_.-~* I Seek My Literate Co-Author *~-._

[Ten Thousand Spoons]

Good luck

I wasnt going to post in here at all but i was scanning through posts and this little bit caught my attention:

A young girl is sitting in a meadow, smelling roses in a light-blue summer dress. Describe what happens. Does she encounter someone, or does she stay stationary?

Your paragraph doesn't have to be over this. Like I said, it is but a compost topic for those wondering what to use as their example paragraph(s).

And i dont know wether it was extreme boredom or fascination with this... scene? lol I dunno, got inspired i guess, whatever you may call it here is a short little piece of my writing style...


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A meadow, overflowing with thorny green bushes and bursts of spiraling red petals splattered onto the limbs presents itself in a calming, serine manor. The rose bushes call out to a woman, slightly younger than thirty but unmistakably out of her teens, her shoulders slumped with worry, her belly full with an expected baby. Her eyes flit across each cluster of flowers, taking in the beauty of every petal, glistening with fresh, morning dew. The roses compell her towards the meadow, inviting her into the field. She kneels down in front of the first bush she reaches and fills her nostrils with the sweet, irresistable floral scent. Shifting into a lying position, her head resting on her hand, she plucks a rose from the grasp of the bush, studying it, both with her eyes and her nose. She sniffs it first, familiarizing herself with it once more, then she studies its lightly curled petals, lacing themselves around eachother to create a well formed spiral originating from the center of the flower. Delicately, she lays the rose onto her stomach, full with signs of pregnancy, and mindlessly twirls it between her thumb and index finger.

"Beuatiful" she says, the word barely sputtered out with a sigh. The woman knows she must return. Return to her life, the real world. The world where her husband is waiting for her, the world where she has responsibilities, chores, expectations, but she'll stay here, in the field of sickly sweet roses, if only for a moment...

After a few hours amid the roses, she clears her mind, and raises off the ground. Having released some fears and worries, she strides back to her house, back to her life.

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Meh. i dont know if i like it or not, just something i whipped up, lol if its terrible do forgive me, for its 1 AM for me here xD

As for the other stuff you want to know about your potential collab partners...
ABOUT MYSELF: I dont know if i can come up with a whole paragraph so I will give you the jist of it ;P Fourteen, male, loves writing, loves reading, hates sports, thinks animals are friggen amazing(ly cute), and doesnt know what else you might be inquiring to know but is free to answer any questions ;P oh and i dont talk about myself in third person... im just bored i guess, i dont know lol

WRITING STYLE: I generally stick to third person, present tense... I like realistic fiction/dramatic writing, but I dont mind playing with SciFi/Fantasy

This is one I wrote a while ago, maybe a year or so, but here is a link to the entry in the arena [which is recent].

EDIT: I dont know all the fancy pantsy stuff about writing [though i intend on learning it] and i am not claiming to be a natural-born-talent-up-the-a** kid, i just like writing and its something i intend on pursuing so i figure why not try and start something now and make something of it... i dunno, alot of people dismiss me for my age or other things, just asking for a bit of consideration as a partner

EDIT 2: Lol, sorry for the edits im just remembering things and its uber late so i might have more, but please forgive the spelling errors, i em a grate spellar.... when using spellcheck, lol, but i only know how to do that on certain word programs so... sorry xD

[gingitsune-sama]

I'm pretty sure that, like Ten Thousand Spoons, I also never really intended to reply to this. The thread just kept on looking at me and I needed to do something about it.

My name is Lucy and I'm a nineteen year old Canadian. I play the harp and love Architecture. I've been a little hungry for writing lately because the writing I've done with my friends has inched into a standstill, like absolute zero type of standstill.

I like to think that my writing has become calm and confident. What I always put a lot of work into is finding the words to make things as clear as possible. While my spelling is still sub-par, my grammar and punctuation are super solid. Well, as far as I know. Its difficult to judge your own writing.

Here's my sample:

Quote:

The off-key and out of sync singing drifted up through the floor of the small room. Through the threadbare curtains, a distant corner of the sky was beginning to lighten up. The man lying awake in the creaky bed was ready to drive a nail into his head.

While being a light sleeper had saved his life on the road more times than Enclair ever wanted to count, the trait really wasn’t helping right now. How could people drink so much anyway?

When Enclair could see the sun rising over the horizon, he gave up on sleep and dragged himself out of the covers, collected his belongings and made his way down to the main level.

Glowering at the still rowdy drunks, Enclair collapsed onto one of the bar stools. With a heavy thump, his head connected with the counter.

“Ah, Rhymester, up early today.”

The muffled voice answered, “Up late.”

The bartender, Louis, gave a sympathetic wince when he heard a series of thumps sounding in time with the movements of the man’s head. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay another night then? It’s not safe to be travelling when you’re that tired.”

Raising his tired hazel eyes he met the bartender’s brown ones, “Pushing a little hard today aren’t we Louis?”

Louis had the sense to look sheepish as he scratched the back of his head and grinned, “Sorry Enclair, it’s the landlord’s policy now. We’re supposed to keep pushing to get the most we can out of each person. Times aren’t the greatest, and we’re all just looking out for ourselves.”

The balladeer chuckled lowly, “At least the services that you provide are a little more vital than mine.”

“I don’t know about that. The way I see it, the artisans of the world are the people who feed our souls.”

Louis’ words pulled a smile out of the troubadour. The bartender returned it with a smile of his own. The moment, however, was broken when one of the drunks stumbled up to the bar and with slurred speech demanded loudly for another round of drinks for his friends.

His face was already green when Enclair dropped his head back to the counter with another defeated thump. Louis laughed and the bard shuddered at the thought of drinking all through the night and into the morning.

“Are you sure you won’t stay another night? They,” the bartender motioned to the rowdy group, “should be gone by noon.”

“No, I can’t afford it.” Enclair turned his head to look through rather than at Louis as the man filled the requested mugs with his vile yet somehow popular concoction of alcohol.

“Oh? I’d thought you were okay for money.”

“Well, I’m alright for now. The problem is that I don’t know when I’ll get lucky again.”

“There are cheaper places you know.”

His eyes finally focus on the other as he replied with a smile, “I’m something of a creature of habit.”

“If you say so.” Louis gathered the collection of mugs onto a tray and set off towards the other parties in the pub. Enclair sighed and turned back towards the stained wood of the bar top.

He really did need to find new income. Enclair planned to find somewhere to hole up for the coming storm; hopefully somewhere he could get paid. The commissions he had recently finished wouldn’t last forever.