Thunderdome 2016teen: Fast Writing, Bad Writing

The Something Awful Forums > Archives > Comedy Goldmine > Thunderdome 2016teen: Fast Writing, Bad Writing

«‹›10 »

Sitting Here: Dec 31, 2007

Jay W. Friks posted:

Hello all. I'll be subbing for Twist for THUNDERTOME for the next few weeks. With that in mind, if anybody still wants to speak about BURNING CHROME, the previous book to discuss, do so, perhaps when it comes time to discuss the book I have chosen for digestion from now till JAN, 6th, 2017: BARDO99 by Cecile Pineda.

I have already read the book and will provide a link to the amazon page for those who want to purchase or study it beforehand.

https://smile.amazon.com/gp/product/0930324838/ref=oh_aui_detailpage_o00_s00?ie=UTF8&psc=1

It is a thin book and reads quickly. It is in the realm of surrealism, which you can guess from the synopsis, "Depicting the 20th century as a character, this novel explores what happens when that character, dying, passes through a Bardo state�an intermediate state of the soul between death and rebirth."

Come JAN, 6th, 2017, I will be in THUNDERTOME IRC to participate in a discussion of the book and any thoughts derived from it.

Be seeing you!

yes I will do this

# ¿ Dec 17, 2016 04:58

Adbot: ADBOT LOVES YOU

# ¿ May 21, 2024 05:10

Sitting Here: Dec 31, 2007

One-Sided Conversation
800 words

I steal the compact mirror--silver, studded with rhinestones--even though I know I shouldn�t. But it bears the light of the cipher, so I have to. If I wait until I have enough money to pay for it properly, it�ll be gone. Folks can�t usually see the light, because it�s a funny sort of light, like a golden lance of pure, melodic meaning straight to the back of the eye sockets. But they feel it, and they snatch it up without knowing why.

My hands shake all the way home, though the senile thrift store own most certainly hasn�t noticed the absence of one tiny little mirror. I walk quickly through the house�s moldering outer carapace.

The bedroom is alive with a light that is more sound and weight than luminescence. I�ve got hundreds of fragments now. Jewelry, padlocks, walking sticks, old books, bits of stonework from a nearby cathedral, and all manner of objets d�art. They are arrayed around the otherwise empty room, patterned like a rock garden.

I kneel down and add the small mirror to a scintillating region of the cipher dedicated to things with function and shimmer. Its neighbors are a bottle opener shaped like a turtle with an agate-encrusted shell and a belt buckle coated in sequins.

The compact mirror germinates almost immediately. I feel its roots extend outward, find purchase in the soil behind the world. The pieces are getting easier to find. They pass through thrift stores and garbage dumps and into my hands, as though I�m a part of the gravity of the cipher, which means taking them isn�t a crime. And anyway, who would charge a linguist for pursuing their study?

I swallow hard against vestigial anxiety, curl up on the floor, and let the play of preternatural light against my ears and eyelids lull me to sleep.

Over the course of the week, I find an amulet, a bracelet, a rusted wrench, a snowglobe, and a letter opener that all glow with urgent need. I smuggle them home. They�re coming faster and faster, now. I choose to interpret this as eagerness on the cipher�s part. It wants to speak to me, but I haven�t given it quite enough words.

I go out after dark to get beer and frozen pizza from the corner store. I pass by a man, and try to pretend the resonant glint around his neck is simply the play of light from a streetlamp, but the quickening in my chest tells me otherwise. He�s wearing part of the cipher.

I step into his path, run a hand through my long hair.

�Excuse me,� I said, �I really like your necklace.�

He stops and regards me, his face drawn and his posture wary. �I�m kinda in a hurry,� he says, and adds, �I�m sorry.� He fishes around in his pocket, pulls out a couple crumpled bills, and thrusts them out at me like a bribe.

I swat his hand aside. �I�m not a bum. I just want to see your necklace.�

He looks up and down the sidewalk as though scanning for reinforcements. We�re alone. �Sorry, you just looked like. I mean. Your clothes. Sometimes people dress like that when they�re in trouble," he says.

�I just really like your necklace, man, I�m not trying to ask you to fund my life, or whatever,� I say, trying to keep the hysteria out of my voice. The limpid gold light from his necklace, the tiny gravity of it, overwhelms my senses. This is a potent word in the cipher's lexicon, I'm sure of it.

�This is my necklace,� he says, like he�s talking to a child. �I don�t have to show it to anyone unless I want to.�

�Please,� I groan. My hand extends of its own volition, my fingers clutching at the light as though reaching for a distant star.

The man turns and runs. I follow.

He�s not hard to catch. I am light as bird bones, while his body is thick and cumbersome. I catch him and leap onto his back, exhaling frustration in a wordless shriek. He goes down and I am on him, my knees digging into his back, my hands clawing at the clasp on the back of his neck.

When I pull away, my fingernails are red with blood, but the cipher fragment is mine.

We�re almost there, I tell myself as I lay the necklace down to germinate, to plunge its roots into the stuff behind the world. This wasn�t the capstone I�d hoped it would be, but I must be close. Maybe it�ll be the next thing, or the thing after that.

The cipher wants to speak to me, I just haven�t given it enough words yet.

# ¿ Dec 19, 2016 04:07

Sitting Here: Dec 31, 2007

oh and for archival purposes, my flashrule was

s far as the eye can see, nothing but replicas,� he says, crawling around on his terrace and speaking in strange insect chirps. �I don�t have to skulk around like a nameless rear end in a top hat growing replicas in my cesspool and sneaking them out disguised as plumbers and delivery men�. My replicas don�t have their dazzling beauty marred by plastic surgery and barbarous dye and bleach processes. They stand forth naked in the sun for all to see, in their incandescent loveliness of body, face and soul. I have made them in my image and enjoined them to increase and multiply geometric for they shall inherit the earth.

# ¿ Dec 19, 2016 04:15

Sitting Here: Dec 31, 2007

You are all the worst

sh v mojo brawl #27345

The Beckoning
1380

Archive link!

Sitting Here fucked around with this message at 17:07 on Jan 9, 2017

# ¿ Dec 21, 2016 01:25

Sitting Here: Dec 31, 2007

ty for the crits kai :catstare:

# ¿ Dec 21, 2016 04:38

Sitting Here: Dec 31, 2007

Guys, I'm drafting up the 2017 thread and I think I might have to split it up into two posts because there are so many rules I have to expand on or add

Which you will all summarily ignore

loving thunderdome

# ¿ Dec 21, 2016 19:57

Sitting Here: Dec 31, 2007

Like, yes, don't respond to critiques, but also maybe everyone doesn't need to spend days and days responding to the critique response. Both are things that clutter up the thread. I would love to see more workshopping in the fiction farm! Maybe someone could create a new thread for 2017? Something that encourages people to discuss TD stories as well as other writing???

idk, the sky's the limit but please everyone stop trying to have the last word about crit responses and do something productive you pedantic poo poo brigadiers

# ¿ Dec 21, 2016 20:10

Sitting Here: Dec 31, 2007

Kaishai posted:

Kaishai's Critmas Addendum

After I tallied those crits I posted recently, I noticed something interesting.

Some calculations followed:
pre:
Sitting Here	Total:  829	Extra:  73	Grand Total:  902
sebmojo		Total:  749	Extra:  58	Grand Total:  807
Kaishai		Total:  577	Extra:  320	Grand Total:  897
Sitting Here: 902
Kaishai: 897

Hmm.

Hmmmmmm.

Week 70: "And what did you see, my darling young one?"

Erogenous Beef, "Duke Guncock and the Nazindie Menace": In the recap for Week 227 we touch on what sort of story you do just for fun. I claim Duke Guncock is your pure-fun go-to for reasons this entry in his canon makes obvious. There isn't enough context present to grasp all the glory that is Duke, a lot of the action and premise and everything else come off like setup for jokes, and I can only imagine what it would be like to try and parse this cold. It's a terrible attempt to win! It stands alone too poorly to be a good serial story! But it's fun! All the puns and all the shameless, clever stupidity link hands with the action-filled pulp plot, and the result is anything but a bromide. That said, I could personally do without the ock finale until or unless it leads to a sequel.

*************************

Week 133: The Gods of Thunderdome

Nubile Hillock, "IdiotHellFucker69": This wouldn't be my favorite of all your works (a fact that should perhaps depress both of us) if it were truly only one joke stretched thin, although, yes, "Nubile Hillock is too much of a wanker to write a serious entry" is the overwhelming theme here. The story doesn't have much else to say! You know what, though, The blind and nameless God of winter and some other morose and morbid poo poo sat sulking in heaven or whatever the gently caress may be a superior opening even to the rear end spiders. Mocking Broenheim's god along with your own lends the thing an air of general irreverence instead of mere self-deprecating flagellation. I love the narrative voice so much I want to forgive you for screwing up the dialogue, screwing up the format, and editing your post, so you know that adoration is deep and sincere. The repetition of the lame "you moron" is the canker upon this rose, and I suppose it could stand to impugn you a little less. The final paragraph beats that horse to death and beyond.

*************************

Week 221: The Escape of the Bad Words.

Hammer Bro., "The Feast": Not a story, but a joke. Not your intellectual property, but someone else's. Not well done in terms of numbers. You should spell out numbers when they begin sentences, and if you spell out any number in a sentence then you need to spell them all. Aside from that, though you elbow the reader a time or two too often between they knew it was Big and the yellow-stained (but feathers don't stain cloth!) cape, this is just cute enough to get a pass as an I'm-not-even-trying bit of TD silliness. You were supposed to submit your entry to a market this week, however. So did you ignore that part of the prompt or send out a piece involving trademarked characters? With luck, the former: this is more entertaining if I don't imagine an editor receiving it.

*****

sebmojo, "The Cuckoo of Kaitiki Close": Hyphenate that compound modifier in the first line, sebmojo. Tsk. Don't have any biscuits would be more appropriate than didn't. A single period is generally preferable to two. Perchance you have received the message re: proofreading I am so subtly attempting to convey? Of the two cuckoo stories yours is rather the better, but the pacing's off, slow at the start as though you had words to burn and so fast at the end that I'm mildly disgruntled for all that I understand what's happened. (Probably. George is a changeling now, yes? Or made into a cuckoo's child by all her attention, depending on how literal you went with the replacement.) I'd like more meat on the bones of Janey's visits with George, although that publication business may make the matter moot.

*************************

Week 228: Unqualified

Erogenous Beef, "A Change of Mind": A janitor right at the start catches my attention. The approach to the prompt is great: Sam's hopelessly inept and still sympathetic, neither cartoon nor cliche, and his error makes perfect sense from his perspective. That he saves the day through sheer accident edges closer to the cartoon edge, which I think has more to do with how quickly it follows the unleashing of the fungus than with the means. I concur that this is a slight piece. It could use more space for its ending. There's probably no hope for that but more words, as I don't see much in the way of bloat to cut. It's one of those stories that wouldn't win a strong week because of how little there is to it, but that is fun to read, neatly done, and has no significant flaws--a godsend in a weak week and a worthy victor.

*****

Thranguy, "Empty": "Provenience"? A period outside of quotations in American English? Come on, Thranguy, I'm trying to be intrigued by your angel aperitif here. The premise and prose are doing the job, but the errors are rot and maggots that need to be kept at bay with the sweet oil of proofreading. The story holds its strength through Zargas's death scene but loses some in the finale, reminding me that you haven't said why the Throne of God is unoccupied. That's the larger tale. That's the tale worth telling. This is a concept with a bit of story tied to its neck, really. I'm not satisfied with knowing how Zargas dies while the question of what's going on in Heaven remains unanswered. It's a much better concept-with-story-trimming than others you've written--I'm thinking specifically of Week 210--and HM-worthy work nevertheless, nicely written and making excellent use of gore.

*****

GenJoe, "A Murder.": My disbelief is strained by the protagonist ushering a stranger with a gut wound into his/her home, probably because ushering is a polite, calm verb better suited to garden parties than bringing in a murder victim off the street. And in the hours the police are in the house, they never ask about a phone? Details that haven't been thought through have marred all your entries to date. This time the slightness, the irrelevance of the piece delivers the killing blow: the situation is too tense and too emotionally charged for the limp resolution you give it. The protagonist screwing up shouldn't be the climax; the climax should be a consequence of the error; the tone at the end is almost wacky, when the setup is anything but. Also, the word you want is scowl. Scour suggests the protagonist can't stop imagining her cleaning her kitchen floors.

*****

widespread, "Silver Nitride Is A Hell Of A Thing.": I'm picking up a mismatch between tone and events in the first section, unless the professor's exaggerating the severity of the explosion. I can't quite tell. He should be more distraught, as should Jackson, if Jackson's wreaked so much damage that the lab might be unusable for the rest of the school semester. Heck, even if not, Jackson's caused visible injuries on multiple students and the first thing he says is a tepid "Sorry, professor"? Then he blames his phone? Jeeze, what a guy. I mind less that he dies than that he dies in such an altogether incredible way. Between your abrupt and goofy ending and GenJoe's, I prefer GenJoe's, because I can believe human stupidity more readily than I can buy whatever quirk of physics turned Jackson into the losertar.

What th

Why you!!!

It's on after the holiday

# ¿ Dec 23, 2016 08:47

Sitting Here: Dec 31, 2007

Djeser posted:

I've never seen anything as pumped up as your prose, and I've been to Muscle Beach in Santa Monica. If you want to get flowery, start a garden. This is Thunderdome bithc.

Brawl me.

Boaz-Jachim posted:

Someone, please judge this so Djeser doesn't get his feelings hurt.

Boaz-Djechim Brawl :siren:

Prompt: A relatable misanthrope

Word count: I don't really care but try not to exceed 2K words, that's probably too many anyhow

Due date: Friday, Dec 30th by 11:59:59 PST

toxx up, laddies

# ¿ Dec 23, 2016 21:54

Sitting Here: Dec 31, 2007

tpmorp

# ¿ Dec 26, 2016 20:29

Sitting Here: Dec 31, 2007

hey chili

i heard you were cruisin for an extra bruisin, therefor i am giving you a second picture

have fun

# ¿ Dec 28, 2016 19:22

Sitting Here: Dec 31, 2007

crit for katdicks :greatgift:

Okay so I am going to nitpick your opening paragraph, then give more general comments.

quote:

My wife gave me a warm embrace, kissed me softly on the cheek, and stepped back from me. Her jaw clenched as she picked up the scuffed white helmet, the mark of my trade, with her delicate hands. Her brows furrowed and she stared up at me with dark, doe eyes.

I don't really like the repetition of 'me' in the first sentence. Repetition isn't always bad, but in this case it sticks out.
I feel like it should read "...she picked up the scuffed white helmet--the mark of my trade--with her delicate hands." em dashes are usually better for informative interjections like that.
I don't think you need a comma between 'dark' and 'doe', since it's her doe eyes that are dark. You use the same phrase later, without the comma, so I think you probably know this already.
over all, I think your adjectives could be a little more colorful. A warm embrace, a soft kiss, delicate hands, dark eyes--These are pretty boilerplate. I'm not saying you need to make all of these more colorful (because that would make the prose seem overwrought), but I think you could've dropped a couple of stronger adjectives in there.

Okay, nitpicking over. Now for my general thoughts on the whole story.

While I like the emotions that exist between the husband and wife, the dialog was sparse and stiff. The story really picked up momentum as it went on, and by the time the narrator is trying to rescue the baby, I can feel his desperation. I'm not a huge fan of the part where he imagines his wife's smile and finds the strength to go on, but I never enjoy that sort of thing in fiction. Maybe other readers would find it hugely sweet and sentimental, I don't know.

It's weird because like...the language in this story is full of feeling and emotion, but the actual characters themselves feel like cardboard plot vehicles. The dutiful husband is dutiful, the worried but supportive wife is worried but supportive. This is more of a moment than a story, so I'm not looking for some nuanced character arc. However, I wish more of the words had been used to make it a story about distinct people with unique traits that dictate how they respond to their situation.

We're all familiar with the image of the emergency responder who runs toward danger when everyone else is running away, and that is a fine thing to write a story about. Those first responders often have scared loved ones at home, which is another strong plot element. You have those two things, which is cool, but there is nothing super specific to these two characters. Well, except the wife's doe eyes. Which is another thing I'm not a huge fan of in fiction, these endings where a character looks into another character's eyes and goes "wow your eyes are just like [person I care about], this is such a poignant and meaningful moment." But again, I'm cynical as hell, so maybe it works for other people. Just something to think about.

On the sentence level, I noticed some wonky bits, but as the story progressed I found myself not noticing as much stilted phrasing and missing commas. It's the kind of stuff that will probably work itself out if you keep reading/writing.

Overall, this is a decent first entry to the dome. I think your strength is probably emotive language. This piece had a sincere feeling of love behind it that I enjoyed in spite of my critiques. I think you should work on taking some of that sincerity from the narrative and putting it into your characters' dialog and internal monologue.

Best of luck

# ¿ Dec 29, 2016 00:13

Sitting Here: Dec 31, 2007

Baleful Osmium Sea posted:

In with "start a blog"

# ¿ Dec 30, 2016 03:27

Sitting Here: Dec 31, 2007

Reene posted:

I am in for my first Thunderdome and I choose to Start Taking Vitamins.

Whoops, sorry for missing your post. Have a picture!

# ¿ Dec 30, 2016 04:12

Sitting Here: Dec 31, 2007

a new study bible! posted:

This year I'm going to give more blood.

Comedy option:

(please don't actually write about tampons)

# ¿ Dec 30, 2016 05:14

Sitting Here: Dec 31, 2007

I'm working up to a nice feelsy post about how you all are just gosh darn great, but until then, I need suggestions for the 2017 thread title.

Currently I have "Thunderdome 2017: Sunday is Garbage Day" from Entenzahn, but I know there are some good suggestions out there and I would like to take them under consideration.

# ¿ Dec 31, 2016 01:00

Sitting Here: Dec 31, 2007

Djeser posted:

Code Crimson

Boaz-Jachim posted:

For my brawl against Djeser.

In Brazen Image

These are two incredibly different stories. As I write this post, I'm not entirely sure which I like better. Stay tuned!!!

Djeser

This spends a bit too much time on the day-to-day drudgery of ~~Void~~AbyssMart. I ran into the same issue when I wrote about my own job (and rightfully DMed). The narrative voice is jaunty enough that it wasn't like, totally unpleasant to read, but I found myself wondering when Michael was going to do something other than his job. The vampire was pretty thin. I would've liked more characterization in your antagonist. I get that this is a fun, light story, but you missed the opportunity to bounce your two characters off of each other. As is, their interaction boils down to a chase scene and some combat, which was all clear and easy to follow, but didn't do much for me since the vampire got virtually no characterization. I will fully admit, the various references made me smile. Over the years, Thunderdome has stockpiled a wealth of tropes and in-jokes and I am of the (possibly unpopular) opinion that it's perfectly fine to write a story using things from the TD micro-mythos. That said, it presents an obstacle in judging because it's difficult for this type of story to beat out a les niche piece.

Michael is fairly likable and sympathetic. He's pretty fully characterized, which is probably why the thinness of the rest of the characters/set pieces was so stark. He deserved a more interesting conflict than a chase/fight scene, though the his one-liner at the end (and subsequent thoughts about it) was cute. I'm a fan of the expanding SatireMart universe. Stories like this make me wish for some hypothetical TV show that is a mix between, IDK, Superstore and Once Upon a Time. The prose is jovial and generally smooth, so no real complaints there. The action, as thin as it was, was at least easy to read and visualize.

Boaz-Jachim

There isn't anything I really think is truly 'bad' about this piece. It does exactly what it intends to do, I think, so it comes down to whether the reader is into that. Very little happens "on screen" until the end. The reader is left to infer a lot, so the "change" that happens in the story isn't so much a character arc as it is an informational arc. The narrative revolves around the revelation that this formerly subjugated artifice/automaton is now an oracle for the creatures that once enslaved it. I thought it was....pretty good.

The language is pretty. Where Djeser went for straightforward language that lent itself to clarity, your piece definitely has a more poetic bent. A different reader might have quibbles with the way you chose to present the story (mainly the formatting, I know some people's eyes glaze over when they see lots of italics), though I personally didn't mind.

I want to write more crits but I am at work and deeply entrenched in a sort of banal conversational siege so here it is: I like both stories. They are too different to fairly compare. However, if a reader that wasn't familiar with TD were judging, they would probably find more to like about Boaz-Jachim's story.

So grats Boaz, although really if I were a butt I'd say you guys tied because at the end of the day I enjoyed reading both of these pieces.

# ¿ Dec 31, 2016 23:35

Sitting Here: Dec 31, 2007

ok i've narrowed down the suggestions to these ones, but i need some help deciding still so what do you think goons???? :siren:

Tyrannosaurus posted:

Thunderdome 2017: Everyone dies. No one writes well.

sebmojo posted:

Thunderdome 2017: Five Million Words (some good)

Kaishai posted:

Thunderdome 2017teen: Prose and Cons

anime was right posted:

thunderdome 2017: i cant read, and yet i write

Djeser posted:

Thunderdome 2017teen: You May Already Be A Loser

curlingiron posted:

Thunderdome 2017teen: I shudder to behold it

flerp posted:

thunderdome2017: we write bad words, so can you!

Krunge posted:

Thunderdome 2017: How I Learned to Start Writing and Love the Crits

docbeard posted:

Thunderdome 2017: Write A drat Thing

# ¿ Jan 2, 2017 20:14

Adbot: ADBOT LOVES YOU

# ¿ May 21, 2024 05:10

Sitting Here: Dec 31, 2007

Djeser posted:

Thunderdome 2017: we finally stopped making the same joke about a five-year-old story

lol yeah right

The new thread is live!

Here's to another year of lovely, lovely rear end words. Thunderdome is unironically one of my favorite things about my week, whether I'm reading, judging, or chatting about stories for recaps. I hope we can do this together for a long time, because the community in this weirdass little corner of the internet is unlike anything else I've been a part of.

All of you mean the world to me. Your stories, even the lovely ones, inspire me to keep pursuing the craft of writing. So thanks. You're all the best (but also the worst).

I will leave the thread open for a couple of days so latecomers can edit their stories out. Please direct all of your bad posts to the new thread!

I love you, TD.

# ¿ Jan 3, 2017 05:39

The Something Awful Forums > Archives > Comedy Goldmine > Thunderdome 2016teen: Fast Writing, Bad Writing

«‹›10 »