe. His creator suffered from brief lapses in memory and quite often forget his own shirt, which is really the only reason he even built it. ]After his creators death he found it more and more difficult to find people who needed shirts. He wandered I wanna know what he looks like at this point. The fun comes from the strangeness of this object, his unsuitability to the world. Could there be value in a little description? from coast to coast distributing his shirts where needed as he went but he felt something was missing. While hanging around in San Francisco a young man suggested he try going to Mexico, as he had heard there was many more poor people there, so Shirt Bot packed up his belongings, which in this case was a photograph of his creator and a chocolate bar he had been carrying with him for a long time, trying to figure out what it was for. Shirt-bot's early adventures could be great and succint, but it's difficult to see what they're for here. Maybe have him at the border straight away, in one of the most bizarre conflicts in any recent story I've read. I'd certainly read on, trying to work out how the hell we got here.

As he began his journey south he met a young man with what appeared to be only half a shirt. Shirt Bot offered him a shirt but the young man just cursed at him and called him a homophobe. Unfortunately Shirt Bot didn't even understand the concept of sexuality let alone have any hatred for anyone based on it. He apologized profusely and carried on his merry way.

He finally reached the border between the Unites States and Mexico after about a week of walking. He began plodding through the checkpoint when he heard a man yell to stop. He turned and saw a border patrol guard aiming a semiautomatic rifle at him. He waved pleasantly and turned around again. The first shot whistles right past his head. He turned again looking absolutely horrified. He couldn't understand why this human would just fire at him for what he believed to be no reason. He ejected a shirt and attempted to hand it to the man, who looked utterly confused.

"You're gonna need to show me your passport and tell me why you're planning on crossing the border there son" the guard said to him gruffly. So he doesn't know that it's a robot? Or he's so mechanical himself (SATIRE) that he has noticed, and doesn't care? There's value in pointing this out.

"I'm not certain what a passport is my good man but I'm traveling to the country of Mexico to distribute my shirts to the poor of that land" Shirt Bot responded with cheer in his voice. He always had cheer in his voice. Nice.

"Well I'm afraid without a passport you won't be visiting anywhere anytime soon young man" the guard told him, with authority dripping from his words.

Shirt Bot was confused. He had never heard of a passport before, and he just wanted to help people. He decided to ask the man about the chocolate bar, since he had yet to find out what it was for.

"Well color me astounded young fella, is that a Dream Bar? I haven't eaten one of those in years, they stopped making them when I was still a boy. They had so many preservatives in em, I bet you that it'd still be fine to eat," the guard told him.

"You may have it if you like, I don't believe it can be perused this doesn't mean what you think it means. What are you saying here? by my own self" Shirt Bot told him. "You may also have one of my many shirts if you would like."

"We'll that's mighty generous of you son. I'll tell you what, you go on ahead to Mexico. I can't see you causing any trouble as polite and selfless as you seem to be," the guard said, his eyes glistening. He wasn't crying of course not. He just had something in his eye. Hope for the future. I like this, because it's ridiculous. We seem to have slipped into a slightly absurd world here where shirts equal happiness. Can you make use of that earlier on?

Shirt Bot continued his journey south and came upon a village. He could see that the buildings here were ramshackle and in a condition that could only be described as "bad". He decided here was as a good a place as any to begin his shirt distribution. He wandered to the center of town where he found a crowd already gathered.

"Greetings fellows I have brought you all fine new shirts this day. Line up in an orderly fashion and I shall distribute them accordingly."

Unfortunately none of them spoke a word of English and they believed he was insulting them, maybe even their wives too. For the record many of their wives were not what might be considered conventionally beautiful. Or unconventionally for that matter. It seems Shirt Bot had gotten himself in another fine mess. Are you channeling shirt-bot here? It seems like you are. The comedy in the piece is from his misunderstanding of the world - for instance, the border guard probably didn't have hope for the future thanks to shirt-bot's intervention, but that is how shirt-bot would see it. And that's funny. Keep using that. "A man shouted something foreign and angry, as if in defence of his wife's decision to wear a blouse that day." That's a bad example.

<What do you think it is?> one of the men asked the rest, still convinced it had said something offensive about his wife. But now we get the benefit of translation, taking us out of his world. The following lines could still convey what you want them to, even from shirt-bot's blinkered perspective. Look up "unreliable narrator".

<It looks like some kind of war machine, sent to strike fear into our hears> another man replied, with an edge of nervousness in his voice.

"I don't understand what you are saying, I apologize I do not have a built in universal translator," Shirt Bot said to them in his usual cheerful fashion. He began taking shirts out for all of them, which they took as a sign of aggression. Luckily none of them were particularly brave and they just scattered like field mice. Shirt Bot stood where he was, confused by the actions of man yet again. Yes.

"Well I suppose I might as well move on, find somewhere I am more wanted than here," he sighed this is one long sigh. I just tried it but then I do not have the limitless machine lungs of our robot masters, less cheerfully than he'd ever spoken in all his years. He began walking towards the other end of the village, noticing that many people were staring out their windows at him.
<Excuse me sir, you’re not here to hurt us are you? I can tell you’re a kind person, not one to be feared> a young boy emerged from an alleyway and asked him. <Come with me, I’ll introduce you to my family>

"I'm sorry young man I don't know what you're saying to me. At least you don't seem to be afraid, I shall come with you I believe," Shirt Bot exclaimed, the regular cheer returning to his voice. Shirt Bot followed the boy down the alleyway, and was soon gone. Here's hoping he had a good life and was able to fulfill his destiny. This needs to be a shirt-based ending. I know you just gave up, but you didn't need to make that so bloody obvious. The boy offers him a coat, leaving him dumbfounded? He bumps into a trouser-bot and discovers true love? Come on, you've set up a pretty rich area of possibilities.

SpaceGodzilla posted:

I don't think that the "presented as fact" part is any truer here than it is for any other fiction, though. Maybe there's something I'm missing. I think that if you did want to go for that angle though, you should consider an epistolary approach.

I Am Hydrogen posted:

Is this supposed to be awful ad copy? A story? Do I not get it or something? Am I not cool enough?

sebmojo posted:

This is horrible in more ways than the English language has to describe it. And you can't write for poo poo. Please go away and never come back.

sebmartello posted:

sebmojo posted:

Cities & The Dead

sebmojo posted:

What makes Argia different from other cities is that it has earth instead of air. Bold opening gambit.The streets are completely filled with dirt, clay packs the rooms to the ceiling, on every stair another stairway is set in negative, over the roofs of the houses hang layers of rocky terrain like skies with clouds. These are all fine; four ways of expanding on the earlier point. However, did it have to be a list? I'm sure these four things could have been linked into a single elegant idea - a sense of flying through the city, rather than being told to look at pockets of it.We do not know But there's a problem here, Calvino. You've made strong assertions about what the city is like, and now you're introducing doubt. Do we know or not? To hold it together, I'd recommend the use of a careful "it is said," or similar.if the inhabitants can move about the city, widening the worm tunnels and the crevices where roots twist: the dampness destroys people's bodies, and they have scant strength; everyone is better off remaining still, prone; anyway, it is dark. Ace.

From up here, nothing of Argia can be seen; some say "It's down below there," and we can only believe them. The place is deserted.This doesn't make much sense. At night, putting your ear to the ground, you can sometimes hear a door slam. Ending the whole thing with a slamming door is linguistically inspired (as close as you can get to saying 'the end'), and sensorially interesting - it's a sound all of us sometimes think we hear.

Martello posted:

Cities and Sound

Martello posted:

In the city of Piana, all communication is through song and music. A really bold start, I'm starting to love this style. As an aside, this has made me realise how circuitous my Thunderdome stuff can be, like I'm abashed of saying where we are, what's going on, what the high concept is. And why not?The sound of music is ubiquitous in the city, floating I have a thing about 'ing'. To me, 'ing' is the language of reportage, and you could be more direct. Just me, but isn't "music floats" more direct and involving that the are-form, "music is floating"? from the windows of taverns and houses, risingditto from work pits in the warehouse district.

The people of Piana carry small musical instruments such as mandolins and dulcimers, which they play to accompany their songs of conversation. I suspect this whole sentence is unnecessary - you list plenty of fun instruments later, and the following sentences show your point, rather than tell. A merchant sits at his booth, strumming a lyre, singing his price in the key of G. The buyer responds with a lower price in a modulated E Phrygian, striking a syncopated beat on his skin drum. I suspect restricting the use of musical terms to this example is deliberate, and I like it - it compares music with maths, maths with commerce.

Two lovers sing softly to one another as they sit on the softcut, the state of the grass is irrelevant to me grass in a nearby park, the young man playing a violin, while his lady turns the crank of a vielle a roué. I really wanna put the word duet in here, since here you're talking about communal language, why not talk about communal music? Also, thank you for introducing me to loving awesome instrument.

An ox-driver cracks his whip in time to a two-part song he sings with his partner, discussing the rising grain prices. All this stuff round here is excellent. You take us on a journey, leading us through the town like a tour guide without having to say that. His wagon creaks past a small house, where the sounds of a family argument can be heard. The father finger picks a down-tuned guitar while he sings a harsh song of correction, the two daughters lifting clear voices in protest, the younger singing harmony while her older sister sings the melody. The mother does not sing, but plays an organ to accompany her daughters. "She believes they are right, though she will not openly contradict her husband." If might dare to make an addition.

When heard from up close, each song of conversation is individually interesting, but when the sounds of the city are taken in as a whole, it is a roaring cacophony that hurts the ears of any traveler.
This last sentence is the real "what it's all about" money-shot, and I think it zooms out too abruptly, dropping the sense of intimacy you've created. I think we could remain in-scene and still get the realisation of discord. Something like, "The family fuge clashes against the barter outside, which fights with all the songs of the city, leaving all travellers to run through the streets, hands over ears, heads ringing from the cacophony."

Sithsaber posted:

I've always enjoyed good usage of omission.