Satori Komeji edition.
Post your shit here and other anons will give feedback.
/crit/ - Writing Critique General
Thomas Wood
Noah Foster
mods should just pin these threads desu
Hunter Butler
Seeing as how I am first I'll crit replies.
I'd go to her house or she would come to my house. After brief chats with parents, both fathers nodding once before returning to the TV or beer, both mothers cooing over us like birds, we would retreat to our bedrooms and our lips would meet. Hands would caress and soon buttons would be undone. We undressed ourselves, and I would go on top of her or she would go on top of me. At the end of it the one on top would roll over and we'd breathe, open the window to cool down, and I'd close my eyes. I caught her looking at me every so often, a look in her eye I never understood. Was it one of love? Confused desperation? Hatred?
Tyler Ross
Beginning of a short story that I'm not particularly happy with.
The town lies in the centre of a desert basin. No roads lead there directly, but by the edge of the basin runs a path of kicked dirt that travellers would take if they needed. This town did not follow the same lawful practices as those that were of the same country. This is not to state this town had apprehensible morals or was somehow superior. Its moral customs were simply independent.
This town was called Uris and was once visited by a stranger.
This visitation took place during the mid-afternoon in which a crime was about to be punished in Uris. The Stranger entered the town via the road aforementioned. He was wearing a thick leather coat that dragged dust where he walked and a wide brimmed hat. His face was notched with a deep-set scar that made him easily identifiable, earned in a knife fight. As he was entering the town, a whipping beginning to take place.
The local lawmen were dragging a woman to the well in centre town, hands bound and face ruined by tears.
The Stranger had learned from passersby that a woman in the town--no doubt this one--had been unfaithful to her partner. She had slept with a man two towns over under the guise of travelling to peddle the pottery that her husband had made. The townsfolk told him that a trial had taken place a fortnight prior. The lawmen had failed to find the man that this woman had allegedly been sleeping with, and instead the verdict was reached on account of the husband’s testimony and the wife’s inability to provide a witness that could attest to her defence.
I like this for its simplicity. The last line seems tacked on in an attempt to make me intrigued though, and that didn't really work. It just feels off.
The rest is good though. I appreciate the similarity in the minutiae and the way it's described, very familiar, very pleasant to read.
Justin Cox
Threw together a little pop a few days back, not quite sure if I've got the pacing right.
The war memorial's
Parking lever
Will, upon request
Stand tall
As an obelisk
It's aight, but I think the repitition of minor details like the route he entered by and that the locals are giving him information is superfluous. Rephrasing portions like that would make it less bloated and communicate the points just as well.
Dominic Robinson
>I like this for its simplicity.
Thanks.
>The last line seems tacked on in an attempt to make me intrigued though, and that didn't really work. It just feels off.
I can see why as it is an excerpt from a larger WIP.
>The rest is good though. I appreciate the similarity in the minutiae and the way it's described, very familiar, very pleasant to read.
That's what I was going for. It's a nostalgic epistolary story along the same lines as Norwegian Wood. Hope I can keep the tone consistent.
>The town lies in the centre of a desert basin. No roads lead there directly, but by the edge of the basin runs a path of kicked dirt that travellers would take if they needed.
Wouldn't the travellers always need to take the dirt path if it is the only path?
>This town did not follow the same lawful practices as those that were of the same country.
You can simplify this for clarity. Also I would refer to the town as 'the town' only and not 'the town' and 'this town'. If anything, name it earlier.
>This town was called Uris and was once visited by a stranger.
Why Uris? And surely more than one stranger visited, unless it is an insular community?
>This visitation took place during the mid-afternoon in which a crime was about to be punished in Uris.
>As he was entering the town, a whipping beginning to take place.
Pick one.
>face ruined by tears.
Maybe covered is better than ruined.
>The Stranger had learned from passersby that a woman in the town--no doubt this one--had been unfaithful to her partner. She had slept with a man two towns over under the guise of travelling to peddle the pottery that her husband had made. The townsfolk told him that a trial had taken place a fortnight prior. The lawmen had failed to find the man that this woman had allegedly been sleeping with, and instead the verdict was reached on account of the husband’s testimony and the wife’s inability to provide a witness that could attest to her defence.
This could be written better:
The Stranger had learned from passersby that the woman had been unfaithful to her husband with a man two towns over under the guise of travelling to peddle the pottery that her husband had made. A
trial had taken place a fortnight prior. Having failed to find the woman's lover, the lawmen had used the husband's testimony to reach a verdict.
I assume the story will be The Stranger taking the woman under wing and finding the man? Overall I'd say it just needs polish.
I like it but can't say much more than that. What was your inspiration/intended meaning? I assume it is about fading idolation of war memorials?
Asher Martinez
There should be some general rules for posting/critique too, length for example.
Anyway, it's all from my very biased perspective, also I am bored and sleepy, hope some user can get something of use for them out of it.
>and our lips would meet.
Eww. A part like that deserves more than a cliche phrase. Don't like the bits in the end either, feels very off. But overall it flows well and gets the point across, just lacks something new or surprising to really stand out. Basically it's good but not great.
You lost my attention during the second sentence, it's overly dense with tons of information thrown without a reason to care about it, and feels repetitive you have a somewhat distinctive voice but don't use it to say anything captivating. Also it's pretty distant, making it even harder to give a damn. There is a woman dragged through the the town but it reads like someone is telling a story about it instead of letting me experience it.
Jeez, this is all? Bump.
Tyler Bell
>beginning of a story about a dude contemplating political stickers on a toilet stall wall.
„Infestation!“ it reads, „Blame the Arabs on the planes! Blame the Polish on the trains! Blame the jews on the cruise ships! Cut the power, stop the nuisance!“ with little cartoon hands and scissors drawn severing an electric cable – a pursuit that would surely get the acting party killed – a noble one? I see myself walking the docks. A metallic roar fills my headspace – friction? The sound of a large machine halting? Old friend, we are lucky to be awake this time of year for it IS! Look to the skies: The perfect antithesis to our forest of silent awaiting like an impression manifests itself, soon to be filled with matter and peeled at the touch of curious generations. Metallic cigars plummeting toward the waters, winds laughing, howling, as they alleviate themselves at their surfaces. A good shake for the dung inside – imagine the smell (ew!) those cracked tins will be shedding in a few hours. Time enough for the quick-witted among our people. Those still intact, not yet dissolved in the homogeneous brown mass of engine oil, shit and fluid flesh, we must separate. Sun baked, raised on figs and goat cheese, honest lives on a no-pig-flesh diet, awash in sewage now but scrubbed, shaven, toweled, […] brushed with herbs and oils and blessed by our shaman still might live up to their promise. Over a fire, that is.
Angel Garcia
>a pursuit that would surely get the acting party killed – a noble one?
Kek. Good stuff.
>to our forest of silent awaiting
I can't picture anything here.
Overall, very mature, you clearly know what you're doing. It does get a bit stale in the end (last two sentences) but still well written kind of stale. Though if it's a beginning, the next paragraph should start the story.
Jaxson Wood
>I can't picture anything here.
Yeah, that part I have to change somehow. I'm trying to reference Ernst Jünger's der Waldgang. Will probably be more obvious once I translate it into German, I just find English better for brainstorming.