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Inheritance Words: 1210 Oscar was a man who had flavor in his blood. The new chef-linens he wore irritated the scars that covered his body and he was unaccustomed to wearing underwear. He stood in a spotless, unfamiliar kitchen, wondering what kind of mess he had gotten himself into. He had been pulled into this pissing contest by a chef named Garaban. The whispers had started when Oscar had received his first Michelin star. The whispers grew into riotous discord when he received his third. “A cook-off?” Oscar said. “Ugh, please don’t call it that,” Veronica said. “That’s something Americans say.” Veronica was a food critic. A well respected one, which is why Oscar had been so surprised by her pitch. “The paper is crazy about it. They’re raffling tickets to be on the judging panel, and it’s making a fortune,” she said. In two weeks the event took place at a small restaurant down a cobblestone alley. There had been a slight misting and Oscar could smell the canal and the horses on the streets. Orange streetlamps made the olive and brown cobblestones look black when wet and he had trouble seeing the curb. He was wet and cold, and it reminded him of when he would take the garbage out when he worked in his grandfather’s kitchen as a boy. The venue restaurant was actually two restaurants that the owner, a very talented chef in his own right, had purchased in separate pieces. It took over 5 years before he could buy the building in the middle and tear down the walls to make a much larger restaurant. But the kitchens were still separate, and frequent regulars had their preference of crew. In the main dining room Oscar stood opposite the red-faced Garaban. Five judges had been selected from other food writers and raffle winners. A brief declaration of the challenge was issued by the editor-in-chief, wherein the chefs would abide by previously agreed upon set of rules, with each kitchen having an appointed referee to make sure these unspoken rules were followed. Everyone nodded save for the three glassy-eyed contestant winners who had yet to cease their horrendous smiling. “No blood, no cum,” Garaban sneered at him. Oscar pursed his lips but shook the sweaty man’s hand firmly. “Should we spit on it?” Garaban pulled his slick hand from the agreement and stomped to his kitchen. The empty kitchen reminded him of the first time he went to work with his grandfather, Dieda. Oscar wondered what nooks, crannies and secrets this small kitchen hid. His first job was to wash dishes for his grandfather. Hot jets of steam would scald his face, and yet his grandfather would bark at him to move faster. His grandfather would show him the scars he had acquired over his long life as a chef and then would reach into the dishwasher, holding his arm in there, before slowly removing a scalding hot plate. Long ago had he learned futility in crying, but he still forgot that silence was always a better choice. Only when he graduated to preparatory cook did he know the true meaning of his grandfather’s abuse. “Your food is disgusting, you little bug,” Dieda said. “You are as lazy and worthless as your sister.” “Papa, I did as you said,” Oscar said. “You will call me Chef, and I will call you insect until you can make food for something better than a maggot.” Everyday Dieda would spit Oscar’s food onto the ground and tell him to make it again in between waiters calling out frantic orders. His head spinning from trying to keep up with a Friday night service, he remade a shrimp and polenta, and as he sliced the scallions as garnish he nicked his finger, spilling bright red blood into the polenta mix. “Where is that polenta worm, I want to taste it!” Oscar froze and held his finger behind his back. He could hear the drops of blood splattering against the filthy concrete floor of the kitchen. When Oscar did not hand his grandfather the sauce pan, Dieda turned like an angry bear. He snatched the pan from the prep counter and dragged his pinky through the polenta mix. He inspected the consistency on the end of his finger before jamming it into his mouth. Dieda loosened his grip on the pan and he nearly dropped it. He was frozen in that moment, his eyes staring beyond the kitchen wall. For Oscar there was no sound from the waiters, no acrid taste of fear, no pain in his hand; there was only nothing. Finally, Dieda put the pan on the hot pass. He took Oscar’s finger in his gnarled hands. Deida almost wrenched Oscar’s shoulder out of socket when he pulled the bleeding finger and stuck it into his mouth. An epiphany passed over Deida and he let go of Oscar’s hand, the finger leaving his mouth. A thin, pink strand of saliva and blood stretched as far as it could, and then sagged under its own weight, dribbling slightly down Deida’s chin. “You are just like me, Oscar,” Deida whispered in his ear. And from that moment, Oscar was. Drops of sweat ran down Oscar’s brow as he beat the heavy cream into stiff, vanilla peaks. His arm cramped but he continued; he did not stop the sweat from falling into the cream as he worked. Veronica watched him silently. He could not stop the horrific ticking of his internal clock. His arms itched. “Do you think they liked my earlier plates?” He said. His voice peaked and wavered as he asked Veronica the question. “I don’t know,” she said. Oscar let out a short wail like a wounded animal and he beat faster, the whisk scraping the metal bowl in frantic revolutions. He threw the bowl across the prep counter and looked at the clock. He could smell the shortcakes in the oven, they would be done in thirty seconds. His feet ached and his scars burned. Veronica looked at a bowl of macerated strawberries and currants. She looked back at Oscar. “I’m- I’m going to go make sure the judges are ready.” Oscar paced on the rubber mats, each turn a squeak of impending doom. “Oscar, I said,” she raised her voice. “I’m going to go. And see if the judges are ready. Do you understand?” Oscar stood dumbfounded for a moment and then nodded. Veronica stepped backwards through the swinging kitchen door, never breaking eye contact. The moment she left, Oscar grabbed a paring knife from his bag. He placed a leg on the prep table and rolled his pant. The metal cooled his skin and he felt relief as he dug the knife down his calf. The blood oozed out, big fat drops trailing down like notes on sheet music, down, down into the bass clef of strawberries. Oscar sat on the curb smoking a cigarette. For a moment all he could taste was nothing. The cartoonish check he held under his arm bit into his skin like a laundry bucket. He wondered if shame would eventually find him. He then wondered what he was going to put on tomorrow night’s special
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# ? Sep 1, 2024 01:43 |
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Digging Up the Past 1136 words Lou stared at the paper stuck to his apartment’s front door. He was holding a bag with a clown costume that reeked of little boy urine in one hand, and one with various party favors in the other. The paper on the door read “Eviction notice.” Lou swore and kicked the door, hard. It shook in its frame. He winced as his toes went numb with pain. He walked over to the hallway’s window, careful not to put too much pressure on his foot. The window looked down the building’s side alley. All his stuff was next to the dumpsters. Lou swore again. He turned around and headed back down to the ground floor. Halfway down the stairs he ran into his landlord and tried to avoid his gaze, but the man stood in his way. “You’re not half the man your father was, you deadbeat. Get out of my building,” Lou’s landlord said, punctuating his words by jabbing his finger in Lou’s chest. Lou looked at the floor and said nothing. The man grunted and spat on the floor, then moved out of Lou’s way. Lou moved forward, silent. He left the building. Out in the alley, he tossed his two bags into the dumpster and salvaged what he could from his possessions. His toiletries, some clothes, a coffee machine he could probably pawn for a few bucks. He sat on his torn-up couch, ignoring the spring digging into his back and stared at the graffiti on the wall. It was one of those big commissioned pieces that covered the entire building’s side. Someone had sprayed a tropical scene; coconut and banana trees, a beach, blue water, and standing in the middle of it all a grinning pirate with his foot on a treasure chest he just dug up. Lou felt a few droplets of rain hit his head and looked up towards the sky. Heavy gray clouds hid the sun. He looked at the graffiti again and an idea struck him. It began raining harder but Lou sat there for a few minutes more, mirroring the pirate’s grin. A plan was coming together. *** Lou looked around, making sure there were no observers. The rain had stopped, but the pavement was still wet. He felt conspicuous standing outside the cemetery with a shovel he’d stolen from the nearby church’s gardening shed. He ran his fingers along the gate, flecks of rust peeling off as he passed over them. He pulled it open; it wasn’t locked, even this late at night. He wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be, but was grateful for this small favor. He hadn’t brought a flashlight along, but knew where he was headed and the light of the moon was enough to avoid the tombstones. His feet squelched in the wet soil, the fresh earthy smell at odds with his surroundings. He stopped and kneeled in front of a grave. The moon’s glow was enough to read the inscription. He touched the smooth grooves of the recessed letters with the tips of his fingers. RONALD “BIZZLE” SOLOMON 1933-2012 FRIEND, FATHER AND GREATEST CLOWN WHO EVER LIVED Lou stood up and began digging. The shovel bit into the earth, its handle’s splintered wood scratching his hands. It took a few hours to dig down to the coffin. The start was the worst of it, with the wet, heavy earth making digging difficult, but it got easier as he got deeper. Lou used the shovel to crack open the uncovered coffin’s lid. It made a loud cracking sound and he spun around to make sure no one was there to hear it. He was still alone. He turned back and looked down at the desiccated corpse. “Hi, dad,” Lou said. Next to its head was what Lou had come for: a golden trophy depicting a banana peel. The brass plaque on it read Golden Banana Peel awarded to Bizzle the Clown – Clown of the Year for the 25th Consecutive Year. He heard two indistinct voices in the distance. Lou grabbed the trophy and tried to climb back out of the grave, but his arms slipped on the wet earth and he fell face-first in the soil. He spat out the mud and ran his tongue along his teeth to clean off the gristle, relishing the musty taste. A second attempt allowed him to scramble up over the side. He saw two beams of light waving from side to side and moving in his direction. “I’m sure I heard a crack, man,” Lou heard from a first voice. “Probably just an old tree that fell after the rain. We can clean it up in the morning.” “Well called the cops.” “You idiot, they’re gonna come out here for nothing.” Lou crouched behind a tombstone and sprinted from one to the next in a half-crouch. He managed to circle around the men without them noticing. When he was sure they wouldn’t see him, Lou stood up and jogged towards the gate. He stepped out of the cemetery and let out a sign of relief. “Drop the banana and put your hands in the air, sir. I won’t ask twice,” said someone standing behind Lou’s left shoulder. He let the trophy fall to the ground and lifted his hands in the air. He turned his head and saw the police car parked just out of view of the gate. The police officer shouted for the two men in the cemetery. Lou couldn’t see their faces; his vision was blurred by tears of frustration. “I was just down the street when you called the precinct. He dig that up from a grave?” the officer asked, indicating the peel. The men said yes. “He’ll be doing some time for that, grave robbing is a pretty serious crime.” It was. He got 12 years. The judge was especially harsh due to Lou’s relation to the deceased. *** Lou walked up on the plywood stage. The room was full of his fellow convicts, sitting on folding chairs or leaning against the walls. A few clapped and cheered, but most looked unimpressed. A second prisoner sharing the stage with Lou introduced him: “And now, boys, our little talent show welcomes a celebrity! You all know him anyway, but say hello to the son of Bizzle, Morpo the clown!” More clapping and cheering. Lou began his routine; he’d been perfecting it in his cell and in the courtyard. Standard pratfalls, but executed with perfection. Silly prison jokes and puns. Balloon animals made with condoms. As ridiculous as his act was, it killed. The other inmates loved it. Standing there on stage, bowing after an encore, Lou smiled. He might be in prison, but he was finally making people laugh, and it sure beat getting pissed on at a kid’s party.
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Ghost (1,206 words) Read it in the archive. Kaishai fucked around with this message at 10:49 on Jan 3, 2016 |
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New Year, new thread!
Killer-of-Lawyers fucked around with this message at 18:50 on Jan 4, 2016 |
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Tour 595 words Archived. Tyrannosaurus fucked around with this message at 04:20 on Jan 8, 2016 |
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Crit for Blue Wher - The Deadly Curse of American Revolutionary Oliver Hammond I liked the setup, but I feel like the story falls apart in the last 1/3. Pretty much everything starting with "So, you finally found me" is pure cliche. Linecrit time: Blue Wher posted:I stopped when I came to a clearing; there stood Dr. Youngs, his back away from me. There was suddenly a cold wind that whistled through dense foliage and chilled my veins, and my nostrils were filled with the rotten scent of decay. Way too many adverbs and adjectives too, to my mind. The way you've written the dialog sometimes makes it a bit hard to parse; it's not always clear who's saying what. Splitting each person's dialog into a separate line can help with that. Also some of the writing in general comes off awkwardly: "I approached the doctor as I kept asking myself what in heaven's name that domineer could want with an injured man!" I like the bit with the finger. I think there's something pretty good in here, but I'd take it a different direction than "an immortal wizard puppet-master did it". Revolutionary war dude who is cursed to kill with a touch? That's a cool concept and I think it could make a great story with some reworking.
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I failed both the thread and my non-writing ancestors. Shame knows no bounds!
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JcDent posted:I failed both the thread and my non-writing ancestors. Shame knows no bounds! ![]()
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Hey Mercedes! I had such an awesome weekend that I happened to see your story and now I have a linecrit ready to go right after the judgement! ![]() Benny the Snake fucked around with this message at 23:57 on May 4, 2015 |
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Benny the Snake posted:Hey Mercedes! I had such an awesome weekend that I happened to see your story and now I have a linecrit ready to go right after the judgement! Sweet, thanks li- FAST JUDGING GOOD JUDGING
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Mercedes posted:Sweet, thanks li- FAST JUDGING GOOD JUDGING ![]()
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I overestimated my free time and didn't finish my horrible story about an astronaut who goes insane from loneliness and sprays his dead co-astronaut's wife's perfume to hide the smell of the body so he can pretend he's still alive.
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It's alright, I wrote enough terrible scifi for the both of us this week!
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bye
anime was right fucked around with this message at 06:55 on Oct 27, 2015 |
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LOU BEGAS MUSTACHE posted:noooooooo ooooooooooooone caaaaaaaaaares It is for me. ![]() Next Tdome I do I'm gonna ![]()
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Screaming Idiot posted:It is for me. then write yourself a little note saying "i suck", stick it underneath your "hang in there" cat poster, and dont post it in the thread
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![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() I hate writing results posts because I have no energy left for kayfabe, so I'm going to give it to you straight: This was actually a pretty good week! Most of the stories were middling, tending towards middling-to-good instead of middling-to-bad, and the judges didn't really want to kill themselves too much at all. On the other hand, the bad was pretty bad. DM: Mrenda - A Funeral for a Dog, A Young Murderer, and The Aged Bad Boy of Directing: It was really hard to figure out what was going on in the story, and not worth the effort when I did. There were no "characters" just people saying things that barely made sense, and also no real plot or setting. Basically missing most elements of a story other than "words." DM: Mercedes - Valley of Death: Should have waited for Nethilia to check your tenses, because they were shifting ALL over the place, but REALLY you have to learn how to do it correctly or fix it yourself. You can't keep relying on other people to do it for you. We also had problems with following your story and understanding what was happening (though not nearly so bad as in Funeral for a Dog), and Janice seemed to become a man for a few paragraphs at the end? ![]() ![]() This wasn't even up for debate, IMO, and my other judges pretty much agreed. Sentence construction made A LOT of this difficult to read. I wanted to stop within a few paragraphs. I understand that English is not your native language, but I don't care. These weren't a few mistakes that can be overlooked, they created major problems and interfered with comprehension. But that isn't the biggest reason this story lost. The content, dear god. I parsed all the sentences, I strung them together, and what did I find? A story about a bitter, basement-dwelling nerd trolling (maybe?) people with 9/11 truther 4-chan jokes. I HATE YOU. The best thing I can say about this is "at least it didn't involve a poo poo geyser." The goods were all pretty strong, even though none really, totally, amazingly, blew us all completely out of the water. We didn't have any trouble agreeing that these were at the top of the pack: HM: Tyrannosaurus - Tour: We all thought this one had "something." Something kind of funny and something poignant about human nature and the stories we tell ourselves to make this horrible life okay. HM: Killer-of-Lawyers - Decay This story was one of my favorites to read. I thought the spaceship was one of the most "characterized" characters of the entire week, and the story made sense and was fun. Words didn't get in the way of themselves. You did a good job of using sensory information going through a computer instead of a human, too. HM: Noah - Inheritance I just realized we didn't discuss why we liked this one, because we all liked it, but not enough for the win. It hung together really well and the premise was interesting and clearly presented without being belabored. HM: Sitting Here - Wild Flower LUSH. Really gorgeous prose and imagery. Muffin awarded you all the pretty points. Touched on some of the subtle pains and joys of human life. Ending just a little off, rendering it more of a vignette than a satisfying story. ![]() ![]() An incredibly enjoyable story to read. The setting felt very unique, even though you barely described it directly. The ending fulfilled the promise of the beginning, and it felt natural getting there. The whole time I was interested in what was happening and what would happen next. I would enjoy reading an expanded version of this very much, so please write. So, thank you all for not killing me, and with great relief, I pass the throne back to Kaishai
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Dr. Kloctopussy posted:HM: Killer-of-Lawyers - Decay email me at crabrock at gmail if you want me to buy you an avatar. if you have one in mind, send me the link, if not tell me what you want or just let me go hog wild, i don't care.
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Mrenda posted:A Funeral for a Dog, A Young Murderer, and The Aged Bad Boy of Directing
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Had this written, but was waiting for judgement. Mrenda posted:A Funeral for a Dog, A Young Murderer, and The Aged Bad Boy of Directing That line crit took longer than I expected. I liked what you were able to accomplish in under 600 words. Short and sweet. The ending line tied things up in a particularly haunting way.
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DERMUFFINKRITTENINGSKEIT, PARTENZUZANGUMMENUN 1 Broader problems this week: I'm seeing a serious case of Stephen King Syndrome going on in a lot of the stories. That's when the story sets up something really cool but then runs out of words or time and goes "OKAY gently caress IT TIME FOR VIOLENCE" and then everybody dies in a gas explosion. Who needs catharsis when you can just kill everybody, amirite? Lack of direction was also a bit of problem. Pretty language can help to prop up a weak story, but only so far. Make sure you understand what your characters want, and why we care what they want. The rest of the story should fall into place. "Person sits and whines about something" is not a story, no matter what that guy in your MFA tells you. Specific Stories: Funeral for a Dog - Mrenda This was really hard to follow. I think you tried to be too clever with all the little clues you spread around the place, and we just missed them all. The general rule is that you can be as clever and sneaky as you want with themes and sideplots, but the main through line has got to be pounded in with a sledgehammer. Readers are not mind readers, and clarity of expression is very important in storytelling. Thought for next time: try to tell a very simple story. 1-2 characters, no mystery: just a motivation, and somebody trying to fulfill it. Low pile. Stopwatch - Wangless Wonder I liked this. The 'dome gets a lot of high fantasy/genre fic adventure, and it was cool to see something more grounded executed well. Pay attention folks: the stakes don't need to be sky-high for the story to be interesting. Lady wants to lose weight, lady tries to lose weight, lady has a hard time of it but other factors keep her going. It works. It lost out to some of the gutsier and more lush stuff, but that doesn't mean I didn't appreciate something lower key. Not a bad story, just got pushed down in a strong week Thought for next time: try again with the more low-key stuff. You've got a talent for little human touches and I'd like to see you explore it a bit more. High-mid. Rogue's Eyes - dmboogie Kinda generic fantasy with the 'wise old kung fu master' cliche thrown in for good measure. Two wise old kung-fu masters even. The general agreement on this piece was that it jumped around far too much and needed to focus on a new stronger scenes rather than trying to tell a huge story in a small space. Thought for next time: try to tailor your story to the wordcount. Going too big in flash fiction tends to sink people a lot faster than going too small. Mid pile. Final Luxury - bigperm I liked this, but the pacing is a bit odd and it suffers for it. You kinda try to play off the Glorious Death thing as a twist when it's obvious from the start. Too much talking, not enough scene setting or action. This feels like it should be a very physical piece, but I had real trouble picturing it. It's vaguely middle-eastern in my head, but that's as specific as I can get. Thought for next time: if you're gonna worldbuild, don't be afraid to really throw yourself at it. The story shouldn't read like a wikipedia entry, mind: it's about letting the character of the world show itself through the interactions that occur. Mid pile. Lilium - spectres of autism It's like a really good story with a lovely story glued to its back. #1 victim of Stephen King Syndrome: the language is gorgeous, the worldbuilding is absolutely on-point and then SUDDENLY VIOLENCE AND OMG IT'S THE APOCALYPSE for REASONS. There's so many questions left unanswered that could use more exploration, but instead we got a bunch of eh stuff with people dying. A more quiet and ambiguous ending would've served you well here. Spend a bit more time with the world you've woven and let it grow. Thought for next time: calm down, don't feel compelled to end with a bang. High-mid. The Deadly Curse of American Revolutionary Oliver Hammond - Blue Wher Fallout Boy called; they want their single title back. This one is way too telly, and just not very original. It feels like a whole lot of video game character slammed together, talking stilted "badass" stuff at each other and then fighting. Basically, it comes off more like a video game than a story. Thought for next time: try to write about normal people doing normal things. Strip all the cliche back and just try to write something human.
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Thunderdome Week CXLIV: Doming Lasha Tumbai![]() Judges: Kaishai, Entenzahn, and Erogenous Beef. It's taken me two years, Thunderdome, but I'm finally back on the throne during the lead-up to the Eurovision Song Contest. The original Eurovision Week occurred after Erogenous Beef introduced me to this glorious celebration of ambiguously gay twins dancing in giant ruby pauldrons; now--at last!--it's time for Round Two. Your task is to choose a Eurovision entry video from this year's crop. Your story must somehow relate to that video and/or song! Setting, theme, tone, characters, costume, whatever: you have to incorporate something, and the less we have to stretch to see a connection, the better off you'll be. Name your pick when you sign up. Only one writer may work with any song, so it's first come, first serve. You have the option of letting the judges choose a song for you instead--but take heed: my Eurovision tastes run less toward ballads, more toward falsetto dubstep Dracula and Ukrainian crossdressers with stars on their heads. Judge selections may come from any point in Eurovision history, so this is your one and only way to have a shot at the likes of "So Lucky." Such opportunities have a price, however. We will not hand out song assignments any earlier than Thursday. Lest you forget, some restrictions apply: No fanfiction, no nonfiction, no erotica, no poetry, and no GoogleDocs. Got it? Good! Go forth and sing! Sign-up deadline: Friday, May 8, 11:59pm USA Eastern Submission deadline: Sunday, May 10, 11:59pm USA Eastern Maximum word count: 1,400 ![]() ![]() Blue Wher (Montenegro): "Mother's Violin" Broenheim (Moldova 2013; Flash rule: Embody the Moldovan ![]() Wangless Wonder (Russia 2012) Ironic Twist (Italy; Flash rule: Nothing stereotypically Italian may appear in the story): "Sunstroke" (Submitted past the deadline) bigperm (Slovenia 2014; Flash rule: A cheap, broken, and/or malfunctioning kitchen appliance must be featured): "Danes Odhajam" SadisTech (Ireland 2011) Bompacho (Belgium) spectres of autism (Macedonia): "Dragon" Jonked (United Kingdom): "Love You While I'm Gone" skwidmonster (Azerbaijan): "Mr. War Criminal" newtestleper (Latvia; Flash rule: Drawing from this song, inject the story with patriotism and drunkenness.) Claven666 (Switzerland 2014): "No More Hunting Stars" ![]() Grizzled Patriarch (France): "Tiny Edible Things" crabrock (Ukraine 2007 and Denmark 2013): "A Probabilistic Route to Happiness" Killer-of-Lawyers (Latvia 2010): "The Star and The Skull" JcDent (Sweden): "Shame of Shamus" TheGreekOwl (Greece): "One Last Breath" PoshAlligator (Slovakia 2010): "The Black Mountain's Bell" Benny Profane (Norway): "The Saunier Mausoleum" Tyrannosaurus (Austria 2003): "It’s Not Always A Serpent That Makes You Sin" Schneider Heim (Georgia): "The Final Siege of the Black Steel Castle!" hubris.height (France 2008): "Saccharine and Gasoline" Sitting Here (Belarus): "Full Circle" SurreptitiousMuffin (Spain) Kaishai fucked around with this message at 09:19 on May 12, 2015 |
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Totally in.
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in ![]() also wangless you have succeeded and your line crit will come up when i get to it (end of this week at the latest)
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![]() ![]() Your character was just arrested for a bullshit crime. They can either try to smooth talk the guards, or attempt a bold escape from the old leaky jailhouse. It's up to you, but you better amuse the gently caress out of me. Not in some wacky, gimmicky way. I'm talking about dialog and/or action that is legitimately amusing. 900 words, due by 11:59:59 PM PST on Monday, May 11. I expect you both to accept with the usual ![]()
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Kaishai posted:We will not hand out song assignments any earlier than Thursday. you have played right into my hands. in. thank you for crit & promise-of-crit SM & bro
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I'm claiming Knez - Adio (Montenegro) for myself
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Sitting Here posted:
The best. I'll take the toxx
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![]() ![]() Welcome to the dome. Your free Bompa-crit is below. bigperm posted:
Ol Sweepy fucked around with this message at 04:45 on May 5, 2015 |
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In with Il Volo--Grande Amore.
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Hi, Mercedes! So a while back, you were gracious enough to do a video reveiw for my first ever brawl story and I had such an awesome weekend, I saw your story for this week and I decided to return the favor by doing a line-by-line crit for your recent entry apropros of nothing! ![]() So keep in mind that I had nothing but the best of intentions when I started this whole thing... quote:Valley of Death
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Thank you for the crit Bompacho (and SurreptitiousMuffin). This was the first thing I've ever written and 'put out there'. It got away from me a little bit.
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bigperm posted:Thank you for the crit Bompacho (and SurreptitiousMuffin). This was the first thing I've ever written and 'put out there'. It got away from me a little bit. Write more and do better this week!
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In but I will need a song.
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in ![]() please select a terrible song for me as I am neurologically unable to differentiate them
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![]() ![]() Kaishai fucked around with this message at 08:18 on May 5, 2015 |
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Biography week crits. I know there's another week of crits still waiting but hey, someone poked me for this week. I judged completely blind so it's going to be weird having faces to put to stories. Skwidmonster - Atlas Telemon What does the framing device add to the story? I'm not sure what's important about the bartender or his relationship with his father that makes it so that you lead with that, instead of "this guy you've never heard of was the first man in space". I'm also not sure why this has to be in second person address--it lends a nice bit of style, but it's also another stage removed from the actual motivations and story, which makes it harder to get invested in what's happening. We're not just being told about it by the bartender, we're being told by someone who's not the bartender about the story the bartender would tell us if we went there. The story itself was fine for the most part, and I don't remember being bothered by any particular prose stuff, but I think the idea was more elaborate than it needed to be and had you spilling words to keep up the conceit that you could have used for more central details. spectres of autism - Babel Great opening. I was with you until it became obvious that God is apparently using literal cheatcodes to mess with the universe. That sort of humor just bugs me, so you lost points with me there, but that's a personal thing. The conflict is fairly clear, although I'm not sure why he's doing some of the things that he's doing. I didn't connect what the writing in the notebook is supposed to do, other than the idea that he just jots down some concept related to what he's heard. The resolution is a little strange too--it doesn't feel like things have changed significantly or that he's really made much of a choice. Moment to moment the writing was fine though, it was mostly in broad structure that it felt weak. Thyrork - Biography of a Dragon This also has the problem of being removed from the thing that's the actual story, though yours is much more removed from the story and doesn't work as well as Skwid's. The ideas are there and the potential for something interesting was right there, but then most of the words end up being draconic posturing and essentially saying a lot of stuff about dragons that we could expect about dragons, and then telling a story that doesn't really have any conflict. The girl's story is just that she gets kidnapped by a dragon and the dragon makes sure everything goes well for her, the interview's story is that a guy interviews a dragon and then the dragon gets mad but we skip over that part before the end. That, combined with a lot of telling, was what made this one a pretty clear lose candidate. HWPS - I'll be your guide Again, this is something with an interesting idea that goes nowhere with it. I'm even a good audience for that kind of thing--I like (some) SCP stuff and I liked Night Vale, so absurd horror-comedy is right up my alley. But you don't do anything with it. Which means it's time for a bit of ![]() ![]() "Say, Thunderdome has a big emphasis on writing complete stories, but not everything has to be a complete story!" I think the challenge of writing a complete story is part of the value of Thunderdome. But it can be fun and interesting to write things that aren't necessarily narrative-driven. The trick there, though, is that you still have to follow a structure, even if it isn't the short story structure of intro/conflict/conclusion. The way the structure works, it's a more abstract version of how you'd write a story. Instead of an intro, you need a hook--that's something that establishes what's going on, but also provides a bit of intrigue. For instance, in your story, that 'by law I cannot repeat the spelling of my name again' sets up that something is strange. That's akin to establishing your conflict. Then, as you go on, you want to elaborate on that interesting bit, building outward and providing greater hints at what's unseen. The important thing, and what I felt like your piece failed at most, is that they've got to build on each other. There's a comedy sketch that builds off of a preacher who keeps calling it "The Bibble", and as it builds, the Bible stories he references get stranger and more detached from reality, but provide a sort of consistent picture of this strange alternate text. That sketch worked for me because it kept elaborating on what had come before, while this piece tends to veer off into different directions. And then at the end, there needs to be a payoff, akin to the conclusion of a story, or the punchline of a joke. There's not really any payoff here though, aside from a few running references that last the whole length. It's just a tour guide talking about illogical things for a while, and then it ends, there's nothing revelatory or surprising or amusing about the ending. So there you are: for a style piece, even though the structure is looser than a story, you still have to follow basic principles of making things interesting to read. Start with something interesting, build on that thing, then reach some sort of movement by the end. Jitzu_the_Monk - Anthro 837 I thought this was generally pretty good, and I enjoyed the way you tried to describe pre-literate language. The Bogda part of the story was very good, and I felt it resolved pretty well by the end. The part with the anthropology lecture I was less sure of, even though I get the general gist of it. Is the idea that they've taken Bogda from the past and are interviewing her about her life? Because originally, the way I saw it was that they had Bogda and her village in some kind of time-displacement thing where they could observe them all. The trouble with this part is that it doesn't thematically mesh all that well with the Bogda section, at least to me, and that it doesn't really have anything driving it. There's hints of a conflict, but the professor just says "It's not a problem" and goes about his business. Killer-of-Lawyers - Etherkiller This was generally pretty enjoyable. You had a good sense of voice and the concepts at play and the way you laid them out made me want to read more. As far as I can remember, I had mostly positive things to say about this one, but other stories this week were just more skilled and sucked the HM away from you. You even did a good job of hinting that this is part of a bigger work without it feeling like a cop-out: you started with one conflict and resolved it completely, so rather than feeling like it cuts off when things get interesting, it goes through everything that's interesting. The only negative thing I can think of was that your story did feel pretty wordy, since I had to chew through all of that character voice to get to the action. But since you put the paradoxes up front in the beginning, I never felt stranded as I was trying to get to the meaty stuff. Screaming Idiot - Better than you There's a hell of a lot of worldbuilding going on here that I feel could have been cut down. I don't feel like the intro was very great, because it's a lot of words of gloating, and it even feels a bit strange that he's boasting of how powerful he is, but then he turns around and tells about how he just poisoned someone to get his ruling position. Beneath the poor structure and clunky worldbuilding there's a decent story, even if it is mostly cobbled together with pulp sci-fi sword and planet type tropes. Nothing wrong with pulp, I love it, but in the end even if I haven't actually, it feels like I've read a lot of stories of a wily slave poisoning a king/an abusive father accidentally-on-purpose killed by his family/et cetera. Also ending your story with "UNFINISHED CUZ I SUCK" isn't going to endear me to you via self-depreciation. Ironic Twist - I Really Don't Know How To Lose This is a better example of how to write something without a typical narrative structure. The one major complaint I have about this now is that it takes a while to actually get going, because the whole first paragraph is basically a dry wikipedia entry about the guy, before the actual story kicks up with the edits. I was a lot harsher on this when I was actually judging, and I still don't know if I'd HM it over some other stories that could have gotten an HM, but you did basically achieve what you tried to do. And you introduced the concept, brought something interesting in, and slowly elaborated on that point until you brought it to a conclusion at the end. Wangless Wonder - Kinnison James I liked this story too, because although you pulled the same thing some other people did and put the biographer in as another character, in this one the biographer is more important to the actual narrative. Kinnison is an interesting character and the fact that he's tolerating this kid following him around and 'interviewing' him adds to the story. There were subtle nods at humor that I liked, because they felt like jokes these people would make in character. Overall, just a good story that I didn't have too much to complain about. Benny Profane - Preface You also had the biographer as a character in the story, and while it's not bad here, it does feel like it's just a way to get another view of the father, rather than being a main character in his own right. Which isn't necessarily bad, but I just don't have a large picture of who Charles is as compared to his dad James. Generally I thought the story was well-written, and the detached voice works here as someone who's trying to set the record straight and is being guarded about how they feel. The 100% nihilist position that his dad took is a little cartoon villain though--don't know if that was the intent, but killing everyone so no one has to suffer is the sort of thing a JRPG villain or a supercomputer in a bad sci-fi book would do. new test leper - The Truth Above All I liked this a lot and felt it was a good combination of conflict, motivation, and interesting ideas. Flying aces with hermetic magic is a cool thought to pull off, and you take a slightly dryer style that fits with the way this presumably educated young man in the 1920's would be writing. It has the feel of a wartime story, someone recounting someone they remember fondly, and that works well with its tone. The biographer-as-character is strong here so that worked for me, and I liked your pacing--you lead with enough interesting stuff to keep me reading as you reveal more interesting things. I had your back for getting this one an HM, but the other judges weren't as fond of it. Grizzled Patriarch - Gliding Over All The stylistic choices you made with this worked really well in your favor--titling the sections made it easier to get a grasp on the nonlinear way you were going through his life, and they gave it a quality of memory, like these are the way he remembers these events. You didn't use a lot of words, but you did very well with the words you did choose, and there was some choice showing, especially that part in the end. Sitting Here - I'm not typing out that big title you nerd This was an interesting story, though the whole child's voice thing worked sometimes and didn't work other times. If it's any consolation, you did do a better job of getting that tone than the feral girl story from World War Z did, but it's a legitimately hard thing to get down, the way children talk about other things and themselves. Other than that, the story worked pretty well and was reasonably enjoyable to read. A Classy Ghost - The 51st President of the United States of America This is how to do a joke entry that doesn't annoy the judges. (As evidenced by your HM.) You've got a compelling start, and then as it goes on, there's weird jukebox stuff happening but you manage to make it all feel fairly justified--nothing gets slapped in because it's immediately funny or a reference to anything, and it actually feels like you're reasonably knowledgeable about jukeboxes, which is nice. I liked the way you dealt with the subject manner, but I did roll my eyes when you dropped the Tsukumogami thing. It all wraps up with a decent conclusion that feels like a somewhat satisfying end. After The War - The Champion This is another more joking entry, and I felt it was weaker than ACG's. You do the same sort of thing, taking a topic that's inherently a bit silly and talking about it seriously, but yours is a lot wordier because you're going for the epic sportswriter tone as opposed to the presidential biography tone. Basically the one thing about the story that got me was that there were a lot of words that probably could have been cut, even while keeping the tone. The conclusion felt a little weak too, I wasn't entirely sure how this guy got so devoted to pencil fights that he started wasting away. Tyrannosaurus - Boogie was Born in the Backseat of a Buick This was really good. Your stories always tend to have a really good sense of natural spoken cadence, and in this case it definitely worked toward your advantage. It's kind of interesting that I saw The Babadook recently, which is also about someone dealing with the loss of a parent in a car crash with a boogieman type spirit. The other judges said they wanted to HM you, but they happened to say this AFTER the judgement post and hadn't mentioned yours to me. Oh well. You showed a young girl with an imaginary friend really well, and it's nicely subtle in the way that it's more Boogie's biography than Tess's. This totally could have HMed if Djinn and curlingiron had told me to read it, but I only plowed through the entries before the deadline because of some kind of fiji gaijin thing people were yelling at me.
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I'm in with ![]()
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# ? Sep 1, 2024 01:43 |
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in with macedonia, autumn leaves
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