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Official Blatant but Honest Self Promotion Thread


EruditeFool
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1 hour ago, Muwhahaha said:

Then, he staggered about drunkenly, trampling over the sparse grass, his bare feet randomly sinking into the still-wet raith. Far overhead, the full lunus continued to hang tenaciously in the sky, its lacht mixing with that from a plethora of blazingly bright siriettes, each of which was fixed in a constellation; the entire nacht was a black canvas upon which was painted any number of ethereal images. Gramrus shadowed his footsteps for a few casual teythes, then stopped in the doorway, his rock-like face set hard and his dark red eyes narrowed.

I know I shouldn't, but editing:

Then, he staggered about drunkenly, trampling over the sparse grass, his bare feet randomly sinking into the still-wet raith. Far overhead, the full lunus continued to hang tenaciously in the sky, its lacht mix[ed]ing with that from a plethora of blazingly bright siriettes, each of which was fixed in a constellation; the entire nacht was a black canvas upon which was painted any number of ethereal images. Gramrus shadowed his footsteps for a few casual teythes, then stopped in the doorway, his rock-like face set hard and his dark red eyes narrowed.

(Again, cut bold). 

"Far overhead, the full lunus continued to hang tenaciously in the sky" sounds like something from The Eye of Argon.

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12 minutes ago, Roose Boltons Pet Leech said:

I know I shouldn't, but editing:

Then, he staggered about drunkenly, trampling over the sparse grass, his bare feet randomly sinking into the still-wet raith. Far overhead, the full lunus continued to hang tenaciously in the sky, its lacht mix[ed]ing with that from a plethora of blazingly bright siriettes, each of which was fixed in a constellation; the entire nacht was a black canvas upon which was painted any number of ethereal images. Gramrus shadowed his footsteps for a few casual teythes, then stopped in the doorway, his rock-like face set hard and his dark red eyes narrowed.

(Again, cut bold). 

"Far overhead, the full lunus continued to hang tenaciously in the sky" sounds like something from The Eye of Argon.

Did you ever consider a career in editing? Genuinely curious, you seem very good at it and my impression is you rather enjoy it

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1 hour ago, HelenaExMachina said:

Did you ever consider a career in editing? Genuinely curious, you seem very good at it and my impression is you rather enjoy it

Very kind, but there aren't much in the way of paid editing jobs in a small country like mine (especially since I lack a journalism background). I tend to edit on an informal basis - and with the novel coming out in November, I've had a good deal of practice with my own work. I do think I'm a better editor than writer.

(The quote function on this board is seriously screwed up...).

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What do you think of these lines?  Too much?

He stopped his singing, noticing he was at the bottom of the lift, the walk a blur.  Everyone else was either asleep, their minds mix, matching, and rehashing their lives or they were awake, regretting choices or fretting decisions.  

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2 hours ago, MisterOJ said:

 An honest question, Rychard: who are some authors that you look up to and don't consider to be writing for trogs like us? Because I really don't understand what you're getting at.

 

I didn't say everyone here was full trog. I was quite specific. For those who were specifically named, I guess I could come up with a reading list given a few days. No promises. I mean, they are the trogs, not me, so why should I even care?

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11 minutes ago, Darth Richard II said:

Speaking of self promotion, don't you have a book coming out Roose?

Yes. Wise Phuul is coming out in November (published by Inspired Quill, a small press in the UK). Apparently I'll get the first look at the cover art sometime this month.

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16 minutes ago, Muwhahaha said:

What do you think of these lines?  Too much?

He stopped his singing[.], noticing h[H]e was at the bottom of the lift, the walk a blurEveryone else was either asleep, their minds mix, matching, and rehashing their lives or they were awake, regretting choices or fretting decisions.  

The entire second line has to go, since it violates Point Of View.

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10 hours ago, Rychard Wrythen said:

 

I didn't say everyone here was full trog. I was quite specific. For those who were specifically named, I guess I could come up with a reading list given a few days. No promises. I mean, they are the trogs, not me, so why should I even care?

I'm not asking for something that requires much thought at all. I'd just like to know what are some books/authors you enjoy? 

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16 hours ago, Rychard Wrythen said:

However, none of this has been constructive criticism. If you all have shit for taste, which you apparently do, of course my stuff is going to seem like just what you said, shit.

You need to look a bit better, since there has been more than enough constructive criticism, ranging from peterbound's blunt speech to RBPL practically giving you free editor's services. The fact you disregard all that, and say all people on this thread have "shit for taste", as you so eloquently put it, for not liking your "stuff" is plain hilarious. And it just gets better when you take into account that this is GRRM fans' board.

Bear in mind, I'm not actually getting in on the debate regarding its quality since I haven't read your "stuff" and, given your attitude, I never will. Giving money to someone doing their best to act like an asshole would just go against my principles.

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8 minutes ago, baxus said:

Bear in mind, I'm not actually getting in on the debate regarding its quality since I haven't read your "stuff" and, given your attitude, I never will. Giving money to someone doing their best to act like an asshole would just go against my principles.

You can follow the link in his sig to see his stuff for free.  It's worth it.  It made me feel like William fucking Shakespeare.  His writing makes Robert Stanek look like Mark Twain.  

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4 minutes ago, Muwhahaha said:

You can follow the link in his sig to see his stuff for free.  It's worth it.  It made me feel like William fucking Shakespeare.  His writing makes Robert Stanek look like Mark Twain.  

Same here. I've bookmarked it. And the next time I get an attack of Imposter Syndrome, reading a few lines of this crap will be just the thing.

 

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6 hours ago, MisterOJ said:

I'm not asking for something that requires much thought at all. I'd just like to know what are some books/authors you enjoy? 

Price, Lehane, Martin, Lovecraft, Lindqvist, some King, London, Richard Adams, Dickens ...

 

Oh, and enjoy. Maybe you "guys" can see how its done. :ack:

Edited by Rychard Wrythen
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I think we should look at some more of your brilliance:

From A Host of Ills: Chapter Six - The Flesh Dragore

The conically emanating lacht from the upstairs hallway torch ended, and after a couple of secunds of intermediate darkness it was immediately replaced by that from the two torches in the first square stone chamber in the cellar below. It wouldn’t have mattered either way, to be true; this was because, also much like a felis, Lanuche found that she could see quite well in the dark with only the slightest modicum of difficulty.

 

When she had passed through the narrow entryway to the smith’s cellar forge, which was no more than a broken gap in the wall, she found him sitting in a sort of humayne heap on top of a closed black travel chest which was situated under the westmost cellar window and covered in dust.

 

She stopped about two teythes away, then began to address him. Her thin, blonde hair was sticking up in odd ways due to some latent static electricity on her person. “I don’t mean to intrude here, dath … I can see it’s your special place. It’s just … I’m a little bit confused by all of this … what’s been happening tonacht … “ She stopped then, trailing off into a whisper.

 

After several secunds had passed and he still hadn’t answered her at all, or even started moving for that matter, she walked over to him and held out her dainty right hand as if to touch him on his bulky left shoulder. Before she could reach him, however, he started anxiously; his eyes went wide, he jumped up like a jack-in-the-box, and he danced effortlessly right out of her grasp. Once he found himself clear, he began circling around her in jerky clockwise motions over towards the entryway, pointing ineffectually and spluttering. What little hair he still had on his shining cranium was sticking up in several directions as well.

 

 

 

Yeah, we're all fucking delusional for questioning your genius.  You're obviously a wordsmith and a scholar.

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Preserving an ineffable something, words chasing words-- it's like, you want to cast this or that moment in amber while not noticing that such constraint is akin to taking a garrote to momentum. This is not to say that there aren't times for it, but one has to be discerning in those choices. I used to suffer from the same affliction myself with my own writing, until a good friend in my writing group helped me work my way out of it. 

It's a definite problem, writing so much about what's happening that nothing actually happens.

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