Truths About Writing:
1. Golden Rule: WRITE TO EXPRESS, NOT TO IMPRESS. If you don't know the difference, learn the difference.
2. There are no shortcuts to improving your vocabulary and writing style: using your dictionary and thesaurus just to sound "smarter" is very bad, sloppy, and lazy writing. Read. A lot. That's the best way to develop your writing naturally.
3. Learn to take criticism. You will never develop if you cry whenever someone insults your work. Writing has so much rejection, so many things to improve on, you will never be able to please everyone. There is ALSO a difference between "You suck." and "Your work sucks." If you can't tell the difference, you can't be a writer.
4. If you're writing for the money or fame, you're an idiot.
5. If you're purposely writing in the hopes that people will quote some of the things you say, your writing style will sound disgusting, and you are an idiot.
6. YOUR CHARACTERS ARE ALIVE. Never think otherwise. They are NOT your puppets, you are NOT a god. Your world breathes, and you have to let it run away if it wants to. If you don't give your writing freedom, it will remain a cardboard cutout. No matter how pretty it is, no matter how good the quality of the cardboard is, if you don't let it live, it will always be cardboard.
7. There actually ARE words you shouldn't use in your writing, because they really do ruin the mood. Like "zestful". Unless you are mocking anything, please do not use words like "zestful" in your prose, and ESPECIALLY not in your poetry. Also, if you say "she smiled with glee" instead of "she smiled", it makes it sound worse, because now we're imagining a very creepy, wide grin instead a natural, happy smile.
8. Speaking of poetry, rhyme WELL. Do not rhyme like you're trying to make a poem for preschoolers unless you want it to sound like that. "The mouse went up the clock, and it went tick-tock" or "That girl so fair, I love her hair!" is more common a disease than you might think. Be careful you're not doing it.
9. ["Never say 'John stopped long enough to perform an act of excretion' when you mean 'John stopped long enough to take a shit.'" -Stephen King.] When you do that, you don't sound more poetic, or intelligent. You sound like a douchebag.
10. If you think that adding dozens upon dozens of adjectives and adverbs in your writing and describing every tiny detail makes you sound better: learn about purple prose, you noob.
June 26, 2011
June 20, 2011
Seven
Author's Note: Written last May 4.
///
I've always hated your temper,
and your quick-to-die passion.
How you gave up so easily,
as quickly as you angered.
You always take what you want,
without ever thinking.
Don't share what you have,
and never think
you quite compare.
Never good enough.
Because you always wanted
[to be the best.]
Fall in [love] far too easily
for no real reason.
Because it makes you feel good
when you get alone
[especially when] it comes
with no strings to burn.
But then you always hated
how they were never
[obssessed] with you,
didn't you?
So you'd cry away the pain
and stuff yourself
with [endless] melted pints
of sickening ice cream.
///
You were always violent.
And always believed
few things were ever worth
your time or effort.
And you wanted everything
the [world] could offer.
Because you believed
you were worth it.
But then you were always
passionate, even for that short time.
Because you were unbearably unpatient.
And you always needed someone
to make you feel amazing
and special
and [wanted]
You were irrational
and never made any sense.
Impulsive and possessive.
And always,
always
always
hating the people
[better than you]
You were a mess
of seven:
frustrating,
deadly,
and [idiotic]
flaws.
But I always adored
your intensity
and your need to be best.
And the only thing you really wanted
out of all your [temporary] dolls
was the feeling of being loved.
Because you always knew
your [almost-fatal] conditions.
That made it impossible
to love someone like you
But I admit I've always
fallen for that pride of yours.
You thought you deserved the best.
And maybe it felt good
to know you thought
that you deserved [me]
///
I've always hated your temper,
and your quick-to-die passion.
How you gave up so easily,
as quickly as you angered.
You always take what you want,
without ever thinking.
Don't share what you have,
and never think
you quite compare.
Never good enough.
Because you always wanted
[to be the best.]
Fall in [love] far too easily
for no real reason.
Because it makes you feel good
when you get alone
[especially when] it comes
with no strings to burn.
But then you always hated
how they were never
[obssessed] with you,
didn't you?
So you'd cry away the pain
and stuff yourself
with [endless] melted pints
of sickening ice cream.
///
You were always violent.
And always believed
few things were ever worth
your time or effort.
And you wanted everything
the [world] could offer.
Because you believed
you were worth it.
But then you were always
passionate, even for that short time.
Because you were unbearably unpatient.
And you always needed someone
to make you feel amazing
and special
and [wanted]
You were irrational
and never made any sense.
Impulsive and possessive.
And always,
always
always
hating the people
[better than you]
You were a mess
of seven:
frustrating,
deadly,
and [idiotic]
flaws.
But I always adored
your intensity
and your need to be best.
And the only thing you really wanted
out of all your [temporary] dolls
was the feeling of being loved.
Because you always knew
your [almost-fatal] conditions.
That made it impossible
to love someone like you
But I admit I've always
fallen for that pride of yours.
You thought you deserved the best.
And maybe it felt good
to know you thought
that you deserved [me]
Crumbling
Author's Note: Written last May 3.
///
It's been so long
since the last time
I looked in your eyes
and just melted.
I've forgotten how
to be weak-kneed
when you talked to me.
But I was always the one
to understand your perfectly
zig-zagged philosphy.
And you always said
no one else could love
and be quite as addicted
to the bittersweet taste
of black coffee
that your kisses
would always be.
And you were the only one
I knew that could ever
tolerate the lies
I built around myself.
And still tell me
I was beautiful-amazing.
In that rushed, quick breath
in between the crashes of our lips.
Because we both knew
we were falling apart.
We were both fragile
from the very beginning.
And when people started
to worry, when the cracks
started to show
We both told them
to leave it alone
[We could handle it ourselves.]
And we were always too proud
to admit that we couldn't.
And everyone watched
as we both failed
to hold ourselves
together.
And we lost all the pieces
that once kept us
a wonder
It lost its beauty
and its glittering promises.
As we slowly hurt ourselves
trying to put the fragments back.
Until we couldn't remember
why we bothered trying
to save the [crumbled] ruins
of [us.]
///
It's been so long
since the last time
I looked in your eyes
and just melted.
I've forgotten how
to be weak-kneed
when you talked to me.
But I was always the one
to understand your perfectly
zig-zagged philosphy.
And you always said
no one else could love
and be quite as addicted
to the bittersweet taste
of black coffee
that your kisses
would always be.
And you were the only one
I knew that could ever
tolerate the lies
I built around myself.
And still tell me
I was beautiful-amazing.
In that rushed, quick breath
in between the crashes of our lips.
Because we both knew
we were falling apart.
We were both fragile
from the very beginning.
And when people started
to worry, when the cracks
started to show
We both told them
to leave it alone
[We could handle it ourselves.]
And we were always too proud
to admit that we couldn't.
And everyone watched
as we both failed
to hold ourselves
together.
And we lost all the pieces
that once kept us
a wonder
It lost its beauty
and its glittering promises.
As we slowly hurt ourselves
trying to put the fragments back.
Until we couldn't remember
why we bothered trying
to save the [crumbled] ruins
of [us.]
Standards
Author's Note: Written last May 3. Seriously, you have better luck being updated with my writing on my deviantart. *points to link in sidebar*
///
It always hurt,how you could never
seem to get over that laziness.
Or make your short-lived resolve
last longer.
Even for me.
But I guess
it's something
that I didn't want
to demand you to change.
And I can't say I'm fine
whenever you failed again
to keep another promise.
And when your insufferability
becomes too much to handle,
sometimes I wish
you'd be a lot less [you]
I've always had my standards.
And I admit you never
really [met] them.
Because if someone
had told me
you'd be the one back then.
I'd have laughed.
But you proved me wrong
with your eyes [burning]
with borderline madness.
And it drew me in
with your jigsaw puzzle
of pride and insecurity,
of logic and emotion.
Because you were always more
than just my standards, love.
You picked them up
and threw them at my face.
Looked back with your
defiant stubborness
and kissed away
the doubt.
Because it's [you]
I chose, love.
Not the mirrored ideas
of whatever I might have wanted
[you] to be.
It's [you] and not
whatever the standards
told you what you should have been.
And whenever I thought to myself
I couldn't handle it,
I always told myself,
I wouldn't want [you] to change.
Because even when
I tried to find
a million different reasons
to hate you
to leave you
and to be ashamed of you.
There'd always be
a [bajillion] more reasons
not to.
[Always.]
///
It always hurt,how you could never
seem to get over that laziness.
Or make your short-lived resolve
last longer.
Even for me.
But I guess
it's something
that I didn't want
to demand you to change.
And I can't say I'm fine
whenever you failed again
to keep another promise.
And when your insufferability
becomes too much to handle,
sometimes I wish
you'd be a lot less [you]
I've always had my standards.
And I admit you never
really [met] them.
Because if someone
had told me
you'd be the one back then.
I'd have laughed.
But you proved me wrong
with your eyes [burning]
with borderline madness.
And it drew me in
with your jigsaw puzzle
of pride and insecurity,
of logic and emotion.
Because you were always more
than just my standards, love.
You picked them up
and threw them at my face.
Looked back with your
defiant stubborness
and kissed away
the doubt.
Because it's [you]
I chose, love.
Not the mirrored ideas
of whatever I might have wanted
[you] to be.
It's [you] and not
whatever the standards
told you what you should have been.
And whenever I thought to myself
I couldn't handle it,
I always told myself,
I wouldn't want [you] to change.
Because even when
I tried to find
a million different reasons
to hate you
to leave you
and to be ashamed of you.
There'd always be
a [bajillion] more reasons
not to.
[Always.]
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