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Mr.BS

The Writers Block

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Sorry I think I mis-understood too. Didn't mean to yell at you lol. Yeah, I don't think it's illegal writing about it, but I just strongly disagree with it. (Unless of course you are telling a serious story about it, coz it happens in real life), but when you start throwing it in to Harry Potter, which is a children's tale, I'm sorry but that's just wrong :mad:

 

Then you obviously didn't partake in the "Board's Version of Harry Potter 7" (in Banter). Some sick, funny shit. Scary. But funny.

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Then you obviously didn't partake in the "Board's Version of Harry Potter 7" (in Banter). Some sick, funny shit. Scary. But funny.

 

No I think I missed that lol. I guess (like Caff said earlier) I'm just very wary about what I say and do, coz these days (and I'm sure you'll agree) you have to be VERY careful when it comes to certain topics involving 'sex' and children' :stunned:

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No I think I missed that lol. I guess (like Caff said earlier) I'm just very wary about what I say and do, coz these days (and I'm sure you'll agree) you have to be VERY careful when it comes to certain topics involving 'sex' and children' :stunned:

 

We're breaking it down in Current Affairs at the moment.

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As far as I know, the only thing that's really illegal with writing is to use someone's name/work without permission.

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As far as I know, the only thing that's really illegal with writing is to use someone's name/work without permission.

 

Yes, tis true. I realise that now :) Still don't agree with some of it tho :D

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Thread resurrection!

 

Ok, so a question to all writers and readers alike:

 

Do you prefer a)well written stories or b)well plotted stories? Since authors more oft than not seem to fall into one of those two camps, do you all have any personal favorites of the two? Ideally it'd be both, but out of the two.

 

And I'll just go ahead and ask the next question too: plot driven or character driven stories? As in does the plot move forward because the character makes it, or do things happen to the character to make it move forward?

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I have an engagement

to get to the heart

of this holy mess

Peacemaking can be a nasty calling

But I still hope for the best

And pray for the end

of this dispute

 

Align forces

Divine command

 

Hiding's out of order

Time to challenge black lists

and sacrifice

If we reach conformity

Peace will rise

Vindication is at hand

Pray for the end

of this dispute

 

Align forces

Divine command

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Ty guys...:D

I'm working on more stuff but I have to study too, so it might take a while...

Please post your work too!:rolleyes:

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I remember you asking about them a few pages back... did they lead you on and cut off at the last minute or what?

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I suspect putsch

Power playing my way through life

is a puzzling grind

A dish fit for a King

 

All hail to the Queen!

 

We've got no rights

We've got no rights

All we've got is wrong

No need to back down though

Just hail to the Queen

Go on and hail!

 

 

I'm in the same frame of mind as when I wrote the previous one...:rolleyes:

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Could deffo see that as a vicious sort of chant Maryii... proper fight song if you will.

 

And I haven't written any short un-related to my book for a while now so I'll see if I can dig anything up and post it...

 

And Zilch, what's your book about anyway?

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Lol! Thanks mate! I'll post something less aggressive next time...;)

Just one question: Is it hail TO...or hail THE?:$ English is not my mother tong...

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Errr... most of the time it's hail to the queen but in your case it is hail the whatever. Hail to the is the proper form or whatnot. And here goes my very own short story.

 

Iris

When the disco ball reminds you of a particular, dazzling set of eyes, and the deep thump of the bass a flashback to heavy, moist, urgent breathing, and the crush of humanity forces memories of more personal, intimate contact, then you might be lonely. Makes me wonder why I come to clubs in the first place.

 

It's been far too long than I care to admit, and I'll also admit it's been far too long since I really cared. I'm not old, but I'm not young; I don't not like people, but I don't get the warm fuzzies either. Normally something of a hermit, I only come out to socialize when the loneliness, when the lack of a feminine touch overpower my churlish reticence and venture into such clubs; then shocked and cowed at the experience I reenter my cocoon. Backfire.

 

Sometimes when the pendulum swings, it swings too far.

 

I always embark on such shenanigans with stars in my eyes and darkness in my heart. My highfalutin notions of finding love (or whatever) clash with a cold, ruthlessly logical core of my heart; neither wins, I lose. But now the atmosphere tonight doesn't seem as nearly humid with lust or claustrophobic with roaming hands as it normally is; tonight is cozy, tonight is a brilliantly starry night in a big city. Tonight is redemption.

 

I normally have the disconcerting habit of seeing things, shall I say, differently. Walking in, fine vision, if a bit obscured by the haze and darkness. One drink though and wham, psycho-actively altered vision. People lose their color, every thing really: all that remains is a transparent silhouette where once a person stood. Their white chalk outlines remind me of every crime scene, and when the light show alternates blue and red I automatically connect the scene with a murder. My murder, really.

 

Sometimes when the pendulum swings, it doesn't stop.

 

As I watch this room of ghouls and ghosts, something different happens. Every prior foray into the social ecosystem of closed circles and cold shoulders I had seen only the crime scene outlines; grotesque countours with their grinding and grabbing; every one, DJ and bartender included, a white trace. But now, just as the lord said let there be light, now there is color.

 

I took psychology, and I know how the eye is supposed to work. Light enters through the pupil (dilating with too much light, or to gain a finer picture, and expanding with too little) focused through the cornea upside down, strikes the lining of the back of the eye, and is transmitted by a special nerve to the visual cortex in the brain where the image is righted. Nowhere in any textbook was the silhouette syndrome mentioned. With just the outlines it was strange, now with each silhouette it's own kaleidoscope it's downright bizarre.

 

My psychology book though might read something like this: it's me. My doing. I suppose my loneliness reflected onto them, through them, reflected back through myself. Now though, these hazy, vaguely color filled outlines are my creation, their color is my comfort. Their color is my direct responsibility. All we see and all we do is a biography, a fingerprint of ours on life. As some colors brighten, they stop, face; some color back but others return to their black and white void.

 

I'm afraid when the pendulum swings, it'll come full circle.

 

I notice one figure. One solitary figure where details are filling in, filling all the way in. First long, curly hair, followed by deep denim jeans; a single t-shirt, no logo, colored a pale blue, then sandals. Casual, elegant, beautiful. Still not entirely filled in, she's the most real thing in the room to me. She too alone, she too surveying the masses, she too outside the closed circles. I know without even asking she's refused to pay their price of admission; her soul is whole. Are my eyes filling her in because she's beautiful, or is she herself filling my eyes because she's perfect. Fully formed, we make eye contact simultaneously. Two pairs of pupils dilated in pleasure and shock in recognition, and all the silhouettes disappear entirely. Just me and her now, just our hearts beating in our own perfect rhythm and symmetry.

 

The pendulum has stopped. I'm not afraid anymore.

 

[end]

 

My first real attempt at 'fluff' and I apologize if it seems a bit muddled/schizo at times, I was writing this in between tables at my restaurant so it may not have a cohesiveness.

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Born years apart

We're twins

And I loved you

And I hated you

And you drove me away

 

Opposite poles we are

I cut the chord

Defying control

Torn

Fearing you'd come for me

Come for me

 

You screamed my name

For so long

I looked up to you

I looked down on you

It drove me astray

 

 

 

Here's another one as promised... I hope you like it!

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Ah I can never write proper poetry but that's beautiful. Strange thing is, I know exactly what you mean about a love hate relationship... well done. And for my own...

 

The thing about friendship is that it's non-transferable, non-shareable. You gain it, earn it, and live it in a week, but lose it gram by gram as the summer breeze turns into winters chill; till time again comes around as a balmy early fall zephyr.

 

"Goodbye."

 

It's cliche, but I mean it. I'll miss this place and whenever I need a mental vacation during a particularly boring lecture I've already learned all I have to do is close my eyes and look at the sprawling bay at sunset. Look down at the dock with friends casually dipping their feet in the water. Laughing.

 

"We'll see each other soon right? I mean we've got to now!"

 

It's vacation. It's camp. It's everything. And yet I know that this really is goodbye. I know that after this we go back to our 'real worlds' and our 'real friends' and never keep in touch. Oh, excuse me. There is that obligatory two-week-after-call full more of silence and pauses then actual words. Oh, and the vague promise to 'see each other soon.' Again. For real this time though; no lies, and no bullshit in that promise.

 

"I won't forget about you. Never."

 

Time is an infinitely malleable concept. Does time still pass if I can sense your hair in the breeze if I'm wearing a full snow-suit? Does time still pass if at that two week phone call we talk as if we barely ever knew each other? If we easily pretend for our peace of mind in the 'real world' that we never had our conversations that flowed easily as pelicans between sets of waves? No. Time only passes when I wake up that one preordained morning and my first thought isn't of you.

 

And we hug good bye, each to go our separate ways, each to remember each other in the brightest possible light, but never to again dwelve into memories where we talk. And we fall for each other. After all, what's a week? What are seven days together after all compared to everything and everyone else we knew and will know. Can't stop the world from turning on it's axis. Can't stop time.

 

And we hug goodbye. I look in your eye, and you look in mine. Never again, never again... to do damn near anything except reminisce. Time stops, time starts, and time goes on and on and on waiting for fools and sages to tempt it again.

 

"Goodbye."

 

It won't have to wait too long.

 

"I'll miss you."

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Incisive once again! I've experienced that recently and even though we (my friend and I) agreed to meet for new year, I know that the lack of communication will eventually destroy whatever bond we've built. Sad.

I've been very productive lately and I intend to write much more... You have inspired me! Thank you so much! All this stuff I've been writing about has been burning inside for so long... It's good to be able to share it with someone. ;)

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Looking back I understand

That all my wrong turns

Led me here

No turning back now

Terrified of misconceptions

I walk on

Deserted in the valley

 

Will I be welcomed home

With love, bread and wine

In the end

Or with dishonor

There's no other way but upwards

I march on and on

Deserted in the valley

 

My brothers dispute my right

My only allies

Are my foes

Time to toughen up

There's no other way but upwards

I march on and on

Deserted in the valley

 

Clenching fists I hike on up

The pain and the fear

Block the way

I increase the pace

Terrified of misconceptions

I walk on

Deserted in the valley

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I hear ya about letting it out... I've just been too busy to write lately which is really pissing me off. And deserted in the valley... I've said it once and I'll say it again: your poetry makes for amazing song lyrics. Only part I didn't like is the 'my only allies/ are my foes"; seemed a bit too cliche to me.

 

Looks like it'll just be the two of us keeping this thread alive huh?

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