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#contemporary writing
fyhk · 3 months
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The locality!
Last Twilight kept telling us that Mee’s traveling the ‘world’ and then ep9 mentions that the ‘last twilight’ book’s places where Mee travels (all of them likely) are/are in a local place, this sort of writing the local extending to the whole world is not such an important contemporary writing technique, especially when it comes to discussing matters of the environment and the globe, it’s also so well done! By having Mee not only be a connecting character with Day and the audience, and having the name be so similar to ‘me’, the writers are basically calling every person on earth Mee and welcoming us all to visit the local place where Mee travels! If not physically then just emotionally, as a place of courage and hope 😭
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The idea came to me this week and I can't get out of my head, and I thought why not share. Not heavily edited. Just vibes so far!
The tires of the small SUV crunched over the rocky, overgrown driveway. Talia rolled down the passenger window as birch and pine trees ambled past her line of vision. The earthy smell of moss and bark and dead foliage on the forest floor hit her nose. The first snow was still a few weeks off, and the trees desperately clung to their remaining leaves. The land, as they all called it, looked exactly the same. 
“You doing okay?” Will murmured from the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel the other extended towards her. She glanced back at him, at the trace of concern in his honey brown eyes, and nodded. She took his hand. 
It had been three years.
Three years since she had been here. Before dad died. Before he had gotten so bad. Before he was even diagnosed. Before college or her carefree senior year. She had made the drive at seventeen, alone, in her rusty Toyota Corolla that Selene and Roman had driven years before her. One last visit before she applied to college; one last trip to say goodbye. Her dad had stopped coming out to the land long before that. So had her siblings. 
The land was mom’s. Everything about it reminded them of mom. Especially the weathering cabin they approached. 
The roof of the cabin was covered in leaves, pine needles, and various debris. The logs of the cabin’s exterior had seen better days. They had been restored and treated when her parents had originally inherited the land, but northern Minnesota’s winters had battered them down again. The front porch leaned to the right, wood rot likely decimating the stairs and boards of the addition built before she had even been born. The cabin needed more than a bit of work. 
The cabin that was now Talia’s. 
Will’s vehicle came to a stop. Her free hand instinctively reached for the gold necklace at her chest sitting on top of her khaki turtleneck. 
“Do you want a minute alone first?” Will asked, his voice soft. She was still holding tight to his hand and she squeezed it in reply, dropping the necklace. His sharp jawline flexed. He wanted to say more, but he stopped himself. He leaned towards her, his tousled, sandy blonde hair falling over his forehead. 
Talia met him the rest of the way, pressing a kiss to his soft lips. “No,” she whispered against his lips. “I want you to see it.”
They broke apart. Will offered an encouraging smile and Talia opened the passenger door. 
She hopped down and swore as her brown ankle boots met a puddle. Muddy water splashed her blue jeans. She could almost hear her mom’s laugh in the light breeze. Wearing one-hundred-and-fifty dollar boots out here on the land. All the weekends of her childhood spent at the land had included rain boots or hand-me-down hiking boots with long socks tucked over pants. For the mud, for the ticks, for the snow. Never anything she wanted to stay clean. 
Will gave her a wry smile as he came around the front of the vehicle, side-stepping another puddle with his worn sneakers. In a hooded navy sweatshirt bearing their college mascot (Go Otters!) and gray joggers, he looked delicious. 
It was hard not to feel lucky around him. Their chance meeting at the one party she had attended the last day of her freshman year of college. The summer that followed where they talked on the phone every single day in between their summer jobs. Then the first day of sophomore year when he had shown up to help her move into her new apartment. They had locked eyes across the lawn of the house she would be sharing with five other girls. He had approached her, eyes blazing, and kissed her in the door frame to shouts and cheers from her friends’ families. Over a year later and it still felt that good. Will was the steady in the storm of the last year of her life. 
Talia tightened the ponytail containing her thick, auburn hair, and took a steady inhale. Will’s arm slipped around her. She leaned into it, the comfort of his presence, and they approached the cabin that held a million memories. Vines snaked up the columns of the porch and across the roof. The forest reclaiming what their family had given up.
Just before they reached the front steps, Talia tugged Will to the right. She waved a hand down the sloping, wooden hill behind the cabin. There was once a clear view to the pond nestled below, but the woods had gobbled that up too. The waters were still visible through the pines, lapping against the weedy shores in the breeze. 
“You failed to mention you inherited a lake,” Will said with a raised eyebrow. 
“It’s a pond,” she corrected. “For tax purposes, anyway.” 
He snorted. 
She bit down on a smile. The trees that lined the pond were still at full peak, their bright orange and red leaves encircling the pond and holding on to the last bit of autumn.
She led Will back to the porch. Up the creaking stairs that definitely needed some maintenance, and to the century old wooden door with a modern lock. She grabbed the key from her pocket - the one that had been mailed to her by her parents' lawyer, since she had been states away when their will was read - and unlocked the cabin. 
The door creaked open. Musty air greeted them. An ache hit Talia’s chest at the familiar, mismatched couches and chairs arranged around the wood stove in the living area. A cookstove, cabinets, and a makeshift sink were tucked into the back left corner of the room. A tall shelf brimming with books and games was just to their left. Afghans and spare blankets would be piled haphazardly in the cabinet along the far wall next to the hallway. A wooden ladder cut the room in half to reach the loft above. 
Nothing had changed. No. Everything had changed. Only the cabin had not. 
She could still picture her parents here so clearly. Her mom and her fiery red hair would be sprawled across the couch, a hand around one of her four kids, peering over their cards sneakily. She would throw her head back when she was caught cheating, her lips stained from the red wines she indulged in at the cabin. Her dad would have been in motion. Dishing out second-helpings, grabbing another round of beverages, tending to the fire. 
But they were gone. 
The cabin was empty; silent.
“This is…this it it,” she said unsteadily, working to find her voice. Will had been quiet. Waiting. “There are two bedrooms in the back. Kitchen.” She gestured to the corner. “The loft is where us kids would always sleep. There’s some storage up there, too.”
Will nodded, taking it all in. “This is a great space. Needs a little love, but not bad at all.” He walked deeper into the living area, peering down the small hallway. Talia wrapped her arms around herself as he explored. The memories were pressing in on her. “What about the bathroom?” Will said as he returned from his quick jaunt down the hall. 
Talia pulled herself out of her thoughts with a smirk. She stepped towards the window on the left wall and pointed to the small, outlying building down an overgrown path. Will laughed aloud. 
“An outhouse. Really?” 
“Really,” she echoed. “My parents talked about adding running water, but we’re in the middle of nowhere. They couldn’t afford it. Getting electricity out here was expensive enough.” 
Above the sink, a mirror still hung where they used to all take turns brushing their teeth and fighting to get ready. Talia blinked at her reflection, at her hazel eyes, more green than brown. At her full lips and rosy cheeks from the cold. At the bags under her eyes and the smattering of blemishes that had appeared this week thanks to her cycle and the stress over this visit. 
Will came up behind her, his arms wrapping around her shoulders as he met her gaze in the mirror.  “You’re anxious.”
“I-” It was no use lying. “Yeah, I am.” 
“You still think your siblings will be pissed?” Will hedged. 
“Oh, I know they are pissed.” Talia spun around to face Will. “Wouldn’t you be?” 
“You mean, if my kid brother was handed 200 acres and a cabin in my parent’s will and there had not even been a note for me explaining why...” Talia blinked. Exactly that. How the hell could her parents have done this without an explanation for her siblings. Will grimaced. “I mean, I'd be a little pissed.” 
Talia swatted at him and he chuckled. He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering. They brushed across her cheek next, trailing downwards. “Can I help you relax?” 
Her cheeks warmed. “My siblings will be here any minute.”
Will pulled down her turtleneck and pressed his lips to her neck. Her eyes fluttered closed. “I can be really, really fast,” he murmured. He came back up to her lips and she sighed into him, as his tongue swiped across her lips for access to her mouth. 
“Not too fast,” she muttered, and he laughed. He reached for the bottom of her sweater, and she debated which bedroom would likely be the least filled with dead moths. As he began to tug it over her head, they heard the crunch of tires in the driveway. 
“The cavalry has arrived,” Talia said. Will groaned, and she stifled a laugh as they separated. The car came to a stop outside. A pit of anxiety clawed its way into her gut. She adjusted her sweater, ignoring the lingering flush of her cheeks. She laced her fingers through Will’s. “Here we go.” 
“I feel like we’re headed into battle,” he said under his breath as she led him out onto the porch. A brunette with oversized sunglasses stepped out of a Land Rover, frowning up at the cabin. Frowning up at Talia. 
“We are,” she muttered back as her eldest sister Rhea came around her vehicle. 
“I wondered whose SUV that was,” Rhea said without so much as a hello. She donned leggings, a puffy coat, and knee-high rain boots. The passenger door opened and her husband, Kyle, stepped out in a similar ensemble. 
“Hey Rhea,” Talia said with a small smile leading Will down the rickety stairs. 
“Hey, kid,” Rhea replied, taking off her sunglasses. Talia dropped Will’s hand and stepped into an extremely uncomfortable, stiff hug. Thirteen years older, and always happy to remind Talia of the fact, her eldest sister had an unreadable expression as they let go. “You got the key, then?” 
Obviously. 
“Yeah. The lawyer sent it.” 
“Good, good.”
Talia swallowed. “You remember Will?” She gave him a reassuring smile. But he was the epitome of ease as he offered Rhea his hand and a winning smile. 
“We’ve met before, but the circumstances-”
“Our dad’s funeral, you mean.” 
“Jesus, Rhea.” Talia looked up to the sky. 
“Well it’s nice to see you again,” Will added, appearing unaffected by Rhea’s jarring presence.
“Kyle,” Talia greeted Rhea’s husband who came around the Land Rover with arms extended for a hug.  
“Hey kid,” he echoed the family pet name. When he stepped back he was giving her a pitiful, almost sympathetic smile. “Been awhile.”
“AUNTIE TEE?” A shriek from inside the car was followed by the backdoor being thrown open. A nine year old with a head of white blonde hair bounded to Talia and threw her arms around her. Talia pressed her face into her niece, Charlotte’s, hair, swallowing the lump in her throat. 
“I missed you, bud,” Talia said, returning the squeeze just as tight. She watched Will and Kyle reintroduce themselves out of the corner of her eye while Rhea watched the reunion of Talia and her daughter. She was closer in age to her niece than her eldest sister, and their relationship had mirrored that. 
“Why didn’t you come to our Fourth of July party?” Charlotte demanded suddenly, hands on her hips. Talia glanced up to Rhea whose mouth was now in a tight line. The annual party Rhea had put on since she purchased her first home seven years ago. The first of which Talia had not attended. 
“I am so sorry I missed it.” She looked from Charlotte to Rhea. “You know I stayed in Michigan for the summer. I meant to explain-”
Rhea waved away her apology. “Forget it.”
“Rhea.”
But her sister ignored her plea. “Roman was right behind us-” She stopped at the sound of a diesel truck roaring up the driveway. “Ah. There he is.”
Will had returned to Talia’s side, a hand returning to her waist. She had forced him into the lion’s den and it seemed the way he was coping was by keeping her within reach. Fair enough. The truck came to a stop and out hopped her only brother, Roman. Rhea’s twin. The same warm brunette hair. The same hazel eyes all the siblings had, though the twins were more brown than Talia’s green. He wore a flannel, a black vest, and jeans. He grinned at the sight of Talia. 
“Hey little sister.” 
She walked over with a smile, unsurprised when he lifted her into the air with a tight, airless hug. “Ow,” she complained, swatting at his shoulder and he set her back down. 
“Will, Roman. Roman, this is-”
“I remember the handsome college boyfriend,” Roman interrupted as they shook hands. 
Will dazzled with another smile. “Nice to see you again man.” 
Talia’s attention was drawn to Roman’s very pregnant wife, Anna, who had somehow managed to get out of the towering truck and waddle over. “Talia,” Anna beamed at her. Another round of hugs and introductions followed. “Atlas, you remember Auntie Tee?” 
Her three year old nephew cowered behind his dad who had pulled him out of the carseat in the backseat. “Hey Attie,” Talia said, dropping to his level, but the boy would not approach. Why would he when she had barely seen him over the last two years of his life. It stung. The truth of isolating herself; of avoiding them. 
She straightened back up to find Will in a deep conversation with Charlotte about the iPad game she was playing. Kyle was embracing Anna. Roman and Rhea simply observed her. 
“It’s good to see you guys,” she said, challenging her elder siblings stares. She could not wait to see who would bring it up first. 
“It’s good to see you, little sister,” Roman agreed. “We missed you this summer at the fourth.”
“And at Charlotte’s recital and Selene’s housewarming,” Rhea added.
Talia exhaled. “College has been busy.” 
“Right,” Rhea said stiffly. 
Roman looked between them, and wisely changed the topic. “So how late do we think Selene will be? Anyone wanna place bets?” 
“My bet is on an hour,” Kyle called over as he opened the back of his Land Rover. 
“Be nice,” Anna chastised. Will met Talia’s gaze across the driveway with a raised brow. She had warned him about all three of her siblings, but the biggest warning would always and forever be in the form of Selene. As if speaking her name could call her presence, the sound of ridiculously loud music echoed off the trees around the clearing. 
“On time for once,” Rhea observed as a compact sedan barreled down the rocky driveway and came to a screeching stop, dance music blaring. A flock of birds scattered.
“You should turn it up!” Roman yelled as Selene put the car in park, gesturing to his ears. “I don’t think the neighbors ten miles down the road can hear you!” The music cut and the last of the four siblings stepped out of the car with her middle finger raised at Roman.
Behind them, a cough from Kyle sounded suspiciously like a laugh. 
With sleeves of tattoos on both arms, bleach blonde hair, and a nose ring, Selene was all her own. She was wearing heels. Heels. Along with black skinny jeans, a white t-shirt, and a blazer. An obnoxious ski jacket was tucked under her arm. 
“Hey family,” Selene smiled as she sauntered towards them. “And Talia’s boyfriend.”
“Nice to see you again, Selene,” Will said, returning to Talia’s side, a strategic hand placed on the low of her back.
“You don’t have to lie.” Selene winked. Another cough laugh followed, this time from Anna. At least the in-laws were enjoying themselves. “Talia.”
“Selene,” she replied. Neither of them moved in for a hug. 
“Auntie Sel!” Charlotte darted around everyone to reach her final aunt, Atlas at her heels. Both kids launched themselves at her. Selene smothered her niece and nephew in kisses before reaching into her passenger seat and producing a book for Charlotte and a tiny car for Atlas. The kids squealed with delight, and a sinking feeling of jealousy hit Talia. Will tightened his grip around her. 
“So what’s the plan?” Selene asked as the kids scattered to enjoy their toys. She leaned back against her car, a leg propped on the door.  “What are we even doing here?”
Talia’s jealousy shifted, a simmering anger replacing it. “We’re celebrating mom’s sixtieth birthday at her favorite place.”
“Which is apparently your place now, huh?” Selene countered with a tilt of her head, a piece of her blonde hair falling from the clip that held it back.
Talia shrugged off Will’s ever tightening grip and took a step towards her taller, older sister. “Do you have something to get off your chest?”
“Enough,” Rhea cut in, her voice sharp. “It’s mom’s birthday. Can we not for one damn day?” 
“Gladly,” Talia muttered, turning back to Will.
Out of the corner of her eye as they walked away, Talia saw Roman put an arm around their sister. “You are always such a fucking delight, Selene.”
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ilovejoyjessie · 5 days
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Hidden Figures #4 (The Eagle by Alexander Calder) || I.
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I didn't originally plan to interact with Alexander Calder's "Eagle" but as photographer @skyclad.studio and I came upon it and its spot on the hill, the sun was making its way up the hill as well, hitting the sculpture just right and inviting us to it. 
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With one of the goals of 'Hidden Figures' being to challenge myself to interact with a sculpture's scene, using my body to mirror or contrast its shapes, I saw "The Eagle" as a delightful challenge. 
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With its blunt lines and angles and giant-like stature, what could little old me do to stand up to and alongside the monumental sculpture? I took notice of its sharp lines and sought to match or oppose them - show it I could be tall, strong and monumental too. 
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But ultimately - I'm a human: I fold and I curl; I wave and I bend. I could show the Eagle that I was strong like it was or I could just flow around it: Show it what it's like to be made of skin and bone. Show it - and remind myself - that one doesn't always have to be biggest presence in the room, make the largest gestures to make an impact. Sometimes it's the little things that make all the difference. Similarly to my interaction with "Wake" by Richard Serra, I let small touches make the biggest impressions: A pointed toe, intentional extensions, arcs and waves stick out like many paintings and figure drawings before me would have their subjects do to add an extra visual interest element to the capture.
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Besides, allowing oneself to be its most natural - accepting ones truest state - can allow it to shine like the sun rising up over a hill on a summer morning. And for all the hiding and tucking I did amongst the other scenes in the park, there was wasn't much room to hide around this piece. It was a giant stage for me to show it, show onlookers, show Seattle, show anyone my truest self. 
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I didn't originally plan to interact with The Eagle, but as many of our random encounters prove over time, it's very possible that the opportunity presented itself for a reason. As many pieces of art do, it has something to show me and I'm grateful it waited patiently for just the right time to beckon us to it and deliver its silent message.
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+ photographed by @skyclad.studio (ig) // website
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liliewriter · 1 year
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need a norwegian name for your wip?
norwegian characters in english books are not that common, in my experience, but still there's some names i love that i really want to share.
for this i have chosen to lean on the newest baby name trend in norway; finding the oldest most norwegian name in your family tree and naming your kid that. this means more common/popular names like ola, ida, magnus, sunniva, etc will not be listed (though i can make a post like that too, if that's something you want to see).
a lot of these have an origin that traces back to the viking age and i tried to avoid names that came after christianity. you'll see it esp in names that have for example bjørn (from old norse for bear), thor/tor (like the god), -hild (from old norse for battle), -mund (from old norse for protection, i'm pretty sure).
i tried to keep to names that either are very rare (less than 10 people share the first name) or that are old and coming back - you have no idea how many church records i just went through to find some good old ones. hope some of these could come to use for some! feel free to message, send an ask, or leave a reply if you have questions about spelling, pronunciations, or anything else.
so, some examples that i found will be below;
traditionally girl's names; ragna, gunhild, dagny, frøydis, ylva, solfrid, snefrid, aagot/ågot, thorbjørg, borgny, odlaug, vigdis, valborg, gunlaug, jensine, gunnvor, halldis, undis, rigmor, ellinor, torunn, elida, embla, signe, gørhild, hege, norlaug, thordis, åshild, solveig
traditionally boys names; hjalmar, njål, brynje, jostein, preben, kyrre, sigvart, gunleif, torjus, oddve, asløv, sverre, vigmund, bjarnar, reidulf, knut, gerhardt, ingeir, guttorm, thormund, ørjan, ådne, aslak, birk, vilje, asbjørn, halvard, ståle, amund
if anyone are interest i can make a more in depth list with the meanings of these names, as i imagine finding the correct definitions with english sources might be difficult for some names. just let me know!
(sidenote, i say "norwegian", but some of these can be used in other scandi countries as well, either with the same spelling or something similar to it.)
scandis, feel free to add your favourite really old people names in replies!<3
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esosazuwawrites · 1 year
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You and Me (And Everyone In Between Us) WIP INTRO
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GENRE: YA/Contemporary/Romance
TYPE: Standalone
POV: First-Person
SETTING: Los Angeles, California
FEATURING: Celebrity Romance, Love Triangle, Slow Burn Romance, Summer Romance, Coming-of-Age.
TAG: [wip: yamaeibu]
PLAYLIST
STATUS: Drafting
SUMMARY
17-almost-18-year-old Ezra Thompson is tired of two things. First, is constant chatter about Dilemma, an all-boy rock band, led by the dreamy frontman Andre Robinson that somehow has a universal grip on every teenager in the world. Personally, Ezra doesn't see the appeal. Second, of all being valedictorian, Harvard-bound with an irresistible scholarship, and having parents who are conditionally proud of her. Ezra couldn't ask for a better life. Except she wants to. The thing is, Ezra can sing. Like really sing. Only her overbearing parents treat it as a juvenile hobby and she could never sing in front of people. Ezra couldn't possibly be a popstar, with millions of adoring fans. So for now, her shampoo bottles get front-row access to her once-a-night concert in the shower.
When her younger, spirited sister, Maria (self-proclaimed to be the biggest Dilemma fangirl) secretly signs her up for an audition to be on a singing reality show Finding Solstice, Ezra is mad but secretly grateful. What she doesn't expect is to actually pass the audition and be invited out to Los Angeles, for the reality show meant to discover the next global popstar. All Ezra has to do now is convince her parents to let her travel to Los Angeles for the summer.
Now thrust into the cutthroat music industry, suddenly Ezra is at the forefront of a whirlwind competition full of fame-hungry singers. Tasked with weekly competitions, all gunning for the same prize, Ezra must defend her love for music against the manufactured forces of the industry. What doesn't help is her blossoming romance with both another sweet-faced competitor and an unlikely run-in with a celebrity. With rising tensions in the competition, Ezra finds herself amid a burbling Hollywood scandal crusaded by a bloodthirsty blogger and must stay true to herself or be taken over by fame.
CHARACTERS (intros coming soon)
EZRA THOMPSON
ANDRE ROBINSON
MARCO ZOIDO
RAYNA GREEN
GRACE SHOSHAN
JANELLE MENDOZA
ADD ME ON THE NANOWRIMO WEBSITE!
You can read my sci-fi duology Rogue HERE!
Taglist (if you interact positively with this post you get added to the taglist) (ask to be +/-)
@cryptid-s-wips @stardustspiral @leadhelmetcosmonaut @apocalypsewriters @stormharbors @littleredhatwriting @the-orangeauthor @emelkae @sleepyowlwrites @ashen-crest @alvfr @drbibliophile @lunarmoment @raevenlywrites @thatprolificauthor @muddshadow @violetliddell @shiloh-is-typing and everyone else who wants to join!
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dbergantin · 1 year
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© Devis Bergantin, Decadenza delle mie pagine manoscritte, 2023, manoscritto autografo digitalizzato, databending e fotoritocco, 3432 x 2418 pixel
© Devis Bergantin, Decay of my manuscript pages, 2023, digitised autograph manuscript, databending and photo editing, 3432 x 2418 pixels
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the fact that shakespeare was a playwright is sometimes so funny to me. just the concept of the "greatest writer of the English language" being a random 450-year-old entertainer, a 16th cent pop cultural sensation (thanks in large part to puns & dirty jokes & verbiage & a long-running appeal to commoners). and his work was made to be watched not read, but in the classroom teachers just hand us his scripts and say "that's literature"
just...imagine it's 2450 A.D. and English Lit students are regularly going into 100k debt writing postdoc theses on The Simpsons screenplays. the original animation hasn't even been preserved, it's literally just scripts and the occasional SDH subtitles.txt. they've been republished more times than the Bible
#due to the Great Data Decay academics write viciously argumentative articles on which episodes aired in what order#at conferences professors have known to engage in physically violent altercations whilst debating the air date number of household viewers#90% of the couch gags have been lost and there is a billion dollar trade in counterfeit “lost copies”#serious note: i'll be honest i always assumed it was english imperialism that made shakespeare so inescapable in the 19th/20th cent#like his writing should have become obscure at the same level of his contemporaries#but british imperialists needed an ENGLISH LANGUAGE (and BRITISH) writer to venerate#and shakespeare wrote so many damn things that there was a humongous body of work just sitting there waiting to be culturally exploited...#i know it didn't happen like this but i imagine a English Parliament House Committee Member For The Education Of The Masses or something#cartoonishly stumbling over a dusty cobwebbed crate labelled the Complete Works of Shakespeare#and going 'Eureka! this shall make excellent propoganda for fabricating a national identity in a time of great social unrest.#it will be a cornerstone of our elitist educational institutions for centuries to come! long live our decaying empire!'#'what good fortune that this used to be accessible and entertaining to mainstream illiterate audience members...#..but now we can strip that away and make it a difficult & alienating foundation of a Classical Education! just like the latin language :)'#anyway maybe there's no such thing as the 'greatest writer of x language' in ANY language?#maybe there are just different styles and yes levels of expertise and skill but also a high degree of subjectivity#and variance in the way that we as individuals and members of different cultures/time periods experience any work of media#and that's okay! and should be acknowledged!!! and allow us to give ourselves permission to broaden our horizons#and explore the stories of marginalized/underappreciated creators#instead of worshiping the List of Top 10 Best (aka Most Famous) Whatevers Of All Time/A Certain Time Period#anyways things are famous for a reason and that reason has little to do with innate “value”#and much more to do with how it plays into the interests of powerful institutions motivated to influence our shared cultural narratives#so i'm not saying 'stop teaching shakespeare'. but like...maybe classrooms should stop using it as busy work that (by accident or designs)#happens to alienate a large number of students who could otherwise be engaging critically with works that feel more relevant to their world#(by merit of not being 4 centuries old or lacking necessary historical context or requiring untaught translation skills)#and yeah...MAYBE our educational institutions could spend less time/money on shakespeare critical analysis and more on...#...any of thousands of underfunded areas of literary research i literally (pun!) don't know where to begin#oh and p.s. the modern publishing world is in shambles and it would be neat if schoolwork could include modern works?#beautiful complicated socially relevant works of literature are published every year. it's not just the 'classics' that have value#and actually modern publications are probably an easier way for students to learn the basics. since lesson plans don't have to include the#important historical/cultural context many teens need for 20+ year old media (which is older than their entire lived experience fyi)
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rainbowgelpen2000 · 3 months
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She had a cold, metal, steel, hardened, overpriced, fast paced, unsentimental, unyielding, dirty manhattanite outlook on the world
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HELP ME FINISH THIS SENTENCE choose from below or send ur own
(nyc adjectives brainstorm)
scrappy
overambitious
trying
testing
dichotomous
indefatigable
demanding
paradoxical
congested
theatrical
transcendental
avant-guard
innovative
modern
private enterprise
consumerist
fashionable
chic
stimulating
arousing
intoxicating
carnivalesque
manufactured
artificial
impatient
heavy-handed
contemporary
progressive
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veronicaaldous · 4 months
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Stage Directions
At the marginIs an upturned boatResembles a coracleNo paddle, beachedIn a forest The revenantSitting there againSmoking a damp cigaretteShut against it allGross gardensSnail crushers “People are shellfishThey open and shutLike my left eye.” (she points)“Sometimes, they emitA low whistle…It comesFrom a gaseous space.” Veronica Aldous all rights reserved 2023
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1961closetnotes · 5 months
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And here you lay, breathing in the rain. Your hand on my thigh, where peace abides.
I know here is where we’re ought to live.
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bookerplays · 10 months
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Magma on Schools + Fenland Poetry Journal
What hope for poetry without the next generation? Magma (issue 85) is an open letter to Government on how secondary school pupils could be taught poetry in ways more conducive to enjoyment. The editors Ashley Hickson-Lovence, Laurie Smith and Gill Ward have all worked in secondary schools and believe the love of poetry is being squeezed out by learning facts about poems rather than understanding…
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djohnhopper · 11 months
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100SUBTEXTS magazine: a broad spectrum. Congratulations to all the writers and poets that are featured in the latest issue of 100subtexts magazine. As always, 100subtexts covers the broad spectrum that is contemporary writing, and so issue 9 rolls from Queer to Straight, fantasy to critique, bold to subtle, short to long - and all levels between. By being inclusive rather than exclusive, 100subtexts is open to the full-force of the contemporary experience - and that inclusive, full-force experience will continue as each successive issue rolls out. So enjoy the full flavour that is 100subtexts literary magazine - you're worth it!!!
To get yourself a copy of issue 9 as a download to anywhere on the planet, just follow the link: https://payhip.com/b/k2hXv
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sweatermuppet · 5 months
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Blessed Be by Sol Rios, published in Ghost of my Ghosts
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esosazuwawrites · 1 year
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November 21, 2022 | NaNoWriMo 2022
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WORD COUNT: 45293/50000 (91%)
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So I'm pretty far ahead on my word count this week. According to the website, I could reach my word count as early as November 23. However, I will not be done the story. I have at least thirty more chapters to burn through, so I might used the 8 days left to finish it.
Life is good. I'm finding lots of time to write despite my parents getting on my case for writing again. I recently also had a Dilemma (book reference) because I was worried to the plot of this story was too familiar to Rogue. I'm just going to write it.
I plan to publish this on Wattpad once I finish it, so stay tuned. I'm not going to share an excerpt because Tumblr isn't formatting properly, so yeah.
Also, my library was promoting NaNoWriMo and I got a free envelope from them with some resources. There's one big write-in at the main library so I might go. That's all for today!
WIP INTRO
ADD ME ON THE NANO WEBSITE!
You can read my sci-fi duology Rogue HERE!
Taglist (if you interact positively with this post you get added to the taglist) (ask to be +/-)
@cryptid-s-wips @stardustspiral @leadhelmetcosmonaut @apocalypsewriters @stormharbors @littleredhatwriting @the-orangeauthor @emelkae @mallthologist @ashen-crest @alvfr @drbibliophile @lunarmoment @raevenlywrites @thatprolificauthor @muddshadow @violetliddell @shiloh-is-typing and everyone else who wants to join!
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dbergantin · 1 year
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© Devis Bergantin, Decadenza della mia pagina manoscritta, 2023, manoscritto autografo digitalizzato, databending e fotoritocco, 1771 x 2430 pixel
© Devis Bergantin, Decay of my manuscript page, 2023, digitised autograph manuscript, databending and photo editing, 1771 x 2430 pixels
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yugiohz · 2 months
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a lot of (contemporary) books suck because authors are too preoccupied with plot, too little with discourse
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