It was 11 AM in the afternoon when I walked up to Pam and said, “Good evening.” Her eyes sparkled in breaking light of dawn as she replied, “What are you doing up so late?” I retorted, “But Pamela, it is not late, it is early! The sun may be down but other stars are brimming.” She snarled her brow into a frown, “What the hell are you talking about? The sun is right there over those hills in the west.” She waved her hands towards the rolling mounds to our south. I smiled at her efforts and said, “The sun may be still seen but hardly does it shine.”
I just wrote this and felt like tossing it in the wind to anyone bored enough to read it.
No, it’s 11pm, and the sun is still somewhat visible.
No, the sun is burning out, because it hardly shines.
No, the sun has chosen to set in the south this time, as evidenced by the wave of her hand.
Is there an editor in the house?
And as a serious word of advice, those high school type creative writing courses are full of crap. Overuse of adjectives and adverbs only shows a relative inexperience with the language, or at least writing fiction in it.
The flamy orb topped the eleventh hour when I, thusly burdened with my manly mantle, came up to yon wench woman, Paamh. Gritting my steely mandibles, I uttered to her, “Avaunt ye, good dusk.” Sparkling effervescently in the breaking light of the flame orb of dawn she bubbled, “Late ye are in your daily micturations. What do ye, oh muscular bringer of man-stud-muffinness?” Raising a mighty thew, I wrestled back the bulk of my Cimmurian mane and grated “But Paamh, not early it is, for–'struth–it is breaking close to the area of not late! Gads! The flame orb of Goroth be down but the stars be brimming!” Snarling her brow winsomely, she opened her speech cavity, surrounded as it was by ruby red lips, sweetly curved and she melodiously uttered, “What the hell dost thou speak where withof? Beyond the dirt mounds of Suundaarrr lie the coming sun flame, confined behind those very hills of majesty.” She curled her ivory arteria digitalis in a southward direction. Smiling ponderously at the maiden’s elocutions and gesticulations, I gave response, rumbling my manful response, “The sun may be still seen but hardly does it shine.”
Hey thanks BuckleBerry! I was rather disappointed that my little 3 minute creative writing exercise was apparently too crappy to even qualify for the “Mundane and pointless stuff I simply must share” forum.
Such warm receptions would make many people highly resistant to ever sharing with such a board again, but I guess that is the point.
Oh relax. The idea that your “little 3 minute creative writing exercise” was going to be either praised to the sky or ignored is naive. Some people thought it was fine, other didn’t. The trick now is to narrow down the second group by improving your writing.
Writing is a process. 3 minutes isn’t a lot of time for anything to be processed, much less in an adequate manner. That something was written in a short amount of time does not necessarily speak well to the skill of the writing or the writer any more than its length means it ought to be that long.
Consider these two statements taken at face value:
If the sun doth not shine, how does its breaking dawn light sparkle in Pam’s eyes?
And the adage, developed for this board but hardly four year young, does apply: think twice, post once.