/lit/ - Literature

>>21871820
>it thinks "makes herself male" means growing a beard and wearing flannel

>>17844900
>A creator does not decide morality for its creations solely by the action of creating them.

>>17524648
>>17524668
>Joe Abercrombie
>bad

>unironicaly reading Jonathan Fagzen
KEK just kys, you're retarded.

>>15977678
sounds like projection

>>15944188
>decir que México es parte de América del Norte es "querer ser gringo"

>>12722319
>Larp
>he thinks he doesn't larp everyday simply by living

>>10905362
Just what I needed to read before going to bed. Jesus christ.

>>10426183
>this post
>calls others pseuds

>>9273654

>>8908891

>only getting the first one right

>>8211567
>Craig

>>6110670
>99% of right wingers are just angry idiots who cry "dey toooook man jooooob" about anyone who can't speak English

This is pure ideology. How many "right wingers" do you even know? I'll bet you get your news from John Leibowitz.

>>4829109
Why do you feel the need to get into depth with a story that in itself... had little to no depth?

I've never understood the fascination with IHNMAIMS, it's short, poorly written and the characters and their development is some of the worst I've ever read in a short story.

They made a side scrolling VIDEO GAME for this piece of SHIT

WTF!?!

>4027862
>someone pretending to be Quentin stealing D&E's troll
It's like a 7-layer burrito of shit.

>>2910543
>mfw

ITT: Trolling, retardation, or severe lack of reading comprehension

Everything’s black except this text document, because the lights are off and it’s late. I’m on a coach and I’m curled and propped up and hanging over one side of it.
What do I hope to create here?
A five-year-old me had an answer to that. I can’t even begin.
What happens when I can’t even write about it? I think that means it’s dead. It’s dead. Oh god, it’s dead! My soul is gone! I’m dead!
The clock on my Mac air says 2:30 am. Except it doesn’t, it’s a silhouette of those clocks with the fingers, and I figure it out. I changed it so it doesn’t show the numbers. I look away from it and my eyes unfocus somewhere between the wall and my nose and then I notice I’ve been holding my breath for some time.
I breathe.
I’m married. I don’t have kids. My wife and I live in a beauty of a two-storey house by the British Columbia coast, a five-minute walk from purple starfish and pebbly beach. I work at a publishing house and I want to kill myself.
It’s more I think I’ve already been struck down, somebody’s already done it, and I’m lying on a gurney, un-revivable. The last few breaths are leaking out and I’m slowly turning, into something, into those people without dreams, into one of those zombies I chase on the television when I’m hiding from my wife, into someone who’s stories revolve around self-pity.
I had a world inside me, once. Things started heating up. I sacrificed some of them, others died of starvation, and maybe there’re a few left huddled in a forest somewhere, who learned to breathe whatever's got into the air in there. I don’t know.

high.
i'd love to know your idea of the dream computer/laptop.
not in the context of video games or anything like that.
just for writing, and editing. i'm looking for a nice big ol screened something.
i don't know. i have a lot of money that i just ran into and need to buy a new laptop, and maybe some programs for editing or maybe formatting of novels and texts.

How do you tell stories when you're afraid of writing shit nobody wants to read?
I'm serious. I know it's retarded. I just want some advice.

>>1091090
>Eragon