Posted on 08/17/2006 8:36:45 PM PDT by Number57
I've had this story worked out in my mind for going on twenty years. 1989. But now... I am stuck. I started a book based on it, but I'm no writer, obviously. I constantly re-read and edit, and re-read and edit more.
Probably because I've posted part of the story on sites that critique writing.
Anyway. I've hit a wall. A large brick wall. I've since stopped editing my own stuff, but try as I might, I can't write another chapter that I'm okay with. How do you, in your experience, get past it? I'll appreciate any help anyone can offer.
I think I found a troll....one who can actually spell and type though.....
Now you can walk in the room and say "hey, big boy...it's Friday..." Remember to use your best Marilyn Monroe voice for added effect!
You also have a good sense of humor, so I think you should be the evil genius who disguises himself as a giggling wet blanket. ;)
Hi.
Where the heck did you buy my book?!
I'll bet your block is from reasons other than the story.
Step 1: think about something that angers you mightily...something that really turns your crank.
Step 2: write a letter to the person you hate most in the world, blaming them for the thing you are mad at.
Step 3: Sleep on it that night.
Step 4: The next day, figure out who or what is troubling you to the point of distraction. There may be clues to that in the addressee of the letter, or the thing you were angry about.
Step 5: Think about it and forgive that person or put that item behind you with a lettle prayer. Talk a long wal, drink a cup of coffee, and sit your ass down at the computer and just write the first draft without trying to be such a perfectionist. That can come later when you clean it up and add tha parts you forgot.
Come on your cry baby...write!
(sorry, I got carried away...Dad is a Marine)
A man stood before him looking at him through eyes that were his many years ago. Who the hell are you, kid? He asked gruffly as he spit on the floor. A floor he moped every night before locking the door and headed home. It was a home in name only and he knew it. There was no one waiting for him as he came through the door. Only emptiness. Are you hard of hearing, kid? he said again. Walking up closer to the haggard old man he asked, Do you know a woman by the name of Esther Stevens?
My best Marilyn Monroe voice sounds more like a moose call. My lovin' husband LOVES it. ;)
He turned to the apparition-because he didn't quite know what else to call that person standing before him, who reminded him so much of himself many years ago, before the events that forever marked his life-and said "do you like chicken?"
hmmm???
Thanks, I enjoyed it.
lol.
"Esther Stevens..." he said, trying hard to place the name with a face...a face he knew all too well. "Esther Stevens..." he said again, this time noticing a tear forming in his eye. "Damn allergies," he thought to himself, "I should have taken my prescrip...my prescrp...my meds today!" Then he turned to the kid, and said "never heard of her." But, even as he said it, he knew it was a lie. A lie, to himself mostly, because he could tell the kid had already read him like yesterday's paper...not the front pages, though. No, the kid had read him like the comics and entertainment section, trying to detect the hidden meaning behind every line uttered by Charlie Brown and Snoopy. Then he asked himself, "why is it that in the Charlie Brown specials on the TV, the adults are never heard actually speaking?"
Cool. copied. I always like getting stories to read from the internet. I like science fiction especially but its hard to find the good stories.
Daphne Du Maurier. "Rebecca". One of my favorite books, one of my favorite writers. :-)
It wasn't a dream. There, on the floor next to the bed lay.....
Just wanted to pop in before I sign off and wish you the best of luck with your story. Many posted excellent advice that I'm sure will help you.
ROFL
My Boston Terriers would love to get in on that act.
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