I've been doing a bit of study on a concept that, why bafflingly easy to consider, is one I'm finding a little more difficult to actually integrate and apply.

In a word: stresses.

When we think of a poem, the most basic form is a basic AABB rhyming couplet

Roses are red
Violets are blue
You are dead
so I'll pheonix down you

Anybody, learned or no, can recognize the fundamental poety-ness about these lines.

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I was going to write a bigger, longer winded and more prentious review for the series, but my thoughts were too erratically placed and I couldn't be all that bothered to do this when it's primarily for my own enjoyment and thought-orderlyifying.

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Hello, I am your WRITE reviewer. I understand that you’re a beginner at writing, so please don’t take it as personal attack of any kind that I call out some rather prominent issues with your writing. It’s really not all that bad these things considered, and this is simply part of the learning curve of improving in experience and skill.

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With Valentine's approaching swiftly, I was thinking on love. Love, love, love.

What is love? It's a great big complex feelsy thing, for starters, but that's pretty lame as answers go.

So I wrote a story. Am writing a story. Writing multiple stories.

I'm calling it Love is...? , and each short chapter attempts to explore an aspect of the vastness that is love.

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A few weeks ago the phone line exchange pole near my house was struck by lightning. Fun night, but it made for a boring follow up. I am now back, with fitful spats of writing to attest to that. More info when I have something definitive I feel like publishing.

That is all.

To give this blog some actual value, let me add this for my PvSC readers:

What do you Want to see happen? What do you Think will happen? What types of chapters stand out? Which fall flat?

Me neither.
So I wroted a gooder one.
Flag Carriers, check it out-

The story may be found here: Drip

Do take a look.

Firstly, The sequel to Melt is writ. It's called Drip, which continues the tradition of four letter single syllable words with a liquidish aspect about them set forth by its predecssor. I was hoping to post it tonight, but there were internet troubles so it will instead be up tommorow. Look for it then.

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RIGHT. STOP. THINK. WRITE. ~a dialogue of one on the eternal topic of figuring out what the hell it is I'm actually writing and how to do it better~

What are we looking at here?
It’s where the story is meandering.
What does that mean?
It mean’s the plot’s gone thin, flat, spread out.
How did that happen?
It means that I got off track, just started pressing in whatever direction there so happened to be occurring to me.
Is it bad?

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