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New site? Maybe some day.
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Just wondering. I go through long bouts of writing short stories and ramblings and now's one of those bouts. Anyone else? I propose we swap stories or whatever-the-fucks. |
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yep. i have a degree in writing. (i know - useless) |
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I like to write about life. |
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my undergrad degree was writing with a minor in film studies
an MFA in writing is OK if you wanna teach it in colleges
I wrote two novels and am desperately trying to get my shorter stories going again
in the meantime, I'm just doing CD reviews for Maelstrom.nu, as does paganmegan |
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i'm a writer. i write short horror/sci-fi stories. ive got a book ive been meaning to release. i've been procrastinating with that though |
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I write instruction manuals for Sears. |
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yep. i have a degree in writing. (i know - useless) |
me too. very useless. what do you do for work, dude? |
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i write jokes.
i wanna write some short fiction, i just can't seem to find the time. |
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I had to go and become a librarian
which is cool in its own way, it was very DEAD (harhar) yesterday so I got to read Max Brooks's "World War Z" |
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Larissa - I'd love to read either the novels or any short stories.
Same to Mr. Dave Maggot.
I mostly wrote general rantings until the last few months, when I finally wrangled my attention span to write short stories. Now I'm attempting to get published in some form (internet or e-zines or real zines etc), so as to make a few bucks here and there.
You guys ever have any luck with that end of things? The publishing, I mean?
Gimme yer e-mails or something, let's compare notes achacha. |
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Oh, here's my e-mail:
everyoneelse1234@yahoo.com
Hoo ah. |
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I write stuff that will probably eventually become song lyrics, definitely not in lyrical form though. |
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im writing a show as we speak.
I have about 2 pages so far. |
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mines themetalofmaggot@aol.com i'll send some stuff your way.
i've been published once a long time ago in a horror magazine. chris from the accursed has a publishing company, called knifestreet. he's gonna put my book of short stories out for me. i've just been wicked lazy the past few years about it. |
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ok i sent one your way. hope you enjoy |
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im writing a show as we speak.
I have about 2 pages so far. |
what, like a tv pilot? i can't picture you writing a broadway show
what's it about? |
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I used to write all the time. wish i still had the time and energy. I have a ton of shorts as well as 2 novels in the works. I don't know anyone into writing so it's hard to feel motivated and invigorated. About a year and a half ago I finished my first screenplay based on King Diamond's Them and Conspiracy albums. Haven't looked at it since because I'm convinced it's garbage. Oh well. |
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i was writing a zombie comedy about a loser who's g/f left him, then a zombie wandered into his apartment. and they became friends and roommates. then shaun of the dead came out. so i kinda abandoned it. i love shaun of the dead though. |
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goatcatalyst:
I got my BA in English Communications, Writing & Rhetoric with hopes of getting my MBA or something else (still haven't started that yet.) I now work for a major insurance company in Downtown Boston - the last place I'd thought I would end up. Figures.
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i have an english and a secondary ed degree, i now work as a property manager in boston? |
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yea.. it's a pretty useless degree unless you want to become a teacher. It is, however, a great degree to have if you're seeking to get your Master's or beyond. |
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i'm in the process of writing a story called "A Window in the Woods". i'm debating on changing it over to a screenplay though. |
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I had to go and become a librarian
which is cool in its own way, it was very DEAD (harhar) yesterday so I got to read Max Brooks's "World War Z" |
I've been meaning to read that! It's been sitting on my bookshelf for a couple months now because I'm trying to discipline myself to read books in the order I get them. I know, dumb and unreasonable, but it keeps me from reading multiple books at once.
What did you think of it? |
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I used to write. I used to try to write 500 words a night. Then I stopped being disciplined about it, and here I am.
I might be doing a sports blog for football season this year though. That should be absurd. |
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hahaha i bet it will rule. |
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I figured I wasn't the only one on here.
I always just write until I dry up. Any time I try to force myself, it just reads like garbage to me.
And if Rich writes greeting cards, sign me up for a gross of eaches. iParty lingo oh shit son) |
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Actually, I took a screen writing class last semester. For my final project I had to write a spec script for a sitcom. I did It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. It actually came out really fucking well. |
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hahaha i bet it will rule. |
TBoner has also expressed interest to be involved. I'm looking over stuff I wrote during last season. This blog has the potential to be awesome. |
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I wrote The Bridges of Madison County. |
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I just got a letter saying my story was accepted for some book, and they want me to pay 25 bucks for my own copy of said book, plus 15 bucks for each additional copy. SCAMMY MC SCAMSHITS.
P.S. ave Maggot, I started reading your story, but every apostrophe turned into a "4u9032 234 23jio4 jo423hj8943", so I'm gonna copy and paste it into microsoft word and fix it and then try again. I like where it's going though.
PPS: Does the dude from The Accursed still do publishing? I got hundreds and hundreds of pages of rants etc lying around that need to go somewhere before I drown in them.
PPPS: Bung |
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hahaha your first initial is now a smiley face. The Artist Formerly Known as Dave Maggot
I think I know why that happened, here let's try it again: |
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I had to go and become a librarian
which is cool in its own way, it was very DEAD (harhar) yesterday so I got to read Max Brooks's "World War Z" |
I've been meaning to read that! It's been sitting on my bookshelf for a couple months now because I'm trying to discipline myself to read books in the order I get them. I know, dumb and unreasonable, but it keeps me from reading multiple books at once.
What did you think of it? |
I think it's fucking great so far, I'm about 200 pages in
it's told from different perspectives, mostly from military personnel and recovery teams, it TOTALLY immerses you in the situation of an international zombie holocaust
HIGHLY recommended, before the movie comes out |
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I've been in the midst of writing a few one-off comic books as well as one big graphic novel, but I haven't gotten too far since I am lazy. |
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haha ave aggot at your service.
yup chris still does the publishing and stuff. i just gotta get to talking to him about it again. |
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Sorry I ruined your writer's block thread, Mr. Maggot. I finally read the story you sent me. I dig it. I'm not one to review things, but know that I do indeed dig. And, speaking of writer's block, I'm gonna try the re-working-a-classic idea next time I'm stuck.
Here's a story I just submitted to (hopefully) make some cash:
An Intruding Swarm
by Ben Farley
Although my left hand was free, I was trying to lock my door with just my right. I find myself in similar situations frequently. I finally got the door shut and headed for the back of the shed, which I had just finished making my own. In a rare lull between the stereophonic yelping of neighboring dogs, I heard an obnoxious chewing, coming from somewhere above my head.
I pounded on my newly built walls, assuming there to be a rodent of some sort on the roof. On went the chewing. I went and got my Father to confirm the sound, to make sure I wasn’t hearing things. We stood silent and waited for the everyday neighborhood clamor to shut the fuck up for a second. In that one second it gave us, we both clearly heard the gnawing.
“You said you hit the walls and everything?” my Father asked me, and I confirmed the first part, but not the “everything” because hitting the walls was all I’d done.
“I hope not,” he said, “but it’s probably termites.” Then he went in the house.
I went around to the side of my shack and looked for the approximate parallel to where I sit when inside. I saw there were a few holes chewed out of the wooden eaves, and, on what is apparently instinct in these situations, I banged on the overhang with my hands. All that fell out was what looked like the makings of a bird’s nest, but there’s no bird on Earth I know of that could have squeezed through these holes.
Back in my shed, I grabbed the vacuum cleaner from its corner, plugged in, and put it to each hole around the perimeter of my new quarters. Nothing but bird nest again.
I was putting the vacuum back where it belongs when I felt a crawling on the nape of my neck, and (again, instinct) I swatted in its general direction. It’s always difficult to tell exactly where to scratch when an itch starts in, so I missed my target. I learned what I’d been swinging at when it landed on my forearm and stung the hell out of it.
I killed it then, and it hung from my arm, the dead weight almost pulling me to the ground. It looked like the product of a wasp, a bumble bee and a horsefly’s drunken, inter-genus threesome at the town dump, and, having recently learned of its unceremonious conception, had decided to eat itself to death.
So I was glad to help put it out of its misery, until its fellow colonists came swarming, each at least as big as their dead-weight/dead-kin, who still clung to my arm and slowed my escape.
I counted the welts later on, but I feel no need to disclose the total here. It would be an embarrassing example of my slothdom. At the time, though, the number was enough to spur me to avenge my exterior. Armed with a tree limb and an expired can of wasp spray, I climbed to my roof and provoked a second swarm. I attacked their confines until they showed themselves. I thrashed with all five of my limbs until the buzzing around me ceased, along with it the whole of the neighborhood’s shrieks and howls. This being an unexpected perk, I bowed and thanked my new audience before exiting my rooftop, stage right.
I had succeeded in driving the carpenter bees from above my pillow, but they left behind them a hollowed-out battleground. I intended to fence it off and claim it as my own after a much-needed post-war rest. Before my head hit the pillow, though, the gnawing had picked up right where it’d left off.
I don’t mind it anymore. My one-time-foes have probably carved out a home in these eaves every year since before I was born. There is apparently no ill-will remaining, and in the sudden peace of the neighborhood, my newfound allies sing me to sleep and await their extinction.
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wow that's gonna be hard to read
oh well |
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