Creative Writing, Poetry, Arts & Crafts, and Other Creations Thread
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my music performance --- at this open mic in England but online world wide.
it is called VEMOM # 18 (Virtual Electronic Music Open Mic) anyway I prepared for this for a couple days then crunch prep the day of which was recorded and is show in the first part of the video followed by the actual broadcast that was used.
it is called VEMOM # 18 (Virtual Electronic Music Open Mic) anyway I prepared for this for a couple days then crunch prep the day of which was recorded and is show in the first part of the video followed by the actual broadcast that was used.
Been itching to try out my new azure professional artist markers.
new song after that last new song- about 3 hours ago so yeah not exactly totally new it has been about for 3 hours now,
https://alonetone.com/newbold/tracks/absatract-landscape-x1
https://alonetone.com/newbold/tracks/absatract-landscape-x1
https://themelancholicfolkcollective.bandcamp.com/album/on-the-tajo-ep
My alternative folk release, spontaneous, not perfect
Three takes and go with it
Who wants to be perfect ?
My alternative folk release, spontaneous, not perfect
Three takes and go with it
Who wants to be perfect ?
While shoveling out the house, I found another notebook full of my old mostly bleak poetry.
"A truer lie was never spoken,
Nor more faithful heart was ever broken.
Were sacred vows a mere token
Of love's bright promise bespoken?"
Sheesh, good thing I never finished that one. So depressing. I wish I had dated it though, so I could figure out why I was so down.
"A truer lie was never spoken,
Nor more faithful heart was ever broken.
Were sacred vows a mere token
Of love's bright promise bespoken?"
Sheesh, good thing I never finished that one. So depressing. I wish I had dated it though, so I could figure out why I was so down.
Sally
They talk about her in past tense
she hears only the air flow's hiss
only one can visit without offense
a mechanical room, a forehead kiss
whispered the Pythia when she spoke
each word pulled from a drowning chest
years of the mask, strength of the oak
In forty-two, child born into the West
self-taught ballet, an Athabascan boy
five living children, one baby bereft
coal-speckled snow, picking up a toy
fly without fear into dreams, stage left
our mother is on a ventilator
our mother is on a ventilator
They talk about her in past tense
she hears only the air flow's hiss
only one can visit without offense
a mechanical room, a forehead kiss
whispered the Pythia when she spoke
each word pulled from a drowning chest
years of the mask, strength of the oak
In forty-two, child born into the West
self-taught ballet, an Athabascan boy
five living children, one baby bereft
coal-speckled snow, picking up a toy
fly without fear into dreams, stage left
our mother is on a ventilator
our mother is on a ventilator
Here's a very short Star WARS fan fic I just thought up:
"Jedi Master Yoda opened his eyes. Where a moment earlier he had spent his last breath passing on to young Luke Skywalker the secret of Luke's long lost heritage, and the fact that there was another of the young Jedi's lineage, Yoda now stood in a vast chamber filled with blinding white light and swirling mist. Massive pillars of solid white marble towered above him, carved in an architectural style that was foreign to him and yet somehow familiar. Before him apeared a tall, slender figure in a hooded white robe, her face hidden behind a mask which appeared somehow skull-faced yet welcoming.
Yoda realized that he was, at long last, dead.
He approached the robed spirit before him, and knelt before her. He felt her warm, thin hand grasp his shoulder reassuringly. Then, he heard a voice he had not heard in a long time. "Hello there!" As he raised his eyes to look, he saw the visage of old Ben Kenobi, also robed in white. Next to him stood countless other Jedi, hundreds maybe, no, thousands. And there at last, was the man who had made it all possible. Master Qui-Gon Jinn.
Tears of joy filled Yoda's eyes, but the tall slender figure he had seen first raised her hand to his face, and wiped the tears from his eyes. She then took off her mask, and he could see that she was human, though he had never met her before. She had dark skin and bright jade green eyes, with autumn leaf-colored hair spiraling down in curls around her face. She smiled at Yoda, and in his head her voice rang out clear as bells, saying "Be at peace, he who is called Yoda. I am the Keeper, one of the Whills. You are in the House of the Whills, in the Netherworld of the Force." As if in response to the question he was about to ask, the Keeper continued, "You may return in non-corporeal form to the Galaxy from which you came, but each time you do, the form you take in that realm will continue to diminish. While you will remain everlasting in this realm, your days as a spirit in the World of the Living are limited. Make careful use of this time." With that, the Keeper faded into the white mist that swirled around the room. As Yoda's friends from of old all encircled him to celebrate, he felt, for the first time in nearly 800 years, fully content."
"Jedi Master Yoda opened his eyes. Where a moment earlier he had spent his last breath passing on to young Luke Skywalker the secret of Luke's long lost heritage, and the fact that there was another of the young Jedi's lineage, Yoda now stood in a vast chamber filled with blinding white light and swirling mist. Massive pillars of solid white marble towered above him, carved in an architectural style that was foreign to him and yet somehow familiar. Before him apeared a tall, slender figure in a hooded white robe, her face hidden behind a mask which appeared somehow skull-faced yet welcoming.
Yoda realized that he was, at long last, dead.
He approached the robed spirit before him, and knelt before her. He felt her warm, thin hand grasp his shoulder reassuringly. Then, he heard a voice he had not heard in a long time. "Hello there!" As he raised his eyes to look, he saw the visage of old Ben Kenobi, also robed in white. Next to him stood countless other Jedi, hundreds maybe, no, thousands. And there at last, was the man who had made it all possible. Master Qui-Gon Jinn.
Tears of joy filled Yoda's eyes, but the tall slender figure he had seen first raised her hand to his face, and wiped the tears from his eyes. She then took off her mask, and he could see that she was human, though he had never met her before. She had dark skin and bright jade green eyes, with autumn leaf-colored hair spiraling down in curls around her face. She smiled at Yoda, and in his head her voice rang out clear as bells, saying "Be at peace, he who is called Yoda. I am the Keeper, one of the Whills. You are in the House of the Whills, in the Netherworld of the Force." As if in response to the question he was about to ask, the Keeper continued, "You may return in non-corporeal form to the Galaxy from which you came, but each time you do, the form you take in that realm will continue to diminish. While you will remain everlasting in this realm, your days as a spirit in the World of the Living are limited. Make careful use of this time." With that, the Keeper faded into the white mist that swirled around the room. As Yoda's friends from of old all encircled him to celebrate, he felt, for the first time in nearly 800 years, fully content."
So, I have done a "daring" thing and I have written my own version of certain section previously put together by my father. So, my fantasy story is currently in chapter two and I´m actually experiencing another remarkable thing. The inspiration is bringing me details about the endgames of the central characters. I know currently about 3 of 9 out of them but it´s still a very important part.
I've gotten a bit more writing done in the last couple weeks. I've actually been jumping around a bit, I added some more to both parts of the story, changed some things in my outline to fit the current version, and I went back to the earlier chapters to change a couple generic characters, to a new named character that I decided to add to the story.
This all brings me up to 116 pages at 12pt Times New Roman font, single spaced, and 48,617 words.
What are word counts for a novella and novel? I'm just curious which one this qualifies as at this point.
This all brings me up to 116 pages at 12pt Times New Roman font, single spaced, and 48,617 words.
What are word counts for a novella and novel? I'm just curious which one this qualifies as at this point.
the next 5
I also have been working on a new music video project after the 3 I did before. just yesterday morning --
this is the best video mix better than the 3 or so videos I made with the same sound/footage after this- but the other on on the youtube too with this one-
I also have been working on a new music video project after the 3 I did before. just yesterday morning --
this is the best video mix better than the 3 or so videos I made with the same sound/footage after this- but the other on on the youtube too with this one-
OK thanks, I was just curious if it was long enough to qualify as a novella, and it actually is.Depending on what resource you consult, novellas seem to max out anywhere between 40,000 to 50,000 words. So you’re either almost there, or already there!
A “standard” novel—whatever that may mean—is apparently around 80,000 words.
Also, I have now mixed feelings from my erotica series. I´m currently writing the 27th part (which tortures me already because I want to have 76 of them) and I just wrote a brief rape scene of one of the heroines. Did anyone else here feel sick for what they artistically conceived?
EDIT: When creating endgames for my fantasy characters, I have now managed 7 out of 9. somebody tell Jery Ryan about that.
EDIT: When creating endgames for my fantasy characters, I have now managed 7 out of 9. somebody tell Jery Ryan about that.
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I've found myself having an internal debate about a similar situation in my story. One of the big plot points is that the narrator's younger half sister is kidnapped by the bad guys, and I keep going back and forth on how bad I want her to be treated. I was thinking about having her beaten up and raped and so her arc would then be her dealing with the trauma, and it motivating her to become more involved in the fight with the bad guys, but I'm not sure if I really sure if I want to go that dark. No matter what, it's still going to be bad for her, and her big motivation, it's just a matter of how bad I want to make it.
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