Post the first paragraph of your novel

For as long as he could recall--without it being a cliche, which, too, haunted him--he always had a soft spot for that type of person who could sit down next to you and talk to you about whatever in the world might be the right thing to talk about in that moment, and (our character recalls even further), if he had to choose the one man who succeeded at this daily task the most, it would be his old pal Yule Berrett, who used to sit and shoot the shit as well as literally recount stories of how he used to sneak into classrooms after school and lay small wet deer turds of his own on each and every school desk that he could in such a way that if someone walked in it would take them a good honest-to-god minute (bar the smell) to realize these brown little care packages weren't over-sized Hershey Kisses.

>your novel
>novel
I'm not a faggot though

Try-hard pleb tier

Repulsive and homosexual

?

le epic may may XD

Not bad

kys

3/10

Boring

In the small town in which our story begins we zoom in on a rather peculiarly looking cat, a fella named Jazz Parkins, who is busy at his table scribbling away what seems to be a rough draft of his masterpiece concept album "He Who Does Does Not" and, if we look closer, we can see that on the tip of the pen he is using to finish the lyrics to this piece that will go on only to be mentioned here and there until inevitably it only exists in the archives, if it's lucky, we see, on the tip of this ballpoint pen, the tiniest, microscopic fleck of shit leftover from when Jazz was poking around down there at the school after hours because he could smell from far away that someone had laid one of them nasty brown bombers where they shouldn't've, those rascals.

Good up until
>if he had to choose the one man who succeeded at this daily task the most, it would be his old pal Yule Berrett
The conscious cliche at the outset mitigates it in the beginning, but this is also quite cliche and gives the whole an insipid tone.

>Crouching spider-rape in the Oval Office, eating lost tapes in agonizing pedophilia; red lining on female circuits. The furnished Suits feast their elderly gifts upon Jove's flesh; the fugue occurs on the grange.

Actually good criticism. Thank you.

>I surrendered my moral conscience to the fact that I was a soldier, and therefore a cog in a relatively low position of a great machine. When one enters, at the sight of those landscapes, these figure studies, these simple designs, all of them violent in colour, one prepares to examine their intentions, to learn their theories. And one feels completely in the realm of abstraction. Don't piss on the seat, even if they did. It's bad luck. Remember what we once were and what we thought we'd be. And now this. This vital fluid. No less necessary in the constitution of the world than are the other parts.
How would you word this?

Beware My Purple Prose

Basking in the flowery glow of the moon, like a photonegative viper powering through a lump in its gut, I too am processing this weird energy to quash a squirming pest within myself. The radiant emptiness of the sky above that houses the lone stone luna is framed by the tree tops of a shadowy canopy. A canopy of crawling things that poison, maim, and feast on each other on the periphery of what I've come to know as a quiet refuge of peace and stillness. Players in a game running concomitant with our own. Eat or be eaten. Kill or be killed. Bill or be billed. Systems that funnel our basest instincts into beings of ruthless competition. Crunching leaves mangle the mood. In mere moments the lump outgrows its vessel, and I have become the rat.

>Eat or be eaten. Kill or be killed. Bill or be billed.
Remove that

>tfw constantly destroy what I write feeling it's not good enough
>browse these threads and feel better
thanks for the self-esteem boost you cretins

Thank you.
It's times like this I'm glad I'm a singer and not a writer.

Post a paragraph

nice try but I'm going to be the next JK Martin King and won't have you steal my millions

Some guy posted something and it was the best thing I've ever read. Then they deleted it after like a minute...

~3 minutes of editing

Basking in the moonglow, like photonegative pythons with lumps in their gullets, I process a weird energy to rid the squirming eels within. Empty skies radiate nothingness above houses the great lonely luna is framed with tree tops forming a shadowy canopy. A canopy of crawling poison, maiming, and feasting on the periphery of what I've come to know as a
refuge of stillness. Players in a game running concomitant with our own. Life feeds on life. Systems turn our base instincts into flesh-beings of ruthless competition.
Crunch.
Leaves mangle the mood. Moments pass and the lump outgrows its vessel, and I become the rat.

His voice became a roar, then a buzz and finally silence as my nails scraped the grooves in the wooden desk. Nails, then fingertips running over the creases in the wood, over and over against the grain. As I stop my hand’s smooth motions and turn my wrist 90 degrees, to run this time with the grain, I feel as if my hand is simultaneously running over the wood and down my own spine. A shiver rises up to my shoulder blades and my chest expands with some invisible force. My eyes widen, my feet move to their tiptoes under the desk, my breathe quickens.

I see mr dowd looking at me and push hard against the muscles in my face which are trying to smile.

He asks me a question.

The first half of his sentence is impossible to catch as his words cannot pull me back into the room fast enough.

I can feel my face is hot but I’m not even really sure what the question was about so I can’t fake an answer.

I allow the silence to defeat him.

Mr dowd looks haughty and makes some joke at my expense and I lower my eyes accordingly. As soon as his back is turned I take my chance to stare out the window with no pretence of having learnt something from this chastisement. It is raining and I imagine the cold of the glass and the droplets speeding diagonally across it and my own warmth in the hot classroom and my eyes roll back lazily as I feel both at once. I suddenly feel a rush of frustration that I am sitting in the middle of the room and cannot feel the icy breath coming off the windows surface outside of my imagination.

She squirms on the bed and I touch her soft naked legs. I caress her figure and her womanly fluids spill across the bedding. Tomorrow I’ll have to clean the bedding. I won’t be able to sleep tonight because I’ll be thinking of the bedding that needs cleaning. I also need to clean the kitchen floor, and I have been neglecting doing personal exercise, I said I would only drink water but I had coffee this morning. I want to be better so why am I wasting my time with her? I grip her leg and she yelps. I push her off the bed and tell her to leave. She stomps towards her clothes and bags, exits the room, and leaves the apartment. I gather the sheets and take them to the laundry room, stuff them in the machine, and add detergent. I’ll sleep on the floor tonight it will be good for my back.

Lot of words to say exactly nothing. Good word, concomitant, but you waste it with such an immediately uninteresting character.

Did college teach you all how to write unexceptionally or did you come into your own mediocrity?

where is your paragraph?

Unlike you fucks I'm actually taking steps to be published and I will not have that ruined by associating my work with this website.

But I'll humor you. Give me a book idea. Anything. As specific as you want, and I'll write you an opening paragraph.

Pale Fire written by a buzzed porn producer

Attached: Untitled1.png (712x289, 92K)

It doesn't really work. It kind of reads like you used a thesaurus to look up less used words in place of a common word you were originally going to use. Also, put thoughts in quotes. It looks really tacky the way you have it right now. Also it's obvious you forced some words in, such as cacophony, which you could have organically written into the previous sentence.

All in all it screams high school creative writing class to me, and it uses a lot of words without actually managng to say anything unique or interesting.

What I will say, however, is that you started, and resultantly you've already made it further than 90% of the people here.

Charles was the only dog that James had ever had in his 25 years of life. He was also destined to be the last, for reasons other than James' steadfast attachment to the faithful and only companion of his young adulthood. In the dingy, beat-up house he rented in a rural area of Virginia, Charles served as both guard and friend to his lonesome master. Whenever James came home from his long and tedious days of proofreading sheet after sheet of meaningless legal documents, he breathed a sigh of happy relief at the doorstep, his mind and body preparing for the sweet, warm affection of his loyal mutt. As James nestled his cold hands in the soft fluff of Charles' back and embraced the dog - which was now licking his face and whimpering with joy at his master's homecoming - he realized that Charles had been his only source of physical contact and emotional stability in the three long years since he had left college and moved away from Richmond. Most of his neighbors were solitary, rural folk, born and bred in the Appalachian habit of distrusting new people from big cities. They were not hostile or unkind, but they kept to themselves, being mostly relations - and some more related than outsiders would care for.

An "original" plot (it doesnt have to be a good idea) you dumb fuck I'm not doing [published book] meme edition

A boy falls in love with a girl.
Unable to confess, he is gifted with by a deus ex machina with the girl’s phone number. Never minding the strange area code, he immediately calls her, and is overjoyed to find out that she has a crush on him as well.
But, the next day, when he recounts the previous day’s confessions to the girl, she only looks at him with a perplexed expression. After some investigation, he finds out that the girl he called is not the same girl he fell in love with. In fact, she doesn’t exist in this universe at all. She is the girl’s alternate universe counterpart, who has fallen in love with the MC’s own AU self, who too is blissfully unaware of her crush.
Hijinks ensue as the two strike up a deal to give each other their darkest, most private secrets in order to equip the other with the weapons they need to conquer the heart of their other selves. While the two chase their respective loved ones, DRAMA ensues as they begin to fall in love with each other instead and question the NATURE of LOVE.

This is a cute and interesting idea.

The people aren't going to question the NATURE of LOVE though. Each couple is going to get together in its own universe and all will be well and all will be well and all manner of things will be well.
I don't feel at all guilty about stealing this idea since you probably stole it from somewhere. Even if you didn't, all I have to do is publish mine first and then YOURS will look like the copy. Yes!

NOW we're cooking

I'll write a first and third person opening paragraph to this fake book fast

There was no shortage of electricty in the air thanks to Central Power's static initiative, and all around the city singles and couples alike shared moments of halfhearted affection and conquettish boredom. After an hour of talking around his unprofessed love, the mindling salesman decided to say goodnight to a woman he'd fawned over since they met at the train station two hours earlier. After walking away to bury his insecurity into an empty night he realized that by mimicing his cool friend Brandon he neglected to even ask for her name, opting to "live like the conversation breathes," which he surely didn't understand. He was happy that he'd managed such a positive interaction with someone he was very atrracted to without spilling his weirdness all over her (they peppered suchly on each other to mutual enjoyment) but he feared that for the rest od his life he would compare his feelings and women with a randon person he talked to once, never able to love in earnest. He'd never seen her before that day but he figured she had to live in the city, remembering one of the first things she mentioned was that she usually commutes earlier. He his first three sick days of his employment to scan the train station and hope to run into her but when he returned home empty handed he resigned to add this fantasy to a growing list of missed opportunity.

It sounds as though you might actually have a story in mind here which is more than most people can claim. However this paragraph certainly needs rewrites.

>in his 25 years of life
This sounds a bit awkward. You're trying to get two facts across - a) James is 25 and b) Charles is the only dog he's ever had - but they aren't really related and joining them like this just sounds weird. I would be tempted simply to drop "in his 25 years of life" and if you really feel the need to tell the reader how old James is, work it in or imply it later.

>He was also destined to be the last, for reasons other than James' steadfast attachment to the faithful and only companion of his young adulthood.
This is just confusing. Emphasizing "for reasons other" suggests that this is not what would naturally be expected. But being steadfastly attached to your dog doesn't make it obviously more likely it will be your *last* dog. (It could be argued that if you like your dog, you like dogs, so you'll definitely get another one after it dies.)

>In the dingy, beat-up house he rented in a rural area of Virginia, Charles served as both guard and friend to his lonesome master.
Charles didn't rent the house :) You're confusing which "he" is the subject of the sentence - Charles or James.

>meaningless legal documents
You need to make it a bit more clear that this is just how James feels about the documents (they aren't literally meaningless, are they?)

>As James nestled his cold hands in the soft fluff of Charles' back
Since you're already talking about James coming home, it surely flows much better to say "As he nestled..."?

Lemme know of anyone wants the first person version because I like this enough

Thanks bb
It's actually just a short story that I wrote in one sitting and haven't edited yet so a lot of this is very helpful
Going to go through soon and focus on readability

On the last night of November of 2026, a cloudy sky hung above a large patch of woods in Utah, made up of bare trees and a ground covered in red and orange leaves. The leaves under those clouds were coated wet and shiny from a drizzle that was gently coming down at the time, and the sky it came from had been partially obscured by increasingly thickening hazes of smoke. A dim light permeated itself from the middle of the forest and penetrated through the hazy air. It slowly grew brighter and brighter as the seconds passed. It was nearly reminiscent of a rising sun, were it not for the fact that it was close to three in the morning. The real sunrise was over four hours away. Both cold and hot air carried the distant sirens of fire trucks and police cars alike. A handful of embers drifted through the air like the seeds of dandelions. One of the wandering embers descended to the ground and hovered above a pile leaves nestled in a small puddle of dirty water. In that instance, the puddle splashed under the shoe of a sprinting man whom was clad in a brown leather jacket, fleeing from the immense fire that was now eating away at the decayed wilderness behind him.

meant for

Stealing this thanks for the future feminist lit award

le epic reddit XDXD

:XO imma make this a wirting prompt!!!!!!! am i right guys!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! remember to subsrcirbe and ubpoat XD XD

Lets see your writing you infantile spit shiner

It's funny you say it's still too purple after 50% of the words are edited out of the other guy's original paragraph

I think the guy who edited in ~3 minutes was just joking around, the entire reason I even wrote that was because I liked the phrase photo negative viper.

absolute shit. you are not a writer
haha sofanny
i like it but it's not as clever as it could be. San Narcisco? fucking really?
i love reading this
trash town

§ 1
Jesus wept.

The plebs in this thread who haven't read pynchon, jfc

>Crouching spider-rape

I don't understand how the first line relates to anything else. What is one entering?

Attached: Screen shot 2018-03-17 at 7.03.32 PM.png (713x136, 39K)

Imagine being a novelcuck

On the day of my first communion, I remember that our bonsai died. Mom tried to venture into the unprobable task of consolation, saying "these little trees have their own time, you know", saying that they have their own ways of being and that we need to respect them, and that, even with all the care in the world, sometimes they just let themselves go. Yes. If I remember it well, the alveolar leaves that branched out of its trunk, stretching out toward the sun, looked carved by particles of arsene. The triumph of disintegration, making everything fade with its impressionisms: a peeling mirror, a sciatic clogged by thrombosis, a whole life submerged in this quantum tin. The splendor and the panic of these life cycles closing before us and against our will.

*improbable

Sorry, this was translated to English.

This is incredibly nice, but the sciatic is a nerve, not a blood vessel.

Shit. Isn't the sciatic nerve pressured by the clogging of backleg vessels though?

Yeah. Just go with femoral artery if you want something in the legs

Thx

He took out his gun and BOOM BOOM BANG BANG and then the other guy took out his gun and went BANG BANG BOOM BOOM and then after that this other guy was like BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BANG from his gun and then after that this woman came in and was like BANG BANG BOOM BOOM and then after that three of the people were dead so Jane and her brother stately plump sat in a room surrounded by heads and bodies.

Cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt. Cunt? Cunt. Cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt, cunt cunt!

Pynch?

The Storm
I am dying now, but I still have many things to say. I used to be at peace with myself. Quiet and at peace. But it all blew up unexpectedly. That wizened youth is to blame. I was at peace. I am no longer at peace. There are a couple of points that have to be cleared up. So, propped up on one elbow, I will lift my noble, trembling head, and rummage through my memories to turn up the deeds that shall vindicate me and belie the slanderous rumors the wizened youth spread in a single storm-lit night to sully my name. Or so he intended.

nice kek

See

Thoughts?

Julius Caesar!

>"Call me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off—then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or—" I shut the book. It had sat on my grandfather's desk for as long as I could remember, but now the man was no more.

You should write a book about reading moby dick

it's okay 7/10

>implying the entire text of moby dick isn't already quoted
>implying it's not mostly about carefully reading the seafaring parts

fag

>He then put his penis into her vagina and they commenced the act of mating.
too mechanical, what about "He then, proceeded to shag her"?

>Beneath the cover of darkness lies the twisted bosom of a mythical beast. Its stomach, once engorged with barrels containing piles of precious material collapsed under the force of nature’s unforgiving wrath. Slain, the beast fell and with it sunk the languishing spirits of ancient sailors carrying great secrets. Trapped between this world and the next, the souls of the sunken wail for absolution. Their cries pierce the veil of existence, finding discourse within the dreams of men drawn to the promise of great adventure and even greater fortune.

>it was raw. it was real. It was ridiculous.

Attached: Teacher.png (652x523, 36K)

>I am dying now, but I still have many things to say.
Cut out 'now' and 'but'
> I used to be at peace with myself. Quiet and at peace. But it all blew up unexpectedly.
'Myself" and 'quiet' can be linked together with a semi-colon or a em dash and a comma between 'peace' and 'but'
>I was at peace.
Cut this out, it's already been clearly stated beforehand
> There are a couple of points that have to be cleared up.
This looks awkward, rewrite it so it fits the poetics of the rest of the paragraph
>So, propped up on one elbow, I will lift my noble, trembling head
Pick a word that encompasses both noble and trembling—the words don't go well together in conjunction, even for their conflicting nature. Also replace 'will' with 'shall'
>and rummage through my memories to turn up the deeds that shall vindicate me and belie the slanderous rumors the wizened youth spread in a single storm-lit night to sully my name.
get rid of 'the' in "to turn up the deeds"
you don't need to use wizened a second time
>Or so he intended.
You are switched from first person to third person narration which looks sloppy. Keep it consistent

The Storm
I am dying, I still have many things to say. I used to be at peace with myself; quiet and at peace. But it all blew up unexpectedly. That wizened youth is to blame. I am no longer at peace. For there is something I need to clear up. So, propped up on one elbow, I shall lift my decadent head, and rummage through my memories to turn up deeds that shall vindicate me and belie the slanderous rumors the youth spread in a single storm-lit night to sully my name. Or so I believe he intended.

>Pick a word that encompasses both noble and trembling
That's not easy haha, I changed the words for a different one, but maybe I should go with either 'noble' or 'trembling'.

>You are switched from first person to third person narration which looks sloppy. Keep it consistent.
You mean because the narrator sounded too omniscient? I did a little change there to make it more subjective.

What do you think?

Wavering?

Good choice.

Also, should I change 'youth' for 'boy' or something similar?

You can always do something along the lines of " I shall lift my trembling head up high" which would then show that even though it is trembling, the character himself has noble qualities.

>"Or so I believe he intended."
This just looks weird. I think the issue lies that "Or so he intended" is vague and looks like a switch from first to third person narrative, when it's actually the narrator speaking of the 'wizened youth'.

>So, propped up on one elbow, I shall lift my decadent head, and rummage through my memories to turn up deeds that shall vindicate me and belie the slanderous rumors the youth spread in a single storm-lit night to sully my name.
Looking at this again it's a bit of a run on sentence. It either needs to broken up into segments, or shortened.

Just some nitpicky suggestions here:
>I am dying, yet I still have many things to say.
> I used to be at peace with myself; quiet and at peace, but it all blew up unexpectedly.
>That wizened youth is to blame I am no longer at peace and I must make reconciliations.
>And propped up on one elbow, I shall life my trembling head up high, and rummage through memory to turn reveal deeds that shall vindicate me and belie the slanders the youth spread in a storm-lit night to sully my name.

I like youth. I like child more than boy. Wizened son sounds similar to rising sun.

What do you guys think? Hoping to send it off to publishers next year.

Attached: First Lines.png (1327x373, 78K)

The Storm
I am dying, yet I still have many things to say. I used to be at peace with myself; quiet and at peace, but it all blew up unexpectedly. That wizened youth is to blame I am no longer at peace and I must reconcile. And then, propped up on one elbow, I shall lift my trembling head up high, and rummage through my memories to turn up those vindicating deeds and belie the slanders the youth spread in a storm-lit night to sully my name.

Sorry, I deleted the other version. What did you say?

It's certainly improved and I think we both know you can improve it even further, but I wouldn't bother lingering on it. Write the rest of your story and be prepared for endless rewrites and editing—that's where the real writing happens.

Phineas blew his nose in an uninteresting way and sighed as he looked into the tissue. Yellow and green, just like his heart. He wondered if it might be appropriate in this situation to simply throw the tissue on the sidewalk rather than search for a trashcan, but after several minutes decided to place the now crumpled tissue in his pocket and begin the hunt. "I will rue it," he muttered. It was a big city after all.

Thanks for taking the time, user!

>an uninteresting way
Be more specific.

I thought it was charming. I think "simply" may have been a tad superfluous, but that's my only qualm.

It really is not worth expounding upon. He said himself it was uninteresting, notably so.

It's the word 'uninteresting' that does not convince me. 'Boring'? 'In a boring manner'? I don't know.

It's ironic because the vague description makes you wonder about what it would look like, even though it says it was uninteresting.

thats true.

I like this. Obviously it needs rewriting to shed the clunky repetition of "tissue", but the tone is maintained perfectly.
Usually when someone on Veeky Forums says something like "I will rue it", they sound silly. Here it's just right. (It's still silly obviously, but silly in exactly the way it's meant to be.)
Read and learn, Veeky Forumsfags.