Creative Corner (meaning, tense, speech, money)

[Reziac]

Originally Posted by aliasfinn

He yelled at me to put out my smoke
I thought he was about to have a stroke

I stubbed it out in this small white pot
He then began screaming,he was really distraught

[aliasfinn]

Elmer Fudd had stepped in crud while hunting for a rabbit
Daffy Duck said," wtf ? that's quite a nasty habit."


Heckle and Jeckle had lost their sheckel and didn't know where to find it
So they took up stealing which was much more appealing,they didn't seem to mind it.



Popeye choked on the spinach he ate because he didn't chew
Bluto laughed at Popeye's fate and watched his face turn blue.

[Reziac]

See? Kids are right. Spinach is dangerous!

[aliasfinn]

Originally Posted by Reziac

See? Kids are right. Spinach is dangerous!

I would rather eat the label off the can.

[Reziac]

Likewise! And it's probably better for you, too. Ever wonder why so many little kids act like spinach is poison, to the point of panicking? likely they can smell the oxalic acid, which is indeed not good for a growing youngster as it prevents calcium from being absorbed from the gut. In adults, it can cause kidney stones.

http://www.childrensdayton.org/cms/r...e_and_diet.pdf

[Javier77]

Hi guys, just a little short story. (English is my second language, so maybe there's some grammar/spelling mistake)




HOMECOMING.




I dont believe that PTSD bull****. He was a nutter long before he went to Iraq. Ok, maybe

PTSD is real, like that guy who killed that sniper in a shooting range in Texas, but not him;

he's just the same old idiot who thinks his stunts still impress me.




But I am no longer that teenage girl who would spread her legs to any guy who dropped

some good lines and drove a decent car.




It's time to move, Rhonda, wake up. Mum has been telling me that for months. It's no

secret to anybody that he has changed, but I spared her the details. She would freak out if

she knew how the situation is. How he spends 2 hours in the shower every morning. How he

changes clothes 3 or 4 times a day. How he boils every single food and refuses to drink

anything but bottled water.





And his guns. He spends the entire day cleaning them. He's in a trance while cleaning his

guns inthe garage. Once I went to pick up some filters for the coffee machine. He was so

engrossed, he didnt even see me. I was invisible. He was way out there. That very same

day I thought about leaving.





But going where? Finding a job in some sorry ass restaurant? Moping floors? Changing the

diapers of some old bastard in a home?




This clown is just adjusting to civil life, that's all.




According to Brenda, it's just normal. She also had a hard time with Ronnie when he came

back from his tour. And he had been there for almost 4 years, not an easy landing.




She spiced things up in the bedroom. It worked. The clouds were quickly gone and Brenda

never complained again.




I tried.




“Are you trying to clean your conscience?”. “Do I look like I need a pity ****?”. “Yes,

behave like a ****, that just made my day”.




Soon afterwards, he had no objections when I suggested he should move to the guests

room. Most nights I hear footsteps. He walks around the house. I can hear him standing in

front of my room, which I keep locked and secured. I would even think he's tried to open the door at some point.







Very creepy. How am I supposed to tell him I am pregnant? How am I supposed to tell him

Ronnie got too “spiced up” and now I am carrying his seed in my womb?

Very bad timing.

[Reziac]

That's a really good, slightly creepy little story, and the twist at the end is just... wicked.

The only grammar mistake I see is that civil should be civilian .... tho you could also say a civil life (as contrasted to a life of panic, like in the war).

Otherwise, this is ready to go. Are you submitting to a print market, or ?? Tho you can make a lot more money with short fiction if you write enough to fill a book and self-publish it.

[Javier77]

Originally Posted by Reziac

That's a really good, slightly creepy little story, and the twist at the end is just... wicked.

The only grammar mistake I see is that civil should be civilian .... tho you could also say a civil life (as contrasted to a life of panic, like in the war).

Otherwise, this is ready to go. Are you submitting to a print market, or ?? Tho you can make a lot more money with short fiction if you write enough to fill a book and self-publish it.

Hi Reziac, thanks for your feedback.

I havent really planned anything regarding that little story...but I'd certainly like to publish it with some others I have, I'll just check for online literary contests, I feel very motivated this 2016, becoming an author has been a life long dream.

I write mainly in Spanish, even though I force myself to write in English every now and again to keep an aproach as open as possible.

See you around.

[Reziac]

Literary contests that you pay to enter are really dead donkey lotteries.

Here's the rule to live by:

Money always flows TOWARD the writer. If any outfit asks you to pay up front, it's a scam.

If as you say you're motivated, and your average stuff is as good as this story -- bundle them up and sell them on Amazon. It may take a while to find your market, and it may be a small niche, but hey, that's what genre categories are for.

[Javier77]

Yes, I have participated in a few of them. You send your work to a contest, it gets nominated and included in a book with the best ones...you can buy the book from them if you want.

I did participate in such a contest this past Christmas, and my micro-story wasnt even about Christmas, which was the subject of the contest...but surprise surprise, it was included in the book. They didnt even tell who was the winner, if there was a winner at all. I knew it was a trick, but I bought it anyways, cos I wanted to use the book as a gift for a friend...a win-win situation I guess.

I am gonna definitelly try amazon, nothing to lose, thanks for the advise.

Okay, one for the road, that's the stuff I sent:



GONE






He arrived at the clearing early, at one of those hours devoted to sleep for most men. But a lumberjack adopts the pace

of the forest. After a few years, he seems to have bark instead of skin, beard made of moss and sap in his veins. After a

few decades, his human condition is questionable.

He ignored the nightmare that had stirred his night. He dreamed he died and the forest fed on his flesh.

He clutched his ax tightly, and got started. An oak fell after several strokes. And then another. And then another. And

each falling oak rumbled louder.

By midmorning he fell. And then his ax. And the sound that swept the forest was such that a sleepy squirrel

thought that Atlas had split his spine.

At noon a thin rain fell on the clearing, only occupied now by a solitary ax.