RE: Darkness at the arch (A story I wrote)
November 1, 2013 at 1:16 am
(This post was last modified: November 1, 2013 at 1:20 am by Lemonvariable72.)
(November 1, 2013 at 12:49 am)Cinjin Wrote:(November 1, 2013 at 12:44 am)BrianSoddingBoru4 Wrote: Didn't care for it.
Boru
Your opinion is valid, but as a matter of politeness, etiquette, and common decency, why don't you offer the man some explanation. Maybe some constructive criticism instead of a cold remark that offers nothing. You just came off as purposefully rude.
IMO:
It's an interesting take on Lucifer, but I feel like you're trying to put way too much information into a few small paragraphs. I do think you're onto something with the garden pre-quel angle. That was fun. It makes me want to see less dialogue from the Devil and instead put that information into a back story. That would keep the Devil dead-sexy and far more mysterious and dark. You always want to keep your hero ... dare I say it ... fuckable.
Cheers.
I wasn't thinking of playing the mysterious angle, great idea!
(November 1, 2013 at 12:56 am)Sejanus Wrote:(November 1, 2013 at 12:49 am)Cinjin Wrote: Your opinion is valid, but as a matter of politeness, etiquette, and common decency, why don't you offer the man some explanation. Maybe some constructive criticism instead of a cold remark that offers nothing. You just came off as purposefully rude.
I agree, but I felt that if I went in to why I didn't like it, I would seem like more of a dick than If I just said I didn't like it. In the end I just decided not to post.
I disagree, If was not ready for or looking for criticism I would not have posted.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
