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'Tis good, for the most part, but go easy on the full stops. It makes the prose feel jerky and unflowing. Part of that will come with practice; you should gradually start to see patterns in sentences and be able to string them together for a more lyrical quality. While there is nothing wrong with simple sentences, almost every one of yours are, and it can be rather rough on the tongue.

I think a lot of death metal songs are pretty sadist. You know, the ones that scream about smashing heads open with a hammer. Oh wait . . .

I realize you know that what you wrote was not perfect, but "fell down a cliff" is actually preferable to that. . . . Let's see . . . You used a smiley in a piece of prose. You appended multiple exclamation points to multiple sentences, and the rest had just one. It reads like a child's fairy tale. Like the one you would tell verbally to a three-year-old before bedtime.

No, you can't. You can't quantify a piece of literature like that. That being said, if half of a novel's word count is descriptive words it is most likely a piece of trash, or else a horrendously overlong story that might actually be of some merit if the purple prose were stripped away.

Not the same execution score. Sure, they could come out with the same overall if the difficulty score is higher and more points were deducted from the execution, but the point was that the execution scores were the same. I, too, do not believe that those Chinese girls are 16. No way. Twelve, maybe.

Lol, I remember when Nad and Bubsa were neck-in-neck with like 11000. Post much? :P Every time I open this topic I die laughing, for one reason or another.

No no no no no no no. No. Yes. 100% yes. The bolded part: this is the show, don't tell rule. Needless description and info-dumping quail before the voice of a character's words and actions. I would add that this makes for little interesting story at all, as all the characters are uber-powerful and immune to poison. Want to give them any more Mary-Sue traits?

The plot has thickened considerably as I wrote it. There's action in the first 30 pages, momentous things, and by page 50 the young heroes are off. But now, I'm looking at 400 pages, easy, though with editing it may come out to be shorter. If you have good characters and a good basic story, the characters will flesh out the story for you. I have about seven characters that I never originally planned (Jonas in the excerpt, for example), and with about half of them a new subplot has emerged to supplement the main one, along with new settings and events. Just go with the flow. But for actual technical pacing, be careful not to linger overlong on unimportant stuff, or gloss over more relevant things. As long as we're talking about Eragon, don't spend 500 pages on the hero's training while the rest of the plot is held in suspended animation (as happened in Eldest.)

Man, that reminds me of a festival that I went to a few weeks ago. They had GH3 set up on a big stage, and whenever someone went up to play the DJ put the feed on all the speakers so the whole place could hear. I watched this kid fail that same song, Rock and Roll All Nite, on hard at the solo. I wanted to go up there and play Pride and Joy or something, a song most people would know, since you would get an audience gathered around watching the TV screen. But right after that guy failed they packed it away :(

I hate all my choices of car too. One's a giant gas-guzzling SUV, one's an itty-bitty 4-cylinder that WILL NOT go up hills, and the last is a 30-year old pile of scrap sitting in the garage until my dad decides it's worth his time to fix the one decent vehicle I have to my name.

The USA is touchy about its flag. Only the army and the Boy Scouts are allowed to retire one, and if it were an American who had burned the flag it may have been a bigger deal. As for other countries buring the stars and stripes . . . eh, you really can't stop them, though I think it's unnecessary.

Lucky because you have connections, like Paolini. His parents own a publishing company and he self-published through them. By chance, an editor for Knopf picked it up, and boom, he's a star. As far as what happened to him . . . he was published. Prematurely. This isn't the place for Eragon-bashing, but I have to say it's one of the aforementioned examples of bad literature.

Oh, if only publication was actually based on literary merit. Unfortunately, it is extremely difficult to be published no matter how good the work is, and a lot of it comes down to luck. JK Rowling was rejected by pretty much every publisher she tried. There are tons of masterpieces sitting in desk drawers that will never see publication. And there are tons of travesties that soil the name of literature out there. The authors just happened to get lucky. Ratchet, you seem to be one of the lucky ones, but I would advise against rushing into it. Look what happened to Christopher Paolini. [No, not the money.]

[hide=Slow Ride FC - 206,066][/hide] Woot. My blue button decided to screw me out of some points on held notes, so I could have had a few K higher I suppose . . . oh well. I've also taught myself how to tap the funky O-B-O-Y-O-R etc. part of Cliffs of Dover :D I feel awesome now, especially since I mastered it in like 15 minutes. Unfortunately, I still screw up the transition from one-handed to two-handed playing.

I would say a five-year difference between marrried couples is fairly common and makes no difference at all. But if you're a high-schooler and your boyfriend/girlfriend is five years older than you, that puts him/her in college, and at a different stage in development. That could be awkward.

God I hate the Boy Scouts. -.- Their true motto is "Kickin' out the queers, Atheists, and those darn' people who can't decide if they believe in God or not." Someone needs to really put the Scouts in their place some day. They claim to be about helping others, yet they are the most intolerant organization for young people. Doesn't shock me though, since they're all extremely sexist. I used to be a Scout myself until I just got tired of their bull and then denounced them and disassociated with every single one of them. I may be beating a dead horse here, but as this was in reply to me I will give it what is due. The Boy Scouts have been around for a very long time. Hm, I wonder how people's views have changed since the organization was founded. But nah, a controversial issue like homosexuality couldn't possibly have ever been seen by the general public and religious organizations as morally wrong. Of course not. Even if it were, what possible influence could that have on the Scouts. Hello. Look at the official shorts. Times change. It's not like they go asking about your sexuality or religious views, either. Imagine a new eleven-year-old scout being asked, "So, are you gay?" No, I don't think I've ever met a scout who would actually call attention to himself or a fellow scout for being gay, and I doubt any leaders would give a crap. Same with religious views; "to do my duty to God" is the only place in common scout doctrine that mentions religion, and if you're the type of Atheist to refuse to say the national anthem 'cause it says God you're more intolerant than you make the Boy Scouts out to be. Hell, they would probably kick me out if I said that I question God. Oh wait. No they wouldn't. EDIT: The Boy Scouts are quite intolerant of jeans, as well. Don't wear them to a campout, or they'll denounce you for a homo and kick you out.

Here's some more \ I think I may end up posting this entire chapter, who knows. It is a sort of side-story, important to the overall plot but I think readers will be able to read it without being too lost. ---- A week out to sea and away from his shameful and humiliating defeat, Captain Seger was still in a foul mood. The surgeon had attended to his arm, setting and splinting it, but the splint got in the way and served only to worsen Segers mood. He strode about the deck, lashing out indiscriminately with his whip and bellowing at his crew whenever the chance presented itself. When he was tired, he would retire to his cabin for hours at a time to brood. Faced with such treatment from their captain, the crew was becoming rather ill disposed toward him, but kept their mouths shut for fear of painful and perhaps fatal retribution. However, there were two crew members who were either much braver or much stupider than the rest, and their feelings had gone so far as to become dangerously mutinous. Gumm was dutifully standing sentinel in the crows nest, reflecting sourly upon Segers irrational behavior and the collateral damage it was causing the crew. Anderson, the second mate who had been punished for eating from the captains personal stores the night his behavior took a turn for the worse, clambered up over the edge of the nest without warning, depositing himself next to Gumm. Yed better get yerself back down there, Gumm said immediately, unless ye wanna go join the slaves on the oars. And thatd be a kind fate to ye. [bleep] ye to be threatnin me? growled the second mate. I aint, replied the lookout, but ye know wha the capn has been like, hed throw ye overboard without a second thought. Aye, I agree, said Anderson, an I aint happy about it. Something happened tha night, when capn came back with is arm broke, an we left without Gilford. Gilford, e never did come back. I been wonderin bout that, said Gumm. The capn wont say, an when Saunch asked im about it e whacked im across the face. Saunch, is first mate! Somethin appened that night, and capn aint tellin. Gilfords probly dead, an we will be too if we dont get ourselves off this accursed ship pronto, said Anderson. He was talking in a rush, now, as though saying it all faster would make it any less dangerous to say. This ship aint safe while capn is capn. Belay that kind o talk, said Gumm sharply. He was rather alarmed by the fervor that lit up the second mates face as he talked of mutiny. Thatll get ye killed, it will, an I dont wanna be goin with ye. Anderson looked as though death would be a small price to pay for getting off the Guillotine and away from Seger. And Gumm couldnt help but think along the same lines, although he wasnt as dim-witted as Anderson. He knew that if he wanted to get off the Guillotine, he was going to have to make his own plans, quietly, and slip away when he got the chance. He was really beginning to wish Anderson would leave the crows nest; as long as the second mate was there with him, Gumm was in danger from the irascible Seger, who was not above taking his rage out on anyone else in the vicinity. Look, all Im sayin is, we need to get away, an fast, said the second mate. The longer we stay ere, the more chances capn gets ter do us in. An all Im sayin is, belay that kind o talk before I throw ye overboard meself! said Gumm, as loud as he dared. Overboard, heh, the sea would treat me better than the capn, muttered Anderson. An if Im thrown overboard, at least Im away from this ship forever. A relief, thatd be. Ye wont be sayin that once the capn has you stuck full o holes firs, Gumm muttered to himself. Still, I wont be saying no to a chance to get off this ship meself. Ill live longer tha way. Oh you will, will you? said a voice from behind the two men, deathly quiet and dripping with malice. The men froze. Gumm heard the rasp of a rapier being drawn, and felt its point press into his back. Let me show you just how long youll live. Turn around. Gumm did as he was told, terrified out of his wits. The wielder of the rapier turned with him, and the rapier jabbed into his back, forcing him to stumble forward. He reached the rail of the nest and turned back, preparing to climb down the rigging. Oh, no, said Seger, who had come into view as Gumm turned. His face was alight with a maniacal gleam, and Gumm stared, transfixed, into the burning eyes of his captain. He knew what was coming, and dread held him fast. No, Seger repeated, why climb down? Its much faster to simply . . . jump. And with that word, Seger jabbed with the rapier so sharply that he might have been aiming to stab his lookout. Gumm, reacting instinctively, reeled backwards and tipped, with a terrible scream, over the rail of the nest. He plummeted to the deck, screaming piteously for the entire duration of the fall, and landed with a final and sickening thud.

This is far, far too much like Twilight. And Twilight is absolutely terrible. The prose here is okay, but I don't think you realize just how many cliches you're drawing on, on top of some of Meyer's more ludicrous inventions. Please don't tell me these vampires sparkle in sunlight.

Now that I think on it, I have an entire chapter that would do well on its own. I might do some revision and post that, or at least part of it. Maybe some of the prologue as well.

Jeans? Pshh. I haven't worn jeans for years. I sort of stopped completely once I started high school, since we're not allowed to wear them. Cargo pants FTW. Between school and Boy Scouts, cargos have taken over. Jeans are absolutely terrible for camping.

I just began reading A Song of Ice and Fire by George RR Martin. I'm halfway through the first book and I'm already in love. I must warn the young reader, though, it can be pretty . . . erm . . . lewd. Finally got the chance to read Superior Saturday and was throroughly disappointed. Too short, and right when the action was building it suddenly cut off in a huge cliffhanger. The last two books have been pretty disappointing. Lord Sunday had better make up for it, or the series officially ends at Sir Thursday.

Take a book. Last year I finished all of my summer reading on the plane trips for vacation. And then left The Red Badge of Courage on the plane. Good riddance, I say. Wish I had known I had reading to do this year back when I took a 30-hour round-trip car ride. Instead I read WoT and played Pokemon :lol:

I'm posting this on another forum for advanced critique, but I thought I would post it here also for your (hopefully) viewing pleasure. As I have hopes for this being published somewhere down the road, all names and situations copyright me. The other forum is private, but I trust you guys enough and it's a small enough excerpt that I think it will be okay. ---- The door crashed open, and Riaeli was yanked into consciousness at the resulting bang and a sudden flood of light. She sat up sharply, her first groggy thought a wish for some kind of weapon. A figure was silhouetted in the doorway to her room, the light coming from the lantern behind it. She thought she heard a reproving voice, but the dark figure moved forward into the room heedless. His face was still in shadow, but she recognized the voice. You must come. Now. Something has happened. Jonas? Riaeli squinted up at the man. Yes, it was Jonas; his face was wild, eyes bloodshot and intense, but it was Jonas. And behind him, still in the doorway, the fat innkeeper Dack held the lantern aloft, grimacing at her apologetically from beneath his woolen nightcap. Marc was with him, fully dressed and clutching that blue dragon egg, of all things. She nearly yelped. There were three men in her room, her in nothing but a disheveled shift with a lantern lighting her up like one of Madam Zaras displays. Clutching the blankets around her, she barked at them, All right, Im coming! Get out! Jonas colored suitably, matching Riaelis blush, and retreated hastily. Dack had jumped at her shout and was stammering apologies with his back to the room. Marc gave her what she could have sworn was a concerned look before withdrawing. She glared at his back. Just because she had . . . ! Heat flooded her already burning face. She was blushing more deeply, if that were possible! Shut the door! Once the door had snapped closed and cut off the flood of light from Dacks lantern, Riaeli was plunged into darkness again. It had to be hours until dawn, yet. She could see nothing; her night vision was gone with the lantern light. Grumbling to herself, eyes as wide as she could make them, she groped around in darkness trying to find clothes. Of course, she was immediately blinded again upon entering the hall, decently clothed in a clean blouse and tunic. She wanted to snarl at Dack about that lantern, but it wouldnt do to be falling down the stairs. Especially not in front of the three men standing in a tight huddle outside her door. Marc was thumbing that shell again. When she raised an eyebrow at it, he hastily dropped it in a pouch at his belt. His sword belt, she saw. Whisper was buckled to his left hip, opposite the pouch. Something was certainly out of place. Dack was simply in a dither over having two of his patrons rousted out of bed in the middle of the night by a half-crazed, pale-haired man, but one look at Jonas spoke of trouble. He looked hunted. His eyes kept darting about, as though he expected to be set upon at any moment in the corridor on the second floor of a successful inn. That observation took on a new meaning when those eyes fell on her and he said, with the weight of a grave behind his words, It is worse. ---- Yes, short as I said, and you might not understand what's happening as the scene comes around page 180 of the currrent draft. If people like it enough I may dig around for some more parts to post here. But for now, your thoughts?

Nessie > Bigfoot > You Actually N0M is right, I'd much rather have them discover a sea monster then a land creature. Sea monsters are so much more "thrilling" then something like Bigfoot. (Unless it's the Cloverfield monster) I believe in neither, by the way. But indeed, the Loch Ness Monster is far more fascinating than some hairy man in the woods. Unless, of course, it's the Cloverfield monster.

Yes, I was raised as a Christian. I can't say I remember whether the people who educated me on my religion did so in such a way as described by that so obviously biased question. It was probably just due to me being impressionable. Of course I have had doubts about my religion, and I would consider it ignorant not to have. Where I am at right now, not even I am sure. Getting past that little questionnaire . . . The cute little cupcake analogy doesn't fly with me. There are no disctinctive 'good parts' of a religion, for one. I might like the belief that I may go to heaven, you may believe in nirvana, Bob down the street may believe in reincarnation. There is no possible way to combine any of these, and you can't try to do so on the principle that they are the good parts of religion, because not everyone will see them so. Without being able to use any of the distinctive traits of completely different belief systems, you are left with the general moral code that all religions generally try to instill in believers. To take these 'icings' and combine them would be redundant, as they are much the same no matter what dogma they originate from. Indeed, you don't even have to be religious to have a set of morals. Lastly, what exactly would you accomplish by creating a super-religion?