/lit/ - Literature

Hey, /lit/ dudes. I, John, have made a wonderful server for all of us to discuss our mental health issues and stuff. We have lots of chicks too, hardly any dudes (you will never get any though). Be there or be a turtle.

https://discord.gg/tSEDuww

>How did scrambled eggs get stuck with breakfast exclusivity? You can put bacon on a sandwich without anyone freaking out. But the moment your sandwich has an egg, boom, it's a breakfast sandwich.

Should I read Looking for Alaska? I can't wait to get my hands on Turtles All The Way Down.

>How did scrambled eggs get stuck with breakfast exclusivity? You can put bacon on a sandwich without anyone freaking out. But the moment your sandwich has an egg, boom, it's a breakfast sandwich.

Are mods deleting Green threads now?

>How did scrambled eggs get stuck with breakfast exclusivity? You can put bacon on a sandwich without anyone freaking out. But the moment your sandwich has an egg, boom, it's a breakfast sandwich.

Are you guys doing a Green-a-thon in anticipation for Turtles All The Way Down?

How do I become more articulate? I always feel like I can think and write pretty well, but when it comes to having conversations with people, I always come across as a dumbass. I forget words, stumble, speak very slowly, etc. Any tips, oh wise 4channers?

agreed but you got the spelling of his name a little bit wrong

>>9377801
>We walked to the TV room together, and I locked the door. We were watching The Brady Bunch, which she had never seen. The episode, where the Bradys visit the gold-mining ghost town and they all get locked up in the one-room jail by some crazy old gold panner with a scraggly white beard, was especially horrible, and gave us a lot to laugh about. Which is good, since we didn't have much to talk about.

>Just as the Bradys were getting locked in jail, Lara randomly asked me, "Have you ever gotten a blow job?"

>"Urn, that's out of the blue," I said.

>"The blue?"

>"Like, you know, out of left field."

>"Left field?"

>"Like, in baseball. Like, out of nowhere. I mean, what made you think of that?"

>"I've just never geeven one," she answered, her little voice dripping with seductiveness. It was so brazen. I thought I would explode. I never thought. I mean, from Alaska, hearing that stuff was one thing. But to hear her sweet little Romanian voice go so sexy all of the sudden...

>"No," I said. "I never have."

>"Think it would be fun?"

>DO I!?!?!?!?!?!?!"Urn. yeah. I mean, you don't have to."

>"I think I want to," she said, and we kissed a little, and then. And then with me sitting watching The Brady Bunch, watching Marcia Marcia Marcia up to her Brady antics, Lara unbuttoned my pants and pulled my boxers down a little and pulled out my penis.

>"Wow," she said.

>"What?"

>She looked up at me, but didn't move, her face nanometers away from my penis. "It's weird."

>"What do you mean weird?"

>"Just beeg, I guess."

>I could live with that kind of weird. And then she wrapped her hand around it and put it into her mouth.

>And waited.

>We were both very still. She did not move a muscle in her body, and I did not move a muscle in mine. I knew that at this point something else was supposed to happen, but I wasn't quite sure what.

>She stayed still. I could feel her nervous breath. For minutes, for as long as it took the Bradys to steal the key and unlock themselves from the ghost-town jail, she lay there, stock-still with my penis in her mouth, and I sat there, waiting.

>And then she took it out of her mouth and looked up at me quizzically.

>"Should I do sometheeng?"

>"Urn. I don't know," I said. Everything I'd learned from watching porn with Alaska suddenly exited my brain. I thought maybe she should move her head up and down, but wouldn't that choke her? So I just stayed quiet.

>"Should I, like, bite?"

>"Don't bite! I mean, I don't think. I think—I mean, that felt good. That was nice. I don't know if there's something else."

>"I mean, you deedn't—"

>"Urn. Maybe we should ask Alaska."

Lets have one of these threads!

>>9325819

>>9293618
"Another bottle STAT," I shout.
"Another bottle coming up!" In a flash, I can see Radar bent over the backseat, his head in the cooler, digging a bottle out of the ice. He opens it with his bare hand, cracks one of the back windows open, and pours the beer out through the crack. Then he leaps to the front, his head between Ben and me, and holds the bottle out for Ben, whose eyes are darting around in panic.
"The, uh, exchange is going to be, uh, complicated," Ben says. There's a lot of fumbling going on beneath that robe, and I'm trying not to imagine what's happening when out from underneath the robe comes a Miller Lite bottle filled with pee (which looks astoundingly similar to Miller Lite.) Ben deposits the full bottle in the cup holder, grabs the new one from Radar, and then sighs with relief.
The rest of us, meanwhile, are left to contemplate the pee in the cup holder. The road is not particularly bumpy, but the shocks on the minivan leave something to be desired, so the pee swishes back and forth at the top of the bottle.
"Ben, if you get pee in my brand-new car, I am going to cut your balls off."
Still peeing, Ben looks over at me, smirking. "You're gonna need a hell of a big knife, bro." And then finally I hear the steam slow. He's soon finished, and then in one swift motion he throws the new bottle out the window. The full one follows.
Lacey is fake gagging—or maybe really gagging. Radar says, "God, did you wake up this morning and drink eighteen gallons of water?"
But Ben is beaming. He is holding his fists in the air, triumphant, and he is shouting, "Not a drop on the seat! I'm Ben Starling. First clarinet, WPHS Marching Band. Keg Stand Record Holder. Pee-in-the-car champion. I shook up the world! I must be the greatest!"
Thirty-five minutes later, as our third hour comes to a close, he asks in a small voice, "When are we stopping again?"
"One hour and three minutes, if Q keeps pace," Radar answers.
"Okay," Ben says. "Okay, good. Because I have to pee."

>My world without Alaska was as dark as a room where all the lightbulbs have been replaced with the absence of Alaska. Thus, I am truly become John Green: Looking for Alaska.

How do I get this kind of natural flow to my writing?

>The thing Alaska did next scared and shocked and surprised me in a way nothing had ever ever scared or shocked or surprised me until that moment, a moment which lasted no longer than one sharp intake of breath but one I have no doubt will last my entire life. She said 'I love you'. Not 'You're cool' or 'I had a really fun time' or 'Do you always kiss like that?' I love you. As in 'I, Alaska Young, love you, Miles Halter'. As in 'I Alaska Young have not only noticed that you Miles Halter exist but I positively adore the fact that you do'. I exhaled. Alaska did too and for the first time I realized she was as scared as I was of admitting the way she felt. I stepped forward and held her hips. 'Are you sure?' I asked. 'I think so!' she replied, smiling. I must have pushed her backwards because just then her body nudged the lightswitch and the room became as dark as my life was without Alaska in it. Laughing, she slipped out of my grasp and disappeared somewhere inside the room. I reached out like a blind man searching for the object that might grant him sight. Truly, I was Looking for Alaska.

Hi friend, what board do you think you're on?

>be me
>work in a used book store
>I'm at the cash register, old lady who owns the store is cleaning up just behind me
>fat sweaty redhead guy comes in
>comes straight up to the counter
>"do you have any pokemon books?"
>I tell him no, we don't
>Owner laughs, says "it's the next big thing, huh"
>Guy ignores her
>Him: "Okay, well, do you have a section for Japanese literature?"
>Me: "No, sorry, not just for Japanese literature, but what authors are you looking for?"
>He leaves without saying anything
does this count?

What about this one?

"Here will come a time when all of us are dead. All of us. There will come a time when there are no human beings remaining to remember that anyone ever existed or that our species ever did anything."

Who wrote this? Your science fiction writer or the magnificent Green?

What about this one?

"Here will come a time when all of us are dead. All of us. There will come a time when there are no human beings remaining to remember that anyone ever existed or that our species ever did anything."

Who wrote this? Your science fiction writer or the magnificent Green?

gene greene

>>8211316
poor quality bait

Gene Green probably

>"She has great breasts," the Colonel said without looking up from the whale.
>"DO NOT OBJECTIFY WOMEN'S BODIES!" Alaska shouted.
>Now he looked up. "Sorry. Perky breasts."
>"That's not any better!"

>Colin believed that the world contained exactly two kinds of people: Dumpers and Dumpees. A lot of people will claim to be both, but those people miss the point entirely: You are predisposed to either one fate or the other. Dumpers may not always be the heartbreakers, and the Dumpees may not always be the heartbroken. But everyone has a tendency.

>Margo always loved mysteries. And in everything that came afterward, I could never stop thinking that maybe she loved mysteries so much that she became one.

>Lacey takes the bar from me and reluctantly bites into it. She has to close her eyes to hide the orgasmic pleasure inherent in GoFast-tasting. "Oh. My. God. That tastes like hope feels."

And then pretty much just all of "The Fault In Our Stars"

>>7889843
You mean when I accidentally buy wordsworth?

> How odd I can have all this inside me and it's all just shit

So the best way to market your book is to have a pre-existing audience who will do the leg-work for you.

How does /lit/ accomplish this? Do you have a blog, a YouTube channel?

Where is the best place to get started?

>tfw you set back literature a couple of centuries