He's mostly trolling way harder than he can manage.

@fiedler: That's not what Romantics is about. But I know you idiots are trolling anyways.
@ulytau: I stopped trolling when I posted my best.

Bump.

Ah, the great outdoors that's actually your mind!

KA, I dig the poem, but the rhymes occasionally feel a little forced and interfere with the meter. If you're doing a romantic era poem, you should be sure that the rhyme and meter are synchronized and don't feel like they're jostling. One way to accomplish this is cutting a lot of the little words you're using:

But when I’m there, I always know
That though beneath the shade I lie
And watch Nature frolic as a doe,

I think works a little better as

But when I’m there, I always know
Though beneath the shade I lie
Watching Nature frolic as a doe,

Or, you could get a little more modern and ditch that bullshit. I would love to see some more free form stuff stuff from you.

Well, I haven't been working on my poetry lately...focusing more on my books. I have a small bit prepared, but I'm sure you all will just tear it apart.

Another bump.

Bump/I'll post the opener to my novel tomorrow.

@gramilaj: I did, actuallly write that poem in fifteen minutes, so it is...a bit rough.

Alright, it's the moment you've all been waiting for! Complete Story Time! Obi better show up this time...
Anyways, here it is...I'm ready to take all the trolling that you people have

Alright, this is the beginning of my novel. I know it's not much, in fact, it's hardly a page, but I have much more to come. And I thought that it would be better if I posted single bits at a time. In case you were wondering, this first part is only to allow you to get an idea of the main character's

I walked from my school with sore limbs and a bad headache. I remember thinking that I needed some rest. I then dismissed the thought and pressed onwards. (For it was in those days when I thought too highly of myself to think that I might be seen as weak.) Usually it took my mom long enough to arrive, but today she seemed preoccupied. My estimate was that it would take her a bit longer than usual. Minutes passed, hours, days… I was one of the last kids left. The rest were gone and were now sitting in their homes laughing at the thought of someone waiting this long. My mother never did come. Instead, I received a replacement.

“Hey, how’s it going?” my dad asked as I hopped into his car. I gave no answer. It was a quiet car ride, and that was to be expected. When we pulled into our neighborhood, my dad finally said, “I got you a little something for your birthday; I was hoping you might like it.”

Of this, I had no answer to. I had forgotten about my birthday. Of all the things that I had been forced to think about throughout the school day, this eluded me. I wondered what they could have gotten me for a while, but I was soon back to my grip of apathy. It gave me no surprise when my dad asked me, “why don’t you check the mail, take out the trash and shut the garage for me?” And so, my apathy turned to bitterness.

My present was given to me as I walked in. It was a simple notebook.

I suppose that anyone reading this would remark on the significance on all of this. That is completely understood, for I do see little in what role is being played by what has been said. Nevertheless, what is to come is of the greatest significance, for it was fifteen years after the day of my birth that I found something terrible.

**of the main character's attitude and view on life.
Sorry, it cut off.

Bumpass

Wow, this is awesome! I can't wait to read more!

Bumpitty. And more is to come...

I usually don't dig the whole "little did I know it but this would be some crazy shit" type of stuff

it feels too much like an old man spinning a story for little kids

if thats the feel you want fine but i like more modern storytelling - visceral you might call it

that seems to be the style youre closest to anyway so try for that.

there is a technique - i dont remember the name - where you drop for a moment your past tense and just write out the characters thoughts as they come without saying "i thought"

Like this:

My dad pulled up in the car. Fuck. I don't want to see him today. Why doesn't he just leave me the fuck alone?

I reluctantly got in the car. He said "got you something for your birthday!"

Etc.

I like that style a lot but its up to you if you want to use it

That takes away from the eloquence, but I'm sure that you don't care about that. I think writing is supposed to be a work of art, not some frivolous pass-time. You might agree if you tried to appreciate something for once, you'd decide that Dickens' style is a great deal better than that assinine crap. This whole planet's dialect is falling apart. People don't even take the time to use full words any more. Any one who prefers what you said is obviously too much of an idiot to actually think when having a conversation.

Dude... come on. I actually read your thing and just gave you some friendly advice - you're not obliged to use it and you're certainly not obliged to bitch at me about it.

You, TC, and Mapleleaf seem to have some penchant for just hating on people, eh?

Would you rather I just not read the things you post? Like so many other people here already do?

And who says modern style suddenly means it's not a work of art??

If art is defined as that which evokes emotion, and hard-hitting modern style writing is what does it, how is that not a masterpiece? If that doesn't do it for you then that's okay, but... you see what I mean.

@Thucy

I think it's time to give up. I tried to help atom out, but he isn't interested in discourse. He only wants drama.

Lol yeah you're probably right.

It's too bad though because writing is such a great form of self-expression, so I see KA expressing himself, take an interest, and he spits in my face. Lol. I mean... whatever.

How long did we have to put up with krellin before he chilled out? 1 year? Yikes.

Actually, I compare atom to CM.

Remember how much of a brat he was when he first joined? Now, I like him. Hopefully atom will mature as well.

That's true I'm the same way. But CM was never this fucking arrogant he was just wrong all the time. Lol.

Also, since I guess I never learn, the sentence "My present was given to me as I walked in" is a bit passive.

Maybe if you rephrase it "They gave me my present as I walked in" it would be better, active voice usually is.

I have a problem with that myself so

Fine, I will take that into consideration. And I have a problem when you don't capitalize my name.

Reminded of a project I wanted to do is what this discussion of the passive voice makes me - 100% passive voice. Convoluted and hard to read is what that paper would be.

The passive voice is the only voice ever used by me.

lol

The worst assignment I ever had was when I wasn't allowed to use the verb "to be" in an assignment. I understand the point, but my prof took it to the extreme. Some of my sentences were really convoluted. I got points taken off because "to be" was in a quote I used. lol fuck that course.

yeah ive had to do something similar.

trash.

Including what I posted above, this is the entire segment of the prologue:

My venture home the next day was the result of my impatience. I rode the bus home, letting my parents wait unnecessarily for once. Upon my arrival home, I noticed that there was a notebook very similar to mine sitting in the trash can. Closer inspection revealed my brother’s name imprinted on it. Wonderful. Not only did I receive a mere notebook for my birthday, but my brother was given one as well. My feelings of bitterness grew stronger.

“Are mom and dad home?” I asked.

“How should I know?” My older brother replied. He had a way of feigning ignorance, while giving the obvious suspicion that he knew of what he spoke. My brother was moderately tall and relatively good looking. It was by this that he had any level of self-respect, for he had dropped out of college and had been fired from several types of work in the past year. At the age of twenty-two, he presented himself as a bit of a drunk. (Although it was not the nature of our family members to do so, he had lost all respect for traditional values.) In my opinion, he was too much of a coward to face the world on his own. Every time he had gone down, he brought his benefactor with him. And too many times had that benefactor been our family.

“Is Rick home?” At the very least, perhaps my uncle could notify my parents of my early arrival home. However, I did not expect an answer and so I left the room. I walked upstairs and noticed two more notebooks. One on each of my little brothers’ beds. I confiscated them and scratched out the imprint of their names on the cover. I then tore out the first couple of pages which held pathetic drawings of various things around the house. I remarked on whether or not they would become upset by the loss of their journals, but I took them nevertheless. I would have checked my sister’s room for a notebook, but she ran off a few days ago. My parents seemed to care about her the least. (Which was much to say due to the level of treatment I had received.)

But what disturbed me the most that day was not that my birthday had gone practically unheeded, but that I had discovered a strange note lying in my parents’ bedroom. Normally entering my parents’ room would be the cause of punishment, but the aspirin was held in their medical cabinet and I needed something to relieve the stress of the week. My eyes caught sight of the letter, primarily because it came from the U.S. military. I knew then, that I should not have read the letter, but I knew then that something terrible was about to happen. Reading the letter only revealed the worst of my suspicions, war had been declared. My father, my uncle, and my brother were all called into the draft.