/crit/ - Writing Critique

maybe just add just/merely

I'm not a poet though

that's fine, user. we're working through it together. I like that idea, i'll just have to get read of an extra syllable somewhere. maybe if i get rid of 'with?'

Spartan features set in graceful mystique.
A face worthy of marble, not mere clay.
I speak for all in our troupe when I say
it's only fitting that our Muse be Greek.

The meter is too irregular. Good job avoiding allusion to Daphne.

>A face worthy of marble, not mere clay.
I don't think this really gives the impression that the face is to be represented in the medium. It seems more like one is giving some marble to a face.

would you say that the meter absolutely must be iambic pentameter or can it be something different so long as it matches from line to line?

would the word "befitting" work better?

Yea that's fair. I think I really struggle with writing young characters, so I may just increase the age a little bit more. Other point has been noted as well. Thanks!

What do people think of this? Posted it a while ago but I've gotten back into writing again.

All under the moon. Mother, the love that loves to love the love that loves to love. Tongue to the turf. She is breathing the terrain of Terres De Galets. She (watch her!) rejects that visage of Dermot Murnaghan, him and all his negative inflation, civil unrest and royal infants. She knows that Life is good, the wine slightly better. She sees the barely yellow teeth tinge refracting along the bottom of Her Holy Roman Burgundy – slowly painted orange, the wine begins its charge. She sees her need for a tooth pick. She wonders how bad the traffic is. July 14th comes and comes like festival of light fireworks. How long is too long to mourn? It’s been six months and every pot of red stew always seems a little undercooked. Maybe it’s fine. The Boy isn’t here anymore so no one really needs food anyway. Wonder if this was the same with his Grandma, when Dad died. Moth wings flapping at lost candlelight, looking for purpose outside of cotton tops.

Formatting error.

All under the moon. Mother, the love that loves to love the love that loves to love. Tongue to the turf. She is breathing the terrain of Terres De Galets. She (watch her!) rejects that visage of Dermot Murnaghan, him and all his negative inflation, civil unrest and royal infants. She knows that Life is good, the wine slightly better. She sees the barely yellow teeth tinge refracting along the bottom of Her Holy Roman Burgundy – slowly painted orange, the wine begins its charge. She sees her need for a tooth pick. She wonders how bad the traffic is.

*

July 14th comes and comes like festival of light fireworks. How long is too long to mourn? It’s been six months and every pot of red stew always seems a little undercooked. Maybe it’s fine. The Boy isn’t here anymore so no one really needs food anyway. Wonder if this was the same with his Grandma, when Dad died. Moth wings flapping at lost candlelight, looking for purpose outside of cotton tops.

The smell of meat was tentacles reaching in the air for his nostrils for penetration. He had been averted for oh so long. Finding it disgusting, distasteful. The mere sight of it, of people chewing. Talking with their holes stuffed, light red juice dripping out and going down their acne ridden chin had made him sick to his soul. He once saw a piece of anonymous meat on the ground, in the middle of a layer of leaves. Contrast between. Images of sheep and pigs in rusted metal cages entered his mind, as far away from nature as possible, their animal feet on the ground stomping around slipping on the grease screaming and hollering in their animal eyes he imposed himself in their place a man in a nauseating cage ready for the execution to be teared up and eaten up by his fellow man. when this thought was done he picked up the piece of cut away being from the ground and put his sharp nail teeth into the inviting juiciness. He chewed and swallowed the meat bits and the dirt that had been fused to the side against the dirty spit and small stone covered ground. This is how it began. Next thing he knew he would be thinking about the enticement of the new flavor all day. He began buying packets, buying sausage, he was ashamed when at the cashier and stared down into the floor like the man before him was a judge of his personal morals that he had preached to friends and family all life. But when he came down a bordering on masturbatory act would begin with the meat. First week, one hole filled, second week, 2 holes filled, third week, 3 holes filled (you the reader get to assume what hole that was)

He was on the kitchen floor, in a puddle of animal fluid and stringy pieces. Tears were running down his face merging with the concentration under him. His binge had been underway for 4 months, everything you could do with a porkchop, he had done. He had a permanent cloud of flesh flavor in his tongue now. The taste was glued on. One final frontier, he thought, a final indulgence that haven’t been quenched. He put his fingers one by one into his mouth and bit.

of those who are cute:

I think they welcome odes to soul,
over that which they cannot control

He relentlessly fucked her from behind, and she quietly reciprocated his actions. As she bounced, a tiny squeak escaped her anus.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she said, and he slapped her ass again and again while still pounding her; “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry sorry sorry sorry!” -for each apology that came before, as he wordlessly slapped the same spot, continuing to do so the same way on every third thrust. Her eyes shut and her mouth closed, and she held her breath, while foamy white slobber hung down from her hairy pink cunt as it coughed and gulped and sputtered on the dick inside of it. She felt his hands move down her back and grab her shoulders; aggressively he galloped her all the way forward, continuing to pound her immobilized frame as its mass flung about it. Between her lips she bit the sheets and screamed and sobbed, screaming again as she felt the thud of his knuckles bruising the spot on her ass, scratching the itch. Instead of hitting it a second time, he caressed it, while using his other five fingers to claw at her doughy stomach. He slowed down once felt her convulse, causing her to weep into the sheets for not having been properly finished off. Her vagina released one complete discharge as he brought his dick’s last push to a halt, then her body went limp. He leaned over her back, then into her hear he said to her: "have a sad cum bby"

>the love that loves to love the love that loves to love
Sounds like she loves herself? I suppose this could technically means she exclusively loves to love the love that loves to love indiscriminately. But this isn't clear

>Wonder if this was the same with his Grandma, when Dad died.
Allot more blatant and accessible than the rest of the piece, kind of a tonal inconsistency.

>He slowed down once [he] felt her convulse
god dammit

and should I have one of the "sorry"s outside of the quotations? I had it that way at first and I'm not sure if I moved it because it's really better inside or if it just looks that way because I already know where the sentence is going.

- First line already comes off as obnoxious, or at least, was worded in an annoying way. Here's how I would do it:
"The smell of meat was like tentacles reaching up for his nose; penetrating; unshelling the man within."
- A comma between "long" and "Finding" could've made it flow better, I think.
- Same above for "distasteful" and "The".
- Why is "Contrast between" all by itself in a paragraph? It makes no sense.
- The rhyme between "teared up" and "eaten up" seems amatuer.
- "when" should be a capital.
- Comma between "sausage" and "he" should be a full stop.
- "at the floor" would be better than "into the floor" in my opinon.
- Also I don't know why but I think "as if" would be better than "like" when mentioning the judgeful man; seems less awkward structure-wise, but this might just be a personal opinion.
- Are you missing a "his" between "all" and "life"?
- > But when he came down a bordering on masturbatory act would begin with the meat.
Huh?
- thatescalatedquickly.jpg
- Comma between "months" and "everything" could be better served with a full stop or perhaps maybe even a semi colon. Maybe.
- replaced "haven't" with "hasn't".
- Nice end - see two steps above.

Anyway here's mine:
pastebin.com/

Whoops, I mean this:

pastebin.com/vCx92LNJ

Wow, don't do it. Girls get hackneyed outdated victorian shit like this all the time. Poetry isn't a fucking hallmark subsidiary.

Look, I'm being harsh, but it's clear you're a newfag at this, and proliferating your newfag "art" in the attempt to get some pussy is just a disgrace to the form. Women aren't stupid, they can detect newfaggotry. This is the equivalent of giving a girl an anime drawing or playing your little 3 chord progression.

I wouldn't assume that a girl in the theater department necessarily knows anything about good writing, or even good acting.

He should actually try to dumb it down if he's halfway decent, to make it more relatable.

Fucked up. I like it. But the "foamy white slobber" part most definitely made bile rise. Even if it's rape it shouldn't describe in painstaking detail the fluids excreted.

It wasn't even rape. Well, not necessarily one way or the other, I kinda just streamed without specifying.

>But the "foamy white slobber" part most definitely made bile rise. Even if it's rape it shouldn't describe in painstaking detail the fluids excreted.
Because it was actually just gross or because it's a bad detail to add? I kinda didn't want to get at it from that angle; what I really wanted was the swaying motion of the net hanging down.

Also, I talked about it right after I say she held her breath, so that might have mislead you to imagined her throwing up until you read the lines that told you where it was actually coming from.

There's nothing wrong with him being a newfag if he doesn't deny it. Earnest attempts are good. It's a terrible pickup cliche, but it's a cliche because it can work relatively well. Would you rather he posted the bubbles of text she sent him about "My favorite author: J. K. Rowling," or something?

Critique of >semi-colons
Are you sure that's how you use those?
>galloped her all the way forward
What does this mean?

O.K., other than the obvious grammatical mistakes, it reads in quite an interesting fashion. I can't tell if you're serious or not, but it's impressive for a shit post. Not my cup of tea though, but I can see a market for a certain crowd.

I critiqued this Elvira thing last time lol. I don't have time to read the whole thing, but I'll give you my first impressions:
>For Elvira, however -
O.K. I can see what you're trying to do, but it's not really something I've ever seen done, so be wary of breaking off like that. It's not tacky, but it does remind me of a TV show. Nothing wrong with being postmodern and taking tropes from somewhere else and making it anew. I think generally it's a little too flowery. I think you should tone it down a little bit, since it's a children's story - correct me if I'm wrong. Go for evocative, yet simple, language. Bringing back the semi-colon is cool, you don't misuse it like other user.

>not mere clay
Not very musical. I think the only way 10 syllables per line work is to have a good iambic pentameter. Read more Shakespeare, maybe.
>It's only fitting that our Muse be Greek
I like that line, much better.

>Are you sure that's how you use those?
There's nothing wrong with the semicolon. You're reading "aggressively" as an additional list item by mistake as though the semi were being used as a comma.

>Bringing back the semi-colon
>it's gone
lol

>Bringing back the semi-colon is cool, you don't misuse it like other user.
He is, go look at the first usage:

>Only fourteen and she was already up to the level of the grand masters in the history of mages and sorcerers; truly a prodigy of her time.
You use a comma there; "truly a prodigy of her time" doesn't stand by itself, and there aren't any other commas in the sentence so you can't call it a hypercomma.

I can read it more now that I've posted my jay pegs.
>He stretched out his arms as quick as a flash
I think you should always avoid cliches like "quick as a flash". Not particularly evocative, I mean, it doesn't add to the action.
>and screamed as the wolf, or wolf-man, struggling to stand on two bent legs, much like a human, got up as his size had advertised – ten-feet tall.
I think this reads too much like a Dickens novel where he was paid by the word. Be concise. There's a bit too much being crammed into one sentence.
>‘What banner did they carry?’
>Elvira scrunched her face trying to remember.
>‘Umm, it was a symbol of a sword – all red, by the way – and two roses: one red and one white. And atop the blade of the sword–’

I used to write stuff like this when I did fantasy. Having characters giving a perfect, detailed explanation of a banner or sigil is a bit unbelievable. I get you're trying to explain the army or house, or whatever, but it sort of detracts from the story.
>'B-by the majesty's decree,'
Also, a note. Probably calm down on the false starts. Elvira does it all the time. It sounds like everyone in this story is in an anime, sorry.

Alright, don't listen to me then. I'm not that good at the semi-colon.

You're correct to say that the sentence is funny. The actual problem with the line you pointed out was that there should have been a comma after "aggressively" (though it's sonic so fuck the rules), and he's also putting an adverb before both the subject and verb of the clause, which is dangerous (but i'm not sure if it counts as passive voice).

Semicolons do two things: they join independent clauses and function as hypercommas or supercommas or whatever people call them now. So like "the subject did a thing; the thing acted as a subject in the next independent clause," or making a list of lists, like "city, state; city, state; city, state," (assuming the states are being paired with their cities properly).

I like it, I think it's acceptable to hand a poem to a girl that you know really well. But if you haven't known each other that long, don't do it
read the first part. it reads easy, but some of the dialogue is a bit contradicting- sometimes very polite language and then a character uses butt/weirdos. keep it consistent, even for a children's fantasy. and it's funny that it's a magical world but the character thinks a talking animal is totally wack. you could also use more show/don't tell. you really shouldn't have a character attempt to kill herself in the beginning of a children's story imo, even if it's supposed to be overly dramatic.

There are such things as perfect movements,
Perfect gestures, perfect glances
That stab the viewer's heart as if by lances
They are brief,momentary
Very, very rarely
Can someone at all times move as this
But when one sees them it is total bliss
Something comforting in the arcing motion of the arm
As one dances and displays their charm
Or sometimes the cant of their head
As they pause in speech and smile instead.

There is a candidate running for the board of education in my state by the name of Drew Fincher. I first met Drew around two months ago, when I was detailing the candidate’s profiles to be published in different newspapers. Drew was sitting in the boardroom with an assistant and someone else, who I think was a faculty member for one of the local high schools. Drew looked like any typical school-passionate father, with clean cut hair, an average frame, and pinched eyes that showed his age. He gave me a friendly greeting as I let myself inside. The faculty member excused himself outside and the assistant ticked away at her computer as we went about discussing his various future plans and goals. His major principles included reducing waste and encourage recycling, improving the current budget in regard to extracurriculars, and expanding smaller schools to include the growing number of families. As I was jotting these notes, he seemed to notice the Scooby-Doo sticker on my phone case, and commented that he liked it.
"Thanks, I got it at a Halloween party." A Transformer the size of a child had stolen my phone and planted the sticker when I was looking the other way.
Drew's gaze focused on me. "You like cartoons?"
I didn't have any special opinion on cartoons, and haven't for at least ten years, but I felt something incredibly invasive by his expression. "I used to watch Spongebob. Does that count?"
Drew chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "Of course, my kids watch Spongebob." He clasped his hands together. "I like Evangelion," he stated coolly, like he was picking his favorite wine.
"Evangelion?" I ran the word through my mind, but my memory recesses failed. "I'm afraid I haven't seen that one."
He waved his hand. "It's an old one. Originally from Japan." He swiveled in his chair. I looked down at my calendar and wondered how this topic diverged.
"I never would have guessed you like anime," I jokingly chided.
He didn't say anything. The assistant, Mrs. Edenborough, had rarely spoken since I arrived. There were two small questions that I wanted to implore before leaving. I straightened up, "About the criminal incident that happened last year in West County, with the young transfer student- he said that he was a gang member, but the high school found no evidence of any gang related activity in the past five years or so."
(1/2)

(2/2)
"Yes, there was no evidence. That particular area has never been known to house high criminal activity. We do big measures to keep things safe for the students." He flattened his hands. "There could be some students who really are in a gang, but they attend schools outside the district or a student has never brought it to our attention before."
Drew provided the last of what I needed. I stood up, and Drew and Mrs. Edenborough followed, and we all shook hands. His hand simultaneously dove for something in his pocket and he offered it to me.
"Here, for good luck."
It was a piece of purple and green plastic with long arms and legs, and blades protruding from the shoulders. It looked like a monster from Scooby-Doo. "What is this?"
Again, he gave me a distant, tightlipped smile. I was unsure of whether to laugh at this point, so I said my thanks and my farewells to the candidate and assistant, and placed the gift in my bag.
Outside, I stole a closer look at the good luck charm. It had flexible joints and a rotating neck. Examining it now, it resembled more of a robot than a monster, a character from a foreign television show. I knew that Drew was not a fresh candidate. He had presented to the Board of Education before, but this experience was fresh for me. I could not find any source that Drew stowed good luck charms in his suit pocket, or that he was a fan of a Japanese children’s series. I would have an interesting story to tell the office, I thought. But a piece of my conscious also shied away from the idea. The idea was almost too bizarre, too abnormal to be said out loud. The next few days would leave me fence-sitting on publishing today's information, while next few weeks would reveal several more incidents more bizarre than the previous regarding Drew Fincher.

Thanks for the critique anons, I'll keep these in mind!

86 rhyme, makes you stilted
86 "very" such a useless word
86 "one" again, stilted

Appreciate it.
You mean rhyming in general, or just the manner of my rhyme?
I will admit it already feels embarassing. But I like the last line.

Testing
for some reason I keep getting "connection error" when I try to post

For some reason I can't post my crit: I get "connection error" every time I try (and not "over word limit") etc

Here's a paste of my post: pastebin.com/Np1WZVcp

posted a couple of these pretty deep in a thread a while back, but got a pretty good reception. this is the first of a crown of sonnets I'm writing just to see how I am at poetry

The artist takes a bended knee.
In him I see myself.
He takes all that he wants to be,
Displays it on a shelf

He knocks upon an open door,
He loots an empty room.
Towards his subject he implores,
"How did you meet your doom?"

He ponders on the early graves
Of heroes, queens and kings.
The battlefield inlaid with glaives,
He starts the road and sings.

His mind is blown off with the wind
A place unknown, to return again

I'll post more if there's interest

On the beach

Time struck past nine.
-waves washed away the fabric of my thoughts;
The whole world seemed to be mine, maybe it was a daydream.
Maybe it could be bought, just a simple thought.

A star gleamed and glittered, as if to steal my attention.
Otherworldy, out of this dimension.
Oh how I wish to just touch one, to let it play and dance upon my fingertips.
Not to follow any script, to be my eclipse.

To shine so bright; to cry out loud.
Maybe they were lonely, maybe it was just me.

Just starting out, all critique would be wonderful

>I'll post more if there's interest
This line really feels out of place. Kind of tonally inconsistent with the rest of your piece.

>The battlefield inlaid with glaives,
this is the only bad line

>Towards his subject
"-ords sis su-" ...do you think "Towards the" would be clear enough? It sounds better but it could cause the line to be misinterpreted as "towards the subject which he implores" rather than "he implores towards the subject."

>queens and kings
Not used to seeing this in that order. It "and kings" really dips; I rose up really fast on the "i" in "kings" while reading it the first time. Might just be me though, I can see why you need it for the rhyme.

>"-ords sis su-"
I half take that back, it's starting to grow on me

Seems like you only thought once about each line. The phrasing is consistently horrible

yeah, I had trouble with it when I wrote it, but it's actually some nice syzygy

ah, and here I thought that was the killer line

>He loots an empty room
I'm ; consider "to loot an empty room". to-loot, to-wards; I think it rolls you into the "-ords sis su-" a little better.

I don't like the hyphen or the indentation (or lack thereof) in that first part, but it reads well the second time through.

From there onward it sounds goofy even on subsequent readthroughs.

>From there onward
onward from the first part I mean, not onward from the second readthrough