Unironically phenomenal prose until you ruin it with over-the-top try hard irony
Critique Thread
Colton Garcia
Brayden White
ew
Hunter Davis
Not very good. It just reads as generic and cliche, it reminds me almost of Rupi Kuar in its structure. The first line about a great warrior was just enough to put me off. Keep trying though.
Pretty good, though I feele you are restraining yourself a bit. Dig deeper into the picture, find things that aren't obvious. Look at the image you saw from a different point of view, and try to see what angles you can get. The posture carrying the characteristics of rebellion was a nice line.
Anyway here is mine. Rip me apart, yo.
Connor Torres
it's eloquent, it's easy to read but it doesn't feel like a child wrote it,
I read half of it though, can't comment on the ending because I should be studying right now
Colton Ramirez
That episode of Lost was co-written with the director, JJ Abrams, which explains the directorial notes in the text. In your circumstance, which is "on spec," is right about directorial specifics.
The dialog will limit your market choices to premium cable, which leaves out a lot of possibilities. The middle sags, like most middles, while we introduce all the characters and places and relationships, like drinking vodka outside in the middle of the day. Haven't today's late teens thought up any new and different ways to be delinquent?
I don't think you mean to black out the "screen" before the street lights, since that would mean we (viewers) won't be able to see the street lights go out. And presumably all the lights go out, not just the street lights. If this is going where it looks.
I would think really very hard about every word that every characters speaks. Not only from the point of view of "would viewers want to hear this line" and "does this line propel us forward in the story" but also, and this is television so dying for art is out of the question, "are there actors out there who would want to read this line, take this part, be remembered for their careers as this character?"
Because Hollywood thinks that way.
Finally, do the rules for TV elide the normal movie screenplay convention of capitalizing on-screen props that are required and sound effects that must be generated? Like AXE instead of "axe" and SIREN instead of "siren?" Because I took hell from some agent at a meet and greet one time for not doing it right. First thing, before the content even registered. They are prickly about that stuff.
Thomas Smith
I got through on the strength of the conceit. We are in the tradition of Paradiso, all the way through to Heaven Can Wait, and What Dreams May Come.
Each new detail made me less happy to continue. It is possible this can turn around, but the mysteries are all unhappy and obviously the pious will hate it. I hope it is not a theological polemic masquerading as fiction. An interesting start that needs to really pay off to become something.
Joseph Kelly
"Aisle 28."
I am the watchman.
Alone in the warehouse.
Long after everybody has packed up, gone home and gone to sleep, I alone walk the aisles.
It is easy work.
Make sure nobody enters.
Prevent theft or trespassing.
Myself, my flask and my flashlight.
Trusty companions.
Loud tonight.
There is a strong wind howling against the metal shell of the building.
I pass aisle 10.
I do a rap-atap-tap atop a box of shoes. Same as every night.
A whole lot of stock in this place.
Clothes, footwear, confectionary.
Its my duty to keep it in place.
I stroll up aisle 18.
Rap-atap-tap on a box of jeans.
The wind is picking up.
Howling like a madman.
Aisle 24. Rap-atap-tap to a box of ladies blazers.
I turn up aisle 28.
I freeze.
My flashlight hits the floor.
A solitary box sits in the centre of the aisle.
"HELLO WATCHMAN" scrawled on the front in black ink.
I'm not alone.
The wind shrieks.
An excerpt.
Jaxon Morales
Mine is in the form of a video
youtube.com
Noah Evans
once a poet plead my court
willing death but never loss
loving even past her life
her song his soul's only breath
but unmoved I bid him go
I own no tears, only gold
so words failing he just stood
quiet in my court with woe
though he played with peerless skill
it was only silence found
sprung from granite tears of lead
no pain worse than words unsaid
drowned in river waters his
bloated corpse rose once again
singing joy reunion found
dead and floating down the river
Colton Bailey
Polygon Cathedral/American Poetry
Here, I Am standing
with my body
in Polygon Cathedral.
The mechanical force
of its emptiness Surges
among the cybernetic light
of rigid colored windows
and the unsounding
organ Within me.
Now I Am sitting, Here
my unfurled eyelids
expose the 62—Furiously
counted 1 September—miles
between them and
the pupils, the dark
transparent mounds
that birth and devour
Earthy irises incessantly.
Pixels of borrowed window
seep into the 62
and torment the cloudy
figures There—the Gods of
walking down the stairs
and digging a hole
and finding things
you've never seen
and putting things
you've never seen
into the Ground—
with quick bursts of light.
* * * *
It Is outside, Now
there are friends
to talk to and everything
is green or grey.
I can look at This
animal before me
being American Poetry,
firm and shadowy,
while a harsh
intangible landscape
flickers in my eyes.
pic related, it me