Dammit...I'm working on a story, I think the concept is good, but getting it out is like pulling teeth. I'm trying to write about experiences I don't know of first hand, as an exercise. Any tips from the writers to get it all out without it sounding false and tacky?
Both of my stories are true. I would also like to hear some good concepts on writing.
my story is true too. Selvin would sometime appear on the beach with his wife always agrin.How did they managed this disecption. And the miraculous blue and brown eye of the dog the same as Selvins. Other things happen down Puenta Uva way that are equally curious. Like you can befriend geckoes...
Let me step back again a moment. It was the first day that that I arrived that I heard the story from the 68 year driver for the republica newspaper. Theres an area of town where the horse faced which would prowl. See would appear around dusk as a most lovely beauty, mostly scaring younf men. But when they went off with her to do whatever she would have a horses head. The area is now part of greater San Jose...
But when the coinsidences started to happen with Selvin, Who is also written up in the lonely planet guide.....as a famous hotelier from the old respected brown family whose family trait included the marvelous set of eyes.
David Bowie you've some competition with this set of eyes.
Interesting, Algis. I'd like to get a look at those people and animals.
If you search you will find...I did and am still trying to figure my encounters out.
There is one gentleman there who says the space ship is already here.The lost 12 tribes are there having passed through this portal.
Quote:. I'm trying to write about experiences I don't know of first hand, as an exercise. Any tips from the writers to get it all out without it sounding false and tacky?
cavfancier, we have to do that all the time as a student.
But we are supposed to imagine what we do not know for sure and make it very interesting. Who cares if you did'nt really do it if its fun?
Good luck by the way. I'm not going to put the stuff of my head in here. This is good reading.
See ya,
Vibes (nickname)
Cav; as 'threatened' a story i wrote long ago, but still has an 'uncomfortable' message today; (similar to the book I'm reading):
THE SURVIVOR.
"Where'd they find him; it is a male, huh?"
"Yeh, seems to be; some little Polynesian island near Tahiti. Seems it had a little dome, oxygen supply, water purifier, all the stuff it needed."
"Must be the last, I mean they haven't found any for nearly...
must be ten, fifteen years now, "cept this one."
"Could be the last, I guess."
They stared down the gaunt withering body before them on the table. He was a man of about fifty; sallow, chinless face, deep set, pale grey eyes. The rib cage jutted angularly through grey, pallid flesh.
"Good specimen. I mean relatively healthy looking."
"They tried to keep him alive.
Said it was easier to transport him that way or somethin'
They even kept him in an oxygen chamber and got him special food; "natural" they said it was; the kind of stuff they used to eat before the machine age.
I've even heard it said it was actually made from dead biomatter; disgustin' eh, probably not true.
But somethin' got to him; who knows, could have been almost anythin'.
They're awfully sensitive you know. Evidently only lasted about thirteen hours.
My brother, Scend, said it was more than likely the food; nobody really knew how to make it properly."
The two continued preparing the corpse; drawing out the fluids and replacing them with solutions to preserve and stiffen the already decaying flesh. The bones were welded together to allow the specimen to stand in a lifelike position. They set the back with a little too much stoop in it, but no-one would notice; no-one remembered exactly how they stood, back in the days when they were plentiful.
When their work was completed, they stood back with a little extra pride, to survey their work. For this was not just any animal to be prepared for showing in the Zooeum, this was "man", their ancestor, in a way, if you went back far enough.
In fact, they were designed very much like him; with head like sensing systems on top of their bodies; three appendages for work, like his two arms; and their mobility tripod more or less replacing his two legs. Theirs was an unmistakable kinship.
Morenid excused himself from his assistant and rolled off down the corridor. He was tired and needed to recharge before arranging all the details of moving the specimen to the Zooeum. As he reached into his chest for the power supply connector, he marveled at these poor creatures who had crafted their own extinction from a hand full of chemicals, and an inherited repertory of bad habits.
Bo, post some more. I love Sci-Fi, but can't write it for beans. Good reading. A piece I've been working on, I'm almost okay with it, but still not entirely sure:
Cal approached the farmhouse in his black suit and inappropriate shoes. There had been rain the night before, and the ground was muddy as hell. It had been a long time since he had seen Brent, but today, they had to talk. Cal came to the end of the path and there was Brent, sitting on the porch with a longneck and a shotgun, which was pretty much how Cal remembered him.
"Hi Brent."
Brent got up and extended a hand. "Hey, little brother, what brings you to my neck of the woods? If you want a beer, grab one from the cooler. If you want something stronger, you gotta go inside. Plenty of whiskey in the cabinet."
Cal shook his brother's hand. "Thanks Brent, I'm okay. I'm not really here on a social visit."
"Oh?"
"The family sent me over. We didn't see you at dad's funeral today."
Brent took a long swig of beer. "Hmm
.well, I'm not sure what you all expected."
"We just thought that under the circumstances
"
"Uh huh. You just thought. I have to say, that was always your strong point, little brother. You were lucky to be born with the brains, and not the looks, eh?"
"Brent
"
"What? I'm only saying that dad sure loved his liquor." Brent chuckled. "And I sure enjoyed our late-night chats, real heart-to-hearts." Sarcasm dripped from Brent's voice.
"You never went to see him in the hospital. When he asked to see you, that he wanted to make amends, we pleaded with you to go
.you don't know how he changed in those last weeks. How could you know? You were so damn stubborn you couldn't accept he might have actually been sorry. Brent, why didn't you just go?"
"Well, I was to busy to see him."
"You were too busy. Brent, you live alone here in this shack, nobody in the family is really sure what you do to pay the bills, and quite frankly, I'm not sure I want to know. You spend most the day drunk, so what exactly were you so busy with that you couldn't give the man a chance?"
"I was busy waiting for him to die." Brent laughed.
"Your sentimentality overwhelms me, Brent."
"Well, like I said, I don't know what you expected. Come on little brother, all this death talk is depressing. Let's do something to cheer me up a little. Grab a cold six-pack, will ya?"
"Brent
where are we going
"
"We're gonna shoot us a deer, little brother." Brent whistled for his dog Hope and picked up the shotgun. "All right folks, let's go."
Brent was a good tracker, and knew the land well. It didn't take long to find a deer. "Check him out there, Cal. Not a twelve-pointer, but a fine animal indeed." Brent readied the gun and felled the deer in one clean shot. "Woo hoo! Ha ha! Let's go take a look."
They approached the deer. It was a handsome animal. Hope sat anxiously, thumping his tail, awaiting Brent's command. "Okay boy, go for it." Hope lept up and attacked the carcass with a fury. "Heh heh, look at that Cal, interesting how the beast always goes for the genitals first, eh?"
Cal felt sick. "I think I have to throw up."
"Find a bush, don't mess up the animal."
Cal ran as best he could in his dress shoes and started retching.
"Cal, you never had the stomach to look a wounded animal in the face. Never even brought home little wounded birds. Nose buried in your books, nature just seemed dirty to you. God help you if you had to touch an animal in need, you might get germs."
"Shut the f--- up Brent."
"Well Brent, today I'm gonna show you something. Look at this buck. This buck isn't wounded, it's dead. Even with Hope gorging himself down there, do you really think this dead thing suffers? Take a look at it's face Cal, look at it. It almost looks peaceful, doesn't it?"
Cal forced a quick look. "Yes, I suppose it does."
Brent stared at the deer for some time. "OKAY HOPE, ENOUGH!"
Hope left the buck alone and joined Brent. "Come on Cal, let's go, leave this thing here, it's the least we can do."
They walked slowly back to the farmhouse. Brent sat on the porch. "Cal, is there some beer left?"
"Yeah, want one?"
"Yeah, you should have one, you probably need it. Grab me a little whiskey from inside too, will ya, a large one?"
"Sure."
Cal came back with the whiskey, and opened a beer. The day was getting late. He sat down on the porch with Brent and enjoyed a welcome swig of beer. As it always was with Brent, the day had been strange for him.
Brent finished his beer and started on the whiskey. "Cal
"
"Yes, Brent?"
There was a long pause. "Why did he do it, Cal?"
"I don't know Brent."
The two brothers sipped their drinks and watched the sun set in silence. Meanwhile, Hope chased squirrels in the backyard, amused by the thought that they were always too elusive to be caught.
Cav
It held my interest and kept me wondering where it was going.
Hi Cav and all. I haven't been posting any of my stuff recently, enjoying instead y'all's stories.
The last two quotes from Brent and Cal were haunting. Obviously they know something that we don't; but, as a reader, I'm left thinking that maybe, just maybe, I might have an idea about what "Why did he do it" means. Well done -rjb-
Thanks guys. I'm not quite comfortable writing dialogue, I suppose I prefer descriptive writing. I wasn't sure if the voices of the brothers came through in a consistent way, and also, I was a bit wary of over-explication.
Good story. However, those last quotes by the brothers looked like an "add on." Didn't fit with the rest of the story. A teaser for the next chapter, perhaps?
Hmm, Eva, I'm not sure....I would have preferred that the story maybe led into the final quotes better, rather than add another chapter, but who knows? A work in progress, as I mentioned.
It is good! If it is "in progress," I'd like to read it as it progresses!
Well written, Cav. I think the final quotes made the whole story come together.
I've been going over the wonderful posts here again, and it came to me that edgar's 'gimp' story reminded me a bit of Joe R. Lansdale's 'backwoods America' stories. I love his work, and was curious if edgar was familiar with it.
Thus far, the authors with which I have been compared are persons I have not read, including Lansdale.
Good evening...
I know several of y'all from other threads.
Creative Writing doesn't attract too many folk. I'm surprised by that.
I cordially invite you to contribute to the group writing effort on A2K. Our latest attempt is under
"Gothboy's in Love." Thanks. -rjb-
