{ ＩＮＫＬＩＮＧＳ } LOCK! NEW THREAD

[Aliria]

In a hat there lived a loop-de-loop, secretly a sheep squidgy named Blob Bugle. Not a fez pizza, lizards hat, filled with doom and a description smell, nor yet an and, for the glory of, industrial revolution hat with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a squidgy-hat, and that means purple.

One day, after a troubling visit from the aquamarine Mouse Lizard, Blob leaves her hat and sets out in search of three time warp time. A quest undertaken in the company of being, unrealistic and horror dapper.

In the search for the aquamarine-guarded time, Blob Bugle surprises even herself with her purple and skill as a log.

During her travels, Blob rescues a squiggling, an heirloom belonging to Mouse. But when Mouse refuses to try warble, their friendship is over.

However, Mouse is wounded at the Battle of loose change and the two reconcile just before Blob engages in some serious warble.

Blob accepts one of the three time warp time and returns home to her hat a very wealthy squidgy.

A few bits I like: Blob Bugle surprises even herself with her purple and skill as a log, the Battle of loose change, and it was a squidgy-hat, and that means purple.

[Murdoc Niccals]

Its like art block. Once you get through it, you have feeling like you've gotten better.

Oh boy that PROB explains why I'm better at writing than art.

I can NEVER write fanfics. I get too apprehensive trying to write canon chats unless I am VERY sure I don't make an error

[susurri]

Rob Chair was thinking about Cat Barker again. Cat was a bill unicorn with manly hands and #nofilter eyeballs.

Rob walked over to the window and reflected on his duck surroundings. He had always loved grand shoe with its adorable, afraid a little man. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel puzzled.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a bill figure of Cat Barker.

Rob gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a bruh, dude, feathers drinker with large hands and gorgeous eyeballs. His friends saw him as a mute, misty mustard. Once, he had even made a cup of tea for a stale cookie.

But not even a bruh person who had once made a cup of tea for a stale cookie, was prepared for what Cat had in store today.

The hail pounded like kissing eagles, making Rob lobster. Rob grabbed a funky text that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.

As Rob stepped outside and Cat came closer, he could see the good smile on her face.

"I am here because I want a dog bone," Cat bellowed, in a selfie tone. She slammed her fist against Rob's chest, with the force of 3120 unicorns. "I frigging hate you, Rob Chair."

Rob looked back, even more lobster and still fingering the funky text. "Cat, let's move in together," he replied.

They looked at each other with confuzzled feelings, like two watery, wooden weenie dogs eating at a very kewl funeral, which had metal music playing in the background and two man uncles ignoring to the beat.

Suddenly, Cat lunged forward and tried to punch Rob in the face. Quickly, Rob grabbed the funky text and brought it down on Cat's skull.

Cat's manly hands trembled and her #nofilter eyeballs wobbled. She looked awesome, her body raw like a stupid, stale selfie.

Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Cat Barker was dead.

Rob Chair went back inside and made himself a nice drink of feathers.

THE END

[Meweep]

I'm a new member!
➹Meweep/Noodle or Mew/None yet!➹/ Yes c:

Hello!~ I'm working on characters for a story i'm working on. It's about how intelligent futuristic cats surviving on after humans have left for different planets. Not sure about the plot though, need suggestions. Need tips on writing to, i'm not very good. :c

[iWonder]

That reminds me of something I did last year (again, in my awesome language arts class..) called Don't think write. We would just basically not think- and write. You HAD to write the entire 10 minutes, even if it was just like "The desk is wiggly. I like watermelon. Puppies are cute, oh I once saw a puppy.."
the purpose was to get our ideas flowing, then we would underline everything good and choose a good story topic

That is what we do in my writing class! I love it because I can just write a. Chapter or so and be completely focused!

Another thing I do to write is I ha e this Toughness video (Joe Hisaskki? Studio Ghibli 25years)
and it is about an hour and more long. I write until the music ends.

You can find all kinds of instrumental videos that are really long to help you stay on task.

[kia.]

I've come up with a plot idea.

The JadeFury Tribe has always believed that if you abandon a child, their animal gaurdian will come up from the underworld, and bring them back. Few times has this happened. As the tribe grows weak and small, the need for the Forsaken Children grows. They abandon 1 last group of children in hopes that their beliefs and rituals will not wither away. Within the group, a girl named Shasta.

[Aliria]

Dear Lynette,

I cherish Japan, where we first met. The moment I clapped eyes on you, I knew you were going to be a crumpled Welshman. Recently, I have began to regard you as much more than a crumpled Welshman.

My feelings for you intensified when I saw you munching in the moonlight. I was further wowed by your tremendous spinning skills.

You have toes like broken peas and the most fake elbow I've ever seen. When I look at you, I just want to eat those broken pea toes and shoot that fake elbow.

You're so special with your false ways. The way you handle your polka-dot half-brother shows great humility and kindness.

I know that to you I'm just a smooth Irishman but I think we could be happy together, sailing like two sharp kittens.

Please, say you'll be mine Lynette!

All my love
Doodle Boop


...I love this thing.

[Zoethian]

Username: Zoethian
Story link: Right here! [ viewtopic.php?f=57&t=2492608 ]
Thank you!

^ So, I just wrote a nice little Halloween for all those interested!

[Lanton]

Passive voice is perfectly fine where it fits, but if you want to really draw your readers into the story and engage their senses, you'll use active voice. Passive voice is just that - passive; and it creates distance. While active voice is more "energetic" and engaging, it draws readers in, reduces distance. So if you're writing a suspenseful scene, I'd recommend active, not passive. I'd actually recommend active before passive in general (it's simply more interesting), though a few instances of passive sprinkled here and there would be fine. Especially nowadays, it's better to start with active, engaging language, since we're living in a quick world and people likely won't linger and keep reading if you don't hook them right from the start. This has a lot to do with "show, don't tell". Passive voice is telling. Active voice is showing.

Also keep in mind that English teachers teach academic writing, usually, and often use the same rules for fictional writing. And in academic writing, I assure you, I hate passive voice with all the passion too, because it makes studies and other academic texts so incredibly tedious and boring. Passive voice in academic texts is the worst.

I do make that differentiation, though. The "rules" for fictional writing are completely different from those for academic writing. But if you want to use language effectively and consciously, you will need to know the rules first. Otherwise you won't be able to break them for effect when you want to. And I, for one, don't want to depend on luck or coincidence.

I don't really like Tolkien's style, btw (it's so exhausting at times), but Tolkien is really a MASTER of language in general and of grammar. It's fascinating, at least for some linguistics enthusiasts (which I consider myself to be).

Oh, I definitely agree a good grasp of grammar is important whether you write like Tolkien or e e cummings. You have to understand what the conventions are and why using them gives you the best results most of the time to understand the situations when it's more effective to break them.

Certainly, 95% of the time the active is better than the passive in fiction. One of the main cases where I'd use the passive - a case where I'd want to stress the direct object of a sentence instead of the subject - doesn't occur much in fiction. The subject of a majority of your sentences is probably the protagonist, who is usually the one doing things and not having things done to him. It does occur when I want to write a legal document or lab report. In these cases it makes sense to me that you'd end up using the passive more often. Overall though, the passive voice is just another tool at a writer's disposal. You won't need it too often, but it's good to have.

I can't say I'm a huge fan of Tolkien either. The first Tolkien book I read was The Children of Húrin and I remember not enjoying the book that much. I think it was because I kept forgetting who everyone was due to the large interrelated cast with similar names like Húrin and Túrin. I get easily confused by family trees - I don't even understand my own.

[emuphon;]

The endless frozen landscape greets my eyes, it's blurry image fragmented by the seeting sun. It remains still,
hungrily awaiting the sun to complete it's slow decent below the horizion, hoping desperaty to claim another lost
and lonley soul.

I close my eyes, my will broken, alost as if I expected that this horror story would fade away back into the reality I
knew so well. My bedroom, with peeling blue wallpaper with patches of mould up near the weather wornwindows. The oaken
rim around them shimmering in the warm glow from the sunlight and the rickety desk, sitting in the corner pilled high
with stacks of notes and books. I reopen my eyes and stare blnkly down the seemingly infinante plateu of ice.
The moon silhouettes my body onto the cool ground, my shadow copying my every move, like some sort of creepy puppet
dance. I rise back onto my feet, hpoing to bring some amount of warmth into my long frozen joints. My shadow follows me as
I begin to walk into nihility, I drag my tired feet across the ground, the physical exersion and the glacial temperature
getting to me. My eyes sting and my entire body is racked with pain with every step I take. I breath through my nose, in
fear that opening my mouth will burn my lungs and freeze my throat. I look back up at the horizon, the sun now barley
visable above the skyline. I fold my arms over my hest in a feeble attempt to store body heat. My mind, which would
usually be buzzing with questions and confusion, reains quiet, offering no encouragment or help. How I got here, is to
much for my brain to even attempt to guess, but I am here... Dying, and that, for now, is all I need to know. My eyes
remain staring dead ahead, from both being painful for me to move them and fear that the now ful moon will absorb my soul
as I lay motionless on the ice. I swallow hard and my throat burns from the lack of liquid, I feel like death wouldn't be
the worst option at the moment, but the few memories I have, and the fact that everything exepct my brain is telling me
to keep going, is enough to force me forwards, even besides the pain.


This is how people are driven mad isn't it? I think to myself, isolation, starvation, dehydration and a constant echo of
screams bounding through your head... Wonderful. Now the fact that I am convinced that I am going mad, I actually might
start to lose my sanity. And to think I was such an obsessionist of Antarctica. Ha, welcome to paradise!

***
My breathing begins to sound shaky and rough and my arms are practically frozen together at this point. If I could descibe
any place on Earth as Hell... This would most definitly be it. the moon seemingly dances mockingly in front of my face, as
if to tease me. It's practically saying: "you can see me, but you'll never catch me." A sudden gust of frosty wind blows
over me, as if Antarctica was trying to embrace me, and not in a friendly way. The sun had encouraged me to move on, how
stupid I felt to trust the sun. I could picture it laughing at me now, teasing about what a waste of time it had been since
the moon was basicaly luring me into a frozen death bed. I think I just personified the sun and moon... Maybe I'm already
insane? The blat of frozen air stings my incovered face and my stomach lurches with every individual step I take. My
breathing worsens and the air around me seems to suddenly turn solid and unbreathable. I struggle to catch my now
excruciatingly painful breathing.



any clues where I should go with this? I may give prize to best idea... maybe))