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| I'm a 16 year old guy, am I Gay? Okay well: I am really confused as to whether I'm gay, straight, bi or whatever. I have the idea that I'm gay when I'm horny but straight when I'm not. I watch gay porn mostly (though mostly amateur stuff that's kinda risque, like voyeurism porn and stuff. I don't enjoy the "normal" porn which is the high budget, acting porn. I also am very turned off by all anal porn). I used to watch straight porn heaps but there isn't much of the voyeurism type of stuff out there and again, I don't like the "fakeness" of a lot of straight porn, so I'm not sure if the gay porn thing is just because of the "risque" element of it all. I've jerked off on cam with older guys and guys my age, and while the idea is a turn on at the start, I kinda lose interest half way through. Also, I'm a virgin. I've only gotten with one girl, but was more of a one-sided thing where she liked me heaps but I wasn't that into her because she was my close friend and didn't think of her in that way, and I fingered her and had dry sex with her, and I really enjoyed getting her off but I don't think I had that much of a *****, maybe because she didn't really do much with it. This experience really turned me on and I didn't regret it. I have been with two older men that I met (one near my work and one at my gym). I had oral sex with both of them (only one time each), and I kinda liked it and they got me off, but afterwards I felt really guilty and really turned off by what happened. (Also just a note: I initiated the activities because I could see they were interested and I wanted to try it as public sex is kind of a fantasy for me). I don't really ever get crushes on guys, (I've only had like three, but they only lasted like two days so I'm not really sure what's up with that), basically only girls and these crushes are pretty strong and have lasted ages. I really want guyren and a wife in the future, and can't really see myself dating a guy or having one as a partner. I'm just really confused about my sexuality at the moment, and based on the only sexual experience i've had with a girl, I'm scared that I might be gay based on all that other stuff, and if I do have sex with a girl, which I hope to do, I'm scared I won't be able to get hard. I have nothing against gays, I have gay friends and where I live gays are very accepted, and my parents wouldn't mind at all, but I just kinda want to be straight. haha as you can see I'm very confused. am I gay? |
| you sound like your bi sexual, which is completely normal. I think the only real problem you're facing here is the fact that you feel sexuality has to be labelled, you should feel confident that you're attracted to whoever, regardless of their sexuality. In my honest opinion, I think you need to experiment a little more and and doing so you'll be able to grow with confidence in your own sexuality. It's not uncommon to have sexual feelings towards one gender and romantic feelings towards another. Most of the bisexual guys I know prefer sex with guys but the company/intimacy of a relationship with women. I hope this helped :) |
| Poor Planning Or Sheer Stupidity??? A man was in a work-related accident, and had to fill out an insurance claim. The insurance company contacted him and asked for more information. This was his response: "I am writing in response to your request for additional information for block number 3 of the accident reporting form. I put 'poor planning' as the cause of my accident. You said in your letter that I should explain more fully and I trust the following detail will be sufficient. I am an amateur radio operator and on the day of the accident, I was working alone on the top section of my new 80-foot tower. When I had completed my work, I discovered that I had, over the course of several trips up the tower, brought up about 300 pounds of tools and spare hardware. Rather than carry the now unneeded tools and material down by hand, I decided to lower the items down in a small barrel by using a pulley, which was fortunately attached to the gin pole at the top of the tower. Securing the rope at ground level, I went to the top of the tower and loaded the tools and material into the barrel. Then I went back to the ground and untied the rope, holding it tightly to ensure a slow descent of the 300 pounds of tools. You will note in block number 11 of the accident reporting form that I weigh only 155 pounds. Due to my surprise of being jerked off the ground so suddenly, I lost my presence of mind and forgot to let go of the rope. Needless to say, I proceeded at a rather rapid rate of speed up the side of the tower. In the vicinity of the 40-foot level, I met the barrel coming down. This explains my fractured skull and broken collarbone. Slowed only slightly, I continued my rapid ascent, not stopping until the fingers of my right hand were two knuckles deep into the pulley. "Fortunately, by this time, I had regained my presence of mind and was able to hold onto the rope in spite of my pain. At approximately the same time, however, the barrel of tools hit the ground and the bottom fell out of the barrel. Devoid the weight of the tools, the barrel now weighed approximately 20 pounds. I refer you again to my weight in block number 11. As you might imagine, I began a rapid descent down the side of the tower. In the vicinity of the 40-foot level, I met the barrel coming up. This accounts for the two fractured ankles, and the lacerations of my legs and lower body. The encounter with the barrel slowed me enough to lessen my injuries when I fell onto the pile of tools and, fortunately, only three vertebrae were cracked. I am sorry to report, however, that as I lay there on the tools, in pain, unable to stand and watching the empty barrel 80 feet above me, I again lost my presence of mind. I let go of the rope... |
| I am so afraid of heights now. |
| What do you think about this piece, and does anyone know of websites or magazines that publish flash fiction? I'm just writing this as a submission to a blog that publishes fan fiction, so it's pretty amateur, but I'd really appreciate some opinions. I apologize, as my writing style can get a bit repetitive sometimes. As for any publications or websites that publish flash fiction, please post their names or URLs in your answer. Any flash fiction competitions you might know of would be useful as well. Thanks in advance! ____________________________ The Wasteland A man dressed in old, tattered blue jeans and a combination of a few shirts and a jacket adjusts his goggles and pulls a miniature telescope out of his shirt pocket that, despite being a novelty that he picked up at a toy shop, has some practicality. He wipes the dirt off of the front lens with this sleeve and peers down the scope again, looking amongst the rubble of ruined houses. He finds some useful objects at first, such as a few cans of peaches, peas, and beans and a wooden baseball bat, but after closer inspection he finds something valuable: a plastic, red, rectangle-shaped jug with a spout protruding out of one end of the handle that is molded into the top part of the container, sitting in front of a short wall. On one side read “GASOLINE–5 GAL”. Amazed by the value that lies within his discovery, he quickly clasps his hands together, looks up at the dark, afternoon sky and mutters “Thank you.” Aware of the fact that there are likely other aggressive vagrants searching for valuables nearby, the man draws a handgun, half of it sparkling from the chrome finish and the other half dull with rust and dirt, from the inside of his green winter coat. He crouches and slowly walks near the pile of rubble and debris, twisting his head around to look for any other predators that may be watching him. Once he is near the plastic jug he quickly jerks his head behind him and to his sides, still searching for potential aggressors. Confident that he is safe, he conceals his handgun back into his coat pocket again and slowly reaches for his treasure. Upon grabbing his red cache of liquid wealth, he apprehensively scans his surroundings for assailants lurking around in the multitude of other piles of rubble, ash, wood, and concrete. He quickly lifts the canister back towards his chest and begins to pivot in the opposite direction. He hears a snap and a click. The treasure explodes, ripping off both of the man’s hands and blasting a hole in his chest, causing his to fall forward. From the short wall that the canister laid in front of, one man, wearing a balaclava, goggles, and a tactical vest half-filled with magazines of ammo. He approaches his victim in a short, crouched jog and flips him over onto his back and looks into his face that bears an expression of pain, horror, and chagrin. He pats down his sides and rifles through a few of his pockets, pulling out whatever remains inside. All around the injured man laid small individual piles of assorted tools, coins, weapons, and junk. The disguised man grabbed what he thought was valuable: the handgun, a small telescope, a few bullets, and a handful of coins. The man, stripped of his wealth, began to cry, knowing that he would die, left in the wasteland. |
| Visit www.duotrope.com, which lists fiction markets. You can search by the word counts they accept, so you'll be able to find and extensive list of publications and websites which will consider flash fiction. You need to work on your penultimate paragraph. In both instances where you've used 'laid', it's wrong - you've used the verb 'to lay' (meaning when someone takes something and lays it - an egg, some cutlery on a table, whatever) when it should have been 'to lie' (when someone or something is lying down). So, it should be 'the canister LAY in front of' and 'around the injured man LAY small piles' - 'lay' being past tense of the verb 'to lie'. Also, the first sentence in that paragraph doesn't make sense. Re-read it carefully. It's a fragment (albeit a long one) and it doesn't make sense. "From the short wall that the canister laid in front of, one man, wearing a balaclava, goggles, and a tactical vest half-filled with magazines of ammo"... does what? Your last sentence is in the wrong tense. All in all, I think this really needs a lot of tightening up. The thing with flash fiction is that there is no room at all for clumsy sentence structures or awkward syntax - in a very short piece, every sentence has to be beautifully crafted, elegant and concise, and on that score, this needs work. It's a good start, and a nice idea, but it's more of a first draft that something polished. EDIT: "RedStar--How good is the story itself, ignoring grammatical errors?" To be honest... that barely matters in flash fic. This is more of a vignette than a story - so it's impossible to judge it on storyline because it really doesn't have one. It's just a little scene. That's not necessarily a problem, because it's flash fiction and a lot of flash fiction is essentially vignettes, so that's fine. But what it does mean is that the actual events in the story in flash fiction are almost always of secondary importance to the language in which you express them - it's the nature of the genre. Think of a poem - a poem doesn't have to have a plot or a storyline, but it MUST be beautifully written. The same applies to flash fiction. All that happened in the best piece of flash fiction of mine that was ever published was that a couple stood on a beach and looked at a dead porpoise caught up in a piece of sail. Nobody gave a damn about the 'story itself'; what mattered was the mood it conveyed and the way I used language and structure to do that. The same will apply to your piece - which is why you need to focus less on the story, which you've already accomplished, and more on the quality of the writing, which you haven't. It's not just grammar, it's the general elegance of the writing. In fact, your grammar in most sentences isn't incorrect at all - but it takes more than correct grammar to write an elegant sentence. It needs to flow, and the structures of the sentences need to contribute to the mood. At the moment, it doesn't do that. Like I said, it reads like an early draft, not a finished one, and as such, it's not ready for submission. If you want people to consider this for publication, they won't make allowances for you on that score - they will want to see something polished and well-written. Even if you had the most original flash fic idea in the world, it wouldn't get accepted unless the quality of your actual prose is absolutely spot-on. |
| What do you think about my writing? I'm just writing this as a submission to a blog that publishes fan fiction, so it's pretty amateur, but I'd really appreciate some opinions. I apologize, as my writing style can get a bit repetitive sometimes. ____________________________ The Wasteland A man dressed in old, tattered blue jeans and a combination of a few shirts and a jacket adjusts his goggles and pulls a miniature telescope out of his shirt pocket that, despite being a novelty that he picked up at a toy shop, has some practicality. He wipes the dirt off of the front lens with this sleeve and peers down the scope again, looking amongst the rubble of ruined houses. He finds some useful objects at first, such as a few cans of peaches, peas, and beans and a wooden baseball bat, but after closer inspection he finds something valuable: a plastic, red, rectangle-shaped jug with a spout protruding out of one end of the handle that is molded into the top part of the container, sitting in front of a short wall. On one side read “GASOLINE–5 GAL”. Amazed by the value that lies within his discovery, he quickly clasps his hands together, looks up at the dark, afternoon sky and mutters “Thank you.” Aware of the fact that there are likely other aggressive vagrants searching for valuables nearby, the man draws a handgun, half of it sparkling from the chrome finish and the other half dull with rust and dirt, from the inside of his green winter coat. He crouches and slowly walks near the pile of rubble and debris, twisting his head around to look for any other predators that may be watching him. Once he is near the plastic jug he quickly jerks his head behind him and to his sides, still searching for potential aggressors. Confident that he is safe, he conceals his handgun back into his coat pocket again and slowly reaches for his treasure. Upon grabbing his red cache of liquid wealth, he apprehensively scans his surroundings for assailants lurking around in the multitude of other piles of rubble, ash, wood, and concrete. He quickly lifts the canister back towards his chest and begins to pivot in the opposite direction. He hears a snap and a click. The treasure explodes, ripping off both of the man’s hands and blasting a hole in his chest, causing his to fall forward. From the short wall that the canister laid in front of, one man, wearing a balaclava, goggles, and a tactical vest half-filled with magazines of ammo. He approaches his victim in a short, crouched jog and flips him over onto his back and looks into his face that bears an expression of pain, horror, and chagrin. He pats down his sides and rifles through a few of his pockets, pulling out whatever remains inside. All around the injured man laid small individual piles of assorted tools, coins, weapons, and junk. The disguised man grabbed what he thought was valuable: the handgun, a small telescope, a few bullets, and a handful of coins. The man, stripped of his wealth, began to cry, knowing that he would die, left in the wasteland. |
| A man dressed in old, tattered blue jeans and a combination of a few shirts and a jacket adjusts his goggles.... There should be a comma somewhere in here between the past and presence tenses Other then that I like it a little sad the ending and no diologue but there is no place for that in this so Really good |
| Can you give me your opinion on this short story (under 500 words)? I'm just writing this as a submission to a blog that publishes fan fiction, so it's pretty amateur, but I'd really appreciate some opinions. I apologize, as my writing style can get a bit repetitive sometimes. ____________________________ The Wasteland A man dressed in old, tattered blue jeans and a combination of a few shirts and a jacket adjusts his goggles and pulls a miniature telescope out of his shirt pocket that, despite being a novelty that he picked up at a toy shop, has some practicality. He wipes the dirt off of the front lens with this sleeve and peers down the scope again, looking amongst the rubble of ruined houses. He finds some useful objects at first, such as a few cans of peaches, peas, and beans and a wooden baseball bat, but after closer inspection he finds something valuable: a plastic, red, rectangle-shaped jug with a spout protruding out of one end of the handle that is molded into the top part of the container, sitting in front of a short wall. On one side read “GASOLINE–5 GAL”. Amazed by the value that lies within his discovery, he quickly clasps his hands together, looks up at the dark, afternoon sky and mutters “Thank you.” Aware of the fact that there are likely other aggressive vagrants searching for valuables nearby, the man draws a handgun, half of it sparkling from the chrome finish and the other half dull with rust and dirt, from the inside of his green winter coat. He crouches and slowly walks near the pile of rubble and debris, twisting his head around to look for any other predators that may be watching him. Once he is near the plastic jug he quickly jerks his head behind him and to his sides, still searching for potential aggressors. Confident that he is safe, he conceals his handgun back into his coat pocket again and slowly reaches for his treasure. Upon grabbing his red cache of liquid wealth, he apprehensively scans his surroundings for assailants lurking around in the multitude of other piles of rubble, ash, wood, and concrete. He quickly lifts the canister back towards his chest and begins to pivot in the opposite direction. He hears a snap and a click. The treasure explodes, ripping off both of the man’s hands and blasting a hole in his chest, causing his to fall forward. From the short wall that the canister laid in front of, one man, wearing a balaclava, goggles, and a tactical vest half-filled with magazines of ammo. He approaches his victim in a short, crouched jog and flips him over onto his back and looks into his face that bears an expression of pain, horror, and chagrin. He pats down his sides and rifles through a few of his pockets, pulling out whatever remains inside. All around the injured man laid small individual piles of assorted tools, coins, weapons, and junk. The disguised man grabbed what he thought was valuable: the handgun, a small telescope, a few bullets, and a handful of coins. The man, stripped of his wealth, began to cry, knowing that he would die, left in the wasteland. |
| thats such a emotional ut rintchig story its great! I loved it although it was soooo sad =( you ended it well. without to many unanswered questions but it still left you to wonder |
| B&A: How Would You Like To Critique Something For Me? Only 491 Words? Hello! Ok, so my friend Anthony wrote a little something for his story the other day and asked for critique. I put it up on here for him. Here's the link: answers.yahoo.com/question/index;… Well, now thanks to Melissa he's re-wrote it and now he wants to know if it still needs fixing up. Here it is: “Deangelo?” My voice was soft as I crouched down in an old, abandoned hospital, looking around for any sign of guards. No traces lead to anything except for a step on a rock, giving off a very quiet crunch to my rear. Even in the darkness I knew it wasn't the one I wanted to see. Deangelo wouldn't make so much noise. Chances were it was just a guard. They were standing behind a cracked pillar just waiting for the right moment to strike and attempt to finally rid me of this city. I spoke louder acting as if I wasn’t aware of their company. “Deangelo?” A chain rattled against an old cell, one that used to house mental patients, and a shadow appeared on the other side of the room in front of me. My stomach jumped. A long, flowing tunic was the only outline I could see from so far away but I knew it was him. He lifted his head to look at me. “Si, Bella.” Deangelo’s heavy accent drove me wild with excitement but I kept my face calm. He took a step forward and, through the darkness, I saw his hand drift over the hilt of his sword. He held it there above the weapon but didn’t lower his hand to grip onto the handle. I knew why. Deangelo was showing me he knew there was a guard near us and wanted me to take care of it. He had done this many times before. Another step on a rock and it definitely wasn’t Deangelo. The guard must have tried to step forward without us knowing. “Camilla.” He gave a silent warning and, in an instant, I spun on my heels and flicked my hidden blades out of my wrists. For a split second I was surprised at how fast the guard was running but I recovered soon enough. The man came at me with his sword drawn and, like all guards, held it loosley like an amateur. I shifted my weight onto my right foot and when he reached me, threw myself forward at him. The guard’s face twisted into shock as my blades pierced through his neck on either side and ruptured his jugular vein. My weight was now on my left foot which was in front of me. He let out a small gurgle and then went silent. Blood splattered out of the man’s skin and landed on my bare forearm. After a few seconds to make sure the man was well and truly dead, I jerked my hands away from his neck and took a step back to avoid being hit by the falling body. The guard dropped into a muddy puddle with a heavy thud, dead. Simple as that. “Grazie, Deangelo,” I said. “Though I knew he was there the whole time.” Quickly searching the body and finding nothing but a few throwing knives, I started to walk over to Deangelo. So, that's it. Please critique and what not. Anthony would love to hear what you think needs to be improved =) |
| It's not bad overall. The grammar is quite good, as is the range of vocabulary and the story flows well. just a few edits - "No traces lead to anything except for a step on a rock, giving off a very quiet crunch to my rear." This line was very confusing. Perhaps - "There was no trace of anyone, except what sounded like someone stepping on a rock, giving off a very quiet crunch to my rear." "A long, flowing tunic was the only outline I could see from so far away but I knew it was him." Could be - "The outline of a long, flowing tunic was the only thing I could see from so far away, but I knew it was him." Other than that, it's quite good. The fight scene, especially, was interesting and kept me entertained. Good luck writing, and hope my answer helped! |