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For Those Who Like To Write

I liked it. I was waiting for you to mention AJAX as the cleanser... as compared to Comet or something like that. Maybe you did and I missed it. But, yeah, this was ok.
 
I really liked it, CalebHara. Nice job. I just completed two more chapters to my murder mystery, but I'm going to wait to post until I have a lot more done.
 

trufenix

bye felicia
I really liked it, CalebHara. Nice job. I just completed two more chapters to my murder mystery, but I'm going to wait to post until I have a lot more done.
I have a story, well, a lot of one.. . but I'm not sure what the best way to share it is? A wall of text? Links? A summary? As a noob I wonder what you, who seem to have some experience with this, think?
 

trufenix

bye felicia
Indeed, all you have to do is copy paste what you have from whatever other writing tool you're using and make the document shareable.
I'll be honest, I've had my head buried in writing this thing for so long (near 20 years) a lot of the easy stuff is eluded me, I really haven't thought about distribution in any means until very recently. I use google docs literally every day, I have no idea how that simple process slipped my mind.
 

Jeffrey Wolf

YouTube: Jeffrey B Wolf
Getting back into TYM with MK11 on the horizon and saw this thread--super cool. I’ve been writing since college (which feels kind of forever ago now, lol), and I’ve started to stream writing on Twitch if anyone would like to pop by and talk shop.

https://www.twitch.tv/jeffrey_wolf

Btw, @CalebHara, enjoyed your most recent piece. I’ve heard the “dialogue only” exercise recommended before, but never tried it myself. I think you pulled it off well. I’m not quite sure why the woman is there since she doesn’t speak, but even so, I found the way you ended the story satisfying.
 
D

Deleted member 28105

Guest
I really liked it, CalebHara. Nice job. I just completed two more chapters to my murder mystery, but I'm going to wait to post until I have a lot more done.
Thank you my good man.

Getting back into TYM with MK11 on the horizon and saw this thread--super cool. I’ve been writing since college (which feels kind of forever ago now, lol), and I’ve started to stream writing on Twitch if anyone would like to pop by and talk shop.

https://www.twitch.tv/jeffrey_wolf

Btw, @CalebHara, enjoyed your most recent piece. I’ve heard the “dialogue only” exercise recommended before, but never tried it myself. I think you pulled it off well. I’m not quite sure why the woman is there since she doesn’t speak, but even so, I found the way you ended the story satisfying.
She looked like a part of the interaction in the painting, so I felt like I had to mention her. And thank you sir, I appreciate the feedback.
 

Jeffrey Wolf

YouTube: Jeffrey B Wolf
Ah, I see, you based it off the painting--clever. If you do this type of thing again, you might want to include all aspects then (i.e. the other gentleman customer too) as a hint to the reader. Just my two cents of course.
 

trufenix

bye felicia
@Dyzvhtynzal @Vslayer and anyone else who likes stories about people getting punched.

Here's the drive link, it's the first four chapters. I left comments on, I'd love to hear what you think.
https://docs.google.com/document/d/15VYcxHQFafn41eXJFOUbtAwclGRMqLFV-nqIMLyYhh4/edit?usp=sharing

here's a tym formatted preview
The Way
(excerpt from “The Will of The Way”,

an unpublished manuscript by Lona Troy)


My relationship with The Way began rather surprisingly, even by its own standards. Years prior, . a friend of mine (let’s call her Linn) fled the ‘States after a particularly nasty divorce. I’d heard about it from another friend who asked if I'd noticed Linn went dark on social media. I confessed I hadn't sent Linn more than a couple emails since college, but she told me even Linn’s family had scarce details on her whereabouts. I told her I'd look into it, but all I really found out was Linn’s ex hoped she never came back. No one Linn knew could find a phone number, an email address, or even a destination for her long departed flight. So, you can imagine my surprise when she knocked on my door.

I was immediately suspicious. I hadn't even told Linn I moved out of state, but on a stormy night in spring, she turned up at my apartment. She looked like Linn, albeit 50 pounds lighter and dressed in a colorful Indian Sari instead of jeans and a t-shirt She sounded like Linn, too, but instead of opening with an apology and avoiding eye contact, she sang out how much she missed me and scooped me up in a bear hug. It was exactly the sort of physical display of affection my old friend Linn hated.

Once I invited her inside, she celebrated my second-hand furnishings like she’d never been to a thrift store with me before. I offered her the same old seat on the couch we'd stolen from her mom years before, but she refused. She told me: ‘only forward, never back,’ then coiled her legs underneath and sank down in the middle of my floor. I offered her coffee, soda... even alcohol, but she only wanted fresh-brewed tea, any flavor I had, just as hot as I could get it. We’d never kept tea in our dorm room, I wasn't even sure how to make it.

I went to the kitchen and found some dusty tea bags and a tea kettle I had inherited from someone. I poured in water and set my stove to high while I reviewed what I actually remembered about Linn. She wore clearance rack clothes and “accidentally” threw out my decorations on her nights to clean. She had such bad allergies, sitting in the cat hair on my carpet should have killed her. Linn was a pretty far cry from the Amazon sitting lotus position on my living room floor.

So, who was she? Where did she come from? How did she find me? And why use Linn’s name? I pored over the lessons of my long-dormant journalism degree, trying to decide which question was most important. Whatever I asked her first would set the stage for everything else

...and then the tea kettle exploded.

“What the f…!?” I was surprised to learn the difference between teapots and decorative teapots that way, but fortunately Linn already knew. She knew before I could finish the words and she knew before the super heated pieces of the cheap plastic could explode out into my body. With speed and accuracy I'd never seen before she swatted the dangerous pieces out of the air and scattered them to the corners of my tiny kitchen with the palms of her hands. With a single flat handed chop, she sliced through the glob of hot liquid just inches from my face, splattering the walls instead of my skin. “...ck?”

Linn was admiring tiny new cuts and burns on her hands when she noticed me watching her and playfully blew on them like a gunslinger. I flinched, because at that point I was still afraid of the air, and that made her break into the obnoxious snort-laugh I hadn't heard since college. Linn still says she only laughed at me for a second, but I swear it was a full half-minute before she composed herself. Then she hit me with the shrug that's since become just as familiar as the laugh and said;

“That is The Way.”

… as if that explained anything.

Power

(excerpt from “The Will of The Way”,

an unpublished manuscript by Lona Troy)


Like any good faith, The Way is built around a messiah figure; some pious soul so beset by God that he alone represents the entire body of faith. But The Way isn't about piety, it's about power. The Way praises the strong and condemns the weak; its followers wouldn’t bloody their knuckles for a shaman or a philosopher. The Way’s messiah is a warrior, supposedly the greatest warrior that ever lived. His name was Mei Une.

According to the Lore, Mei Une was a Tru and the Tru were created to defend the world from evil. Their battlefield was the ancient Earth, back before the dinosaurs, when demons and dragons and deities still argued over who was in charge. Mei Une was the biggest and baddest of his kind, and he is believed to be unbeatable.

Maximillian

“Kkrreeaauuggh!” The Great Dragon Lord, Bahamut, bellowed angrily from his mountain perch. In the grass far below, Mei Une stared up at his prey. Suddenly his great legs condensed, their muscles tightened to iron, and then exploded him up into the air. He soared past the rocks and the clouds and up into the heavens where the dragon’s hid with his fists hungry for battle. Maximillian Hunter never leaves his torch-lit cavern though, their flickering amber light dances off the violet stones that line the room around him. They take his thoughts through time and possibility, back to when Mei Une fought the obsidian beast.

“The Ancient’s Fist!” He shouts a kiai warcry at his enemy. The words mean nothing, but they bring a smile to Maximillian’s face as he readies his body for Mei Une’s legendary punch.

“Krrreeeaaauuuggghhh!” Bahamut shouted back, even more furious at his sudden approach. His black skeletal wings flared behind him in a rainbow of horror, and his nostrils filled with the devil’s flame. Mei Une only smirked and limbered his fingers in anticipation, he liked it when they could see it coming.

kaboom

His fist exploded like a thousand dying suns across Bahamut’s impervious jaw. The scales of his unbreakable hide trembled while the bones underneath shattered. That day, Mei Une slaughtered The Executioner of Dragon’s Isle with a single punch… but in Maximillian’s cavern, the Father’s ancient stones and Weinfeld’s technology give life to a different mythology. In the cavern Maximillian’s victory is not as certain as Mei Une’s.

“Were it so easy...“ Maximillian Hunter smirks Mei Une's old smirk as The Dread Wyvern begins to stir again. Weinfeld’s technology mimics the legends of Bahamut, but Mei Une and the Dragon were friends before their fatal duel. The real Bahamut was enormous and loud… and eager to die.

“Zzkkreeaauugh!” Bahamut shrieked from the cavern’s shadow and charged at Maximillian, covered in red hot flaming anger. Maximillian dodged with ease but his designer keikogi, flimsy like all modern clothing, is too weak for the ancient power of fire. The billowed white fabric bound to his torso burned away as he reached into the blazing fire. “Zzkkrreeaauuggh?!”

“A new weakness?” Maximillian muses aloud, seizing his flailing metal opponent from behind. The real Bahamut chewed off his tail to be free of it’s liability. Weinfeld must have thought The Soaring Nightmare would be more ferocious with an anchor.

wh-thummm

The Black Scourge of Dragon Mountain, Bahamut, is defeated again... as he is everytime Maximillian Hunter needs a good workout. This time Bahamut was slung down by his tail, hard enough to shatter him against the glowing purple stones that bring Mei Une’s memories to life.

“Goodbye, my friend.” Maximillian withdraws his hand from the writhing cyber-beast. It's broken jaw hangs loose from the killer punch, sparking out the rage of its dying batteries. Maximillian knows Bahamut did not die with such embarrassment, this is only a facade of the warrior Mei Une put to death.

khrruuum

With a stomp that shook all 50 floors of Hunter Tower, Maximillian Hunter crushed his heel through the robot dragon and into the floor. It’s pointless technical agony stills unsatisfyingly.

“Mr. Hunter.” Glowing violet stones in the cavern walls shift and the panels they've been mounted on fold into an opening. A modest office hallway emerges beside the cavern while air conditioning and fluorescent lighting seep in, poisoning its grip on reality. Owen Jarenski, Maximillian's Chief Executive Assistant in Charge of Special Projects, stands in the sudden doorway clad in his customary tailored black suit with white linens and silver highlights. Owen adjusts his glasses idly, but is comfortably reserved to wait an eternity for Maximillian’s response... if necessary. Maximillian pulls his feet from the mess of metal and wires, then turns to face his loyal attendant.

“Zzzzkkkkrrrraaaauuuugggh!!” Weinfeld’s Bahamut senses its opponent's distraction and reactivates with a sudden piercing shriek. The gap bursted in its chest opens further to reveal rows of jagged sparking metal, spinning and circling like a grinder. Wire coils fire out from the deadly new maw and grasp Maximillian by the wrists and ankles, trying to draw him in. Maximillian doesn’t struggle, he doesn’t even flinch.

The old violet stones glow brightly all around the room, bathing it in a sudden murky light. The shaven stubs of curled black hair on Maximillian's scalp lengthen and swell, stretching and blending together until they reach the ground, all twisted up in great black dreadlocks. Mei Une's living mane is reborn, writhing all over itself from behind Maximillian’s head.

At the snarl of his teeth, they snatch up Weinfeld’s malfunctioning mess and hoist it from the ground. Manmade science struggles to compensate for Tru power, but technology is no match for the living weapon forged by a thousand years of combat. With a clench of his fist, Maximillian orders the coal black strands to tighten and constrict.

crrrrsshhh

Bahamut is destroyed yet again, this time torn apart in a web of black mane. Mei Une’s hair sizzles as electric blood weaves through it and down to the floor.

“What is it, Owen?” Maximillian runs a hand over his professionally faded hair as shattered Bahamut rains down around him.

“Igor says the Haddad account is closed.” Owen makes no note of the carnage, only taking a step back to brush his silver vest clear of loose hair and debris. “He is on a flight now from the United States, he should be home by nightfall.”

“At last...” For just a moment, Maximillian's dark mahogany pupils glow the same violet hue as the stones in his cavern. “...only one cursed dog remains.”

“I have scheduled a performance evaluation for the support contractor this afternoon. I will attend to it personally, ”

“Thank you, Owen. What about the woman?” Maximillian’s eye soften and recolor as he speaks. Owen pays no mind, already thumbing at the glowing screen of his cell phone.

“EgyptAir flight 1138 just checked in to Khun airspace. Security confirms a woman matching your description is onboard.”

“Then would you kindly bring her here to me?”

There's uh, a lot more but its in various states of disarray due to some editing concerns. I am just starting to produce hard copies, so if you're interested in getting one and you're in the cleveland ohio area, let me know. I'm always looking for readers.
 

Jeffrey Wolf

YouTube: Jeffrey B Wolf
Easy and compelling read--got through the Prologue in a flash. Will give the rest a look when I can. Thanks for sharing, and good luck with it!
 
Pretty good. Maybe I'll look over it more closely later. For starters, you really don't need multiple sentence punctuation like ?! :) More original names would be cool too. Bahamut is instantly recognizable. I like Mei Une.

I'll read it again later.
 
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I didn't see Godzilla yet, so won't read that. CalebHara, I'll get around to reading yours eventually. Maybe I'll throw some of my latest serial killer story out there, although I plan to turn it into a mass murder mystery.
 
Okay. I read it. It wasn't long, lol. Not bad, CalebHara. I wan't blown away by it, but it wasn't bad. I think you could compress it a bit. It seemed like you cou;ld have written the same thing with far fewer words is all I'm saying. I don't know. I drifted off a few times. Maybe because I'm a bit old myself and didn't want to think about your narrative. IDK. I saw some errors here and there, but they didn't take away much from the reading. I do like the comparisons you make and the word choices throughout are good. Like I said, IDK. Maybe I was expecting their to be a character or two, and not just me and different versions of myself at different times of my life. Maybe I'll read it again. I think I liked your other stuff a bit better. But it's pretty good.
 
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Zubro

Noob
https://moreartwithlessmatter.com/2019/05/30/the-citadel-of-you/

Wrote another thing, took time on this one instead of just pumping out whatever comes to mind. It's long but if anyone decides to get through it they're guaranteed good luck and perfect karma for all eternity. So serial killers, here's your chance to make up for your wrongdoings.^
I really liked this. Good job. Very cerebral. But I can see it not being everyone’s cup of tea.
I just came across this thread and I too am a fledgling writer. I have nothing I would be willing to post yet as I mostly write for the trash can.
 
D

Deleted member 28105

Guest
Okay. I read it. It wasn't long, lol. Not bad, CalebHara. I wan't blown away by it, but it wasn't bad. I think you could compress it a bit. It seemed like you cou;ld have written the same thing with far fewer words is all I'm saying. I don't know. I drifted off a few times. Maybe because I'm a bit old myself and didn't want to think about your narrative. IDK. I saw some errors here and there, but they didn't take away much from the reading. I do like the comparisons you make and the word choices throughout are good. Like I said, IDK. Maybe I was expecting their to be a character or two, and not just me and different versions of myself at different times of my life. Maybe I'll read it again. I think I liked your other stuff a bit better. But it's pretty good.
Thank you for your feedback as always. If you remember, what were the errors? I'm not a great proofreader so it'd be a good help if I could correct them.

I really liked this. Good job. Very cerebral. But I can see it not being everyone’s cup of tea.
I just came across this thread and I too am a fledgling writer. I have nothing I would be willing to post yet as I mostly write for the trash can.
Thank you my good man, much appreciated. If you do happen to jot something down that is too good for the trash can throw it up, I'd love to read it.
 

MKF30

Fujin and Ermac for MK 11
I used to like to write, what I find funny is whenever I make points that's more than one sentence on here sometimes and internet in general. People assume it's a novel, but probably never read one lol. Literally as thick as the Bible those things can be. I like fan fic though, I wish NRS would have a contest where a few fans can create a new character in the MK canon that would be sick.
 
How's everyone's writing coming along? For one part of my latest tale I converted a Spenserian sonnet i made into binary code, and am trying to finish a cypher that relies on a formula to decipher. Taking up lots of my writing time.