Writing snippets., Poetry, stories and stuff to share.

This topic is just for random writings you want to share. Read and comment if something interests you, and feel free to add your own work.

What I'll share as an opener is a portion of the message board RPG I'm in. Long story short: My character, the ancient Egyptian vampire Sehkmet is about to confront her own personal demon. This would be her evil reanimated sire, who treated her very badly and she had staked 4000 years ago in order to be free of him. She's normally quite the badass (or, as my RP partner likes to say, "a GRRRRRR kinda lady"), so her being scared of her master is pretty telling.

The Scottish vampire Lugh (who's almost-but-not-quite-her-boyfriend and, yes, he does speak with a thick Scottish brogue) and his adult but much younger son, Griffin (who himself is a special breed of vampire called a Pureblood, and has only been a vamp for about a decade in comparison) are tagging along to help.

Sehkmet and Lugh's parts are written by me. Griffin is portrayed by my RP partner. Sehkmet's sire will also be portrayed by me later. Sound cool? Ok then! Here's a piece of the action.

I'm opening this "preview" with Sehkmet and Lugh waiting for Griffin in a five-star luxury hotel called the Strata, which caters to humans, vampires and other things. In this fictional universe, humans know vampires exist and, for the most part, get along with them. That has little bearing on this scene, but it gives a greater scope of the general storyline.

---

[Time: Day 5, Sunset]
[Location: The Strata]

Lugh and Sehkmet were both waiting in Sehkmet's suite. Lugh was giving her a shoulder massage, more as a form of comfort than because of an overworked muscle. He dropped a kiss on her bare shoulder, and then they both reluctantly pulled away from one another when they sensed Griffin coming down the hall.

This time, it was Lugh who opened the door to allow Griffin entrance when the younger man knocked. Sehkmet, knowing why Griffin had returned, felt her anxiety returning. But she took a deep breath and was able to calm herself somewhat. She stood, giving Griffin a dignified nod of acknowledgment. Awkwardly, she smoothed down the front of her black jeans and walked over to the two men. Glancing from the older to the younger, she cleared her throat and said, "I believe I'm as prepared as I'm likely to be."

---

[Time: Day 5, Sunset]
[Location: The Strata]

Griffin quietly greeted his father as the older man answered the door, then returned the nod once he saw Sehkmet. He could see as well as sense her anxiety and he hated that she had been reduced in that way - unease and fear did not fit the Elder vampire well at all and he hoped they were able to rid her of that as soon as possible.

"I believe I'm as prepared as I'm likely to be."

Griffin looked from Sehkmet to his father and back. "How do we want to start this?"

---

[Time: Day 5, Sunset]
[Location: The Strata]

Lugh glanced at Sehkmet and then replied, "Starting at the Raven and making our way back here first seems reasonable enough to start with." He paused, before adding, "And while splitting up to cover more ground might save time, I don't believe it would be wise considering the circumstances."

A tremor of anxiety had ran through Sehkmet's portion of the psychic link between the trio, and Lugh reached out his hand, grasping hers reassuringly. Sehkmet, in response to her own nerves, squeezed his hand so hard in return that, were he human, his fingers would have been crushed.

---

[Time: Day 5, Sunset]
[Location: The Strata]

Griffin nodded in agreement. "Definitely. We can all watch each others backs that way. Should we bring weapons? A stake should kill him, right? As long as he is completely destroyed afterwards and not allowed to regenerate?"

---

[Time: Day 5, Sunset]
[Location: The Strata]

Lugh, managing to extricate his hand from Sehkmet's vice-like grip, replied calmly, "I think at his age, a good old-fashioned beheading and burning the body might fare better, lad." He then paused, scratching at his beard in consternation. "I can't imagine how he would've managed to survive, though."

"I gave him a proper Egyptian burial," Sehkmet replied softly. "The mummification process might possibly have slowed his death enough for him to then be set loose by whomever or whatever broke into his tomb. That's the only way I know of that he could have survived our encounter. Along with whatever spell he may or may not have cast before I staked him." Her eyes then hardened, and there was a tremor of anger to her soft voice. "I shall not make such an error again."

---

[Time: Day 5, Sunset]
[Location: The Strata]

Griffin felt the waves of fear and anxiety roll from Sehkmet once more and he found his hatred rising for her sire. He didn't care who the hell the guy was - 100,000 year old Egyptian god or not - his death warrant had been signed.

"I shall not make such an error again."

Giving a solemn nod Griffin then replied, "Let's get him."

---

[Time: Day 5, Sunset]
[Location: The Strata]

"Aye, lad," Lugh replied gruffly. "And a good beheading requires a good blade." He turned on his heel and walked over to where a broadsword was mounted on the wall, within its scabbard. It was the sword he had fought with while still a mortal warrior, and it had served him faithfully then. Hopefully, his sharp companion would not fail him now.

He removed it from the wall, briefly unsheathing it from the scabbard and giving it a practice twirl and swing, before returning it to its housing and lashing it to his leather pantsbelt. Grasping his own long coat from the coat tree, he tossed Sehkmet her own light jacket as well. Shrugging his coat on, he remarked, "Now, let us away."

---

[Time: Day 5, Sunset]
[Location: The Strata]

Griffin watched in a slight amazement as his father expertly swung the broadsword, looking like something from one of the Highlander movies. He himself had never used such a weapon but as the shining blade glinted in the light he suddenly wished that he had.

"Hold on a second." he said quickly as he turned on his heel and left the room. Within seconds he returned, holding one of the red emergency fire axes at his side in an iron grip. "I want in on the fun." he explained fiercely, letting the blue of the Pureblood overtake the brown of his eyes. He then led the way out of the hotel, senses straining to pick up anything out of the ordinary.

---

[Time: Day 5, Night]
[Location: The Strata]

Lugh chuckled at his son's retrieval of the fire ax. "Had I known of your interest in the art of war, lad, I would have given you lessons on it."

A few of the knots in Sehkmet's tangle of raw nerves finally managed to loose themselves. She had not doubted for an instant that both men had meant what they said about defending her, but -- as completely irrational as it was -- she suddenly felt a little safer walking the night again knowing both men were now armed against her own personal bogeyman.

She stepped out of the hotel with both men, her arm around Lugh's in an age-old gesture of romantic intent. Lugh gently patted her hand clutching his bicep as they made their way through the moonlit streets, senses alert for any sign of her formidable master.

---

[Time: Day 5, Night]
[Location: Downtown]

Heading towards The Raven with his senses cast Griffin felt nothing that would indicate Ra's presence. He silenced the mundane and everyday sounds - the cars, the mechanical hum of this building or that apartment, the wind rushing between the skyscrapers - and listened to the conversations that came to him through the cool night.

"...Oh man she is so full of sh**..."

"...I didn't say that, you're just not listening..."

"...freakin' Otherkin scare the crap outta me...."

".....wanna go see the new movie, the one with...."

With each voice came a heartbeat, one that tugged at his hunger. With no small effort he ignored the primal thirst however and continued on, his eyes catching the smallest amount of light possible and using it to illuminate the darkness until it was cast in the brightest colors. Heat signatures of the living flared red and yellow, while the cool bodies of the vampires glowed in soft blues and greens. Were there was no heat signature there was only the sharpest of detail, the tiny cracks of a building's foundation or an ant upon the concrete brought to the vampire's attention. Auras were also visible along the edges of a being's outline, each individual having a distinct color emanating from within that matched their current mood. It was a way to view the world that Griffin had come to love.

Glancing over his shoulder he asked, "Do you sense anything?"

---

[Time: Day 5, Night]
[Location: Downtown]

Lugh had been listening in as well, his senses keen but finding nothing untoward. "He's certainly not in this area, from what I can tell. Hopefully, we will find something to lead us to him as we get near the Raven."

After a few blocks, Sehkmet stopped suddenly, staring down an alley with wide eyes. Lugh came to a sudden halt himself, feeling the tug on his arm and a similar tug on his senses. Sehkmet mutely pointed to the alley, then removed her hand from his arm, cautiously crossing the street and examining the mouth of the alleyway.

Finally, she looked down at the sidewalk in front of the alley and saw an object gleaming up at her. Hesitantly, she tucked a lock of her dark hair behind her ear and reached down to retrieve the item. It was a silver locket of some sort, she realized. But the moment her hand had grasped the item and she stood erect again, the item flashed in her hand and she stared sightlessly in front of her, her face expressionless.

Lugh, who'd immediately followed her across the road, experimentally waved his hand in front of her face. She did not so much as blink in response, but turned mechanically and walked further down the street. It was as if she were now a mindless drone being controlled remotely by another's hand. Or perhaps, as a sophisticated toy being summoned back to her creator's workshop.

---

[Time: Day 5, Night]
[Location: Downtown]

Griffin found his grip tightening on the ax handle to the point where he was actually leaving imprints in the wood. "Sehkmet? Da...what's happening?" he asked, his heart suddenly speeding up as he watched the Elder not even acknowledge him but instead continue to walk roboticly down the street. Glacing at his father Griffin quickly followed after Sehkmet.

---

[Time: Day 5, Night]
[Location: Downtown]

Lugh was already quickly following the now entranced Sehkmet as she made her way down the street. As Griffin came up beside him, he said, "The lass seems to be under some sort of spell. Now I think I know what she meant by him wanting to draw her out. I have a hunch she'll lead us right to him."

The vampiress then stopped suddenly, turned to her left and then walked down a side street, both men doggedly pursuing her as she went.

---

[Time: Day 5, Night]
[Location: Downtown]

"I don't like this at all." Griffin growled, eying his surroundings as Sehkmet led them to God knows where. "We have yet to see his face and he already has the upper hand. He knew we would come, and he must have known where we were going to be to place whatever she picked up where he did."

---

[Time: Day 5, Night]
[Location: Downtown]

Lugh uttered an angry growl. "I don't like it any better than you do. He lays a hand on her, he'll be certain his death is a slow and painful dismemberment, rather than a quick losing his head." His voice became quiet and tense. "I've lost enough people in my lifetime that I've cared about. I don't want to lose her too." Then he became so soft, he was barely audible. "She's the only friend I've got left."

---

[Time: Day 5, Night]
[Location: Downtown]

Griffin glanced at his father out the the corner of his eye, his enhanced hearing picking up the soft and pained words. "Don't worry Da. Nothing will happen to her. I won't allow it, and neither will you." he replied, nearly as soft.

---

[Time: Day 5, Night]
[Location: Downtown / Abandoned Mansion]

Lugh's gruff tone returned. "Bloody straight, lad. We've both got something sharp with his name on 'em."

It was down several more blocks and yet another turn into a side street, until they finally reached their destination. It was an old Victorian mansion that lay derelict among the quiet Toronto neighbourhood it was located. Suddenly, the locket slipped from Sehkmet's fingers as she stepped onto the veranda. Returning to her senses, she blinked and uttered a wordless cry of shock, running her hands through her hair and clearly frightened by the power that had so overtaken her to command her audience here.

Lugh wrapped his strong arms securely around her, but she was not to be soothed. She gasped in awareness. "He's here!" Her voice was a terrified, barely audible squeak. The dark power that had roused both Griffin and Sehkmet from slumber indeed lay cloaked here, but where exactly its originator was within the great house remained to be seen.

---

[Time: Day 5, Night]
[Location: Abandoned Mansion]

As they neared the house Griffin felt the same presence wash over him, the dark waves of power almost knocking him to his knees. He gave a soft growl and forced himself to remain calm and steady, swinging the ax up as he approached the front door. "I feel it.'" he whispered, his voice rough.

His relief of Sehkmet's returning to her senses was quick-lived as his breathing began to come out in constricted pants - it was fear, coursing hot through his body like the blood of a mortal. Swallowing hard he spoke without turning his eyes from the door. "Ready?"

---

[Time: Day 5, Night]
[Location: Abandoned Mansion]

Sehkmet herself gulped and reached for the door handle, turning it and pushing the door open. Beyond lay what was once a gorgeously opulent foyer, leading into a drawing room with a high cathedral-like ceiling and a spiral staircase ascending to a second floor. Sehkmet cautiously entered, looking around, before taking the steps two at a time.

---

So, if you like it so far, let me know. I'll be happy to post up more if y'all want, as it's being written.

The following was not written by me; it was forwarded to me via e-mail.

(Knight, if you don't feel this is the right thread for this, please feel free to split this post off, start a new thread, or merge it with another one.)

---

[Introduction to the "Crabby Old Man" poem:]
When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a small hospital near Tampa, Florida, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.

Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.

One nurse took her copy to Missouri.

The old man's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the St. Louis Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple but eloquent poem.

And this little old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this 'anonymous' poem winging across the Internet.

Crabby Old Man

What do you see nurses? What do you see?
What are you thinking.....when you're looking at me?
A crabby old man, ...not very wise,
Uncertain of habit ....with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his food.......and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice.....'I do wish you'd try!'
Who seems not to notice .the things that you do
And forever is losing ......... A sock or shoe?

Who, resisting or not...........lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding . The long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking? Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse......you're not looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am ........ As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, ....as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of ten.......with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters .........who love one another.

A young boy of sixteen with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now. .......a lover he'll meet.
A groom soon at twenty ......my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows......that I promised to keep.

At twenty-five now ........ I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide .... And a secure happy home.
A man of thirty ....... My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other ...... With ties that should last.

At forty my young sons ..have grown and are gone,
But my woman's beside me.......to see I don't mourn.
At fifty, once more, ........ Babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children ... My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me ............ My wife is now dead.
I look at the future ...............I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing......young of their own.
And I think of the years... And the love that I've known.

I'm now an old man.........and nature is cruel.
'Tis jest to make old age ...look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles..........grace and vigor depart.
There is now a stone........where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass ..... A young guy still dwells,
And now and again .....my battered heart swells
I remember the joys........... I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living.............life over again.

I think of the years all too few......gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact........that nothing can last.
So open your eyes people ..........open and see..
Not a crabby old man, look closer....see........ME!!

One Sentence blog: True Stories Told in One Sentence

Some are sad, some are funny. I like this one:

When I was 5 or so my mom would tell me to lie down before she tied my tie and I just now realized at the age of 19 that she did this because she's a funeral director.

I'm not sure if this is safe for work or not.

The critiques are hilarious.

The 5 Most Baffling Sex Scenes in the History of Fanfiction

Excerpt:

#4.
Fred and George Weasley from Harry Potter Hook Up With Lance Bass of N*SYNC

The Scenario:

According to this romantic tale, Fred and George Weasley from the Harry Potter universe were at a party with Lance Bass of N*Sync fame. Beyond that, the narrative offers absolutely no explanation. Whose party was it? Was this in the wizarding world, or in the human world? Why were they both invited? Is Lance Bass secretly a wizard? No one knows.

Straight from my yahoo inbox:

Read this "HATE letter". It is so funny and creative. This is a loveletter
from a boy to a girl.... However, the girl's father does not like him and want
them stop their relationship......and so..the boy wrote this letter to the girl..he
knows that the girl's father will definitely read this letter..


1 "The great love that I have for you
2 is gone, and I find my dislike for you
3 grows every day. When I see you,
4 I do not even like your face;
5 the one thing that I want to do is to
6 look at other girls. I never wanted to
7 marry you. Our last conversation
8 was very boring and has not
9 made me look forward to seeing you again.
10 You think only of yourself.
11 If we were married, I know that I would find
12 life very difficult, and I would have no
13 pleasure in living with you. I have a heart
14 to give, but it is not something that
15 I want to give to you. No one is more
16 foolish and selfish than you, and you are not
17 able to care for me and help me.
18 I sincerely want you to understand that
19 I speak the truth. You will do me a favor
20 if you think this is the end. Do not try
21 to answer this. Your letters are full of
22 things that do not interest me. You have no
23 true love for me. Good-bye! Believe me,
24 I do not care for you. Please do not think that
25 I am still your boyfriend."


So bad!! However, before handing over the letter to the girl, the boy told
the girl to "READ BETWEEN THE LINES", meaning-only to read 1.3.5.7.9.11.13.15.17.19.21.23.25.
(Odd Numbers) So..Please try reading it again! It's so smart & sweet....

from the yahoo inbox,

A good one

A professor stood before his Philosophy class and had some items in front of him.
When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls.
He then asked the students if the jar was full.
They agreed that it was.
The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar.
He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between
the golf balls.
He then asked the students again if the jar was full.
They agreed it was.
The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar.
Of course, the sand filled up everything else.
He asked once more if the jar was full.
The students responded with a unanimous "yes."
The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the sand.
The students laughed.
"Now," said the professor, as the laughter subsided, "I
want you to recognize that this jar represents your life.
"The golf balls are the important things - your family, your
children, your health, your friends, and your favorite passions - things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.
"The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your
house, and your car.
"The sand is everything else--the small stuff.
"If you put the sand into the jar first," he continued,
"there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls.
"The same goes for life.
"If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will
never have room for the things that are important to you.
"Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness.
Play with your children.
"Take time to get medical checkups.
"Take your partner out to dinner.
"Play another 18.
"There will always be time to clean the house and fix the disposal.
"Take care of the golf balls first, the things that really matter.
"Set your priorities.
"The rest is just sand."
One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee
represented.
The professor smiled. "I'm glad you asked.
"It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may
seem, there's always room for a cup of coffee with a friend."
Please share this with someone you care about.



I JUST DID.

There was a lot of truth in that.

Thank you for sharing it Anshirk!

Poetry Brothel Seducing Many New Yorkers

Origins of Familiar Phrases

Excerpts:

FLY OFF THE HANDLE
Meaning: Get very angry, very quickly.
Origin: Refers to axe heads, which, in the days before mass merchandising, were sometimes fastened poorly to their handles. If one flew off while being used, it was a dangerous situation ... with unpredictable results.

FLASH IN THE PAN
Meaning: Short-lived success.
Origin: In the 1700s, the pan of a flintlock musket was a part that held the gunpowder. If all went well, sparks from the flint would ignite the charge, which would then propel the bullet out of the barrel. However, sometimes the gun powder would burn without igniting a main charge. The flash would burn brightly but only briefly, with no lasting effect.

HAM ACTOR (HAM)
Meaning: Someone who enjoys putting on a show, or who plays rather obviously to an audience (though not necessarily on stage).
Origin: An American phrase originating in the 1880s. Minstrel shows, the mass entertainment of the time, often featured less-than-talented performers who overacted. They frequently appeared in blackface, and used ham fat to remove their makeup. Thus, they were referred to as "ham-fat men," later shortened to "hams."

YOU'RE NO SPRING CHICKEN
Meaning: You're not young anymore; you're past your prime.
Origin: Until recent generations, there were no incubators and few warm hen houses. That meant chicks couldn't be raised during winter. New England growers found that those born in the spring brought premium prices in the summer market places. When these Yankee traders tried to pass off old birds as part of the spring crop, smart buyers would protest that the bird was "no spring chicken."

SON OF A GUN
Meaning: An epithet.
Origin: In the 1800s, British sailors took women along on extended voyages. When babies were born at sea, the mothers delivered them in a partitioned section of the gundeck. Because no one could be sure who the true fathers were, each of these "gunnery" babies was jokingly called a "son of a gun."

Many more examples are listed on the page linked to above

From Inbox yahoo mail, is this all true? Maybe you know this already?
Thought it was interesting and coincidental, see for yourself.

DEAR FRIENDS
DONT MISS THIS, YOU MUST READ IT
Subject: A real History Lesson !!



History Mystery

Have a history teacher explain this----- if they can.



Abraham Lincoln was elected to Congress in 1846.
John F. Kennedy was elected to Congress in 1946.

Abraham Lincoln was elected President in 1860.
John F. Kennedy was elected President in 1960.

Both were particularly concerned with civil rights.
Both wives lost their children while living in the White House.

Both Presidents were shot on a Friday.
Both Presidents were shot in the head

Now it gets really weird.

Lincoln 's secretary was named Kennedy.
Kennedy's Secretary was named Lincoln .

Both were assassinated by Southerners.
Both were succeeded by Southerners named Johnson.

Andrew Johnson, who succeeded Lincoln , was born in 1808.
Lyndon Johnson, who succeeded Kennedy, was born in 1908.

John Wilkes Booth, who assassinated Lincoln , was born in 1839.
Lee Harvey Oswald, who assassinated Kennedy, was born in 1939.

Both assassins were known by their three names.
Both names are composed of fifteen letters.

Now hang on to your seat.

Lincoln was shot at the theater named 'Ford..'
Kennedy was shot in a car called ' Lincoln ' made by 'Ford.'

Lincoln was shot in a theater and his assassin ran and hid in a warehouse..
Kennedy was shot from a warehouse and his assassin ran and hid in a theater.

Booth and Oswald were assassinated before their trials.

And here's the kicker...

A week before Lincoln was shot, he was in Monroe , Maryland
A week before Kennedy was shot, he was with Marilyn Monroe.


Creepy huh? Send this to as many people as you can, cause:
Hey, this is one history lesson most people probably will not mind reading!


WHO FIGURED THIS OUT?

^That thing about Kennedy / Lincoln has been around forever- I remember reading it or hearing about it on TV back in the 1980s.

Don't know how true it is; you could always visit Snopes.com and look it up.

The Fantasy Novelist's Exam

By David J. Parker

Additional Material By Samuel Stoddard

Ever since J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis created the worlds of Middle Earth and Narnia, it seems like every windbag off the street thinks he can write great, original fantasy, too.

The problem is that most of this "great, original fantasy" is actually poor, derivative fantasy. Frankly, we're sick of it, so we've compiled a list of rip-off tip-offs in the form of an exam.

We think anybody considering writing a fantasy novel should be required to take this exam first. Answering "yes" to any one question results in failure and means that the prospective novel should be abandoned at once.

The Exam

1. Does nothing happen in the first fifty pages?
2. Is your main character a young farmhand with mysterious parentage?
3. Is your main character the heir to the throne but doesn't know it?
4. Is your story about a young character who comes of age, gains great power, and defeats the supreme badguy?
5. Is your story about a quest for a magical artifact that will save the world?
6. How about one that will destroy it?
7. Does your story revolve around an ancient prophecy about "The One" who will save the world and everybody and all the forces of good?
8. Does your novel contain a character whose sole purpose is to show up at random plot points and dispense information?
9. Does your novel contain a character that is really a god in disguise?
10. Is the evil supreme badguy secretly the father of your main character?
11. Is the king of your world a kindly king duped by an evil magician?
12. Does "a forgetful wizard" describe any of the characters in your novel?
13. How about "a powerful but slow and kind-hearted warrior"?
14. How about "a wise, mystical sage who refuses to give away plot details for his own personal, mysterious reasons"?
15. Do the female characters in your novel spend a lot of time worrying about how they look, especially when the male main character is around?
16. Do any of your female characters exist solely to be captured and rescued?
17. Do any of your female characters exist solely to embody feminist ideals?
18. Would "a clumsy cooking wench more comfortable with a frying pan than a sword" aptly describe any of your female characters?
19. Would "a fearless warrioress more comfortable with a sword than a frying pan" aptly describe any of your female characters?
20. Is any character in your novel best described as "a dour dwarf"?
21. How about "a half-elf torn between his human and elven heritage"?
22. Did you make the elves and the dwarves great friends, just to be different?
23. Does everybody under four feet tall exist solely for comic relief?
24. Do you think that the only two uses for ships are fishing and piracy?
25. Do you not know when the hay baler was invented?
26. Did you draw a map for your novel which includes places named things like "The Blasted Lands" or "The Forest of Fear" or "The Desert of Desolation" or absolutely anything "of Doom"?
27. Does your novel contain a prologue that is impossible to understand until you've read the entire book, if even then?
28. Is this the first book in a planned trilogy?
29. How about a quintet or a decalogue?
30. Is your novel thicker than a New York City phone book?
31. Did absolutely nothing happen in the previous book you wrote, yet you figure you're still many sequels away from finishing your "story"?
32. Are you writing prequels to your as-yet-unfinished series of books?
33. Is your name Robert Jordan and you lied like a dog to get this far?
34. Is your novel based on the adventures of your role-playing group?
35. Does your novel contain characters transported from the real world to a fantasy realm?
36. Do any of your main characters have apostrophes or dashes in their names?
37. Do any of your main characters have names longer than three syllables?
38. Do you see nothing wrong with having two characters from the same small isolated village being named "Tim Umber" and "Belthusalanthalus al'Grinsok"?
39. Does your novel contain orcs, elves, dwarves, or halflings?
40. How about "orken" or "dwerrows"?
41. Do you have a race prefixed by "half-"?
42. At any point in your novel, do the main characters take a shortcut through ancient dwarven mines?
43. Do you write your battle scenes by playing them out in your favorite RPG?
44. Have you done up game statistics for all of your main characters in your favorite RPG?
45. Are you writing a work-for-hire for Wizards of the Coast?
46. Do inns in your book exist solely so your main characters can have brawls?
47. Do you think you know how feudalism worked but really don't?
48. Do your characters spend an inordinate amount of time journeying from place to place?
49. Could one of your main characters tell the other characters something that would really help them in their quest but refuses to do so just so it won't break the plot?
50. Do any of the magic users in your novel cast spells easily identifiable as "fireball" or "lightning bolt"?
51. Do you ever use the term "mana" in your novel?
52. Do you ever use the term "plate mail" in your novel?
53. Heaven help you, do you ever use the term "hit points" in your novel?
54. Do you not realize how much gold actually weighs?
55. Do you think horses can gallop all day long without rest?
56. Does anybody in your novel fight for two hours straight in full plate armor, then ride a horse for four hours, then delicately make love to a willing barmaid all in the same day?
57. Does your main character have a magic axe, hammer, spear, or other weapon that returns to him when he throws it?
58. Does anybody in your novel ever stab anybody with a scimitar?
59. Does anybody in your novel stab anybody straight through plate armor?
60. Do you think swords weigh ten pounds or more? [info]
61. Does your hero fall in love with an unattainable woman, whom he later attains?
62. Does a large portion of the humor in your novel consist of puns?
63. Is your hero able to withstand multiple blows from the fantasy equivalent of a ten pound sledge but is still threatened by a small woman with a dagger?
64. Do you really think it frequently takes more than one arrow in the chest to kill a man?
65. Do you not realize it takes hours to make a good stew, making it a poor choice for an "on the road" meal?
66. Do you have nomadic barbarians living on the tundra and consuming barrels and barrels of mead?
67. Do you think that "mead" is just a fancy name for "beer"?
68. Does your story involve a number of different races, each of which has exactly one country, one ruler, and one religion?
69. Is the best organized and most numerous group of people in your world the thieves' guild?
70. Does your main villain punish insignificant mistakes with death?
71. Is your story about a crack team of warriors that take along a bard who is useless in a fight, though he plays a mean lute?
72. Is "common" the official language of your world?
73. Is the countryside in your novel littered with tombs and gravesites filled with ancient magical loot that nobody thought to steal centuries before?
74. Is your book basically a rip-off of The Lord of the Rings?
75. Read that question again and answer truthfully.

From email inbox.

In the Train

The train has started moving. It is packed with people of all ages, mostly with the working men and women and young college guys and gals. Near the window, seated a old man with his 30 year old son. As the train moves by, the son is overwhelmed with joy as he was thrilled with the scenery outside..

" See dad, the scenery of green trees moving away is very beautiful"

This behavior from a thirty year old son made the other people feel strange about him. Every one started murmuring something or other about this son. "This guy seems to be a crack.." newly married John whispered to his wife.

Suddenly it started raining... Rain drops fell on the travelers through the opened window. The Thirty year old son , filled with joy " see dad, how beautiful the rain is ..."

John's wife got irritated with the rain drops spoiling her new suit.

John ," cant you see its raining, you old man, if ur son is not feeling well get him soon to a mental asylum..and don't disturb public henceforth"


The old man hesitated first and then in a low tone replied " we are on the way back from hospital, my son got discharged today morning , he was a blind by birth, last week only he got his vision, these rain and nature are new to his eyes.. Please forgive us for the inconvenience caused..."


"The things we see may be right from our perspective until we know the truth. But when we know the truth our reaction to that will hurt even us. So try to understand the problem better before taking a harsh action

Anshirk that was really good. I loved the whole narrative style- creative yet tongue in cheek

Has photos:
Horror-themed Toilet Paper from Japan Puts You on the Edge of Your Seat

Patterned toilet paper is nothing new, there have been comic toilet tissue rolls, Sudoku puzzle patterns, even Hello Kitty tissue rolls but this may be the first time an entire novel has been given the TP treatment.

We can thank Koji Suzuki for agreeing to subject his work to a fate worse than the most savage review and Shizuoka-based Hayashi Paper for convincing Suzuki to go along with their crappy idea.

Suzuki's no hack writer by the way - his previous credits include horror novels Ring and Spiral, both later made into popular Japanese horror films. His latest endeavor, Drop, is a nine-chapter horror story that happens to be set in a public bathroom.

According to Hayashi Paper, reading Suzuki's novel in a similar setting will invest what should be a relaxing experience with "psychological fright". Say Hayashi, isn't that what laxatives are for?

The novel itself is printed in Japanese and interspersed with gory splatters meant to evoke blood, not exactly the thing we want to see on our toilet paper. At least they're blue - which actually might be worse.

Anyone interested in purchasing Suzuki's horror-themed toilet paper can find it for sale online and at selected department stores beginning June 6. The cost is just 210 yen, or about $2.20 per roll.

It may seem a contradiction in terms for a novel written on toilet paper to scare readers sh*tless, unless Suzuki subconsciously feels his work is worthy of preservation rather than desecration. On the other hand, if reading horror novels scares the crap out of you, you'll be ideally prepared.

This is a post that somebody made after a contestant (A friend of mine who just lost last night.) didn't win in a reality show, singing contest and came in 2nd place instead, this was his response. I found it interesting and posted it here.

There are always two plans.
One is yours other is of God. Your lucky to fit into his plan. Congrats!!!
Here is a Zen story for you

There was a old farmer who had worked his crops for many years. One day his horse ran away. Upon hearing the news, his neighbors came to visit. “Such bad luck,” they said sympathetically.

“Maybe,” the farmer replied.

The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it three other wild horses. “How wonderful,” the neighbors exclaimed.

“Maybe,” replied the old man.

The following day, his son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown, and broke his leg. The neighbors again came to offer their sympathy on his misfortune.

“Maybe,” answered the farmer.

The day after, military officials came to the village to draft young men into the army. Seeing that the son’s leg was broken, they passed him by. The neighbors congratulated the farmer on how well things had turned out.

“Maybe,” said the farmer.



This post has been edited by anshirk on Jul 13 2009, 04:46 AM

How to write badly well

Writer Joel Stickley keeps a blog about how best to write badly. Here's a snippet from a recent entry titled "Describe every character in minute detail, taking no account of narrative pacing":

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Terrence Handley shifted his weight, the weight that had been steadily increasing for the last ten years and showed no sign of diminishing, at least while his wife Marie continued to excel as she did at the design and production of delectable gourmet meat pies, and shuffled his feet restively as he waited.