Why People Hate Rainbow Ponies by MakingFunOfStuff, literature
Literature
Why People Hate Rainbow Ponies
or
In Defense of the Word 'Cringey'
This isn't a contradiction of the popular argument against bullying individual artists. It's an elaboration on why the issue is more complicated.
Let's get passed the "live and let live" formalities, and admit some people have negative opinions. Not everybody agrees certain types of art are harmless. This is an explanation of why the sides exist, so we can get to the root of the matter and admit it's not about rainbow ponies. I don't support attacking individuals. I do support posting general criticism against specific trends or tropes. I believe in objectivity.
This is a war of personal philosophies, n
Ulterior Motives in Stories by MakingFunOfStuff, literature
Literature
Ulterior Motives in Stories
Subjectivity relates to what we prefer. Objectivity relates to how something is despite how we feel about it. Some stories are objectively better quality than others. If we enjoy or get something out of a bad story it's because there was something good in us, not the story.
A story that fails to live up to the standards it set for itself or has a foundation built on the sand is failing in quality. We can debate whether or not it fails in this way. Refusing to acknowledge that there can be real levels of quality in storytelling because everything is "subjective" is the thing that's close-minded.
The best stories are the most particular. The
There's something inside all of us which stories stem from. Talent relates to how much we understand these things and are able to control them (instead of letting them control us). We have curiosities and passions that lead to the same places over and over when we follow them blindly. The more we can understand our base tendencies the more power we can have over them and our story. We may have different opinions about how to control these passions, but writing with no plan or opinions only leads to what I call a "base story." I’ll try to explain what I mean by this.
Don't confuse base stories with "basic" (underdeveloped) stories. Base
Priorities in a Story by MakingFunOfStuff, literature
Literature
Priorities in a Story
I have noticed certain priorities that beginners have when they tell stories, vs. priorities that professional authors seem to have when they tell theirs.
It's interesting that beginners tend to focus on certain things that more experienced authors seem to grow out of, and it makes me wonder why.
I've decided to make a list about some of these things. Not for the sake of putting them down, so much as because it is interesting to me, and probably worth considering.
I think we need to think about WHY we write certain things, and our attitude behind it. This is what makes certain topics either immature or mature.
However the line is often bl
2. Love (Stupid High School Romance) by CrazyMouseInc, literature
Literature
2. Love (Stupid High School Romance)
He sat down next to her on the curb. She just happened to be there, like she always was. She was always around when he needed her to be.
“Hey, Vii,” he said calmly. He was panting a little bit from the walk.
“Hi, Bear,” she didn’t even look as he sat down next to her.
There was a short silence between them, as if they were waiting to see who would ask first. The obvious answer was Vii, the straight-forward, bold girl she was took every challenging and awkward statement head-on. Bear liked that about his best friend very much.
“Still a virgin?”
“Yeah,” he sighed out, thankful to relieve the
It was nighttime and things were quiet; the soft moonlight rained down on the earth below.
He smiled at the cool feeling of the black around him. The familiarity of darkness settled his spirit in ways that he believed only humans could understand.
It was comfort, like being held by someone you were close to. How close he was to the darkness; they were brothers, a bond that could never be broken.
Yes, that was why he smiled at shadows and stayed close to the shade. They were family. They were of the same essence, the very same.
“Hikuro?”
He lifted his head. Turning around, the black haired adolescent saw his dear friend. “Hel
Hugh returned from his nightly activities. He usually walked in with a slight smirk as he was always proud of his own success, but this time was different.
Hugh appeared tired. His eyes were only half open and the irises seemed to have lost a bit of their shine. Natalie noticed these slight changes and wondered if something had gone wrong. No, if he had been caught, he would have started rushing her out of the room already.
“How did it go?” she asked timidly. If something had gone wrong, he was about to rant about it.
The dull, weary eyes shifted and he turned toward her. His sigh sounded like lead as it left his lungs and he gr
1. Introduction (Sector 13) by CrazyMouseInc, literature
Literature
1. Introduction (Sector 13)
He set her on the ground and she stood on her own two feet. Her long brown ponytails were now a slightly singed mess as were her clothes, the pink dress and shoes set. She shivered, her adrenaline making her shake. She needed to calm down, process what happened, what was happening.
This young man had saved her life. His hair was black and unkempt. His eyes were the most beautiful blue; the pupils were slitted when she first saw him, but since they had arrived at this underground bunker, they had gone back to what could be considered normal.
In all honesty, she wanted him to hold her. She felt comforted by his presence; he stayed right at her
He smelled like spice and cheap perfume and we lived in a world of cheap money and lipstick stains. Where the most romantic thing to be done is a chaste kiss as he left the motel room. We lived in a world of dirty rooms and stained bed sheets, the kind you didn't want to touch in case of diseases. We never cared about that, did we, love?
There was never any time for words. We had no reason to speak, just desperate touches and a need to be held. We never belonged. He was a prince but I was no princess. But oh, how you made me feel like royalty.
He belonged in a world of lies and deception, of fake smiles and party tricks. I lived in a world
It was secret looks and stolen kisses, eyes that shone and quickening heart beats.
It was smudged lipstick and lost clothes, and no words that had to be said in the morning. It was the way your green eyes darkened and your jaw tightened. It was the way I could never back down and never let you win.
It wasn't safe. It wasn't right. But oh, love, how I'd give up anything for one more night with you.
It was the way you protected me by hurting me. It was the way you pulled me into alcoves and stole my words. It was the way that I never felt alive unless you were with me.
It was desperate. It was needy. It was the way that you whispered "I dar