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If I had one wish, it’d be me having high self-esteem even when I’m rocking on a wheelchair.
Anyway, my prose evolved again into something I enjoyed writing more often, but I don’t know if it’s a step up or step down. It’s all thanks to a short story I cooked up last week due to a month long of procrastinating.
Before deleting my novel, here’s how my prose would’ve sounded like:
Here’s the same paragraph but actually from my short story:
Sadly, this still legit bugs me, even right now: is this writing style a step-up or a step-down?
Anyway, my prose evolved again into something I enjoyed writing more often, but I don’t know if it’s a step up or step down. It’s all thanks to a short story I cooked up last week due to a month long of procrastinating.
Before deleting my novel, here’s how my prose would’ve sounded like:
Notice the mind-blowing monotony as your eyes pause every split second after the next short-ass sentence? Many times, it was just too much vague info with too little explaining. There’s a reason why I called my own work cringe, and now, I hope my new prose flows better this time.John’s eyes darted around the dim, dank dungeon. He heard the water drip faster and faster above the ceiling. Just as his shirt got soaked wet on the next drop, the remaining orc shrieked behind him. It charged. Its roars shook the walls, but he grunted at it. One swing, and the green head rolled away unto a staircase below.
Here’s the same paragraph but actually from my short story:
Oh joy, another generic-ass dungeon lacking general maintenance.
John fucking loathed roaches, so who could ever tolerate ones that grew the size of kittens? Now, he wished his mind would’ve never made that beyond fucked-up analogy. Leave them alone, for god’s sake! Appearantly, rat analogies were an afterthought—or rat bastard analogies—because they were never human even when he met that goddamn phony as a toddler.
That was the jist of it, though: roach or Jehovah’s witness, they were all phonies. He’d stomp on the latter if it was legal, as he did now for the former. But the biggest posers of all just had to disturb the ambient water droplets above the ceiling; it soothed his migraine, goddamn it.
Once again, another orc bastard had its “fully severed” neck dangling as it roared at John; once again, his side swings were still mid at best. Oh, just fuck right off!
Thankfully, that annoying war cry failed to collapse the entire dungeon to kingdom come—but after kicking the rotten green head downstairs to the lower levels, John massaged his temples. He’d fucking sit on this wall and never get up if he wanted to. Yet the most head-splitting problem awaited him below: more phonies. Whatever goddamn, stupid, useless, ax-wielding dipshit would charge at him again in full swing, he always had spare pieces of paper he’d shove down where the sun didn’t shine. Hearing loss and muteness was all he yearned for at that point.
And that’s about it. My preffered prose is pretty lengthy but with tons of inner monologue to combat info-dumping. I also tend to add in references whenever I can to incorporate them into my own story.«Quest 3 Complete» Enter deeper level or go back to spawn?
Sadly, this still legit bugs me, even right now: is this writing style a step-up or a step-down?