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[ADirtyPerv]

Amidst. Probably.

Wait, which one is more purple?

 

[Off_base]

Are they dialogue tags? Or are they just the next sentence?

For example, I quite often write dialogue like this:

Or:

But I wouldn't write them as actual dialogue tags like this:

I nodded, "Yes, that sounds like a good plan. When can we start?"

"No idea," she shrugged and scrolled through her feed, "You'll have to ask Simon."

The difference is in the punctuation. If you've seen the comma versions a lot in published works that used professional editors then I'd be surprised.

Are you sure you aren't mistaking descriptive sentences for tags?

Thanks for this comment. I've been doing this wrong.

 

[TheExperimentalist]

Oh yeah, here's another one:

Ben broke their oral offensive as he kiss-bit his way down to her chest.

 

[TheExperimentalist]

Amidst. Probably.

Yep. On final pre-editor self-proofread, "amid" feels like it flows better. (Also, thank you all for accompanying me as I try to get this draft finished.)

 

[TheExperimentalist]

Here's another one that I'm actually deleting from the draft because it slows down the action too much, though I might save it to use in another story sometime where it's part of the preparation rather than mid-encounter:

Once in the living room, they closed the front shades to assure themselves privacy. Even though the windows were mostly blocked by a large hedge, neither of them felt comfortable taking any chances. If a delivery driver or girl scout or Jehovah's witness came to the door and saw the two siblings ravaging each other, there would be hell to pay.

 

[ADirtyPerv]

If a delivery driver or girl scout or Jehovah's witness came to the door and saw the two siblings ravaging each other, there would be hell to pay.

Jehovah's witnesses are so fun to mess with, though! The look of sheer astonishment when people do standard human things is just...Mwah. Chef's kiss.

(Sorry to be this guy, but double check ravage vs ravish. Unless there will be blood and guts everywhere, you mean ravish. I mix those up all the time so I'm always on high alert for it.)

 

[TheExperimentalist]

(Sorry to be this guy, but double check ravage vs ravish. Unless there will be blood and guts everywhere, you mean ravish. I mix those up all the time so I'm always on high alert for it.)

Well fuck me sideways and call me Shirley, you're right. I've only ever learned the word from context, and there's an absolute metric fuckton of stories on here that use it that way.

 

[ADirtyPerv]

Well fuck me sideways and call me Shirley, you're right. I've only ever learned the word from context, and there's an absolute metric fuckton of stories on here that use it that way.

Totally. I learned it the same, but I figured it out by reading one of those bodice-ripper romances. She literally yells "ravish me!"

 

[TheExperimentalist]

Totally. I learned it the same, but I figured it out by reading one of those bodice-ripper romances. She literally yells "ravish me!"

Like... it's so common that in my head it's to the point where "ravish" feels wrong, or at least more esoteric, and "ravage" feels correct, even though it's apparently COMPLETELY the wrong word.

 

[dad_icarus]

Like... it's so common that in my head it's to the point where "ravish" feels wrong, or at least more esoteric, and "ravage" feels correct, even though it's apparently COMPLETELY the wrong word.

Once I paired ravage in my head with the rhyming "savage", it was easier to make sure I was using the right one

 

[TheExperimentalist]

Once I paired ravage in my head with the rhyming "savage", it was easier to make sure I was using the right one

I mean... People also write about characters "savagely pounding her pussy" so you know...

 

[ADirtyPerv]

I mean... People also write about characters "savagely pounding her pussy" so you know...

And in that context, ravage is accurate and hot. "I'm gonna ravage that cunt until you forget your own name."

If she's screaming "break me", you're ravaging.

If she's gently whimpering in delight, you're probably ravishing.

 

[TheExperimentalist]

i dont publish..but enjoy
so....
I creep into ur room in the middle of the night...as I often do...and I hear u moaning baby girl..over and over as ur body writhes under the blankets..I walk over to u and slip my hands under the blankets and feel ur cock hard and leaking precum profusely..mmm I'm about to be a very bad girl..but I just can't help myself...I mean there u are obviously wanting ur baby girl..and here I am so hot and wet and needing my daddy... what else am I supposed to do? I drop my panties on the floor and climb on top of u ..kiss ur neck and whisper in ur ear .shhh as I position myself over u take u in my hands and slide u up and down my slippery slit..then down..and fuck u hard and fast... needing this .u inside me right now. I'm biting my lips trying to be quiet...I fuck u til we both cum.. leaving a mess on ur belly.

and a sticky reminder...or was it a dream?

I'm confused. This seems to be a complete short story. Which part is the clever little turn of phrase or word usage that you're trying to highlight?

 

[kathyisgr65]

delete dum dum..referring to me

 

[TheExperimentalist]

delete dum dum..referring to me

Nah, probably my fault for not making the initial post clear enough. Even though I've been trying to improve my writing skills, I'm still sometimes crap at communicating effectively.

 

[kathyisgr65]

nah....im too stoned to be replying to threads..my apologies....red faced..grr

 

[TheExperimentalist]

Another one:

"I never expected it to happen either, but now that it has, it doesn't feel wrong. In fact," Ben paused, hoping he wouldn't be saying the wrong thing. "I wouldn't mind doing it again."

"What, right now?" Sophia asked with another giggle.

"God, I wish!" Ben lamented jovially. "I'm spent."

I always love seeing a verb and adverb that imply emotions which, in isolation, would appear to be opposites, combined in a way that actually makes sense. I found this one really satisfying.

 

[MelissaBaby]

I did not conceive the idea of "The Pocket Jar". (Mary and Alvin Chapter 32) It came from an anecdote a woman relayed on the radio, possibly on This American Life.

I needed a framing device for Mary to reminisce about her daughter growing up without resorting to a litany of clunky flashbacks. I remembered the pocket jar, and it proved to be, in my opinion, an elegant way to present a sort of montage of memories.

It was just an old gallon glass jar. She assumed that it had probably come from the diner at the wharf. Maybe it had once held pickles or mayonnaise. It wasn't even the first pocket jar. The first one had been a quart mason jar. One day, when Hannah was three or four years old, Mary had been sorting laundry when she picked up one of her jumpers and felt something in the pocket. She reached in and pulled out a plastic barrette. Just a little pink hairpin that she had bought at the Dollar General. Unsure of where to put it while she finished sorting, she saw the jar on the shelf and dropped it in. She forgot all about it, but a few days later, as she did laundry, she found a blue lego piece in another of Hannah's pockets and dropped that in the jar as well. It soon became a ritual. Whatever she found in Hannah's pockets, she dropped into the jar. After a while the quart jar was nearly full. She had found the big jar in the garage, cleaned it up, and it became the new pocket jar.

Mary sipped her tea and stared at the jar. Fifteen years, she thought, fifteen years she has been finding odds and ends in her daughter's pockets and dropping them in this jar. And now, her little girl was gone, out of the house, off to college.

She picked up the jar and carefully poured its contents out on the kitchen table. She stared at the pile for a minute, then, without a plan or a conscious reason why she was doing so, she began to sort through it.

As the narrative continues, various items in the jar bring Mary random flashes of memories. Afterwards, she puts the items back in the jar, and places it on the mantel over the fireplace.

Later:

Alvin saw the glass jar on the mantelpiece. He looked at it closely. "What's this?" he asked.

"I call it the pocket jar. Ever since Hannah was little, I have put whatever I found in her pockets in it."

Alvin turned the jar, gazing at its contents.

"White periwinkles," he said, grinning.

"That's what she wanted."

"I remember that. Harpswell."

Mary sighed. "She pretty much always got what she wanted, didn't she?"

"She did," Alvin nodded. He ran his fingers down the jar. "But, you know what, Miss Mary? So did we."

 

[StillStunned]

After a dozen years, Lek Four-Fingers could read the mood with his eyes closed. Born and raised in the Snipes, he prided himself on being able to smell trouble before the troublemaker farted.

(From a sword & sorcery WIP in my series The Rivals)

 

[CalBishForNow]

I'm not generally very prose-focused as a writer, not in general and especially not here, but reviewing my last story in an ongoing series, I guess I'm kind of proud of this.

Nervousness was as effective as caffeine. By the time the cab's lights played over their front door and kitchen window, Robbie had made sure they could go straight upstairs as soon as she was home. He situated himself between the living room and the kitchen, eager to greet her with exactly the right amount of eagerness.

 

[ADirtyPerv]

I liked this one, from The Lodi Wiggle:

We made it to the hotel room, poured through the door, and Dani attacked me like a hungry demon made entirely of kisses. I did battle with this creature using the oral meat sword at my disposal, and at some point she wrapped her legs around me, allowing me to hold her full weight.