Life in the Woods.

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Posts tagged with "prose"

Seven Rules For Tumblr Writers

1. Cut The Fat: No one wants to read a long, grueling post. If you want to be read, keep your posts skinny.

2. Make It Shiny: Tumblr is visual. Make your writing visual. Poetry is appealing- so are lists and pictures. No blocks of text!

3. Short Sentences Win: This is not the place for semicolons and lengthy sytax. Meet the dash- a great  informal solution.

4. Say Something: What are you giving your followers? Is it entertainment, information or something to relate to? Say Something. 

5. Title: Your title is your hook, your lead. Make it shout. Give it humor, an opinion, a bit of satire. Give it something.

6. Skinny Paragraphs:  Make your paragraphs short and frequent. Don’t be afraid of one-sentence paragraphs— They demand attention.

7. Features: Write for yourself. Don’t worry about intellects or the editor’s watchful eye. Write for you, the everyman. The features will come, and if they don’t- they’re missing something brilliant.

4 Short Storys You’ll Never EVER Forget.

1. “A Good Man Is Hard To Find” By Flannery O’Connor
http://pegasus.cc.ucf.edu/~surette/goodman.html 

2. “The Lottery” By Shirley Jackson
http://www.classicshorts.com/stories/lotry.html 

3. “The Snow of Kilimanjaro” By Earnest Hemingway
http://xroads.virginia.edu/~drbr/heming.html 

4. “A Rose For Emily” By William Faulkner
https://flightline.highline.edu/tkim/Files/Lit100_SS2.pdf 

READ THEM! It’s 10 minutes of literary bliss :)

My Afternoon.

I followed a seagull down the coast. He didn’t notice- he pecked at shells and flung back when  water kissed his knees.

He was different. The others where white, angelic, the only difference in eyes. He was chestnut with a layer of ash.

It’s a setting i’m too young to know. Where skin swirls off bones and doodles the air- it’s forgetting who you are and  where your feet our going- it’s just sound and taste and smell and seagulls.

Then there was yelling. Kids. My age, 17. Skinny jeans, wide rimmed glasses and plunging necklines.

"She ruined it!"

I was back. They stared.

I looked down, bare feet crushing a sand traced message:
Cassie I love you. Prom?

Mumbai, India (FKA Bombay)

Forget everything you’ve read about Mumbai, it’s ineffable.

It’s a raging shit hole, it’s a historians paradise, it’s filled with people- So many people! people that run across the street in sporadic traffic patterns, people that sleep on the sides of the road- but not in the poverty stricken voice seen in the states, they lay adorned in silk saris,  a sort of prideful siesta.

And then there’s the thumbprints. Every culture seems to have let it’s mark on mumbai, the british architecture, the french hotels and of course- the slums.

Poverty is everywhere, cricket is everywhere, wealth is everywhere. It doesn’t fit together- streets separate worlds.  Every corner is a portal shocking from beaches to Bollywood.

It doesn’t fit, it shouldn’t fit. The only consistency is the smell of sulfur and traffic that streams like ants.

It’s like a plate of curry- the rice, the chutney- each flavor is separate; its only cohesive once you’ve swallowed; it sits in your stomach, scent caught in your hair.

I have never been so inspired by a city. 

A Book Worm’s Valentine.

"What are you doing for valentines day?", my phone shivered with a probing  text, it was James, a friend/not-really-lover.

"Reading"

Yep- I’m spending Valentines with a cup of Chamomile tea, utterly alone, speed reading Miss Austen.

Pride and Prejudice, Emma, and Sense and Sensibility: ah! a wide array of true romance; instead of muling over dinner and sifting through small talk i’ll be lounging in a giant grey t-shirt with Dear George Knightly.

"That’s pathetic", he responded.

No silly teenager, it isn’t- Valentines day is dedicated to  love; I love books, I love Mr Dashwood. I love relationships formed on breath taking dialogue not tongue-jabbing hookups, i love endless letters and pages of soliloquies!

So James, if you want to storm into my room  and recite an epic monologue extolling my virtues, i’ll gladly join you for dinner - otherwise, i’m stickin to Darcey :)

Four Simple Writing Tips

1) Less is More. People simply won’t read your work if it’s long; unless the sentence has an arguable purpose, cut it.

2) Be Cocky. Writing is all about ego; if you think you’re a good writer, chances are your work will turn out decent. Breath, Relax and do a little pump up dance- it’s just a pen and paper.

3) Write like yourself. Tumblr is filled with preteens trying to sound like 60 year old men; don’t dress your writing up, don’t stuff your words with complex syntax- you’re probably a pretty cool person under that cheesy metaphor.

4) Be Weird. People like odditys; What makes you different from the rest of the posts clogging your dashboard?

Chatting with Strangers.

"That’s some pretty impressive kite flying"

Four shirtless chests whipped towards my tiny frame.

"What?"

This was an awful idea, the words were so vibrant that i almost spit them out- i swallowed  with a hestitant gulp and stuttered a feeble response.

"i-i like your kite?" my response hung in the air, i held my breath, trying to repress memoires of middle-school rejection.

"Ya, there’s a valosrapter on it"
"We got it for 50 cents at the dollar stoor"
"Wanna fly it?"

And just like that, the awkward girl in the giant fleece was hanging out with four gorgeous beach hotties. 

Since i’ve started unschooling my whole view on simple conversation has warped- in a typical highscool environment socialization is crammed down your throat; you have to converse constantly or brave the cafeteria alone, it’s life or death- prom or isolation.

But unschooling has made me a little lonely, I hardly see anyone outside outside of my family.

So I’ve been talking to strangers, anyone, I approach them -sweaty palms and all- and strike a simple conversation; admittedly there has been some blunders, lots of awkward silences and a few creepers (I got invited into a van by a 76 year-old man); but i’ve met some fascinating individuals, I even got offered a job.

It’s unheard of sit down and talk to someone. People don’t do it- i think our generation especially has become so absorbed in our little interent cliques that we forget that there’s living breath stories around us- All they need is someone to listen :)