Creative Writing, Poetry, Arts & Crafts, and Other Creations Thread

Take screenshots that include the timestamp. You'll be able to prove that you posted it before they grabbed it and stole it.

You can also make sure you have an original copy that isn't only available online. For instance, most of my writing starts as handwritten drafts on looseleaf paper - a physical copy that's far too unpolished and stream-of-consciousness to have been copied from anyone. You can actually mail this stuff to yourself so there's proof of when it went through the postal system. Of course you need to do this before you put any of it online.

 

Not that I'm suggesting anyone on here would steal anyone's writing, but it's always something to keep in mind.
As for the old mail stuff to yourself which many people do, I read recently that this may not be legal enough should a writer, songwriter etc have to prove ownership in a court of law.

 

that latest music video I am editing now errr going to add the last 5 hours that I recorded that youtube did not post so I edit out the first 11 hours is all

 

I suppose it was a better way before everything went online. When I was told about this, it was the pre-internet era.

 

Here's my latest episode of Creative On the Scene. I shot at a Rock & Blues jam at a local pub. I mixed up interviews with performances from four bands. One song from each band. It's a half-hour long and I hope you enjoy it.



Previous episodes, I did were at a Haunted House.


And with just one of the band last December at another pub. Where we have interviews and performances too.

 

an average person with no imagination would steal thoughts from the head of a baby if they "thought" it would do any good but mmmmm I am used to being "ripped off" of my creative elements example---

in college we had a finial project in oil painting class I chose to paint the inside of a phone booth. was ok but they had to tare it down cause you could not make phone calls anymore .. my point exactly ... but one of my class mates was very interested in my "style" and process in oil painting I explained my "motives" etc with her seems she had made a new work in "my style" of painting took my raw soul out and put it on her canvas at first it was like I was raped but then it was the greatest compliment when done right things work.. after that I spent a year in transition with my art work growing out of what was used in the painting and expanding so on..

in the end it really does not matter .. === but it does in those fleeting moments of insecurity and fears.. don't worry it is just a persons soul that they put to the test of life and if you copy ok but if you learn from their experiences then all the better way to teach love and be.

 

Same thing happened with my son at Art School, in his first year, he spent a year on a project only to see a so called "friend" steal a lot of his ideas and use them as his own.
Took him a while to get over it, but he soon decided to be a bit less trusting in the future

 

that is sad ... when it comes to it people with good ideas should let them spread not that I want someone else's ideas but that ... the truth will prevail ... I am torn between the old spy adage trust no one to what ever happens was going to happen anyway.. so whatever. but yeah I can relate although I write in my own short hand with my new ideas to see how they look.. but really no body can read my writting but me.. it is true.. still some ideas I like to open the world to but really they can care less you find someone who is interested is very strange ... I know so much that I have forgotten it is no big deal but yeah..



note book pages in short hand (at the time I wrote it) would be the definition of that actaul type of short hand I had developed for myself

what does it mean 10 years later some of this is hological transdefinite of a theory that space and time are meaning less or that evolution can be looked at as the integrations of a lifetime ... as time changes smaller and closer in limit from say birth to death but what ever really synergistic symbols and styles of thought that I was absorbed in back then..

 

Artist Replaces Billboards with Photos of the Landscapes They’re Blocking

 

i haven't shot a picture in 5 years or so,
but i was really involved in photography for a very long time.

i got this phone the other day from one of my sons,
it had a camera and was very thin (i could slip it right in to my back pocket! crazy! i know..)

Anyway.. i went outside to check out the camera, it was fun again! here are some shots...

 

Debating posting a little something to this thread. Depends on how tolerant people here are of anthropomorphism and sentimentality! I love to write, it's usually furry, and I have a bad habit of wearing my heart on my sleeve. Still, any opportunity for feedback is valuable, and I do need to stop being so self-concious about it. Any interest?

 

^that is good we will read and talk feedback about the writing usually it is a good thing ...

I have a song I made yesterday that is pretty good I am warmed up on my supernova II synthesizer .. and recording it.
this is the link to the page for the song..
https://alonetone.com/acid/tracks/box-of-rock-heads-3
this is where you can click it and it will download the song to your computer all automatic and the likes
https://alonetone.com/acid/tracks/box-of-rock-heads-3.mp3
I posted this to a music group on fb I am apart of but the comments are cumbersome as a lot of post our music there.

thanks for listening

 

I see "UFOs" in those shots

 

Here goes nothing, then! I'll put the story under a spoiler button since it's about a thousand words long, and so people can have the choice of reading it or not.

This is simply titled Promises.

Spoiler: Promises

The girl sat down on the bench next to the vendor's little stand, paws clasping an overloaded vanilla cone she'd just bought from them, but she didn't eat it. Instead, she stared along the path that bordered the lazy, glimmering breadth of the river, gaze so distant she barely noticed the people dotted along it, chatting, walking, sunbathing, feeding the ducks and swans, and dipping their toes in the water.

"They'll be 'ere in a minute," the rat vendor told her, voice coarse but soft at the edges. "Regular as the proverbial clockwork, they are."

"They?" the girl enquired, raising a brow. "I thought...?"

The rodent sighed, shoulders sagging. "The little un's gone, yeah, but she insists they came back to 'er, that they're...lookin' after 'er until 'er own time comes." He sniffed, and cleared his throat. "I jus' think she's strugglin' so much she...she can't let 'em go..."

The girl's eyes dipped as a pang acute as fire hit her, but she forced it away. "I...know the feeling..."

The vendor regarded her sympathetically. "I'm sorry if'n I spoke out of turn, but..." He trailed off. "Ah - 'ere they come..."

The girl looked up; she pretty soon spotted the short female raccoon heading towards them, partly thanks to the vividly coloured shawl she wore, partly to the faint limp in her left leg, and partly to the odd way her right arm stretched out and down, wavering as if grasping onto the hand of someone small and active...but no-one was there.

Tears stung the girl's eyes, but she blinked them away; she focused on her ice cream, eating it in a few sharp bites, all the while fighting to get control over her suddenly erratic breathing. When it was finished she stared at her paws as they fiddled anxiously in her lap, only responding when a quiet voice rich with warmth called to her.

"Patty! You're home!"

The girl stood up, returning the beaming smile of the raccoon with a shy one of her own. "Hey, Auntie. Good to see you. I've missed you."

The coon gave her a light hug, then, paws settling on her shoulders, looked her over. "My, what a fine figure of a raccoon-girl you've grown in to. Don't you agree, Tag?" She looked down, as if a child were stood beside her, then the smile widened. "He agrees!"

"I'm not sure I do," the girl murmured, staring down at herself, at the flat chest, the pale, slightly coarse fur, the undersized tail, and the thin hips. "I've barely grown out at all."

"You've done just fine," her Aunt assured her, arms dropping. One of them then jerked outwards, like it was being tugged; the elder raccoon chuckled, gazing fondly at thin air. "He's getting impatient. He does so love his ice cream."

"Don't make him wait on my account," Patty gently insisted, only just keeping the quaver from her voice.

"You always were a sweetheart." The elder raccoon kissed her cheek and squeezed her paw, then turned to the vendor, ushering an unseen cub ahead of her.

The girl could so easily visualise the vibrant, soft-furred little raccoon boy with the nick in one ear, the faded yellow neckerchief and the dot on his belly bouncing eagerly to the ice-cream stand; raising up on his tip-toes and resting his paws on the counter he watched raptly as the rat filled a cone with the chocolate variety. A tearful blink, a rub of the eyes, and he was gone.

"So was he," she near-whispered, voice cracking.

"Is, dear; is." Her aunt took the cone, paid for it, thanked the vendor, then turned to her, free paw patting an invisible head. "I always knew he'd come back; he promised, and he..."

"I know." The girl drew a smile from somewhere.

"Feel free to visit us, any time." With a wave the elder raccoon, again ushering nothing in front of her, moved to a tall-backed wooden bench across the path, looking out over the river.

The girl made no move to follow, just stood and watched as her aunt patiently settled her unseen child on the seat, then sat down alongside them. All Patty could see was the elder raccoon's shoulders and head, but she could imagine well enough what was happening. A ruffle of a perky little set of ears, nimble paws accepting the treat, a permanently grinning muzzle making a cheerful mess of eating it, a handkerchief to dab away the remains even as playful fingers dotted brown on wood...

Her vision wavered as her eyes watered; she blinked and rubbed and shook herself, then looked up to see her Aunt starting to walk back the way she'd come, still grasping an invisible paw. Her attention was then drawn the other way by a call, to an approaching pair of grey foxes, the male wearing a dapper boater at a jaunty angle, the female in a deep green tank top and sandals.

She waved and, bidding the rat vendor farewell, walked onto the path to greet the vulpines. As she passed the bench, she caught a glimpse of brown specks dotting it. She tried to ignore them, but some instinct saw her investigating; she found a scattering of ice cream fingerprints freshly laid across the backrest of the seat, as if a small paw had trailed along it but moments ago...

She stared at them for some time, shaking, a hand to her mouth, her eyes stinging and blurring, oblivious even to the paws taking light hold of her shoulders, and the concerned voices enquiring. She wiped her vision clear and stared after her Aunt, strolling peacefully along with a bouncy little raccoon boy, a nick in one ear, a faded yellow neckerchief bobbing, holding her hand and chattering away to her.

He looked over his shoulder, smiled a bright, gap-toothed smile, and mouthed five words to the now openly weeping girl.

"I always keep my promises."

All feedback appreciated. :-)

 

^Oh. That did not go as I expected. Sweet and sad and spooky. Lovely!

 

Hehe i photoshopped them after
Yeah i thought if you scrolled fast by them you wouldn't notice,
Especially the first one=)

 

I try not to take the obvious route; more fun that way. :-)

And thank you so much for the positive response! :-D

 

I finished Camp NaNoWriMo (July 1-July 30), and was relieved to see that "Congratulations, Winner!" message pop up right after I validated my story.

My goal was 15,000 words, and the website credited me with 18,364. Open Office says it was 18,458. I've since found out from another participant that for some idiotically insane reason, Open Office thinks that quotation marks are words. So it adds two words to the count every time I have my characters say something. No wonder my counts don't match.

I joined a random virtual cabin this time, with over a dozen complete strangers from around the world. It was fun, and I get the impression that a couple of them are college students, or possibly even as young as high school students.

I'm still keeping up my streak of writing every day, and need to start planning an outline for November. That one can be brutal, since it's 50,000 words. I don't ever want to be in the same situation as last year, when I was so far behind that I had to do 8500 words on the last day (brain was fried and hands and fingers were in a lot of pain).

 

Impressive, well done