Written Anything Lately?

[ER]

Just seemed like a thread we could use. If you've written anything of late, be it a song, a screenplay, a poem, a story, or an epic novel, post a link, post the writing here, or just tell of your writing ideas or compositional progress. Dispense with modesty, let loose and brag on yourself if you want!

[Alex]

Ok, this might not quite count as recent but it is the last story I wrote. Did it one evening when I was at RAF Cosford and have only shown it to two other people in the sixteen years since. If you have some knowledge of the Cthulhu mythos it will help understanding it.

Under a gibbious moon something ancient and unspeakable stirred.
For uncounted aeons it had lain, dead but not dead. Waiting to
rise again. Mighty Cthulhu, disturbed from his rest arose, driving
himself up. Through the deep ocean he rose leaving R'yleh beneath
his noisome bulk. His unclean presence polluting the night air as
he surfaced and raised himself in the eldrich night.

Squamous and loathsome, he sped ever southward, to the place his
mind recalled only as the home of his immortal enemies, the Elder
race. Over ocean waves, and then frozen ice he flew on his mere
presence spreading madness and death on the few lonely ships and
outposts he flew over.

Over uncharted miles he passed uncaring and unheeding of the
nightmares and chaos he spread until he saw it. The last city of
the Elder Things.

He stopped at the mighty gates and roared a mighty challange.
One timid teenage Elder Thing pushed by his friends to the door,
cautiously opened it and stared at the prophet and high priest of
the Old Ones, maloderous slime dripping from his noisome body and
quiving in fear piped "What is it?"

In his ageless voice Cthulhu roared "I know your parents are away
for the weekend and you kids are having a party, but some of us have
to work the stars are right shift and need to get some sleep so turn
the damn stereo down so I can sleep!"

His message delivered grumpy Cthulhu rose once more into the air.
Loathsome and endless the creature older than mankind flew back
across the numberless leagues to R'yleh and his eternal rest.

[ER]

Seems my diary for 2017 will be the longest volume I've written since 2005.

[indianasmith]

Well, let's see - all but the noobs in here know that I'm a writer, but -

I've completed five novels since 2012, of which four are in print and the last will be released on May 1, 2018.
I am currently working on number 6, however, I have had a very hard time finishing it.  It's going to wind up being the first book that took me over a year to complete.
I write a weekly (more or less) blog in which I publish short fiction, observations on life, faith, and family, and occasionally just funny stuff I come up with.
And I write posts here almost daily, because I am addicted to this place!

[Rev. Powell]

One to three movie reviews a week at 366weirdmovies.com, a pace I plan to keep up through the next year.

[316zombie]

does rewriting/editing count? i'm doing that with my cookbook. it's something i wrote up years ago and got 25 printed as gifts for the autistic young adults who were in my free university  cooking class, the rest went to my nieces and young coworkers.
   my oldest niece found her copy, showed it to her boss,she wants to see it polished up,so maybe it'll get published, who know?
i'm adding new stuff and trying( with very little success) to make it less detailed .... the original HAD to be super detailed, but in simple words ,,it's hard to explain.

[FatFreddysCat]

I write reviews of movies, music, and whatever else tickles my fancy on my HubPage blog:

https://hubpages.com/@fatfreddyscat

[ER]

In October, in one nine-hour burst of fevered energy, I abruptly wrote a first-person 100-page memoir from the perspective of someone I used to know who died a long time ago, and that experience reminded me of how I used to read about when Joyce Carol Oates wrote The Poisoned Kiss half a century ago, she did so feeling "taken over" by the presence of a strange Portuguese writer she named Fernandes, and when I read Oates so often in my teens I used to wonder what that might have felt like for her.

I wonder no more.

I am a diffidently clumsy writer who often makes corrections and changes, but honestly writing that came out like it was a final draft, barely an alteration to be made. Strange.

The experience of writing from someone else's perspective was extremely odd for several reasons, though this week the one person I've so far let read it said it was the best thing I ever wrote.

Just....gosh.

Now I'm psyching myself up to let two and maybe even three people read it, though one might then print it out just to try to beat me to death with it.

I'm proud of this, tell you the truth.

[indianasmith]

I got a chapter and a half written on my new book over the weekend!

[Pacman000]

Tried writing something for the Lost Media Wiki a few weeks ago. They said it was too short and deleted it.

{{InfoboxLost
|title=<center>Crash Bandicoot Adventure</center>
|status=<span style="color:orange;">'''Partially Found'''</span>
}}
'''Crash Bandicoot Adventure (A.K.A. Crash Bandicoot: Bandicoot Pursuit)''' was an online point-and-click adventure used to promote Naughty Dog's 1996 PlayStation platformer. It was on Sony's official PlayStation website, and it required Shockwave to run. In it players navigated three islands collecting items. The object was "to collect all seven gems and put them into the Great Mantle." U.S. players who completed the game could enter a drawing for a number of prizes, including a trip to Universal Studios. Parts of the game are preserved in the Internet Archive's Wayback Machine. Source: [https://web.archive.org/web/19961222223310/http://www.sepc.sony.com:80/SCEA/arena/crash/pursuit/]

==Contest==
The game was used as part of a contest. Players who successfully completed the game could enter a

[[Category:Lost video games]]
[[Category:Partially found media]]

Not really sure if there's much else anyone could add. I could've outlined the contest rules and prizes a bit better, and I was planning to do so, but other than that everything's lost. That's kinda the point... 

[stine.greta]

I am really not in the mood to do anything, it feels like I lost some motivation to do content writing.

[indianasmith]

My book THEOPHILUS: A TALE OF ANCIENT ROME got a new five star review on Amazon today!

[ER]

A few days ago I gave that hundred-page first-person "memoir" I mentioned to the sister of the person about whom I wrote it, held my breath in trepidation as to what she might say, and yesterday afternoon she ended up asking if I'd meet her because she wanted to talk about it. We ended up talking seven hours.

[Alex]

With some encouragement from someone I've been doing a bit of story writing. I won't mention their name in case no one likes it, but if they do send extra karma ER's way. It's a story that has been floating around my head for around 17 years now. I've been putting it down into paper (well, Microsoft Word). The names of some of the characters have been altered a bit, so some people from around here get various cameos and indeed starring roles. Or at least their names do. I've not based the characters themselves on anyone, just stolen their names.

Anyway, here is the introduction and I hope you like it, or at least don't hate it.

Knowledge Burns.
By Alex Corbett.

Prologue: The End.

   I can see my breath on the cold night air. It comes in ragged gasps now. The hole in my side hurts abominably, and I know it won't be much longer now. I grab a nearby headstone to support me as I fall to my knees on the wet grass. I no longer have the strength to stand and can only lie here hidden for a while in the moonlight shadows. I can't seem to run or even walk anymore, my body just doesn't have the strength to obey me. Slumped down, I can hear their voices getting closer and closer. When they find me, they'll finish what they started and it will all be over.

Everything.

   The right hand side of my chest is somehow both burning hot and freezing cold. A sticky wetness runs down it, staining the tattered remnants of my suit and the grass beneath me. Icy tendrils of mist float on the moonlight. I try to stand, to go back and get Evie, but my legs won't move. I have to somehow kill them all, get back to the temple... back to Evie. I would need her now, more than I ever had.

   I look down at the body that until recently was a living breathing human being, although I am barely able to comprehend him as such now. It is some small comfort to know that the man who tricked me and led me to this lies dead before me, and to know the pain he endured as he died.

   I think again of Evie. Somehow I must get to her. My head swims with pain as a new wave of nausea envelopes me. There seems to be some cosmic irony in this happening in a graveyard. A cold, moonlit cemetery with none to witness my fate, but the ones who bring it.

   It was Lewis... it all began with Lewis. That night at The Society.

[indianasmith]

I like it . . . a lot!!