Critique a few other people first. ^_^
Reciprocity is the biggest worldwide obligator. Use it to your advantage.
A Trip to the Grocery Store"You know, I cannot go grocery shopping with you standing there glaring at me." Lana muttered in frustration as she stood in the pasta aisle of the supermarket.A Trip to the Grocery Store by ange-etrange
"I only want to make sure you get everything on the list," Her mother reminded her, floating over her shoulder. Lana couldn't help but hear a "I know you're going to forget something" condescending tone somewhere in that sentence.
"Oh, what do you care? You're a ghost! You're dead!" Lana hissed as she tossed a box of spaghetti into her shopping cart. Her outburst only earned her a pointed look from her mother. Fortunately, she could ignore it because her features were transparent after all.
"I don't want to see you starve, is all," She whispered into her daughter's ear as she disappeared. "And don't forget-"
"I know. I know."
It was when she was finished with the rest of her shopping that Lana reluctantly wheeled her cart towards the snack aisle. She shivered with disgust as she gazed down the aisle looking for the item she was
Rot Chapter 1I'm so cold. So damn cold. Christ alive, I don't think I've felt this cold my whole life. How am I so cold?</i>Rot Chapter 1 by Fluffypig
I slowly manage to push myself up into a sitting position, shivering and groaning loudly. The floor is damp, full of small twigs and dead leaves.
I'm not in my room.
Why am I not in my room?
Why am I outside in a forest?
Shit, shit, shit.
Footsteps. Nearby. I look around, starting to breathe heavily. "H-hello? Anyone there?"
I jump to my feet and start stumbling away. Something about that sound just rubs me the wrong way. I need to find help, and fast.
From my left I can hear the soft roars of cars as they drive past. I turn and run towards the sound, finding myself running into a fence at the boundary of the wood and the road. I know this place. It's not that far from my house.
"Hey! Hello!" I say, waving my hand about at the passing cars in the hope that someone will notice.
None of them stop. In fact, they seem to speed up as soon as they see me, d
OLD Hell Hunt - Chapter 1 OLDHell Hunt - Chapter 1OLD Hell Hunt - Chapter 1 OLD by Fluffypig
Like a Bad Dream
Most stories start with an introduction to a dashing hero, setting off on some perilous adventure into the unknown.
This story doesn't.
It starts on a bus stop for one thing, in typical Welsh weather heavy rain.
And your dashing hero? Well, that would be me.
A fat ginger kid with those thick glasses hipsters wear to look cool. Lemme get this straight - I wear them because my parents don't trust me with my nice ones.
Not exactly dashing, but pretty damn handsome, even if I say so myself. Which I do.
But that perilous adventure into the unknown? Well...that's different.
Like I said, this story starts on a bus stop in heavy rain. I was huddled up on one of the seats, carefully shielding my newest comic book from any splashes that may have entered into the shelter as I read it. Beside me was my best mate Matt, his dark hair falling down over his face as he slowly read the texts he kept getting every few seconds from someone.
"Who you tex
Metamorphose Teaser I.Metamorphose Teaser by Nichrysalis
Met-uh-mawr-fohz verb (used with object): to change the form or nature of; transform.
Pulses felt by palpating and pressing hands manifested an arrhythmia. Her breath breached consciousness and eyelids unsealed, irises constricting their pupils as they flitted from white wall to weighted, slate hinges.
Her blood hastened in reverse systolic motions. She could discern the rhythm, flooding into ventricles from pulmonary arteries and escaping
7 stars came 7 warningsSeven stars were fell to mourning.7 stars came 7 warnings by FarCryDreamer
Seven times the Blackbird cried
Seven times the Reaper died
Seven less from seven more
Seven abroad seven ashore
Seven dates branded in smoke
Seven fixings seven broke
Seven times the missed alarms
Seven warnings gave seven stars.
(m/m and m/f) Return to Wonderland. CH1Chapter 1:(m/m and m/f) Return to Wonderland. CH1 by escribe-estudio
Alec was in a dark place. There was nothing, but the black abyss that consumed his entirety. He couldnt see anything but his hands that he held out in front of him. He was alone in this strange place, floating. He tried to move around, but felt as though he was glued to this one place.
His name was being called out by a voice.
Alec. It sounded as if it was getting louder and closer, but no one was within sight. Was he imagining things? He tried to look around, but no such luck. He was stuck. Alec.
Was he dead? Was this what death felt like? He couldnt remember the last thing that he did. He tried to think of all the things that he did, but only his sister, Alise, came to mind. He worried over her, afraid that he was leaving her behind to defend for herself. He couldnt let that happen. Alise needed him and he needed her. She couldnt survive the reality and harshness of the world alone. Not since that time when-NO! He forced away the past- for now
As the River Bends. CHPPrologueAs the River Bends. CHP by escribe-estudio
When I was born, I was destined to be a detective. My father was a Captain in Riverton, Vermont and my mother was a cop too. She had the best aim in all of Vermont. So it was pretty much my destiny to join the force.
As an adolescent, I was the type of kid that other parents did not like around their children. I was a back talking loud mouth, the class clown, and always into trouble. I was punished a whole lot. But in high school I shaped up, buckled down and ended up becoming quite the popular student.
I loved my parents. Acting out when I was a kid was my way of demanding attention from their demanding jobs. In high school, I had my own thing going. Everything seemed to be going our way. My mother and father's careers were going successfully and I was looking for colleges. A Criminal Justice degree and my parents' reputation would surely seal my acceptance into the academy.
Henrietta Bones' Academy for Special ChildrenNOTE: To make more readable turn on the paragraph breaks!Henrietta Bones' Academy for Special Children by kanyamidnight
Henrietta Bones' Academy for Special Children
My life was going just fine, until I started getting good grades
One day in early May my teacher called me to her desk, she said that I needed to go to the principal's office because she thought that I wasn't getting enough out of school. As she wrote me a hall pass I could swear I saw her eyes focus in and out, never blinking. She forcefully ushered me out of the room saying, "The principal is waiting!"
Walking down that hall I wondered what on earth was going on, I mean I always thought myself an average student, normal, school wasn't too easy or anything as my teacher had told me. This had to be "teacher code" for something else.
Have you ever noticed how the corridor all the way down to the principals' office is very long and intimidating? (And the actual office is conveniently always at the end just to freak you out). My mind went into overdrive, what could have happened?
Socks WIPNow, Tom Gray wasn't a man you'd see chatting up the women at the office parties, or going out on a Friday night. No, he was the kind of man that had a schedule and stuck to it. Wake up, shower, dress, brush teeth, eat one lightly toasted English muffin whilst reading the headlines, and then head to work. It had been more or less the same for the whole of his undistinguished life, and anticipated that it always would be. He is just one scoop of plain vanilla in a cheap white Styrofoam bowl given to you with a plastic stick that had a small indent on the end, and his family isn't any better. His mother was the kind of mother that didn't believe in television and always enforced eating every single thing on that plate because there were people out on the street who would gladly eat it, you know! She was the sensible mother who gave you socks and books for x-mas, every x-mas. Why, just last December Tom received a delightfully wrapped package that included a six pack of crisp white socksSocks WIP by FactoryFactory
GhostI walk amongst the treesGhost by TheGlassIris
in the form of falling light.
Though the sound of my passing
is heard beyond the grove
the words spoken before the burial
are just pretty spokes on the wheels
of a rolling hearse with my remains:
the newest arrival on the asphodel highway.
Water runs from my bones.
My body has mutated
into a fine mess of flowers,
spring rain, and dotted moss.
I have been buried with
a gold watch,
a photo album,
a book of recent poems,
and a letter.
Why these things, I don’t know. The dead
have no need for time.
They neither remember nor recall, a photo
is nothing more than sentiment
clinging to our sides, unbearably warm,
hazy as the worn static of an old dream.
Their poetry is a container for beauty, a vessel
for the experience of living. The dead
couldn’t say these words even if they wanted to.
Their mouths are sewn shut, not even a hum
can escape that faint smile
made with a needle through the back of the throat, a thread
pulling at the roof of the mouth, produci
No one of consequence.She held on tightly to whatever force had just saved her from such a cruel fate, only looking up as she felt the wind blowing through her hair, her body weightless. Her eyes widened, marveling at a pair of glorious black wings that carried her effortlessly through the air; the wings of an angel?No one of consequence. by FarCryDreamer
The dark-haired man turned to look down at her, and his previously hidden face was revealed. Hardly older than her, if she would have guessed, but his eyes alone seemed otherworldly, and despite the fact that it was he, this dark-haired, black-winged angel that had saved her from certain death, she felt suddenly afraid. Her body went rigid, and though she now feared this man with all of her being she held on to him, terrified that he would choose to release her, and send her plummeting to her death. Her hands fisted his shirt, shaking with fear, praying that by some means this dark angel would not be the death of her.
The few minutes spent in the hands of this otherworldly stranger felt to her
References for WritersThe Modern Researcher Jacques Barzun & Henry F. GraffReferences for Writers by KimberlyDawn
The Careful Writer A Modern Guide to English Usage Theodore M. Bernstein
Fowler's Modern English Usage First Edition: H.W. Fowler Revised Third Edition: R.W. Burchfield
Spunk and Bite by Arthur Plotnik.
A Writer's Coach by Jack Hart is also good for cleaning up prose.
Someone is bound to go on Stephen King's On Writing. Not my top choice.
Someone is going to say Orsen Scott Card, but I'd vote that one down. I dislike his writing ethics. You get better info on the same stuff from 1 year subscription of Writer's Digest, upon which time you should quit.
I will endorse Neil Gaiman. He has lots of good stuff about writing, and you can find interviews with him on Mur Lafferty's show, I Should Be Writing. He's probably one of the most solid I've heard on Writer's advice.
Look also at the podcast Writing Excuses which has four hosts, including the VP of SFWA. It does focus mostly in speculative fiction, so you are
The Myth: Writer's BlockNeil Gaiman gave this example: (though I've embellished to make it a story.)The Myth: Writer's Block by KimberlyDawn
So my doctor came into the office and told me "Sorry, I don't feel like treating you today."
I asked him why.
He answered, "I have Doctor's block. I just can't see the point of putting bandages on you now."
If your doctor got stuck on your disease, I bet you would be really happy if he took the day off and said, "Sorry, I can't go on! I fail as a doctor!" You must be really happy seeing your doctor leave you behind in the office staring at him while you feel like you are dying.
What a good doctor does when he's not sure is to research the answer and consult with other doctors on the answer. He comes back to you with an answer that he (or she) thinks is reasonable through knowledge. He doesn't take the day off and write on his blog "OMG I have Doctor's Block and I can't treat this patient. What am I going to do?" and expect an outpouring of sympathy.
Neil Gaiman said we don't get Writer's block, we just get stu
The Secret to ParagraphingThe Secret to Paragraphing by OokamiKasumi
The SECRET to Proper Paragraphing
(NOT a punctuation article.)
Once you know what your characters and doing and saying, how do you get all that down on Paper without ending up with a huge confusing mess?
Putting the Story on Paper.
Everybody knows that when a new speaker speaks they get a new paragraph, right? In other words, you DON'T put two different people talking in the same paragraph. Okay, yeah, so anyone who has written any kind of fiction learns this pretty darned quick, (usually from their readers.)
What nobody seems to get is that the same goes for a new character's ACTIONS. Seriously, when a new character ACTS they're supposed to get their own paragraph -- even if they don't speak!
In short, you paragraph by change in CHARACTER -- not because they speak, but because they ACT. Ahem... Dialogue is an ACTION. In other words, the reason you don't put two different characters' Dialogue
Grammar GuideGrammar Guide For Self-Editing or Editing GroupsGrammar Guide by LateNightLady
by Kelly Mortimer ©2008
A Awkward Sentence Structure Rearrange, rephrase, or try deleting unnecessary words.
Aa Additive Adjunct No comma before too when its the last word of a sentence, and too means also. Ex: Jane graduated from high school too. Use a comma when too appears elsewhere and still means also. Ex: Jane, too, graduated from high school.
Ap- Attribution Punctuation When using an attribution such as said, dont use a period at the end of the preceding sentence. Use a comma, a question mark, or an exclamation point. Dont capitalize he, she, they. Exs: I have to move into a new house, she said. --Its huge! she said. -- Im going to live here? she asked [or said]. If the attribution comes before the sentence, use a comma. Ex: She add
|More Journal Entries|
1. You have to write.
2. You have to like critiques and be willing to learn how to give them if you don't already know.
3. You have to press the join button and write that you've read Rule 4 of the Submissions Guidelines (Please really do so).
How this group works:
The members submit to the gallery pieces they would like critiqued. These go into specific folders. 1 is for the fluffy bunnies and 5 is for those people who want their butts kicked.
Personal insults are not allowed.
Specific constructive criticism according to critique level is encouraged.
When the member has improved their piece significantly, to the point that the other members in this group recognize them for their efforts (without resubmitting the deviation to their gallery again), we'll feature them.
If you get published, we'll celebrate with you.
We also do tutorials and features in the journal.
1. It must follow all DA rules. (This should be a no duh) This includes that it must be your original work.
2. We take poetry and prose. We take mainly fiction and memoir, but we will take non-fiction. Fan fiction we won't take unless for grammar checks. This is better submitted to a fan fiction group of your fandom than here. We also take writing tutorials.
3. Submit the deviation to the correct critique level folder. (This is for browsers of the group).
4. You MUST include the following in your submission's author notes.
One sentence summary
Make it easy for people to figure out what your work is about. The words "I suck at summaries" and "Please read and review" don't count. Don't include.
One Sentence summary for chapters (For novels only) To catch up your reader so they know if they read this chapter or not.
Genre/Form Specific genre... Like High Fantasy Poetry
Critique Requested Example, Character help, grammar, etc.
Critique tolerance1-5 (1 is fluffy bunnies. 5 is Witch burning) Restate it for the members who are browsing via their own messages.
FAQ can be found here: writingcritiques.deviantart.co…