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The Writing Thread

posted by DAISHI on - last edited - Viewed by 3.5K users

Herein lies the Writing Thread! Usually I just post something brief and then allow the participants to engage one another, unshackled by rules like a meeting of Tea Partiers in a debate with Muslims.

However! I propose the following rules to the writing thread, and what this thread should be about.

1.) This thread should obviously be about your own writing.

Your post should be about one of the following things.
2.) A pitch. A story you're thinking about writing, ideas you're tossing around to solicit for feedback.

3.) Brief poetry can be posted in full. Just don't make your poetry a full length story.

4.) A short story you've written that you would like to post, in part. Since a short story can run 2000 to 5000 words, do not post in full. You may post sensible length excerpts, preceded by synopsis of that portion of the story for context.

5.) A long story or novel you've written that you'd like to post, in part. Since a novel can run from 80000 words to 120000 words or more, do not post in full. You may post a sensible length excerpt, preceded by synopsis of that portion of the story for context.

Things to avoid.
Don't get in a hissy fit about criticism. It's the only way to grow as a writer.

Don't just criticize to criticize. In other words, don't be a Debby Downer. List what you think a writer did well, in addition to criticism. Tone means a lot. Don't be overly negative in the tone of your criticism.

179 Comments - Linear Discussion: Classic Style
  • I've sent a total of 90 queries. Time to wait for a while now for future responses.

  • GUESS WHAT BITCHES my full manuscript has been requested. This is stage 4 of 5 to getting published and is the furthest I've ever ever ever ever ever gotten. Wish me well, pray, whatever. Because you know as much as I hate some of you, I don't actually hate you at all and wish you well.

  • We've always wished you well - we just don't like saying it 'cause we're totally jealous.

  • Going to do a last minute desperate revision this week lol.

  • I remember the day that I first set eyes on Jennifer. The beautiful, curvy blonde hair, the perfect mouth, the perfect eyes. Overall, she was a model of the perfect woman. I had never seen curves like hers before, and when I did see them, my staring was inevitable. She hadn’t really noticed me until the day I walked up to her to finally say hello. I was a lawyer, she was a lawyer, but I was the one on the verge of becoming the District Attorney. In that time, I never could summon up the stomach to ask her for coffee or a bite to eat as friends. What really surprised was that she asked me. I swallowed down a gulp and said yes. We met later that night at a small café in town-square. I watched her talk and talk and talk, but I wasn’t listening. Finally, while she was in mid-sentence and I couldn’t take it anymore, I leaned in and my lips met hers. I thought she was going to pull away and slap me in the face, but she didn’t. She stayed right where she was and left her gorgeous red lips against mine. That was the beginning of it. Four months later, I asked her to marry me. She said yes almost immediately and threw her arms around me. I certainly felt like the luckiest guy in town.

    The wedding was about a month away from the day we walked into a Macy’s to pick her out a set of earrings. My God, she was so radiant and happy that day.

    That was before she walked up.

    “Why, Jennifer, whenever did you get this fine looking gentleman?”

    She was a complete mirror image of the beautiful woman who stood beside me. She had everything; the same curves, the same beautiful complexion, the same ocean of silky blonde hair, everything. Only, when she smiled, it wasn’t anything like when Jennifer smiled, no. This woman’s conceited smile told me right away that she was trouble. But still, I couldn’t help but stare the way I used to stare at Jennifer, as if the real one wasn’t still standing beside me.

    “I… um… Jonathan, this is my sister, Anne… we… um…”

    Jenny seemed a little nerve-wracked. Anne simply stood there with her pompous little smile and her tilted hips. I knew then and I have always known, this woman was going to be trouble for both my bride-to-be and I. Before me or the trouble-on-dagger-heels could say anything in reply, I could sense that Jennifer wanted to get the hell out there. I took the sign and we began walking away, a worried look plastered to Jenny’s face. I turned around briefly, and Anne still stood with a smile that had “I want him” all over it.

    A couple of hours later, Jenny walked into the bedroom while I changed into my pajamas.

    “I know that seemed strange, but let me explain. Anne is one of those kinds of people who are always… looking for trouble. I didn’t like the way she was looking at you.”

    “I understand, Jennifer. I could sense something was up with her the very moment I saw her.”

    “Thanks, John. I’m sorry about all of that.”

    She didn’t need to apologize for anything. It should have been me who apologized to her. I had also thought of what I knew Anne was thinking of when we first saw each other. The thing is, I wasn’t going to pursue her. I loved Jenny. I didn’t want to do anything to compromise what seemed to be a very steady relationship, and our wedding was so damn close.

    A few days later, I was working a little late at the office when a knock at the door. What happened that night was very much the greatest mistake I had ever made.

    I opened the door and found whom I believed at the time was Jenny standing in a trench-coat.

    “Hi, Johnny. Care to treat me to a late-night dinner?” I turned my back to her and began to walk towards my desk.

    “Sure, honey, just let me finish up here, and—“

    The door slammed behind me. I spun around and saw that she had shed her coat and was now standing there in her underwear and black heels. She was so damn gorgeous, yet I tried to hold back.

    “Hello, there, Johnny.”

    She walked up and leaned in close. I felt her body press up against mine. I was sweating and breathing heavily.

    She put her hands behind my neck and behind my back. Her conceited smile was back again.

    “Give us a kiss.”

    She puckered and leaned forward. I am so damned ashamed of it, but no woman had ever kissed me like the way she had, yet at that moment, I pushed her away. I turned from her a wiped my lips. She sat up on my desk, put one stocking-clad leg over the other, and lit herself a cigarette.

    “Get out,” I said in a very stern voice.

    “Oh, come now, Johnny. I bet my sister, Miss Little-Goody-Two-Shoes never kissed you like that.” She blew a cloud of smoke through her scarlet-colored lips.

    I turned to face her. I wanted to throw myself at her, the temptation was almost unbearable, but at that moment, I was still loyal to my Jenny.

    “Get out,” I said again, this time with a hint of anger.

    “I want you, Johnny.”

    “GET THE HELL OUT OF MY OFFICE!” I shouted.

    She stood up, crushed her cigarette in the ashtray, and again wandered up to me, shaking her hips while she strode. She grabbed hold of me and kissed me again.

    I gave in. A man only has so much control, and I finally held her closer so our lips pressed harder against each other.

    This soon escalated into a further affair. In the weeks leading up to my marriage, I was going behind Jenny’s back with her succubus sister. Jenny never suspected a thing. She had all her confidence and love placed in me, and in my selfishness I have betrayed everything she had given to me: her trust, her loyalty, her love. I knew there was only one thing I could do.

    I had put about three pints of beer in me from a local bar twenty minutes before I walked up to Anne’s door and dropped the bomb. I had a cigar between my index finger and middle finger as I spoke.

    “It’s over.”

    She seemed dumbstruck. She had made herself all pretty for me and then she was hearing this.

    “I can’t do this stuff anymore. I love Jenny, and I’m going to marry her. I want to father her children not yours.”

    “I… I don’t understand.”

    “Understand this,” I said after taking a puff, “I don’t love you. I never did. What we had was never love, it was simply lust. And it’s over.”

    She stood up and went to hug me.

    “Don’t talk like that. You know you love me more than you ever loved her.” She looked up at me with those beautiful blue eyes. “Leave her. Marry me.”

    I pushed her away.

    “I don’t ever want to see you again. Stay away from me and Jenny.”

    I turned and began to walk away.

    “You dirty son of a bitch!” She was practically screaming. I didn’t turn to look at her. “You used me like a cheap whore! I thought you loved me, and now you’re doing this to me…” She began to cry.

    “I’m… I’m sorry, Anne. But I just can’t do this anymore.”

    “I’m going to tell her,” she said, her voice still with a trace of sadness. “I’m going to tell her everything.”

    “Go ahead,” I said, “tell her. I’ll deny it.”

    “You… dirty bastard…”

    I walked away.

    As I closed the door behind me, I could hear the weeping escalating into sobbing. The sound faded away as I slowly walked away into the night.

    When I got home I sat down on my bed beside my beautiful Jenny with a flask of scotch in my hand. I took my hand and gently rubbed it against her sleeping face. I took a swig of the hard stuff, and silently began to weep.

    I was at work the other day when my phone began to ring.

    “Hello?”

    “Hello, Jonathan.”

    Anne, I thought. Oh my God, please tell me she hasn’t done anything.

    “I wanted to wish you and my sister the very best of luck in your marriage, and I hope you like my little gift that I left for you.”

    She hung up. I was scared shitless at that moment. I bolted out the door, to my car and drove as fast as I could. I kept hoping, praying that it wasn’t too late, but I knew deep down that it was. I bounded up my front steps three at a time and kicked in the door.

    I saw no one and heard nothing.

    “Jenny?” I called out.

    No answer. Tuesdays are her day off, so I hoped it was possible that she wasn’t even there. But when I got to my bedroom, I saw my Jenny, lying against our bed, a hole right through her head. The red stuff flowed through the clean little hole, taking away all of the color from her beautiful face.

    She was dead, no doubt about it. If I had known those weeks before where my sins were going to take me, I would have drunk an ass-load of the strongest alcohol I could find then blown my head off. But there was no point in doing that now. At that point, all I could think of was my Jenny. So beautiful. So kind. So loving. She was the best thing that had ever happened to me, yet I knew at that point that if I had avoided her the way I avoided the rest of the world, this nightmare would have never happened.

    I heard footsteps behind me. I saw Anne in the same underwear she was wearing the night she first tried to seduce me. She was holding a .38 revolver. It was pointed at me.

    “ Hello Jonathan. I still love you, and I know you still love me, and now that that little bitch is gone, we can finally be together.”

    I was bewildered. I didn’t know whether to scream or cry. But one thing was certain: this woman murdered her own sister just so she could get at me. She could have any man she wanted with a body like hers. Why did she have to choose me? Because she wanted everything that her sister had?

    “You…” I said. “You… killed her… my Jenny, my…” I could manage to stammer as the thoughts swam through my head.

    “I had to do it, you know. She didn’t love you. Not the way I love you.”

    “Fuck you.”

    “It’s okay, Jonathan. And now that we’re alone, why don’t we loosen up?” She cocked her revolver. “Take off your shirt.”

    “What?”

    “Now.” She put her hand on her hip and leveled the barrel at my head.

    I did as she asked. She smiled. I hated the bitch.

    “Come here.”

    I slowly walked towards her. I felt the cold cobalt steel of the gun press against my chest. I was frowning. She still smiled.

    “Kiss me.”

    I stood firm.

    “Kiss me, now.” She pressed the gun harder against my chest.

    I leaned slightly forward as she thrust her lips against mine.

    I couldn’t help but somewhat enjoy what was happening at that moment. I loved her beautiful, curvy blonde hair. Her perfect mouth. Her perfect eyes. They were just like…

    She had lowered the gun. I grabbed it immediately from her. She must have thought that I was going to throw it away and simply embrace her. Instead, I placed it right against the side of her head, and ever so gently pulled the trigger.

    The shot wasn’t incredibly loud, more like a cork popping out of a cheap bottle of champagne. She slumped in my arms, blood trickling from the corner of her beautiful lips. I dropped her to the floor and placed the revolver in her hand dead hand. I figure that I’ll have to tell the police some of the truth, but I’ll obviously have to omit my slaying the dragon. Everybody could probably work out that the bad side of a love affair caught up with them, and that the dismayed woman in the underwear shot her lover’s wife and then turned the gun on herself.

    I won’t be staying in the city after this ordeal is cleared up. I’m going some pretty rotten nights afterwards, maybe the occasional suicide contemplations. But I have to get away from this town, where nothing good came out of even love.

    Love is an embracement, a welcoming, a warm feeling. It came to me in the form of Jenny, and the devil woman who lies dead before me took it all away.

    Love is a curse.

  • And a good morning to you too. :p

    Good little story. Thanks for sharing.

  • Go raibh maith agat.

    That’s Irish for Thank you.

    By the way, I wrote that in, like, twenty minutes, so I didn’t think it was that good. I mean, you probably notice some of the grammar errors in there. I was in a hurry to post it.

  • Yeah, there were a few typos. But sometimes when you have a good idea, you don't want to worry about silly little things like spelling mistakes, you just want to get it down ASAP.

  • Then the CSI walked in. "Funny, she shot herself in the left side of her head, yet the gun was in her right hand. I'd better tell the D.A. about this."

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