/lit/ — /wg/ - Writing General

fpbp

Still Fowler for my money.

700 words today

1000 words today. I've reached the middle of the beginning hook. One of the trap elves and MC got separated from the others while they were trying to cross the demon-infested forest. This trap elf doesn't like the MC very much, will he put his prejudice aside to cooperate with MC? Will MC bolt and leave the trap elf to his luck?

701 words today, still meandering and non-committed plot. the characters are strong, the scenes are strong, but nothing has happened.

>>25336337
It's outdated. I bet you still don't capitalize Black right, you fucking bigot. I bet you even use words like "black" and "dark" as synonyms for words like "bad" and "evil." Fucking racist

0 words today because I recently finished a draft but it's almost tomorrow, a day in which I have no work, so I think I'll spend it writing

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>>25336415

>>25336364
Do they fuck?

>>25336462
Read to find out!

Wrote an outline of my story and fed it to a clanker to evaluate based on what was absent, expressed in negative, or unsaid. It pointed out that none of my characters have any friends (it's just a dude, his sister, and the dude's coworker/handler/manager/yaoibait totally-not-bf), no one in the story gets angry at anything (the male characters' work revolves around a process that physically harms the one guy and emotionally hurts the other guy, and the sister sees her brother coming back from his weird "work trips" all fucked up but can't be told how or why), and there are no real villains (they're basically glowies but there's no single person the plot revolves around beating).
I think clankers are only a step above worthless. Are these valid critiques or problems? It doesn't feel natural to have anything like this in the story but I'm pretty autistic and I'm trying to write normal people so maybe there's something I'm not understanding.

>>25336471
>it's just a dude, his sister, and the dude's coworker/handler/manager/yaoibait totally-not-bf
What a cast
Seems like the lack of anger might be an issue, sounds like a super dramatic story and most people have emotions like that running high in such situations. But it's impossible for me to tell if that lack is a problem or if it fits the story without reading your work. No friend characters and no embodied antagonist are both perfectly acceptable lackings, don't worry about those, the LLM is just grasping at straws to fulfill your prompt there.
>I think clankers are only a step above worthless.
Check out water sometime. You'll be surprised to find it wet.

ESL here. So what should I get?
Fowler’s 1st edition?
Fowler’s 2nd edition?
Garner’s older American usage?
Garner’s newest edition?
I checked the preview of Fowler’s. And it’s a dictionary, list of words with short explanation? Or are there versions of Fowler’s?

>>25336600
You should obviously get the latest edition because that will contain the information most pertinent to you, someone living in the present.
>[Is it] a dictionary, [a] list of words with short explanation[s]?
'tis

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>>25336437
Bow down.

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I had to hide my erection, which was sticking out and making me walk like a creep. I have to say, those sluts who just walked past me were hot. Still young, with perky tits that swayed this way and that. They were coming off the beach and all had those overly serious, bitchy faces, like they'd taken the art of sucking cock to heart.

"They'll probably go get fucked by some asshole who'll treat them like dogs and spit on them. Maybe even some black guy with a big dick," I thought to myself. It was the act of sucking balls and imagining their still-fresh little faces with their big tits hanging down that gave me a massive hard-on. I had to readjust my dick and I could already feel the precum getting wet inside.

When I turned around, it was their big, firm, tanned buttocks shaking all over the place that gave me another hard-on, like a rhinoceros horn. I imagined my nose buried in them, all that sexy meat suffocating me. "I wonder what it must smell like, though, an asshole as pretty as that," I thought to myself. "What wouldn't I give to sniff it for just a second, to bury myself in a smelly paradise for a brief moment. I'd even give up my PC, you know. Just for a moment of infinity."

That moment of infinity, I had chased it all my life, and I had never been as close as I was in Tokyo, where I volunteered for some bizarre porn film. They laid me in a pit and covered me with a platform until only my head remained uncovered. I was about to get a face full of it. Then, a Japanese girl, probably in her twenties, sat down in front of me, lowered her pants, and then planted her asshole right in front of my nose. An invitation to sniff.

It unlocked something in my brain, being like that, like a shit-eater, with no more dignity than a fly you squash without a second thought. She was crushing me with her beautiful white ass and she started making me swallow her lunch. At first I spat it all out, I vomited, but she didn't give a damn and she gathered the pieces one by one to shove them back into my mouth with tweezers, until I swallowed them all, and she even made me eat the toilet paper she'd used to wipe the shit that was still stuck to her ass.

I was over the moon, but I still had to stay in bed for a week because my stomach hadn't appreciated it. I kept replaying in my head the look she'd given me—hard, cold, contemptuous. It was when she looked at me like that that I felt alive and useful for the first time since I was born. I wanted to tell her to take me in, to feed me her shit for days, weeks, until I died with a smile on my face. Septic shock

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Monica, we had connected through one of those websites for degenerates. "Full time slave looking for a cruel and violent mistress. $100,000 a year." For her, it was an insane amount. She lived in one of those industrial cities along the Volga, whose existence was almost no longer justified after the fall of the USSR. I had sold my small apartment to get that money. I didn't need it anymore. Besides, I wasn't even planning on coming back.

The thing that struck me about her photos was the almost ethereal beauty of her features. Red-haired, with Pippi Longstocking-style pigtails and a band of freckles that went from cheek to cheek, she had eyes of such a light blue that one wondered if they were natural.

She looked more like a caricature of the ideal Hitler woman on a German propaganda poster than the image I had of a typical young Russian girl. When I first saw her at Novgorod airport, something struck me. She was identical to the photos she posted, but her gaze, her eyes, were devoid of any soul. Eyes of an unimaginable pallor in which malice, selfishness, and disdain for other humans were all too apparent. The eyes of a creature who had never had to lift a finger for anything, who lived a life isolated from all labor, and who, as if jaded by the ease with which men fulfilled her needs, reveled in cruel and indecent acts just to feel the faintest hint of emotion in her heart.

She had what looked like a homemade doghouse at her place, which she pointed out to me without a word, and which had surely been built by one of her Ivans in exchange for a feverish romp. She put a chain around my neck and tied me to the doghouse. I was trapped like a rat.

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Few words could describe the suffering and misery I endured during those months. And yet, each of these memories is precious to me.
Monica was a first-rate sadist, a bitch, a loveless whore. She used me like a filthy public toilet, smearing it everywhere and then making me lick the floor clean until my saliva made it shine. She splattered everywhere. My tongue had licked every nook and cranny in search of puddles of urine, which I greedily sucked up, so there was never any need to vacuum. Sometimes, I could glimpse the shadow of a smile on her angelic face during a difficult moment when the shit was particularly foul and atrocious to swallow, and I felt a newfound zeal within me that made me redouble my efforts.

Over time, I had become so accustomed to the taste of her excrement that I could guess precisely the type of cuisine and sometimes even the dish she had eaten for lunch or dinner the day before. A piece of poorly digested chili here, a kernel of corn there. I had developed a sense of pride in unmasking, beneath their filthy appearance, the dishes that my mistress deigned to share with me.

However, this diet came at a price. Although sometimes supplemented with leftover rice or expired vegetables, I had become skeletal and malnourished. Not even a small blanket during those freezing nights spent huddled in my kennel, sobbing softly, chained up like a dog, . Finally, one day, I couldn't even stand. My body had become so emaciated and ravaged by the bloody wounds and cigarette burns Monica inflicted daily that my appearance would have traumatized even the most robust guard at Auschwitz.

>>25336646
>>25336653
>>25336658
Posting scat-centric AIslop should net you a permaban.

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The worst happened one evening when she had invited two friends over for dinner. It was one of those moments I dreaded the most. The inherent meanness in women was amplified when the boundaries of the individual gave way to the matriarchal tribe.

In those moments, no cruelty, no depravity was spared. As was her custom when entertaining guests, Monica liked to show off her pet. She was proud to display what had once been a human being, transformed by her own hand into a walking corpse, a broken and useless possession just waiting to be thrown in the trash.

But during those wild nights, she used her entire arsenal to entertain her guests. Whipping, scrotum-pulling, wild rides, living ashtrays—nothing was off-limits. Often, her friends joined in the insane ritual. That night, then, the violence reached its peak. My poor body could no longer endure the blows. My foot, by reflex following a particularly brutal blow, shot backward to deliver a kick to Monica, who was behind me. She fell backward onto the floor. The air hung heavy. Silence.

In a fury like I had never seen before, she went into the kitchen and came back with a burning poker that she had heated on the stove. Her two friends were holding me by the arms. I was too weak to struggle.

Then, with the most evil smile on her face, she went right for the testicles, and kept pressing, until an abominable smell of burnt flesh filled the room. Darkness engulfed me. When I regained consciousness, I was lying by the side of a road, naked. My body and my mind, utterly crushed, never to recover again during this earthly life.

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I know what you're thinking. Why inflict so much suffering upon oneself? Why destroy oneself to this extent? What could possibly drive a man to abandon life and seek refuge in the arms of filth and the denial of his own humanity? It's simply God. Yes. Each of these acts, which might seem absurd, were in reality attempts to merge with the eternal. By making the ultimate choice to renounce free will and devote myself entirely to the worship and contemplation of female orifices, I drew closer to the divine.

For what else but the hairy vulva of the most beautiful woman, that grotesque and gaping hole, the instrument that creates life and annihilates will and dreams forever unrealized? What else but the foul-smelling anus of a young woman in bloom, that blackened stain that contrasts so sharply with the pale beauty of a lovely goddess, a source of nothing but stench and filth, despite the softness, the beauty, the sweet fragrance of a still-fresh female body? What else could be more incredible to revere than the complete negation of the young woman's aesthetic perfection, so naively cherished by the simple-minded without embracing its entirety, without being utterly attracted, shocked, and disgusted by this violence of ideas and such extreme contrasts? In short, without feeling that nanosecond of eternity in the lowest baseness, crushed under the weight of the hidden and forbidden place, that monster of ugliness that I call god.

It was with a contented smile that I often listened to my mistress's one-night stands moan with pleasure. As they emptied their seed into her carrot-haired hole, they imagined they possessed her, had conquered her, understood her. Poor fools. They had only experienced a fleeting moment of heaven, when her hot pussy greedily welcomed their spunk. After that, they were nothing to her, shells that had only tasted the sweet side of the divine being without ever being satiated by its sour side, so essential to the alchemical mixture of eternal life. As for me, I had devoured her entire being. I possessed her to the very depths of her intimacies, her forbidden secrets, down to the smallest beauty mark in the crease of her buttocks. She possessed me body and soul. We were in perfect harmony.

I had tasted, licked, worshipped every part of her being down to the most intimate forbidden one. Her periods held no secrets for me; She, whom men worshipped like a god and showered with ever more gifts and offerings, she surrendered herself to me in the most complete and exposed way possible. I had seen God in his most extreme nakedness.

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Didn't read, to be honest.

>>25336661
>ai
it's not

Why is it always AIsloppers who insist on ignoring "Please limit excerpts to one post."? It's incredible to me how one piece of technology can fixate all of the most irritating and abrasive people with creative aspirations.

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>>25336695
Why are you so desperate for this to be ai. Here's the original draft in French all handwritten.

>>25336703
>Why are you so desperate for this to be ai.
Because it's the only way I can cope with the idea that some deranged shit-obsessed faggot would actually spend writing paragraphs about simping and actual shit.

>>25336705
At least you're honest. Next time ignore the posts you don't like instead of inventing a story in your head

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>>25336708
>Please limit excerpts to one post.
>ignore the general rule
>"wtf why are people complaining about my scat coomfic? just let me post about eating shit and simping in peace"

>>25336709
You're gonna be alright. Take a deep breath and scroll past these posts

>>25336717
Maybe next time don't dump a wall of text about eating shit unprompted.

>>25336721
No I will do it again just for (you)

>>25336703
It's a real achievement to write something indistinguishable from AIslop, although admittedly your grammar is much worse. I see now that it's merely yet another pedestrian case of a poor writer with Asperger's syndrome.

I’m genuinely starting to wonder if novel writing is for me. I’ve written and published my novel, but I found the publishing process to be draining, and I truthfully only wrote a novel because I lacked the budget for other mediums. Would it be worthwhile pursuing writing in other mediums? I was never a big book reader in general despite always loving writing.

>>25336936
>I’ve written and published my novel
If you mean selfpub then I do not understand why people say this to make themselves bigger.

Any retard and foid can put their shit up on Amazon. That's the point - they have no standards.

>>25336936
No because you're far more interested in the idea of being a writer than the craft itself

>>25336726
If I knew it wouldn't encourage more *literal* shitposting then I'd bother to comment on this. But I know it might and quite frankly I don't want to think about any of this ever again.

Be honest, anon. The world is better without this work

>>25336600
Just pirate the newest shit of Garner's and Fowler's.
>I checked the preview of Fowler’s. And it’s a dictionary, list of words with short explanation? Or are there versions of Fowler’s?
It's a usage DICTIONARY.

>>25336936
Writing is writing, even if it's a stage or screen play. You should write for a medium that you understand and that sparks joy in you, otherwise why bother?

I find that im adequate at writing individual scenes and little vignettes, but i struggle writing longer cohesive narratives without it becoming a slog of uninteresting connecting bits linking aforementioned scenes. Does anyone have any advice? Should i just stick to writing vignettes and just make a compilation rather than something overarching? Does anyone else struggle with this? Im rather new to writing so any advice is appreciated.

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>>25337087

>>25336717
Still, just type it up into an image and single post.

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How do I describe this archetype?

>>25337264
Mine gets mistaken for a boy in the first two chapters she appears

>>25336949
>they have no standards.
what standard does trad pub have in 2026?
be an idiot foid or else?

>>25337279
their standards are
>something that they think will sell
>something that won’t be called mean names by critics

>>25337307
>something that they think will sell
Let's be real they are not concerned with that.

>>25337309
they certainly are. that’s why they follow trends so aggressively. when a book becomes a hit, they flood the market with knockoffs for the next decade. they’re not doing so because of wokeness.

>>25337332
So, they are bad at their jobs?

>>25337338
NTA; obviously not everything can be a hit but I think the point is that they're widely aiming for hits and not something else

>>25337307
Any publicity is good publicity. Doesn’t hurt to have a plethora of terrible reviews if it’s not about the quality of content, but rather the content itself.

anon who cannot be named is really just having a conversation with himself in his own thread. sad.

>>25336333 (OP)
Is F. Gardner's Modern English Usage a better reference book to have than the Chicago Manual of Style?

NJB is going mainstream

>>25337497
The YT channel?

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NJB is inevitable

>>25337528
>the lamentable zeitgeist of our time
>the lamentable time spirit of our time
yeah shant be reading any of that moron's shit

>>25337528
Can you just make up that stiff with your pseudonyms? If I query an agent, can I say I'm from Kenya or some shit and he has to believe it?

>>25337529
You cunts invent the weirdest ways to be insufferable faggots.
>"...that reflects the lamentable zeitgeist."
Doesn't flow at all and is partially unclear. Adding "of our time" clarifies and smooths the sentence out, even if it is minorly redundant.

>>25337542
Hey nick