Honestly, both sound really cliche. I feel like you described them that way on purpose, so we the readers would be able to easily get an idea of what each story will entail (which is one of the benefits of cliches), but descriptions like that mean that my brain says “oh, we’ve been there and done that A LOT”.
My brain is kind of a dick but it is right sometimes. I would be interested to see what makes these stories yours, what interesting spin you put into these cliches, before I make a choice.
However, since we are talking about them, I will say that while your second story sounds like a fantasy story, your first story sounds like it could be an intriguing SF story. “If people today were transported to a circa-1800’s society, what advances would they make 70 years later” is something that captures my interest. What would people who are accustomed to putting electricity into sand and making it show them cat pictures be able to accomplish if they were sent back to the 1800’s?
I know my previous paragraph kind of negates the paragraph before it, but humans are a cornucopia of contrast, and I am definitely a human and not a robot typing at a keyboard, hahaha
apple cover rod black out mark art question who glove shame violent brown sex ring disgust ant lead effect belief fowl observation print against flower glove act under throat interest death insurance milk design weight collar equal cut chain jelly degree mass warm fight disgust in cup transport laugh experience
existence go serious sneeze regular box orange stem room view nerve so that grass send wing again ever cheese cough this verse base organization pot fat cold I meat question over plate plant water out who request hole cheap learning different bell pot very minute very plate education card gun
glass reading white whistle harbour dead shelf middle good record card hearing throat yes money feeling kiss apparatus division the ship jelly kind wide private sheep get owner punishment screw town angle black level than pull second money sheep ill foolish question bitter now market statement produce trick need umbrella
Oh absolutely. I know how hard it is to start out writing a story in the hope that someone might read it and even enjoy it. I am at the same place right now (writing scifi short stories in german).
Elize Caram was humming softly as she was putting the finishing touches on her latest creation. Marie O'Bain observed her target carefully through her scope, hoping to catch her in the act of cheating, with regards to the rules and regulations governing this particular endeavor. Not as in the act of cheating between lovers or companions in an exclusive relationship, but the far more serious kind of cheating that goes on in televised baking competitions.
Marie trained her rifle on Elize, as she moved from counter to oven. Elize being the person moving that is, not Marie. It would be really weird if Marie would try to shoot Elize from a considerable distance while simultaneously decorating a cake. No Marie had been clever and had already baked her cake this afternoon. She was sure it was going to be a winner. She'd bribed one judge already, blackmailed another, and arranged for the sudden removal of another judge's lower intestines.
Nothing nor nobody was going to stand between her and the ultimate prize. The only threat left was Elize, with her dimply freckled charm up the wazoo. Oh gosh I can't believe you guys picked me, I'm positively gushing with undeserved glee, “blegh” Marie thought. Baking is no place for twee feelings, not an environment for the giddy or the soft-hearted. “Baking is hell,” Marie thought, pulled the trigger.
A shot rang out in the amphitheatre, destroying a beautiful Schwarzwalder kirsch torte and killing a surprised woman in the same moment. The stage was strewn with blood and brown cake. As Marie moved from her position in the skybox down to the floor, she smiled to herself. When she reached the corpse of her rival, she bent down and rifled through her pockets. Elize's pockets, not her own, of course, she could be looking for something at that moment in her own pockets, but in this case, they were the pockets of the corpse below her. Also, she was not using her rifle to rifle through the pockets, which would be weird. She did have a second pocket rifle with her at the time, though mentioning this would be superfluous.
Due to not appearing the next day, Elize was disqualified, and Marie won the competition. The remaining judges praised her for her innovative use of meat in desserts, and her bold choice of flavor in the pink icing.
Do whatever you please, it can be bad or good. But being bad is also, yes, the point. Your shitty writing is not only welcome, it's also the guest of honour and I'm kissing it on its lips.
Yeah. When you write you end up having to prove to yourself that you're a good writer. It's sort of an ego thing, and when you make something bad you sorta worry that it will reflect poorly on you.
I don't expect anything to ever fully cut through that anxiety. But providing a space to be "bad" in is something valuable.
Genuinely. If you're not comfortable posting your writing, I'd still be more than delighted to send some activities, fuck it, I'll post one now that I stole from Zoe Bee. It's where you take the meaning of a sentence and try to write it's inverse. So, like, "The dog was sleeping on the ground" becomes "The cat was awake in the roof" or what have you. Ofc it works better with more complex sentences but yeah.
Sorry, got taken away there. Prone to tangents. But yes. You don't have to post something complete if you can't manage it. And you sure as hell don't have to post something good. This is, after all, a silly little forum post.
And thank you again, I really like this whole idea. I get that impression (the tone of this forum) is way more supportive and relaxed place... certainly less intimdating than other writing communities I've lurked around. Most places I'm so intimidated I don't even consider posting, I just lurk and read the advice haha
I'm glad!! It's a quiet place here, so every voice really counts, and posting when you can is really the best thing you can do for a small community like this :)
I learned from the best: Anton Ego, Pete Wells, Anthony Bourdain. Every column is a story, complete with heroes and villains, intrigue and gossip. The food? The food is just an excuse.
When Verguenza opened in New York, I was sent to cover it. The young prodigy, Sterling Rivera, had just left a stint at the celebrated Farmhouse Inn after a spectacular conflagration with the head chef. Sources say the argument centered around the restaurant's famed Gorgonzola Mac. Rivera is reported to have thrown a carbon steel skillet clear across the kitchen, screaming that his genius was being wasted on "shit Kraft casserole". The new restaurant was supposed to be a statement by the critically acclaimed youngster -- proof that he could revolutionize the world of fine dining with a global, no-holds-barred approach.
The only meal available at Verguenza is a four-course, prix fixe dinner. The courses change nightly, depending on the seasonality of rutabaga, the availability of jamon iberico pata negra, and, most importantly, the temperament of the chef. In the restaurant, the guest is never handed a menu. They are simply promised "a delightful surprise". Rumors abound among chefs about Rivera's legendary commitment to perfection. It is said that if salad is served as a course, the chef at the grill station was likely fired that night. The chefs I've spoken to describe an intense, militant culture to Rivera's kitchen. They say that no one lists Verguenza on their resume unless they stay for more than a year. Leaving before then means only one thing: you were lacking.
I can happily report that none of the dishes served to me were salad. In fact, the menu was remarkably creative, and lived up to its billing. Rivera himself came out from the kitchen to introduce the meal. In his words, the meal was a "voyage across continents and worlds, inspired by the work of Salvador Dali, the absurd made mundane". The first course was a hamachi ceviche cured with yuzu and citron foam. It left a delightfully zippy taste that quickly faded into effervescence. Next came a lightly chilled soup described as pumpkin gazpacho. It perfectly prepared the palate for the main course, a seared filet of alligator served on a bed of peppery spring greens. Finally, the biggest surprise of the meal was final course: candied ants. Several of the diners recoiled when presented with the crystalline nugget meant to evoke arthropods trapped in amber. Four actually walked out of the restaurant. However, for those brave enough to partake, this dessert was a singularly spectacular treat. I can only hope that this dessert makes a return to the menu soon, though based on the chef's penchant for switching things up, the odds are slim. I left the restaurant with high hopes for the future of fine dining. Rivera, at least, is not content leaving things to the status quo.
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