forum Virtual Creative Writing Club, anyone?
Started by @ninja_violinist
tune

people_alt 130 followers

@ElderGod-kirky group

@Dances_with_Shadows-will-be-very-spotty Welcome aboard! [EDIT: I straight-up didn't realise you posted twice. sorry about that!! feedback on your poetry is down below bc I'm too lazy to reformat]

  • You've set up an incredible mood here!! Full of tension, full of mystery - you have a great way of hooking the reader and drawing them in!
  • My favourite line is also "You can't break what's already been shattered".
  • Maybe the first paragraph could be made a bit more effective? I'm not sure if "flee" is the best word in this context, since it usually has a slower, more deliberate connotation than I think you're going for. I'd also recommend choosing between "practice" and "honing" rather than having both in there - in such a fast-paced paragraph, having both words feels a bit unnecessary.
  • Overall, I really loved this!

Thank you! I realize I could've gone for different words to make it more effective, and I agree with all of your critical points (I specifically wanted some criticism, so don't think I'll be hurt by any sort of criticism you give me). My only excuse is time, as I was typing it during a short window of time between different "events" (one was supper, and I really cherish food) so I didn't have a whole lot of time to go through again to edit. Had it been a serious short story, I would've gone over it a thousand times.

@Dances_with_Shadows-will-be-very-spotty Thank you for the conversation advice!! Those were definitely some helpful tips :) and I love your poetry oh my goodness

  • Shall I Fly, or Will I Drown?
    LOVED the imagery in this one!! The descriptions and metaphors are so vivid that I'm taken right into it! It's lovely!
    Favourite phrase: "soaring eagles above the horizon rift"
    I have to admit that the rhythm was a bit confusing to me at times, and I had some mental stumbles as I read through it. But I guess that just depends on how much structure you want in here.
  • Why Should I?
    I agree with @amber_demeter - it's a very raw and unnerving tone that really settled under my skin. Super cool use of language and narrative voice!
    Favourite phrase: "when I'm no better than the thunder"
    Here, I sometimes wondered whether the need to rhyme affected the way the words were laid out? That's not necessarily a problem, it's 100% a style thing, but I do wonder how different the poem might be if you rewrote it without worrying about rhymes. That might be a cool exercise one day, I guess, if you're interested.
  • Be with you
    This one made me really sad, but I think that was the point so you've done really well!
    Favourite phrase: "I crave your words"
    I think the same question as the last one also applies here - it sometimes sounded a little bit like the rhyme constrained you, almost? as if you had more to say but couldn't always fit it in? (once again, please take this with an entire salt mine. I really don't want to tell you "how to write", and it's already lovely the way it is!)
  • Who am I?
    Love the characterisation of the narrator in this one!! Generally, you're really good at telling stories in your poetry just by the way the poems are told. It's honestly such a cool thing to read!
    Favourite phrase: "one in the same,/ but two entities"
    the word "troll" kind of took me out of the flow for a second, especially after "doctor", but I'm assuming there's a good reason why it's there. Otherwise, I think the rhyme and structure are done really well in this one!

My overall, I dunno, thing I have to say for the poetry potions is simple: I'm not a poet. Never have been. All of these were made in one night when I was in a strange mood, so mistakes are expected, and strange rhymes/rhythm is expected. But thank you so much for the positive feedback! I'm so glad you liked everything so much!

Deleted user

(Hey, do you do guys do poetry prompts as well? It's what I'm better at)

Deleted user

I like it,a very strong beginning. But id definitely suggest expanding it,get more into the characters,the elves,the back story.

@ninja_violinist

@UnseelieKing I like the concept! And I love the narrative voice. "the boy, being kind and a pushover, stayed for just a day" like what a mood.
But like others have said, it's a bit short to really be able to analyse your writing. It's a really cool summary of a fun concept, but as a story in and of itself it would feel a bit rushed. But that's totally fine for this setting! It's really cool to read people's ideas as well as other longer pieces.
Either way, I like it and I would love to read more of your writing someday!

Deleted user

Thanks for the advice! I wrote it in science so that's why it's a bit rushed.

@croccin-champagne

Heads up ya'll, the thing imma be posting once I dig my notebook out of my backpack is actually my first attempt at a rough draft of something for spoken word, so it's written to be spoken and I don't know how much that effects of it

@croccin-champagne

Depression makes me angry.
It makes me spit fire at the world
And likens my words to knives.
It fills me with a rage that boils
And instead of scars my arms are covered in red hives.

It makes me sad.
Makes me dread each breath that tears me open
And each movement feels heavy enough to break me.
Makes me feel like I'm drowning and when people tell me there's
A light above the surface I wonder if It's one only I
Can't see.

The worst is when it makes me empty.
When I feel hollow and carved out like a turkey on thanksgiving
Before it's stuffed and warm.
It's the feeling that makes me want to open up my skin
Just to check and see if I'm still living.

And sometimes depression makes me happy.
Not just when it ends but when I can feel again.
When the clouds part briefly, and the sun filters down
Warming my face and the ice thaws from my veins.

It's usually bad, but the storm won't last forever
I know if I keep going I'll make it out
And maybe someday I'll be fine.
Or at the very least, functioning, happier
And that's alright, because I know my depression
And it doesn't rain forever

So obviously you can tell I have a thing for likening other things to knives, that's my kink. But anyway, here it is. I'm not too sure about the last chunk there, but the rest of it I'm honestly pretty proud of

@Moxie group

I kinda have one critique?
The last line of the fourth stanza, the parts about warming your face and thawing the ice from your veins are in different tenses and it throws me off a little
I don't know if that was intentional or not, but it was just something I noticed

@ElderGod-kirky group

I refuse

I walk the haunted halls, lonely streets of a building. The red sea parts as I tap my feet, the cold hard marble echoing my throbbing heart. The last of them have fallen, and now the stars are crooked. I don’t wanna die alone. I don’t wanna live forsaken. Why is it that I feel cramped in this vast plane of solitude? Where have they gone? Am I not good enough? I refuse to let this go, because my soul is breaking.

Our eyes meet, and mine fall. You say hello, and I give a nod. I don’t wanna let you know that my heart is just so jaded. You frown and come up to me; the pitter-patter of my shoes quicken, and the mighty and sure footfalls follow with concern. I refuse to let it show, just how broken inside I am. I refuse to let it go, which is a mistake I’m willing to bear.

The bell rings. Chairs scrape against marble floor. I sink down to the nose, eyes closing. I try to wish it all away, the heartache and the pain. The hopes and dreams elders insist will come upon me. Wake me up when this is over, if you’d be so kind. I’m tired of living life like it’s a dream, moving from one scene to the next without any say in the matter—hopes keeping me adrift in the raging storm. Please wake me up when it’s all over; I’m tired of living right here in between.

I refuse.

My eyes slide open. Blurred edges form shapes of classmates. I find you in the mix, standing so bright and vivid among the black and grey. You find my gaze despite it all. I shy away, wondering how it all began. I’ve always walked alone, that I knew for certain with a slight twinge of despair. I chose a path less taken, and that’s my own decision. I can feel your stare, and I fight to keep mine low. I refuse to let you win. Life’s a bitch, and I’ve been shaken.

Lunch begins, another horror to add to my day. Yet again, you find me, surrounded by those so willing to be by your side. Am I okay, you ask. I fake a laugh, prompting you all to do the same, and reassure you I have nothing to complain about. It’s not a joke at all; inside my spirit’s fading. They laugh and try to pull you away, but your gaze never strays. You want to see the truth, but I refuse to take the fall, ‘cause no one cares at all—not even you.

Wake me up when this is over, I try to plead, if you know the meaning of mercy. I’m tired of living life like it’s a dream, faked smiles and futures never to be claimed by me. Please wake me up when it’s all over; I’m tired of living right here in between.

You fall so easily into the shapes of reality, this perfect picture of a human being. You need no introduction; your smile is all they need. Your eyes so bright, yet so intelligent. They flock behind you without hesitation; yet shame me with their innocent blindness.

You reach out; I refuse, ‘cause at the end of the day I’m not you.

I refuse.

Whaddup ladies and gents? Here's this week's story. Probably not my best work, but there's a reason behind that.

So I'm a Knucklehead—for those of you unfamiliar with the term, I'm a 5FDP fan—and I really like 'I refuse' for some reason this week. So I decided: why not make a story using the lyrics? If you look them up, you might see what I was working with and how I twisted the song into this story.

@amber_is_in_a_loop

I'm kind of inspired by Croc's spoken word piece as well as the music prompt. I actually have a name for the moment I wrote, too. It's one of those fleeting moments where you look around and you think Oh shit, things actually got better. I don't usually say this cause I never know what others will think, but I'm proud of this one

I think it’s cold, but I can’t say for sure. It’s been a while since I’ve set foot outside of my house. I don’t know how I come across, either.
I’m wearing a clean white dress. I remember when I bought it, and it hung off my frame like a curtain. It was the only thing that fit me. Now, the fabric hugs the soft curves of my healthy body, a badge of pride.
It’s knee-length, brushing the frail joints of my legs as I steadily walk away from my safe space. It exposes my arms to the morning chill, and the wind caresses my bare skin. I’m focusing on the small sensations, the underappreciated things that I haven’t felt in months.
There’s dew on my arms now free of gauze, there’s cold on my neck now free of the brace, there’s wind on my legs now free of oversized jeans.
When was the last time I wore a dress? When was the last time I was able to pull back my sleeves? When was the last time there was anything but skin and bone to show the world?
There’s nothing in the way now. All that the world can see now are thin scars criss-crossing each other and a faint ring of bruises around my neck, courtesy of the rope.
Battle scars. None fresh, none still bleeding, none ready to break open. I’m walking alone, and there’s a smile on my face. It isn’t forced. It isn’t there for the people busily walking past, paying me no attention anyway. I’m wearing it only for me. It’s the product of a lot of pain, and a lot of work, and a lot of time, and a lot of forced smiles.
Looking up at the pearl grey sky now, I’m finding that its history only makes it that much more real.
I look back ahead to see the figure standing there, with wide open arms and a knowing smile:
Hope.