Creative Writing

[Sejanus]

[Clueless Morgan]

When I was in 7th grade I wrote a poem that got published in a Young Poets Anthology.

Other than that, I have an interest in writing, I love learning about writing structure and how to do it and what makes a good story, and I'm okay at plotting, I think, but I'm never able to actually write much, or if I start I never finish what I write.

I'd probably make a way better editor than a writer.

[Sejanus]

I don't think I'd ever bother to learn formally about writing structure or plotting, instead just writing as it comes to me. But I don't really write that often. What was the poem about?
I entered the OP in a competition to get your piece put in the school journal thing. Needless to say it didn't make it in... (I wonder why)... the entry that won was about a kid wetting his bed. :/

[Diablo]

I'm part way through my 7th book now, but if you want to read any of my stuff you'll have to pay for it!

[Sejanus]

What do you write about?

[Clueless Morgan]

What was the poem about?

I'll post it when I get home. I can only remember the first stanza.

As for writing instructional things, I really love Dan Wells talk on story structure which he talks about in this video (this is the first in a 5-part video)



What I love about learning about story structure and story-telling techniques is when you start to see all of these techniques crop up in movies or books you love, or movies that are, frankly, so-so but become inexplicable box office hits.

[Diablo]

What do you write about?

I've written some short stories, two novels, and now I'm on the third of a trilogy of thrillers.

[Minimalist]

[Clueless Morgan]

[BrianSoddingBoru4]

I'd like to be able to write, but the times I've tried, it was so bloody boring that I never got passed the first line. Here are a few samples:

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At 84, my grandfather began whistling tunes he had made up about the sexual habits of Estonians.

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The psychiatrist couldn't even being to decide how to treat Reynaldo, the first vegetarian cannibal he had ever encountered.

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As the clerk at the florist's gave Miranda her change, she inexplicably became terrified that something ghastly had happened to her collection of Ringo Starr memorabilia.

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Sheila dearly loved bacon, but her life of late seemed to consist of nothing but wilted carrot greens.

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It was a glorious morning - one of those mornings that make you feel you're going to get laid before noon whether you brush your teeth or not.

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Regaining consciousness in an alleyway, wearing only mismatched shoes and smelling of lavender and vomit, Mitch found himself oddly relieved.

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Boru