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Mr.BS

The Writers Block

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EDIT:

 

If you don't feel like reading all this (mainly my pieces in a feeble attempt to push participation) then visit Degrassi's website at http://theartistsmuse.proboards82.com/index.cgi . Go ahead and register if you feel it, or if all that hassle (lazy) is too much, feel free to use this thread.

 

Aye, I don't know if this has been done before - done searched, promise - but it has been my personal notice that alot of the writing pieces (poetry included) doesn't get quite as many views as do the photos and paintings, et al. So I propose to group all of the writers in one place, so we may de-clutter this section of the board, and hopefully get some more feedback from people who actually practice the art of the written word. Even if you just want to post your own piece (without reading mine :'() then have at it by all means. I suppose that I want to create something of a writers forum on the muse board, if at all possible.

 

I'll start.

 

I must warn you, this piece is slightly out there, vaguely from my perspective, haven't decided. But, enjoy!

 

The tree's, they talk to each other I'm sure. They must. As do the rocks, the grains of sand, the fields of weeds. There's even a communion between the rays of light and the droplets of rain. There must be. The trees, and all other environmental chess pieces, speak in tongues, true, and although we humans will never comprehend their swaying in the wind as sublime euphoria, we may yet learn some simple blabberings.

For instance: when a leaf hangs limp during the passing of a nearby cloud, it sighs with satisfaction to all who care to pay attention. When a tree moans before a strong gust, she becomes a pragmatist. She has survived many a breeze, many a storm before, but she will not survive them all. She knows this. The breeze knows this. Sooner or later a gust will render her proud trunk broken, her leaves scattered about the land, and her roots naked for all to see. But she also knows it is not this day, nor the next, nor the gust which has yet to be imagined. She ultimately only fears the luckless day when she stands alone, bearing the brunt of a merciless onslaught; so long as her roots playfully tease her neighbors, she rests with an easy and clear conscience.

I don't pretend to be a Rosetta stone of sorts for all that grow in the earth, but I can fathom some of their mystique. They have, in their ancient wisdom, an unimaginable head start in understanding; we are a mere blip on their radar, but they are all we have ever known. Soon, just like many other blips, we will fade out, to be replaced by a new challenger, but the Tree with the Proud Trunk knows that as all blips rise so do all blips fade. Or as she would say directly, "The cold pierce of winter and the balmy zephyr of summer blow both from mother nature her self, but neither cares."

 

All right, so if you've bothered to read all that, thank you firstly. If you want to critique fine, but post your own stuff first off. Let us see where this thing will go.

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Heh, exactly the reason why I stopped posting my creative writing here, it just gets ignored.

 

I read through your piece, I'm a bit too out of it to add anything interesting at the moment so I'll just say I liked it for now!

 

And I thought this was going to be about Writers' block for a minute there :LOL:

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Hallelujah, I was almost thinking for a while that this too would be ignored.

 

And please Caff, do show your writing. Once a few people, specially someone as respected as yourself, start sharing and honestly critiquing each others stuff, others will join in, and we will have become... like the photography thread. Or something like that.

 

And thanks, for your out-of-it rating. I'm glad someone read it at least. And I figured we'd need a catchy name for our thread, and dead poets society was already taken.

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Hallelujah, I was almost thinking for a while that this too would be ignored.

 

And please Caff, do show your writing. Once a few people, specially someone as respected as yourself, start sharing and honestly critiquing each others stuff, others will join in, and we will have become... like the photography thread. Or something like that.

 

And thanks, for your out-of-it rating. I'm glad someone read it at least. And I figured we'd need a catchy name for our thread, and dead poets society was already taken.

 

Can we not have another sub-forum just for the writers, splitting it from the photography?

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Meh, it's worth asking the mods about, but I'm pretty sure that's something that isn't in the cards right now. Maybe if we show enough progress in this thread, that making a sub-forum would actually be used by a fair few many people, then they might.

 

I have always had delusions that what I see isn’t real. That my eyes deceive me. That I’m lying to myself. I’ve never had much proof, just a deep resonance in my heart and bones that there is a perpetual motion machine perpetually blowing smoke up everyone’s ass, perpetually causing a genuine and spiteful sense of will full ignorance.

No proof though. Just a hunch.

 

And that ladies and gents, is the introduction of a book I'm writing. I'm just going to keep posting my stuff until someone else joins in... which hopefully'll be sooner rather than later.

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Meh, it's worth asking the mods about, but I'm pretty sure that's something that isn't in the cards right now. Maybe if we show enough progress in this thread, that making a sub-forum would actually be used by a fair few many people, then they might.

 

I have always had delusions that what I see isn’t real. That my eyes deceive me. That I’m lying to myself. I’ve never had much proof, just a deep resonance in my heart and bones that there is a perpetual motion machine perpetually blowing smoke up everyone’s ass, perpetually causing a genuine and spiteful sense of will full ignorance.

No proof though. Just a hunch.

 

And that ladies and gents, is the introduction of a book I'm writing. I'm just going to keep posting my stuff until someone else joins in... which hopefully'll be sooner rather than later.

 

Well I already have a large thread with a fiction in it too :D It's getting a bit big lol

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Good thread, I'm sure to be posting in here once in a while. Don't think I'll post poetry or small stories though, since I'm not satisfied enough with my English that I'd throw it all open for everyone to read. Posting Finnish isn't going to be much use either.

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A couple of friends and I were thinking of starting a forum just for this kind of stuff (Musers who write). If a good amount of you guys are interested I'll post a link when it's all finished and pretty. Probably will have something in my sig as well.

 

Cheers lovelies. Write on.

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A couple of friends and I were thinking of starting a forum just for this kind of stuff (Musers who write). If a good amount of you guys are interested I'll post a link when it's all finished and pretty. Probably will have something in my sig as well.

 

Cheers lovelies. Write on.

 

That sounds like a great idea! Let us know when it happens :D

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That would actually be quite awesome Degrassi, do pass the link around. I'm just tired of posting some writing and sod all paying attention, instead passing on for photo or visual art threads...

 

Haha, and Bell's Piano, I think you're the exception rather than the rule. Does help that you are using the muse lads...

 

And cherry heat, this sub-forum or whatnot can only succeed if people feel safe per se in posting here, so any criticism must be constructive, unless they use 'kthnxbai' sort of language. Ha, notice that no one's commented on my stuff either :rolleyes:, if you slip it through here, doesn't guarantee any one will notice.

 

And now, for my next bit of work: Average Joe

He is the most average of the average of Joes. He drives a gray sedan to his white collared job where he works on computers five days a week. He toils from nine in the morning till five in the evening in his cubicle job, with an hour-long lunch break of course, and arrives home to his dark and relatively unfurnished apartment. He flips on the light switch, tosses in a microwavable dinner, and flips on the television to watch the latest hit show. For an hour he fumbles with the dinner, the TV remote, and his phone as it flickers on from time to time. After a shower to wash away the day’s toils, and a look to confirm what his belt already knows, he goes to his bed and turns on the alarm clock. Though the bed isn’t made he slips under the covers, and dreams the dream of those who don’t know any better. On Mondays he wakes with a start and a groan, on Tuesdays with a thud and a sigh, on Wednesdays with a startle and a bump, on Thursdays with a blink and a small grin, and on Fridays with a smile and expectation.

Throughout the day Friday he, and all his other coworkers, sneak glances at the clock if only to confirm that five o’clock is indeed five seconds closer then when they had last looked. Some of them skive off early with claims of illness and appointments, but this Joe is a loyal company man. At 5pm promptly he, and those left in the office, all make a mad rush to the parking lot. All very civilized of course, for that is part of the rules. There is no pushing, no shoving, no profanity, only a determined mind and a caustic look at those who dare delay the herd. Joe, along with all his compatriots, leaves the parking lot in such a haste that would put a serial speeder to shame. After the treacherous departure from work, he zips home for he has plans.

It is his typical Friday night routine; go home, get dressed, freshen up, go to the bar with his mates, get quite drunk, and stagger back to his apartment in the wee hours of the morning. He awakes with a hangover, and lurches around his apartment till his motor functions are somewhat functioning. Until Sunday night he spends his time with his friends, outside playing a sport, or inside watching a sporting event. However, as soon as 10pm Sunday comes to pass, he is in his bed ready for the next working day.

While his friends sometimes show sparks of initiative and independence, Average Joe chooses to remain an Average Joe. He subscribes to all the current trends, the current political beliefs, and even the current hairstyles. He likes being an Average Joe. He not only chooses to remain average, he embraces the image. He likes that no more than a couple people have knowledge of his existence. He likes the fact that those who do know of his existence either know him for his work ethic, or they know him as the designated driver for their drinking escapades on Saturday nights. He cultivates this image; he even goes so far as to take steps that make him the epitome of Average Joes. And these actions have the desired effect; nobody ever gets to know him personally, they never ask about his past, and, most importantly for Joe, they never question why he has the same job without promotion or raise in his entire career at the computer company.

And so many weeks, and months, and years pass in this same ritual, with of course the odd vacation or holiday, and there is still little to no variation. Then one Monday he awakes with a start and a groan, signifying that it is the first day of the workweek, but there is something else in this otherwise standardized routine. Something else he sees but cannot comprehend. Something he recognizes, but cannot understand the significance of. He asks himself what could this possibly be, for he is utterly befuddled as to what the unknown quality is. He stops, puzzled for a moment, and then dismisses the unknown quality, for what bearing can it possibly have on the rest of his day? He eats his standard breakfast, none, and heads out the door to his garage wherein lies his fuel-efficient gray sedan.

If he were to know this day would indeed be radically different from every prior day, would he carry it out any differently? Would he still drive his gray sedan to his white-collared job in the same fashion he believes he will drive it for the next four days? Would he still toil from precisely 9am till 5pm in his cubicle job? Would he alter his routine in the slightest, though it would merely postpone the inevitable?

He unlocks and starts the sedan, backs it out of the garage, and drives out of the apartment complex and on to work. He still has that unshakable feeling that something is indeed different and quite wrong with this day. He goes exactly the speed limit, to the despair and anger of those in back of him, checks his mirrors constantly, and slows down at even the hint of a yellow light. Things only get worse as he merges onto the highway; he almost creates several accidents in his paranoia. And still he checks his mirrors, goes precisely the speed limit, and keeps exactly two seconds behind the car before him. He takes his exit as he has taken countless times before, weaves in and out of traffic, and breathes a mammoth sigh of relief as soon as he pulls into his parking spot he has pulled into since he started working at his company so long ago. But wait, the paranoia has not yet left him! Almost in a frenzy now he dashes for whatever sanctity his cubicle can give him.

He swipes his ID badge through the machine, and as the door slides open he sprints through to his cubicle. He runs past a TV broadcasting a political advertisement for an ex-actor, and hangs a right at the vending machine because there lays his own part of the building. Practically lunging for his seat, he grabs a hold it as if he were a sailor holding onto the wreckage of a now sunken ship. And if it were even possible, his paranoia grows! He lets out a strangled yelp at the upsurge of horror, but this time remains firmly in his seat. Odd looks are cast at his cubicle by his coworkers, all of who promptly continue on with their analysis of the upcoming elections. Joe finally begins to steady himself, and finally musters the courage to turn on his computer. The usual loading screen pops up, and types in his password when prompted to. Now more or less composed into his usual façade, he opens his e-mail account. About half are the usual junk mail, but one immediately catches his eye. With no sender information, and a seemingly innocuous subject heading, it is one of the most perturbing things he has ever laid his eyes upon. With tremulous hands he double clicks on the e-mail to open it. As it is oh so slowly opens, all the paranoia he experienced before starts to return in steps and struggles, and then in leaps and bounds. Finally it opens with the typical sound, and so the e-mail reads:

 

IT WAS SO MANY YEARS AGO WHEN YOU FIRST SWORE YOUR ALLEGIANCE, BUT NOW YOU MUST MAKE GOOD ON THE OATH YOU TOOK. YOU ARE THE SWORD AND THE SHIELD OF THE STATE, NOW IS THE TIME TO SMITE THE CAPITALISTS WITH THEIR OWN WEAPONS. EXECUTE PLAN LIBERATION. GOOD LUCK, COMRADE.

 

With eyes wide and heart pulsing, Joe reads and rereads the e-mail until he is sure it cannot be a fraud. Then with quivering fingers he opens a command prompt. His very last act on this planet is to type into the command prompt, “Execute Plan Liberation.” Then with a crunch, one such crunch amongst thousands that morning, the cyanide pill disguised as a tooth slips down his throat and Joe, along with every other “Average Joe” around the country, begins to die. As his heart stops beating the lights go out, buildings collapse, and missiles begin to leave their silos at last.

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Haha, and Bell's Piano, I think you're the exception rather than the rule. Does help that you are using the muse lads...

.

 

I know :) I wouldn't post anything else here, coz like you are trying to prove, I'd fear that no one would read it :stunned:

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That would actually be quite awesome Degrassi, do pass the link around. I'm just tired of posting some writing and sod all paying attention, instead passing on for photo or visual art threads...

 

 

Cheers. We're still working on it...making sure everything is managable and not confusing.

Be posting a link soon for you. :happy:

 

Also. I loved that story. Felt very nihlistic and Palahnuik to me. Well done. :D

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I know :) I wouldn't post anything else here, coz like you are trying to prove, I'd fear that no one would read it :stunned:

 

Haha, just post what you've got. I promise I'll read it at least.

 

Cheers. We're still working on it...making sure everything is managable and not confusing.

Be posting a link soon for you. :happy:

 

Also. I loved that story. Felt very nihlistic and Palahnuik to me. Well done. :D

 

Finally, some feedback on some writing, thanks degrassi. And about how far off will this forum be, out of curiosity? So I know about how many more stories I'll burn trying to keep this thread alive...

 

. Soldier On

. The man had seen floods only Noah could know, scaled mountains whose heights only angels could tell, and swam oceans only Poseidon could say how wide. He had seen them, experienced them, and ultimately conquered them with only two words: Soldier on.

. He wasn't quite as young in mind, agile in step, granite in endurance as in former times, but he was still a force of nature. At least, so he thought; the man thought no thing, no animal, no person could ever possibly match him. Hubris? Certainly. Misplaced? Not entirely. Would he change? Yes, now.

. Before, every problem that dared obstruct his path had been abstract, almost intangible to the man. Yes of course they were matters of life and death, but none of it ever effected him personally. But a new demon arose on the horizon; taking his hope, his happiness, his glory, the demon howled through the darkest of valleys and soared above the most majestic of peaks. "Soldier on," said the not quite so young man, "Soldier on." And so through the darkest of valleys, and the soggiest of bogs, and th eendless plains the man trudged on and on.

. On and on.

. On and on.

. Till he finally saw the majestic peaks; till he saw the ultimate and terrible barrier between himself and this most despicable of demons. But now, his knees bled and his ankles cracked and his back groaned. He moaned, took one step up the mountainside, and was just placing the second when he fell back down. It wasn't the first time in all his conquests he stumbled, but it was the first he could not will himself back up. It may have been minutes, or it may have been days, or it may have been months, but he lay prostrate long enough for a spirit of failure to flutter around the periphery of his mind. He contemplated defeat for the first time in his life. The demon was shocked! Where was the man who always achieved what he set out to? Where was the man who never failed, never fell down, never gave up? Disgusted in the man's weakness, he prepared to move on, to keep his spoils of war forever.

. The devil's laughter forced him to realize: get up or lose everything; deal with the pain or deal with nothing. So he got up despite the aches, despite the open wounds, despite all his woes and misery, and he started to climb. Tenuously at first, he gained strength and agility as he moved higher and higher. For one glorious moment the clouds parted, the sun shined, and the darkness lifted. It only lasted for one heartbeat, and the clouds again closed, but now he climbed with authority, with righteousness. The rigid fortifications guarding his heart had been briefly sundered, he felt human once more.

. Soldier on.

. Soldier on.

 

[/end story]

 

All right, I'm about out of old material, so could someone sorta aid the process... y'kno, maybe contribute a few things... at least till Degrassi's forum gets it's legs off the ground? Haha, I would actually love a sappy love story here right about now; it's the one real thing I've always crashed and burned terribly trying to write... does anyone have any tips?

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Whoo I'm a writer and poet!

 

 

And I've never spotted this thread before... :erm:

 

I've written a load of poetry and fanfiction. I began writing a novel, but it wasn't up to my standards so I stopped working on it and eventually deleted lol I ended up hating it...

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Haha, just post what you've got. I promise I'll read it at least.

 

Finally, some feedback on some writing, thanks degrassi. And about how far off will this forum be, out of curiosity? So I know about how many more stories I'll burn trying to keep this thread alive...

 

.

All right, I'm about out of old material, so could someone sorta aid the process... y'kno, maybe contribute a few things... at least till Degrassi's forum gets it's legs off the ground? Haha, I would actually love a sappy love story here right about now; it's the one real thing I've always crashed and burned terribly trying to write... does anyone have any tips?

 

http://www.activeboard.com/forum.spark?forumID=113009&p=1

 

That's the forum as of now. Still needs some tinkering but come on in. It's alot of fics but BS...I direct you to The Dumping Grounds...I've got some stuff up there at the moment. Will post more once I'm done getting the forum to it's best.

 

Again, nice short. Your style is clearly your own. Can't wait to read more.

 

Edit. and as far as writing fluffy stuff, I always find the best way to learn is to read others work. I like doing fluff...its all about the deep gazes and steady heartbeats. Alot about the senses.

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http://www.activeboard.com/forum.spark?forumID=113009&p=1

 

That's the forum as of now. Still needs some tinkering but come on in. It's alot of fics but BS...I direct you to The Dumping Grounds...I've got some stuff up there at the moment. Will post more once I'm done getting the forum to it's best.

 

Again, nice short. Your style is clearly your own. Can't wait to read more.

 

Edit. and as far as writing fluffy stuff, I always find the best way to learn is to read others work. I like doing fluff...its all about the deep gazes and steady heartbeats. Alot about the senses.

Bless our forum, in all that is holy. Hmm.

 

Join us. :D

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Yes, it's all about the fluff. I do fluff well :p

Fluff, fluff, fluff. {chants}

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Fantastic Degrassi! Well impressed to actually have a reliable site and all... my only question now is how do we continue to let fellow writers on ze muse boards know bout this board? Sigs, sticky, or what?

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Fantastic Degrassi! Well impressed to actually have a reliable site and all... my only question now is how do we continue to let fellow writers on ze muse boards know bout this board? Sigs, sticky, or what?

I've sigged mine.

 

Steph is going to I believe.

 

If your in Banter, put a word in.

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Fantastic Degrassi! Well impressed to actually have a reliable site and all... my only question now is how do we continue to let fellow writers on ze muse boards know bout this board? Sigs, sticky, or what?

 

I've got zee link in my sig....just whore it around everywhere you go! I've already put word in in the Muse House Party...I'll bring it up in the Banter thread next time I go.

 

Do your best to spread the word kiddies!

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Guest Ducky101

i was going to post something and actually typed it all out, but it sounded lame so it's going on myspace/facebook.

 

It's far too corny for on here haha.

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i was going to post something and actually typed it all out, but it sounded lame so it's going on myspace/facebook.

 

It's far too corny for on here haha.

 

Please, too corny for here? This is where ze wimmin folk take it upon themselves to imagine story lines for the muse lads circa 17something or nother...

Don't flay me girls, is being facetious :eek:

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