[spaceghost22]

Yeah, that was a cop out. Ok,... Describe anyplace in the Rain.

[NiteTiger]

So I got my creative juices all revved up, and I accidentally let them out in the wrong thread

Related a story in another thread, thought you guys might enjoy it. It is creative writing, but not fictional, and not in the rain

Originally Posted by NiteTiger

One time, when I was younger and dumber, I was cruisin' with a coupla guys, and we decided we wanted to burn one down before we went to meet up with some folks. So we decide to hit the top level of this parking garage. There was a fitness club on the top level, and they closed early, so it was usually deserted, and was nice and open.

Well, we get up there, and as soon as we come off the ramp, there's a cop sitting up there blacked out, backed in. We tried to play it cool and pretend we were just looking for a parking spot, and loop back around and out. While desperately trying to put out and stash the half a blunt we had, while not looking like we were desperately trying to put out and stash a half a blunt

So we pass this cruiser, half hoping it was empty. No such luck. as soon as we passed him, the headlights come on, and swing in behind us. Just as we made the turn on the ramp heading out, bam, blue lights and a little chirp from the siren that echoed through the garage till it sounded like a freaking pterodactyl screeching in to use your head like a martini olive. Well, that's what it sounded like to us, any way

So we stop, guy comes walking up to the window, and I roll it down. This plume of smoke comes billowing out, looks like the fucking car is on fire. So I casually open the sunroof to let the smoke out. All it did was make the car look like an old steam engine, smoke pouring from the smokestack. I kid you not, it was surreal. I was the absolute picture of Murphy's Law here. Everything that could be wrong with this picture was there. Three guys, looking 100% like stoners, every cliche you can throw in there. All the way down to the 'Legalize It' bumper sticker on the dash. Just above the 'Bad Cop, No Donut' bumper sticker.

Yeah, pretty much fucked on this one.

The guy just looks at us, like he's just as stunned as we are about how badly we've screwed this up. Shit, he could have been nailed by a contact high from the look on his face.

So he looks at me, straight up, first words out of his mouth "How much you got?"

"Got what?" I say, trying out my best altar boy impression. He didn't buy it.

He said, "I'm not in the mood for that shit. I'm here because of car thefts. That's what I do, is car thefts. That's my gig, if I wanted to work vice, I'd be working vice. You and I both know I can toss the car right now. So don't play games, if you're not sporting pounds, I couldn't give a fuck, okay? How much do you have?"

Fuck it, I'm caught, I'm caught, right? No sense even trying to yank this guys chain. Everyone on the next three levels down in the parking garage knew what was up, unless they were somehow completely paralyzed from the nose up

So I'm straight. "There's a half of a blunt in the ashtray, and I've got just a dub left in my pocket." And prayed.

The cop doesn't bat an eye, it's like I'd told him the sky was blue. Which I thought was a pretty cavalier approach to what, at that point in my life, was the most important gamble I had ever taken. My asshole was so tight a gnat couldn't have fucked me, and I was pretty confident that any moment my heart would beat it's way out of my chest in a decent imitation of 'Alien'.

"Car stolen?" he asks. "Um, no" "License good?" "Yep"

"Ok, here's the deal then. I'm going to go check your license. It'll take me a few minutes, so if you guys want to step out and have a cigarette, that'd be fine." He says this with a face that would have done the prehistoric carvers of Easter Island proud.

I'm still puckered, not quite comprehending. I must have looked like a spooked horse, snorting air, trembling, eyes rolling around desperately trying to think this odd turn of events into my thought process. All I could come up with was "What?"

He must have read the idiot sign on my forehead. He sighed.

"I'm going to go run your license. You will step out with your friends to have a cigarette while you wait. When I come back, I will search this car. I certainly hope I won't find anything that would make me waste my time writing reports and citations and stuff." He waits a beat to see if this is beating through the fog of cannabis and terror clouding my brain.

God speaks to me, and smiles.

I get it, finally. I nod with the same expression of cow that's just been tipped. I hand him my license, and he walks back to the cruiser. We step out of the car, trying to be oh so smooth in palming the blunt. The shaking made it kind of hard to pull off though. Over to the railing, and as the first snow of cigarette ash falls down four stories, there are little bits of other things in there.

A minute or two goes by, and the guy hauls himself out of the cruiser. We snuff the smokes and walk to the front of the car. He hands me my license. Then he pulls out his baton, and my stomach decides to take up residence in my shoes. He calmly leans over, and taps a sign on the post near us. One duplicated on every post going up to that level.

'Parking for Members of Fitness Club Only'

"That's trespassing, just so ya know. So I'd suggest you find another parking spot." And walks back to his cruiser, gets in, and pulls off, looping back up the ramp to the top level. Me and my buddies just kind of stare at each other, blinking like we'd just woken up from some mass hallucination. All I could think of...

"He never searched the car. I wasted my weed."

[spaceghost22]

Yeah, it was a cop-out... how about a fiction on a country in the grip of violent revolution... How's that?

[de Toke-ville]

Greetings creative writers!

Spaceghost. glad you're feeling better and congratulations on the thread--a cool and creative idea.

I spent five years, back in the day, as a newspaper reporter, which pretty much makes me an aspiring novelist for life. I've also done freelancing for mags and weekly papers, so all of my published work is in short form. I also spent a little time teaching journalism and expository writing.

I just ran across the thread, so haven't had a chance to read everything carefully yet, but there is already some interesting screeds up in here.

So, is this space just to let it out or are would members critique each other and give suggestions?

My first two-cent contribution is that you CAN write for fun OR profit. But they won't happen at the same time.

Lesson #2: Never "TELL" when you can "SHOW." I.E., instead of saying that Sally was nervous. explain the situation that sally is in and her physical reaction to it. That way you will make your reader identify and feel Sally's nervousness, instead of just knowing about it...

There are some good examples of telling and showing that have already been posted here. No need to put anybody down, but take a look and see if you can identify examples of each. One way to know if you are telling instead of showing is if you are using a lot of adjectives(e.g. happy, angry, hungry, bemused). They are to be avoided when possible except in describing physical characteristics like color or texture or condition--just not for human emotions. Use nouns and verbs to describe the action. Then, instead of being an omnipotent(in the know) narrator, try using only objective descriptions from an invisible witness that has no inside knowledge of the scene being described. This exercise improved my writing instantly.

Okay, that's 4 cents...


-dTv

[ben ttech]

i dont understand writing...
funny that, givens it nearly all i do...
well, after reading of course...
or what passes for reading in my case...

ive gone to hear a few writers read their works live...
i find these venues offputting...
i DONT like the folks around me at them who like the same books ive read...
and i DONT like the authors much AFTER the spectacle of marketting meets self agrandizement have finished their twist...



i had to get stitches in my tongue...
to survive january WITH a jewish girlfriend whod made up her mind back in the 80's...
at to what REALITY was to be forever henceforth...


peace and all that...

[mpd]

I've written two books in the past. One was a novel for which a publisher is still wanting.

The other is a technical book on monetary policy, fiscal policy and capital market operating alternatives. I'm updating this one now with more math in it and then I intend to publish the thing myself.

I love creative writing and am a writer for a living in that I write massive technical reports for a living - market feasibility studies, financial feasibility studies, syndication plans... that sort of thing.

[Feyd]

i wrote a novel once.

okay, it wasn't really a novel. more of a novella. it was short.
well, it wasn't really fiction. so it was nonfiction.

to be totally honest, when i say wrote, i meant wrote on. in. i wrote in a book.

and when i say wrote in, i mean i doodled.

i used to doodle in my text books.


does this count? y/n

[Payaso]

Want help self-publishing your next or new book?

I have lots of experience helping people like you do this...

I'm more of a poet; however, when I was a kid I used to write short fiction stories, then moved to biography which I still haven't finished.

[Mrs.Babba]

Originally Posted by Feyd

i wrote a novel once.

okay, it wasn't really a novel. more of a novella. it was short.
well, it wasn't really fiction. so it was nonfiction.

to be totally honest, when i say wrote, i meant wrote on. in. i wrote in a book.

and when i say wrote in, i mean i doodled.

i used to doodle in my text books.


does this count? y/n

haha feyd!
nope doodles dont count, they are cute but not the same sorry hun hehe