Skip to content
 
If you can read this, either the style sheet didn't load or you have an older browser that doesn't support style sheets. Try clearing your browser cache and refreshing the page.

(Fark)   "You don't need proof when you have instinct."― Quentin Tarantino. I dunno, I've got an empty bottle and a printed proof on the way. This is your Fark Writer's Thread, proof of proof edition   (fark.com) divider line
    More: CSB, Quentin Tarantino, Cascading Style Sheets, HTTP cookie, Reservoir Dogs, Amazon.com, Sin City, Cookie, Thrombus  
•       •       •

726 clicks; posted to Main » and Discussion » on 01 Dec 2021 at 5:15 PM (6 weeks ago)   |   Favorite    |   share:  Share on Twitter share via Email Share on Facebook



36 Comments     (+0 »)
View Voting Results: Smartest and Funniest
 
2021-12-01 4:45:48 PM  
Normally, this space is reserved for my weekly excuse for not getting much writing work done, but today I've got something better: the printed proof of this year's Fark Fiction Anthology is supposed to be delivered today! Assuming there's nothing terrible with it, all I'll have to do next is to reexport the package as a Kindle ebook, and then hit 'publish' on Amazon's page. Once that's done, they say it can take up to 72 hours to available on Amazon.com, and we'll be live!

I'll keep you all posted when it gets in. Stay tuned!
 
2021-12-01 4:59:29 PM  
Just to get into the spirit of the season, an original poem:


Once upon a Christmas jolly, as I decked the halls with holly,
and placed a wreath upon my homestead door.

The moonlight blazed through the window, preternaturally it did so,
casting shadowy phantoms upon the hallway floor.

The bilious luminosity of the phosphorus moon,
'cross the landscape outside, was carelessly strewn.

A coach crossed my lawn, drawn by supernatural forces,
a team of sepulchral, undead horses.

The driver so menacing, macabre and sick,
I knew just then, it must be Old Nick.

He pulled on the reins, the horses were primed,
with a ghastly howl, to the rooftop they climbed.

I heard from the roof, a noisome upheaval,
like the banshee howl of festering evil.

Louder it grew, as it fell toward the grate,
I stood there transfixed, awaiting my fate.

He emerged from the hearth, all sooty and red,
and lurched 'cross the floor, like a creature undead.

I stood spellbound, as would have you,
for not Santa, but Satan emerged from the flue.

Red skin, sharp horns and a dark pointed beard,
an astonishing sight, I thought him quite weird.

"Lucifer, Beelzebub, Mephistopheles, Beast!
Of all Christmas Guests, I want YOU the least!"

"Fear not!" said he "nor take me to task.
I simply have a favor to ask."

"In this joyful season, I have dined to excess,
and find myself in alimentary distress."

"Now pray show me to your bathroom door,
lest I soil thy parlor floor."

He entered the bathroom, and then shut the door.
There soon followed a dreadful roar.

The whole house shuddered, the door came unhinged,
I saw through the smoke, that the doorframe was singed.

When the flames had abated, and the bog-roll was incinerated,
stepped the Prince of Darkness into the room.

Though he was now sated, the toilet was obliterated,
as I perceived beyond him, in the caliginous gloom.

He thanked me soundly, and then profoundly, turned to take his leave.
While I pondered deeply, what had uniquely, transpired this Christmas Eve.

He stepped to the mantel, and prepared to arise,
his impending departure a sight for sore eyes.

I called after him, ere he made his farewell,
to demand of him, the future foretell.

"What of my crapper, you evil yapper?  Shall it flush as it did before?"

Quoth the horned one:
               __          __               _        ___
        |\ |  |__   \  /  |__  |)  |\  /|  / \  |)  |___
        | \|  |__    \/   |__  |\  | \/ |  \_/  |\  |___
 
2021-12-01 5:26:16 PM  

Creepy Lurker Guy: Just to get into the spirit of the season, an original poem:


<snip> Awesome mashup of the Raven and A Visit From St. Nicholas</snip>


Bravo! That was amazing! I grant you ten special dispensation points, and you go to the head of the line on Judgement Day.
 
2021-12-01 5:30:32 PM  
*This offer invalid for: 
Qanon, Trumpers, Truthers, Mccarthyism, ....
 
2021-12-01 5:45:19 PM  
My instinct tells me that Tarantino is a dope.

/like 2 movies of his anyway.
 
2021-12-01 5:47:05 PM  
Sort of inspired by this thread, I've been doing daily "2000 Word Reflections." Ironically using Word 2000 on an ancient computer.  Hah.

It takes me about an hour to do that many words, I put on long jazz pieces or favorite albums, usually about three vinyl sides.   I try to avoid making it into a biatchfest or a diary, but sometimes I have to do that just to get (or keep it) going.

I try to focus on personal history, nature and music, in that order, just going from each, commenting on the album I'm playing, talking about bike trips, hiking trips.  What I really want to do is grapple with these really stupid embarrassing (comical sometimes) things I've done my whole life, and I egg myself on to think of the worst examples and address them, but oddly enough, they don't seem to come to mind when I'm at the keyboard, but I've managed to put a few down in print.

This exercise is kind of a therapy right now, not sure what I'll do with any of it.  I've considered maybe organizing some of it into a Spaulding Gray/David Sedaris series of stream of conscious monologues, but I'm not sure if the people I mentioned in these vignettes would appreciate them, so mostly it's practice with the hope of using the process to write something else, like maybe use the basic ideas and change names and places.

We'll see how it goes.  I don't get very motivated to do it on the weekends, just right as I come home from work, but I'm enjoying the sense of personal accomplishment.
 
2021-12-01 6:17:29 PM  
Do we have a title for the anthology?
 
2021-12-01 6:21:50 PM  
"You don't need proof when you have instinct."― Quentin Tarantino.

This is Fark. So, proof is mandatory.  Make mine 120, such as ...

Fark user imageView Full Size
 
2021-12-01 6:32:15 PM  
In the beginning was The Word. Like a blank tabula rasa.
Then a bunch of other stuff happened, and here we are.
Fark user imageView Full Size
 
2021-12-01 6:43:57 PM  
The other day, I had a strange idea. This is nothing new- I get strange ideas all the time. But this strange idea got me thinking about cartoons. Specifically, one particular set of cartoons, with a particular lead character.

That idea led to this:
*****

Patient notes:

Patient EF, a middle-aged white male with significantly unusual cranial morphology, presented with claims of being "persecuted by demons" in recurrent nightmares. EF grew repeatedly agitated while describing his nightmares, but did not require sedation or restraints.

EF claims he is "tormented" in these nightmares by "demonic" creatures which resemble anthropomorphized animals. One particular tormentor which repeatedly appears in these nightmares is a humanoid lagomorph with an accent reminiscent of one of the less-fashionable boroughs found in New York City.

In most of these nightmares, EF repeatedly finds himself engaged in sport hunting, despite claiming to be a vegetarian. Each nightmare also bestows him with a ridiculous speech impediment- despite EF's claim to have never suffered from any speech impediments as a child.

The nightmares always end with EF being humiliated and not-infrequently suffering from various injuries. The humanoid lagomorph frequently causes EF's nightmare self to lose belt or suspenders, causing his dream-self's pants to fall down and exposing a variety of embarrassing undergarments. Despite being equipped with a gun in these nightmares (Note: in typical dream-sequence style, this weapon's appearance and functions never comport with anything in objective reality), EF never seems to be able to kill any of his dream-tormentors. He is frequently injured by the weapon himself, however. EF reportedly has never owned any firearms, and his unfamiliarity with firearms may explain the idiosyncratic and random functioning of these weapons in his nightmares.

EF's primary tormentor often tries to appear as someone else by means of ludicrously-ineffective costumes, which EF nonetheless accepts as genuine during these nightmares, despite knowing the humanoid lagomorph is merely wearing a mustache or a wig. Interestingly, EF not infrequently finds himself sexually attracted to the humanoid lagomorph on the not infrequent occasions this tormentor wears improbable disguises to appear as a female human. This may be significant in the final diagnosis.

The relentless sense of failure, humiliation, and unfulfilled sexual tension resulting from these nightmares has had a claimed profound effect on EF's daily life. His job and personal life have suffered due to inappropriate reactions to real-world stimuli as a result of these persistent nightmares. EF is now self-isolated from his few remaining friends and family to avoid what he claims are further public embarrassments from his nightmare-induced reactions.

Tentative diagnosis:
Delusional Hysteria induced by unremembered childhood psychological trauma, possibly including sexual abuse.

Recommendation:
I feel EF would benefit from hospitalization and intense therapy from practitioners who specialize in similar delusional hysteria (e.g Dr. T. Avery, Dr. C.M. Jones, and Dr. R. McKimson). Alternately, some form of aversion therapy (similar to the method perfected by Dr. D. Anatiday) may help break patient EF from the cycle of depression and hysteria.

Signed:
Dr. Sylvilagus C. Leporiday, BB. WH. LT.
 
2021-12-01 6:57:18 PM  

toraque: Normally, this space is reserved for my weekly excuse for not getting much writing work done, but today I've got something better: the printed proof of this year's Fark Fiction Anthology is supposed to be delivered today! Assuming there's nothing terrible with it, all I'll have to do next is to reexport the package as a Kindle ebook, and then hit 'publish' on Amazon's page. Once that's done, they say it can take up to 72 hours to available on Amazon.com, and we'll be live!

I'll keep you all posted when it gets in. Stay tuned!


[Snoopyhappydance.gif]

Can I offer you a giant bottle of industrial-strength aspirin?  Or one of those foot massager thingies?  You deserve something for all the headaches you've suffered from doing this year after year.
 
2021-12-01 6:58:22 PM  

yakmans_dad: My instinct tells me that Tarantino is a dope.

/like 2 movies of his anyway.


This. My favourites are Django and Inglorious Basterds.

/ Django is in my top 5 of "guilty pleasure" movies, along with Predator
 
2021-12-01 7:41:10 PM  

toraque: Normally, this space is reserved for my weekly excuse for not getting much writing work done, but today I've got something better: the printed proof of this year's Fark Fiction Anthology is supposed to be delivered today! Assuming there's nothing terrible with it, all I'll have to do next is to reexport the package as a Kindle ebook, and then hit 'publish' on Amazon's page. Once that's done, they say it can take up to 72 hours to available on Amazon.com, and we'll be live!

I'll keep you all posted when it gets in. Stay tuned!


Woohoo! Looking forward to seeing it!
 
2021-12-01 8:06:46 PM  
Now I have no excuse, I have to publish a story or two from "Darkness Eternal." It's right there in my bio.

So much writing to do, so little time.
 
2021-12-01 8:24:30 PM  

Wenchmaster: Bravo! That was amazing! I grant you ten special dispensation points, and you go to the head of the line on Judgement Day.


I'm holding it for the Fark Fiction Anthology Christmas Stories Edition.  ;-)
 
2021-12-01 8:38:54 PM  
Writer's thread?
This is the most appropriate place then.
I hereby apologize for threadjacking a Politics thread and redirecting it into a Jim Butcher/Dresden Files thread. I attempted to do the same again today

Such is my life.
 
2021-12-01 8:48:08 PM  
I haven't posted in this thread for literally years, and most of you will have no idea who I am, but I finally finished my book and have started throwing out query letters to agents.

Now I'm worried that all my queries are shiate and I'll be rejected before they even get to the story and reject me for that.

/Oh, the pangs of unrequited narrative.
 
2021-12-01 9:13:38 PM  

Creepy Lurker Guy: Wenchmaster: Bravo! That was amazing! I grant you ten special dispensation points, and you go to the head of the line on Judgement Day.

I'm holding it for the Fark Fiction Anthology Christmas Stories Edition.  ;-)


I would totally write for that if it was real.
 
2021-12-01 9:19:58 PM  

Fireproof: Creepy Lurker Guy: Wenchmaster: Bravo! That was amazing! I grant you ten special dispensation points, and you go to the head of the line on Judgement Day.

I'm holding it for the Fark Fiction Anthology Christmas Stories Edition.  ;-)

I would totally write for that if it was real.



I've posted a couple of silly Christmas stories here before, so I'd be happy to contribute as well.
 
2021-12-01 9:38:07 PM  

Wenchmaster: Fireproof: Creepy Lurker Guy: Wenchmaster: Bravo! That was amazing! I grant you ten special dispensation points, and you go to the head of the line on Judgement Day.

I'm holding it for the Fark Fiction Anthology Christmas Stories Edition.  ;-)

I would totally write for that if it was real.


I've posted a couple of silly Christmas stories here before, so I'd be happy to contribute as well.


I'm one of the FFA Editors so I think I've read them.

If there are enough relevant stories to fill a book, the place to lobby for it is here.

While we're on the subject, here's another mashup for the season:


It being Christmas Eve, it's time to revisit some of those old holiday
stories.  The story I have chosen to relate is that Christmas
classic:  "Psycho".  Most people don't realize that "Psycho" is a
Christmas story.  That happened by accident.  According to Wikipedia:
"In one street scene shot in downtown Phoenix, Christmas decorations
were discovered to be visible; rather than re-shoot the footage,
Hitchcock chose to add a graphic to the opening scene marking the
date as "Friday, December the Eleventh"."

In my opinion, Hitchcock didn't go far enough to make it a Christmas
Story.  I have corrected that oversight.  Herewith is my version
of "Psycho", complete with Christmas cheer:

======================================​==================

Norman was a perfectly normal boy, but things went a bit awry after
his Father's death.  As he didn't have any regular friends, since
he lived on the outskirts of town, his mother decided to get him a
dog, so she took him to the Daisy Hill Puppy Farm which is where I
met him.  They almost purchased the beagle with the World War I
obsession, however he was purchased by the round-headed kid.  Being
a bit disappointed, he selected me and took me home, which was a
small motel off the main highway, which didn't normally get a lot
of business.  For many years we had fun together.  In winter, Norman
would have me pull him around on his sled.  We met a long line of
interesting people who came to stay at the quirky little motel, and
Norman gradually took over more of the day-to-day tasks of operating
the motel.  Christmas at Bates Motel was always the best time of
the year, with a tree in the lobby, and sometimes the guests would
hang out there to enjoy the fireplace and Mother's hot cider and
cookies.

This year, things went a bit oddly.  We were visited by a strange
British person on a "Cheese Holiday" (whatever that is) and his dog
Gromit.  Gromit is not at all like the other dogs I knew at Daisy
Hill Puppy Farm; he's really smart.  He can build things.  He
immediately started to help with decorating the motel.  He built a
strange machine he called a "transmogrifier".  I don't know what
that means, but it turns things into other things.  Norman and I
used it to make Christmas decorations we hung in the windows and a
big Santa that we put up on the roof.  This was looking to be the
greatest Christmas ever!

A few days before Christmas, things started to go wrong.  Out on
the road in front of the motel there arose such a clatter that I
ran to the the window and barked to see what was the matter.  There
was a small bird running down the road, being chased by coyote
running upright on two legs.  As the coyote got closer, I saw that
he had a bib tied around his neck, and was holding a knife and fork
in his front paws.  (Ohhhh, I wish I could do that!)  I realized
then that he intended to devour that poor bird.

Now I realize that everything I've told you so far is quite normal
and you have no reason to doubt my honesty, but the next thing I
will tell you is so strange that not even I am sure it happened,
though I saw it myself.  Strapped to the coyote's back was some
sort of rocket or jet thing (I am not sure.  I am not smart about
such things, perhaps Gromit would know.) with the name "Acme" on
the side.  As he passed close to the motel, he activated the engine.
A huge red flame shot out of it and -- instead of propelling him
towards the bird -- he went straight up, then arced over the roof
of the motel, crashed through the roof, and smashed straight into
the transmogrifier.  There was a bright flash of light, and a crack
of thunder.

INTERMISSION

I'm not sure how long I was unconscious, but I was shaken awake by
Norman.  The transmogrifier had apparently malfunctioned and was
now making a loud "screech, screech" noise, sounding like an
out-of-tune violin.  At my first look at Norman, I recoiled in
horror.  He had been changed by the malfunctioning machine!  His
shoes were now too tight.  His head was no longer screwed on quite
right.  His heart had shrunken TWO WHOLE SIZES.  The most amazing
change was that -- in some strange way -- he had been fused with
the Christmas tree.  The needles of the tree now formed a coarse
fur on Norman's body.  As I cringed, He picked a few scraps of
tinsel out of his fur.  I then became aware of the carnage that had
affected the rest of the motel.  Mother was dead.  I don't know
what had happened to Gromit.  The motel was on fire.

Norman hastily packed some camping gear and food on his sled, and
just like in the olden days, hitched me up to it.  As the first
fire-engines arrived, we set out for Mount Crumpit.

 EPILOGUE

Today is Christmas Eve.  We've been here for four days, and the
situation is horrible.  Three thousand feet below, to the south of
our campsite -- a small cave at the peak of the mountain -- is a
small village inhabited by strange creatures who seem to be
enthusiastically celebrating Christmas.  (Oh how I would love to
join them!)  They sing and dance all day, and prepare food and
decorate their town.  Norman is miserable.  He now hates Christmas,
but is consonantly reminded of it by the music coming up from below.
I think his blood-pressure is rising by the hour.  I fear for the
safety of the little village, as Norman's hatred is now so great
that I fear he may do something terrible.  This situation cannot
last.  If nothing happens before spring, things will get quite
unpleasant when Mother's body begins to thaw.
 
2021-12-01 10:14:53 PM  
An original archerjoe booze-fueled rewrite
to the tune of "Grandma Got Runover by a Reindeer"



Bubba got abducted by a spaceship
Peeing behind the roadhouse Christmas Eve
You can say there's no such thing as E.T.
But as for me and Joe Bob, we believe

He went drinkin' with his buddies
At a bar just down the road
The men's room sign said 'Out Of Order'
So he walked into the woods - nature's commode

He wandered to a clearing
And saw some lights up in the sky
That's when they zapped him with a space-beam
And pulled him up before he zipped his fly.

Oh, those aliens were ugly
They got their eyes on purple stalks
Their fangs - they drip with acid poison
And their breath - it smells just like Bubba's socks

They strapped him to a table
After they cut off all his clothes
They shined bright lights into his eyes
And took samples of the sock-lint 'tween his toes

Ol' Bubba had been eating chili
And washed it down with lots of beer
And when they tried to put that probe in
Bubba let loose with his rotten rear

Now those aliens were panicked
They couldn't take that poison gas
So they hit the reject button
Budweiser beer - it saved ol' Bubba's ass

He landed in a cornfield
They found him wandering on the road
The Sheriff didn't want to charge him
And ruin the strangest story ever told

Bubba got abducted by a spaceship
Peeing behind the roadhouse Christmas Eve
You can say there's no such thing as E.T.
But as for me and Joe Bob, we believe
 
2021-12-01 10:27:08 PM  
Proof copy is in!
 
2021-12-01 10:36:07 PM  
Fark user imageView Full Size
 
2021-12-01 11:40:01 PM  

toraque: [Fark user image 850x637]


Oooooh!
 
2021-12-02 12:31:47 AM  

toraque: [Fark user image image 850x637]


This cover is fantastic. :D
 
2021-12-02 1:18:06 AM  
Feels like I've been doing everything *but* writing lately.

Been having to waste time on a plagiarism issue. A reader brought it to my attention, and yeah, this person basically changed the character names and reworded some things what I'm sure they felt was "just enough" and expected no one to notice. So now I have to spend time doing documentation legwork before I contact this person with the professionally worded The Jig Is Upemail. And I can't tell you how gross it feels to see reviewers commenting, "This reminds me of Madame P's Title!" Like yes, Kirsten, there's a reason for that. This "author" has at least 4 pen names, and the chronology of publication dates across the 4 names is just book after book after book mere weeks apart, which makes me wonder how many of those titles are ripped off from some other author's work, as well. Ugh. Oh, and they had the stones to follow my author account on a couple platforms recently. AYFKM, bro?

And then in the middle of all this, I was supposed to give a 2 hour talk related to NaNo at a local library ("local" = an hour's drive, because I live in the sticks). Spent a not insignificant amount of time making an outline for the talk, spent a good deal of wailing and gnashing of teeth the last couple days resurrecting our ancient GoPro, because there were requests to record the thing. Drive the hour yesterday, head into the library to set up ...

One farking guy shows up. One. I get it: it's a local library and I'm no household name author that anyone is dropping everything to come listen to me talk.

So we go to set up the GoPro anyway (husband was there to be camera guy) and the farking thing is dead as a brick. Doesn't matter that it was at 100% battery the night before. It's dead now, and we don't know why. So no recording is happening, either. And while I'm at a "close my eyes and exhale deeply" level over this additional wrench in the gears, I can now smell ozone coming off my husband. Because getting this stupid camera up and running had been the source of much swearing for both of us by that point.

I mean, I'm glad someone showed, because I would have been at probably at least a metaphorical table-flipping level of irritation had I driven all that way. And the one guy seemed to have gotten something from it; he had good questions and appeared to value the responses. So that's not nothing, but damn. That was a bunch of prep, drive, and delivery time I could have been putting words in my frickin WIP.

I have now decompressed for the evening via the consumption of garlic bread. Hoping after my dude hits the hay, my nocturnal ass can get some words down.
 
2021-12-02 1:23:53 AM  

bakarocket: Now I'm worried that all my queries are shiate and I'll be rejected before they even get to the story and reject me for that.


Congratulations!
You are at the beginning of an amazing adventure!

Simply send queries to every legitimate publisher you can think of.

Then, try whoever is left. Like a repair manual publisher.
Fark user imageView Full Size
 
2021-12-02 5:26:06 AM  

toraque: [Fark user image 850x637]


Wantwantwantwantwantwant!

The cover art is superb! Can't wait to buy a few copies to inflict upon friends and family.
 
2021-12-02 5:48:10 AM  
Hi Fellow Farkers

After almost 10 years of investigation, photography and writing, I have finally published my book entitled "The Collection of the Museo Napoleonico, Havana, Cuba".

I encountered a museum dedicated to Napoleon back in 2009 during a visit to Havana. Being a bit of a Napoleonic historian myself, I was able to obtain all the necessary permissions to write and publish the catalogue of the museum.  The finished product comes in at 350+ pages, 300+ photos and over 2lbs.

It's a tremendous story that involves the best museum of Napoleonic things to be found outside of France, the richest man in Cuba, Che Gueverra, Fidel Castro, a pregnant mom protecting the collection by sleeping on the floor of the museum with a loaded gun under her pillow and some of the most valuable treasures of western history.

You can find out more at www.dallabona.ca/napoleon

Thanks.

Luke (a long-time Farker)
 
2021-12-02 5:51:24 AM  

Spice Must Flow: bakarocket: Now I'm worried that all my queries are shiate and I'll be rejected before they even get to the story and reject me for that.

Congratulations!
You are at the beginning of an amazing adventure!

Simply send queries to every legitimate publisher you can think of.

Then, try whoever is left. Like a repair manual publisher.
[Fark user image 425x422]


Okay, after a day of worrying and re-thinking and wishing I could go back to re-word stuff, this totally made my day.

Thank you.
 
2021-12-02 8:24:13 AM  

bakarocket: Okay, after a day of worrying and re-thinking and wishing I could go back to re-word stuff, this totally made my day.

Thank you.


Yeah, it will never be perfect. All you can do is reach an equilibrium point, where adding or subtracting makes it worse instead of better. To put it another way, any more edits will take more time than they're worth. Time to move on to the next project.
 
2021-12-02 10:15:08 AM  

Dodo David: "You don't need proof when you have instinct."― Quentin Tarantino.

This is Fark. So, proof is mandatory.  Make mine 120, such as ...

[Fark user image 694x550]


Did you hit the lottery?
 
2021-12-02 10:33:03 AM  
KRAMPUS POEM
I wrote this for my son way, way back when he was just a little guy

Submitted for your enjoyment
exqqqme

The common tale of Christmastime says Santa brings good cheer
But lesser is known of his friend, whose myth is more severe

In age-old Europe far, far away, the Krampus there does dwell
When St Nick rides upon his sleigh the Krampus does as well

The Krampus and the Round Old Elf ride closely side-by-side
And descend upon the Alpine towns during their solstice ride

With tall goat horns, a devil's tongue and eyes of glowing red
He's covered in matted fur and his laughter fills souls with dread

Because if you don't mind your manners, he'll interrupt your feast
Of savory Christmas dumplings, puddings, pies and treats

When a child's name is marked down upon Santa's naughty list
Even though he isn't much for reading, Krampus gets the gist

"Just let me take a sniff" he'll say, "Upon your magic scroll'
His nose seeks out the destination and he pursues an evil goal

Hear there! Krampus approaches on steel-hard cloven feet
Clanging his bell, dragging his chains and howling down your street

Both of them carry a pack of sorts to help them with their load
Santa's is full of treats and happy gifts to be bestowed

Krampus' is hollow, empty and woven of sturdy wicker strands,
But as his nighttime journey carries on, it steadily expands.

He carries stout birch switches to whip the hides of those he seeks
He is heartless, cruel and won't spare the lash for those tears upon your cheeks

In your window he won't peek - He won't knock upon your door at night
Down your chimney he won't glide. He's not the subtle type

And just as light means time to rise and dark means time for bed
Know you that every tale has two sides, though one is rarely said...

So when you wake on Christmas day and find gifts addressed to you
Be thankful that you are with those you love and not in the Krampus' stew...
 
2021-12-02 5:34:13 PM  

Russell_Secord: bakarocket: Okay, after a day of worrying and re-thinking and wishing I could go back to re-word stuff, this totally made my day.

Thank you.

Yeah, it will never be perfect. All you can do is reach an equilibrium point, where adding or subtracting makes it worse instead of better. To put it another way, any more edits will take more time than they're worth. Time to move on to the next project.


I think I've reached that with the story, though I'm sure I'll continue tweaking till the last minute. Right now I'm more worried about whether or not my query letter will pass muster.

Got my first official rejection today though! Oddly, I'm proud of myself.
 
2021-12-02 5:54:40 PM  

bakarocket: Russell_Secord: bakarocket: Okay, after a day of worrying and re-thinking and wishing I could go back to re-word stuff, this totally made my day.

Thank you.

Yeah, it will never be perfect. All you can do is reach an equilibrium point, where adding or subtracting makes it worse instead of better. To put it another way, any more edits will take more time than they're worth. Time to move on to the next project.

I think I've reached that with the story, though I'm sure I'll continue tweaking till the last minute. Right now I'm more worried about whether or not my query letter will pass muster.

Got my first official rejection today though! Oddly, I'm proud of myself.


I think I was 16 when I submitted something to [drumroll] The New Yorker. I got a little card with their standard rejection notice on it. There are Zen "satori" slaps. There are hysteria slaps. There are giant fish slaps. (Monty Python.) At 16, for me, that little bit of printed cardboard was sort of like Wylie Coyote looking down and seeing the chasm below. Editors everywhere can thank that New Yorker reader for sparing them over 50 years of having to read nonsense.
 
2021-12-02 8:05:17 PM  

bakarocket: Okay, after a day of worrying and re-thinking and wishing I could go back to re-word stuff, this totally made my day.

Thank you.


My pleasure.
That is the purpose of these weekly threads.

Also, I'm just reminding myself whenever I offer advice.
 
Displayed 36 of 36 comments

View Voting Results: Smartest and Funniest

This thread is closed to new comments.

Continue Farking




On Twitter


  1. Links are submitted by members of the Fark community.

  2. When community members submit a link, they also write a custom headline for the story.

  3. Other Farkers comment on the links. This is the number of comments. Click here to read them.

  4. Click here to submit a link.