Any others at intermediate level?

Forums Fiction Writing Level & Journey Plans Discussions Any others at intermediate level?

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    Andrew Schmidt

    @snapper, I did the test once and got intermediate. Its amazing to see how much a person’s writing skills change a year. About two or one years ago, my stories were horrific!

    Random Stranger: "What do you want to do when you grow up?"
    Me: "Write every inch of your future."


    I’m Intermediate, with a score of 45. 😀

    I’m not sure if that’s completely accurate though, because a lot of questions I was like, “….I don’t know, you’d have to ask the people who read my stuff!” 😛 But I think I answered, for the most part, accurately. 😛 😀

    *cartwheels out*


    I’m a Intermediate too. 📝


    hey speeking of that, would anyone one be willing to read a 4000 word short story I wrote and tell me what level they think I’m at? I got intermediate on the test but I may have been over (maybe under) assessing myself. Just like to hear from someone who knows a lot of intermediates and , what their writing looks like, to see if they think I fit in that category. : D thanks!

    INTJ- trying to grow into real wisdom; James 3:17

    Taylor Clogston

    @theinconceivable1 I’d be happy to!

    "...the one with whom he so sought to talk has already interceded for him." -The Master and Margarita


    @taylorclogston: Alright, thanks!
    <p style=”text-align: center;”>The door is in the key</p>
    <p style=”text-align: center;”>“I am the way and the truth and the life…”</p>
    His wave was coming. John grasped the trunk of one of the numerous tropical trees covering the mountain side. He watched the icy blue ocean on the horizon. In mere moments his wave could rise from those despicable depths. It didn’t. John looked away and continued to climb.

    There was a time when he was truly happy, a time before the wave mattered. He and his wife had lived by the shore. They had woken up to the most beautiful sun rises and every morning, no matter the weather, they would take a walk on the beach. They would laugh and talk about the future as the sand squished between their toes. Sometimes they would go swimming. Together they built a home and it was a lovely place, full of windows and life.

    John smiled as he ducked under a low hanging branch. The thought of her was the only thing that still made him smile. John plunged his hiking stick into needle covered soil. He didn’t want to remember. Yet when he closed his eyes he found her memory there. Blond hair tickled by the ocean breeze, blue eyes staring into his.

    “John,” she sounded frustrated but the pink shade of her cheeks only made her more adorable. “I’m not kidding!”

    John heard his own mocking words once again, “Rachel, five kids.”

    Rachel’s eyes bored into his eyes, “Five kids! You act like I’m crazy!”

    John laughed. “Five kids Rachel, that’s suicide!”

    Rachel threw up her hands. John scooted closer. “Do we have to do this right now?”

    Rachel released a frustrated breath. She forced a smile. “Alright, but on one condition. You have to promise me you’ll think about it.”

    John chuckled. “Trust me I’ve thought…” she poked his chest and assumed a serious voice “Promise.” John sighed and draped an arm around her “I promise.” He whispered and together they watched the sun drop below the sea.

    John opened his eyes and blinked away the moisture. He had never kept that promise; but what did it matter now. He looked up and glanced at the sun filtering through the grey clouds drifting above. He had a few hours of daylight left and judging by the eastward wind, there would be rain by nightfall. John took out his topographical map and gazed at the contour lines. Hundreds upon hundreds lay before him. He shoved it back in his pocket and took a deep breath. He climbed on.

    Twilight blanketed the mountain with an erie haze. John huddled next to a fire and let the warmth penetrate him. Beans cooked slowly in a tin can near the flame. He would have waited for the embers but it was going to rain soon. As if on cue a drop of water shattered on his nose. John didn’t seem to notice. He stared into the flickering flames. The rain picked up, it hissed as it hit the fire. John blinked and fingered the stick in his hand. He edged the can out of the ashes to cool beside him. Unwelcome thoughts of thanksgiving ham or at the very least a pizza made his mouth water. He gazed through the trees to the place he knew his house was waiting. He could go back, curl up on the couch, watch some Netflix and eat pizzas to his heart’s content. But his wave was still coming. Big drops began to splash on his head. John grabbed his meal with his shirt sleeve and crawled inside his tent. He zipped the flap closed behind him and ate to the rhythm of crashing rain. Worming into his sleeping bag he closed his eyes. Eventually John lapsed into sleep.

    Rachel shivered as the last of the sun’s golden rays was swallowed up by the sea. She snuggled deeper into her husband’s chest and mumbled, “Sure is chilly out tonight.”

    John nodded, “Hey, how about some hot coco and a movie night tonight? John saw himself smile.

    “Sounds good!” Time skipped a beat and they were back at their house, hot chocolate in hand. Rachel had a blanket around her shoulders like a cape and she stirred a spoon in her mug as she walked toward the couches. She stopped and the mug slipped from her hand. It shattered. John took his eyes off the TV, “You alright?”

    Rachel’s face was ghostly white. She stared, wide eyed, out the window toward the sea. “No…” she whispered. John leaped over the couch and came to her side. He looked out the window but saw nothing.

    “What is it! what’s wrong?”

    Rachel grasped his arm “John?”. The cry broke his heart as her wide eyes found his. Something yanked her from his grasp. She slammed into the wall and John rushed to her side. “Rachel!” her chest heaved as she tried to breath. Her terrified eyes stared right at him but they saw nothing. He grabbed her arm and she latched hold of him. Her fingernails dug into his skin. “John!” The scream sounded gargled, like she was under water. John saw himself as he scooped her into his arms “I’m right here Rachel, I’m right here!”

    “John!” her body shook as terrible coughs ravaged her body. She couldn’t breathe.

    “I’m here! Just breathe!” Rachel’s grip loosened and her wide eyes began to lose their clarity. “Rachel, stay with me! RACHEL!” She didn’t seem to hear him. She stopped shaking. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her bloody fingernails let go of John’s arm.

    “RACHEL!” She was still.

    John startled awake as thunder shook the mountain. His heart raced and cold sweat drenched his body. His breaths came in gasps. John closed his eyes and lay back. The nightmare. He  tried to slow his breathing. He had had it countless times since Rachel’s death and every time felt like the first. He had hoped he could get away from it if he climbed high enough; he couldn’t. Thunder boomed in the distance. John groped through the dark until he found his flashlight. He switched it on and white light pushed back the darkness. He pulled the map from his pocket. The worn paper felt good in his hands. It was the only thing that gave him hope anymore, the only thing that could take him to the realm beyond the clouds. That’s where he was going; he had to make it. Thunder boomed and John flicked off the light. His wave was coming.

    Gloomy clouds remained as the morning dawned. John packed up camp, shouldered his heavy pack and climbed. The path divided presenting him with two trails; one that snaked casually around the mountain side, and another, less trodden, that drove straight up. John lingered at the crossroads as he had many times before. He stood there and examined the map; he had to get this right. He traced his finger along the path drawn into the wrinkled page. Here he was, right where the trail split. Which path to take… he lapsed into memory. His mind’s eye saw himself before the navigator. Harsh fluorescent light filled the dark room and between them sat a thick oak desk. On that desk was the map. John had come for answers, answers no one else had been able to give. He massaged the bridge of his nose, “I just don’t see…” the navigator’s organ like voice roared over John’s,

    “Of course you don’t see! You are not even a navigator yet you claim to know the path! Have you studied the map? Have you spent countless hours examining it?” The navigator stood and jammed his finger into the page. His eyes bored into the man. “Every navigator knows it leads to the mountain’s top! Where else would the realm above the clouds be? These imbeciles you call friends, they’re lying. The fact that they claim to have found the realm without climbing the mountain proves it! The gatekeeper to the realm itself wrote this map, the keeper does not make mistakes.” John opened his eyes and looked down at the map once again. He clenched his jaw, “There is only one way,” he muttered. The only question was who to trust.

    Minutes morphed into hours and questions morphed into doubts. The more John thought the less he knew and the less he knew the harder the choice became. John’s stomach growled. He growled back, food would have to wait. Noon came and went yet still John had not reached his decision. Eventually the clouds began to darken and light fled. John squinted at the map and drew a shaky breath. Nothing. He folded the paper and shoved it in his pocket. It was too dark now, he would have to pitch camp and wait till morning. He worked quickly, being sure to utilise what fading light he had. Night fell and John climbed inside his tent. He took a deep breath; he hated to wait but he had to get this right. His wave was coming.

    The setting sun blazed through a window. “Sure is chilly…”. frost crept along the edge of the glass. He heard something break and the glass cracked, “No…” her whisper was cold, she was freezing. “John.” She was there now, behind the cracked glass. Her eyes gazed into his. “John!” her frosted fingers shook as they pressed against the window. “Rachel!” he wanted to come to her but he couldn’t. He saw his hand press into hers. A black wave rose from the sea. “RACHEL!” She didn’t turn, she couldn’t hear. He slammed his fist into the glass; the wave was coming. She looked so peaceful, happy. Then the wave hit. “JOHN!” her face contorted as the black water engulfed her. The gargled scream felt like knives in his ears. The window shattered.

    John jerked awake. He was shaking. His wave was coming for him. Frantically he shoved his things into his bag. It was almost pitch black out, he had to use his flashlight. Without hesitation John strode up the steep path, he didn’t have time to take the long way. He began to climb.

    John gasped for air, it was getting thin; and cold. His legs burned, they felt like lead. His ankle rolled and John crumpled to the ground. He fumbled to his feet and trudged on. Each step was a battle, will waged war against the body. His body obeyed, the next battle began. The path before him narrowed; a cliff, on one side, and on the other, a stone wall. John didn’t hesitate, his wave was coming. John grabbed the jagged stone and pulled himself forward. Another battle another step. He dragged his left foot forward, then his right. A pebble rolled of the edge and bounced on the rock below. John hardly noticed. He watched his quick, shallow breaths swirl in the white light of his flashlight. His next step found only air. John hit the ground and began to slide off the cliff. He clawed for a hold.

    He found one. John scrambled to grab the rocky ledge with his other hand. His feet found purchase on the ledge and he hauled himself beyond the edge. John crawled to the rock wall and pushed himself against it. His bloody hands shook. He drew a shaky breath. He could have died. He eased the heavy pack off his shoulders and pressed his back against the stone. He should have died. Eventually he felt again. Cruel gashes and scrapes maimed his arms and blood oozed from lifted nails and cuts in his hands. Everything burned. The cold night air couldn’t numb the pain. How had it come to this?  John huddled in the dark and his mind drifted back to a promise he had made long ago. He heard the echo of her voice in his head “…promise me you’ll think about it.” John shivered. He might not make it to the realm but he could do one thing right; he could keep a promise. He imagined he stood on the warm sand by the sea. Their house was there. He saw Rachel through the window. She hunched there, at the kitchen table, trying so hard to get her 6 month old little girl to eat. His two other little girls were there to. Sofia was teaching Ela to rainbow loom by the looks of it. Rachel looked up at him, weary frustration etched all over her face. John heard himself laugh. She cracked a smile “What!” she mouthed. John cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled, “Just remember you’re the one that wanted to have five kids.” she scowled at him. Something nailed John in the side of the head.

    “Sorry dad.” grinned a ten year old boy as he snached the foot ball off the sand. John smirked ”Jacob, I think it’s time we started playing tackle football.” And with that he ran after his son. Jacob looked casually over his shoulder only to find his dad charging toward him. He yelped and kicked it into high gear. He wasn’t fast enough. John grabbed him and pulled him into the sand. The two rolled but Jacob was up first. He jumped on top of his dad and tried to pin him down. John laughed and pretended to be pinned “alright, alright you got me.”

    “Fumble!” yelled a wild haired streak as he grabbed the ball and spirited away.

    “Hey!” yelled John as he gained a knee. Jacob looked at his dad and grinned mischievously “Let’s get him.” John launched to his feet and together the two raced after Caleb. An especially cold breeze brought John back to the present. He smiled. He would have liked five kids. John rested his hands gently on his lap and lay down on top of his pack. He slept.

    The clouds began to lighten as morning pushed the darkness back. Painfully John unzipped his pack and pulled out what granola bars he had left. Oats and honey had never tasted so good. He washed the meal down with long pull from his camel back and leaned wearily against the rock. He needed to get up. Gritting his teeth John eased on his heavy pack. Careful not to use his hands he fought to his feet. He couldn’t wait any longer, his wave was coming. Carefully John traversed the narrow path. He began to climb.

    Hours later the trees began to thin. The towering trees that hugged the mountain side yield to the hard volcanic stone. John left the last of the foliage behind. Practically nothing could survive this high; he would have to be careful if he was to be the exception. Frigid howling wind pushed against him; it cut through his jacket like a knife through butter. John hid his battered hands beneath his coat and climbed.

    Finally John touched the clouds. Heavy grey mist swirled around him; he could hardly see the path anymore. Another crossroads lay before him. Three different paths branched off; they all looked the same. He was so close to the top, did it even matter which he chose? Yet still John eased off his pack and pulled out the map. Painfully he held the pages. John looked up and examined the paths. One led to the right, one straight ahead and one to the left. The straight path was the steepest, the navigator said the map led him that way. The wind howled and mist swirled. John folded the map and continued to climb.

    Soon the clouds began to thin. At first John thought he was imagining things, that hope was getting the best of him but then the hazy shadow of the sun peeked out behind the fog. John’s heart skipped a beat. He had made it. New energy coursed through his veins as he scrambled to the top. The sun got brighter, the mist melted away and then he was there. The sun shone down from a pure blue sky. Clouds lay like rolling fields of cotton as far as the eye could see. John smiled a weary smile; the realm above the clouds.

    But then John’s joy melted away like mist in the wind. There was nothing here. The wind howled and bits of fog and swirled around his ankles. He hadn’t found it. John sat down on a rock. It was supposed to be here. John pulled his map from his pocket and unfolded it. He gazed at the all too familiar patterns and symbols. It had to be here, he was sure of it. Suddenly the wind kicked up and tore the map from John’s loose grasp. “No!” he lunged after it but missed. The map was lost to the wind. Slowly John he sat back down. His arms burned and his hands were numb from the cold. His legs ache, exhaustion set in as as he tucked his head into his coat and wrapped his arms around himself. “I tried,” the wind howled over his week whisper “I can’t climb anymore.” Time drifted by with the snow.

    John had given up shivering. His wave was coming soon, no use trying to stay warm. “Why?” it was just a thought, a prayer some might call it. But this was a different kind of prayer, the kind that didn’t dare hope for an answer. Like an adult sending a letter to Santa on Christmas day; knowing it would never be read yet writing it all the same. “Why did you bring me here?” The wind laughed. “I read the map right ….This is where the realm was supposed to be!” John curled into a ball on his rock. “Maybe there is no realm.” The sun began to lower itself beneath a sea of clouds. “Finally you can truly see.” John’s head snapped up. Before him stood a being the like of which he had never seen. His skin radiated an aura of light, it poured from every crack and crevice of his silver armor. Bulging muscles rippled beneath a snow white tunic while powerful white wings over shadowed it all. John forgot to breathe. The warrior took off his helmet and cradled it under his arm. Sky blue eyes stared into John’s. “Do you see?” John couldn’t look away from his eyes, the kindness and love within them spanned the width and depth of the ocean and then some. But there was also strength, ferocity and courage that could crush mountains with a glance. John trembled beneath their gaze and fell to his knees. “Do not be afraid.” The being gently pulled him up and John felt strength flood into him. His hands and arms tingle as warmth chased away the pain.

    “Who are you?”

    The being smiled “I am the gatekeeper.” John’s eyes widdened. “So the realm, it’s here after all!” John searched the barren mountain peak as if an entire kingdom would materialise at any moment. The gatekeeper tucked in his wings and nodded thoughtfully, “The realm is indeed here but not in the way you may believe it to be.” John tuned his attention back to the gatekeeper. The keeper smiled, “I am the realm.”

    John stared at the keeper. “What do you mean? The map said the realm was here?”

    “It is, the map lead you to me.” John blinked twice and furrowed his brow. “What?”

    The keeper gestured to a rock, “Sit down.” he said. John sat. “I am the gatekeeper but I am also the realm. I am the door by which you enter and the key which you turn. I am in the destination and the journey. I am the Alpha and the Omega.” John massaged the bridge of his nose. The keeper knelt and put a hand on Johns shoulder. “John, the map was never designed to lead to a place, it was designed to lead you to a person; to me.” John looked into the gatekeepers eyes. Everything he had been searching for, the peace, the love, the safety, it was all there. Could he be the realm? “The map did indeed lead you to climb this mountain because I knew that only when you could climb no higher would you be able to see that you needed me. When you reach the end of yourself, that is where I begin.” The keeper’s eyes sparkled “You don’t have to enter the realm, you just have to let the realm enter you.” John gazed into those eyes and doubt feel like scales from his eyes; the keeper. He was the realm. “Will you let me live within you?” John closed his eyes. It was all so strange yet it felt so right. “Yes.” John felt love flow over him; Peace soaked him like rain and courage filled his veins. His senses came alive. It felt as if he had been dreaming his whole life and now he had finally woken up. Like he had been dead and now he truly lived. John opened his and laughed. He had found the realm; or maybe the realm had found him. The keeper was gone. John spun around, it was as if he had just vanished! A wave of light caught his eye. John looked down at his hands and gasped. They glowed. Light radiated from his skin just like the keepers. John chuckled, the gatekeeper was in him; And now everyone could see it. He stood and massive wings spread from his back. The wind caught them and nearly pulled John off his feet. “Woah!” He imagined pulling them in and they obeyed. John grinned. Just like moving his hand! John wandered to a cliff on the mountain side. He gazed over the edge into the swirling cloud below. He wasn’t scared anymore. He felt a tug on his heart. He had to tell everyone about the keeper, everyone needed to feel this. John let the icy wind mess with his hair. He couldn’t take the long climb down, his heart would burst if he had to wait that long. He looked over the edge once again. John grinned. He took a step back and  then leapt off the cliff. Adrenaline surged through his veins as he fell into the clouds below. Then John flew.

    INTJ- trying to grow into real wisdom; James 3:17

    Taylor Clogston

    First off, thanks so much for trusting us enough to post on here! Just so you know, putting your story on Google Docs and sharing us a link is a generally better idea in the future. Posted like this it takes up a ton of screen space, especially on mobile, and it’s not terribly privacy-safe. Sorry for the delay. Let’s get to a summary to make sure I get what’s going on!

    John has a need – Escape “his wave” which could come at any moment. He used to be happy back when his wife was alive, before “his wave” mattered. He has a dream that something killed Rachel, as though a wave only she could see and feel pulled her under and drowned her in the middle of their house. John is heading to “the realm beyond the clouds,” and that is the only thing that gives him hope. The sound of thunder reminds John “his wave” is coming.

    When John comes to a fork in the road, he remembers a figure called ‘the navigator,” who provided John with his winding map. John’s friends claimed to have found the realm above the clouds despite never having climbed the mountain, and the navigator says this is only lies. He says the gatekeeper to the realm above the clouds created the map. The map leads John on the road less traveled that seems more difficult.

    John has another dream in which his wife is taken by a dark wave. He wakes, continues to climb, and imagines what life would be like with children, as his wife had asked. This recollection gives John enough peace to sleep well for once and not be woken by nightmares.

    After a painful, grueling journey, John reaches the top. He finds the mountaintop is ordinary and not the fantastical realm he was promised. John despairs and declares there was no realm.

    A shining, muscular, armored, winged figure appears and tells John that is indeed the secret, that the realm does not exist on the earth but that the figure, the gatekeeper, is also the realm. The gatekeeper asks John if John will allow the gatekeeper to live in him, and John accepts.

    Structure – Rank Two – The beginning and end generally work. John begins climbing the mountain, trying to escape his wave, looking for the realm above the mountains. At the end John has found the realm and returns to the ordinary world to share the sacred knowledge he has obtained, by leaping down the mountain. These bits work properly. “His wave” doesn’t seem to be mirrored in the ending, though, and the rest of the story doesn’t seem to hold any structural beats. John fulfills his promise to his wife, but this is almost meaningless without surrounding context or consequence. It doesn’t seem to matter because he just keeps on his journey and it doesn’t change his course.

    Pacing and Suspense – Rank One – I didn’t feel any tension at any point in the story. John evading “his wave” was always in the background but I never had an idea what that meant and I received no heuristics to tell me how “close” it actually was. We know John’s wife dies right away, and since we have no time to get to know and love her there’s no sense of dread at her looming death scene as there might have been had we taken a novel’s worth of flashbacks to get to know her.

    Uniqueness – Rank One – I’m really sorry, this just read like a straightforward salvation allegory to me :-{ A lot of the imagery was stock, like Christ the navigator who is also the Alpha and the Omega and looks like a stereotypical angelic warrior. The whole wave thing seemed like it had a lot of potential for being a unique element, I’d love to see that explored more! As it stands, it seems like it was standing in for John’s looming death, but I think you could do some really interesting things with it.

    Protagonists – Rank One – This is tricky because you didn’t give yourself much space to work in. This project seems like it could benefit greatly from being a novella or novel. Writing interesting protagonists in a small space is reeeeaaally difficult and I don’t do a good job of it myself, so I don’t hold this much against you. John just is a pretty cliche and boring character to me. He’s on an allegorical salvation journey, haunted by nightmares of his dead wife that wake him up in the middle of the night. The most interesting part of him, the part I really liked, was him saying “yeah, I’ll keep my promise and imagine the family I could have had.” I don’t know what that thematically “meant” in the story, but I liked it a lot!

    Villains – N/A – Your story doesn’t really have a villain (this isn’t a question I actually like on the test, I feel it should be more focused on the thematic importance of an antagonist for the first three answers rather than another “do I write characters good” question, but w/e).

    Side Characters – Rank Three – This is another weird one, but more applicable. Rachel, the navigator, and the kids are effectively side characters here. The navigator was super cheesy cliche, but I thought Rachel was pretty decent, and the kids were fine for the moment or so they were on page.

    Theme Analysis – Rank Two – I feel like you could do more than is on the page right now. As it stands, the entire message of the story is “come to Jesus, it’s worth it even if the journey is difficult.” But you don’t really show why that is. In fact, it’s almost a little troubling that John is tormented by the memory of his wife and he seems to just ignore that after Jesus lives inside him and makes him feel awesome. We don’t really even see why the journey is difficult, aside from the mountain cutting his hands and stuff.

    Theme Practice – Rank Two – The gatekeeper does as this rank description states: “simply have myself or the characters directly explain the moral points of the story.”

    Prose – Rank Two – I’m going to assume you do care about how your prose sounds. You have quite a lot of mechanical problems at the very least before even going into prose itself, and at that point you use a lot of adverbs and have awkward phrases like “Rachel’s eyes bored into his eyes(.)” Also, uh, you probably want to break that last paragraph up a bit =P If it weren’t for all the basic errors I would have rated this section at least three, though. Your prose is definitely stronger than like 90% of the works I’ve critted over the last few years.

    Show, Don’t Tell – Rank Three – I didn’t really have problems with SDT in this story, so good job there. The theme dump at the end was a gigantic detractor here, but in general considering the very close PoV you did well here.

    Setting – Rank Three – I definitely feel you chose the mountain setting deliberately, and I think with some more development this could be a really powerful setting for the story. Nice choice. Again, I’d like to see the wave thing made more important, and considering how important John’s friends and the navigator and all that are, a greater sense of what this mountain means in the context of the world at large is vital.

    Genre Expectations – Rank Three – Even if I gave criticism before for cliche usage, it’s definitely genre appropriate =P I think you have the capability to go higher in the future and grow in this area, keep on going!

    Reader’s Perspective – N/A – I can’t answer this one for you.

    Revisions/Editing – N/A – Same as above, though I strongly encourage you to at least do another mechanical edit in the future!

    For the N/A questions I removed five maximum points from the test and counted as though I’d rated 0 points for the N/A questions each, if that makes any sense.

    So I, an imperfect and tired human, rated this story 23/55 by the Story Embers rubric thing. This is sort of equivalent to a 29 on the full test, or near the high end of Novice.

    I’m not trying to be negative. I didn’t come here to angry throw things at you or anything, and I hope I wasn’t too insensitive with the scoring. In addition to the great resources the Story Embers team have recommended on their resource page, here are some I think would help boost your existing skills tremendously:

    The Fantasy Fiction Formula by Deborah Chester – Good basic book on plot and structure, focused on fantasy!

    The Golden Theme by Brian McDonald – The best book on theme you will ever read, I promise. Lots of great stuff about character, too, since theme arguably exists to inspire characters.

    Reading Like a Writer by Francine Prose – How to be an amazing writer by learning from the greats, basically. If you only ever read one more book on writing in your life… Well, maybe let that be The Golden Theme. But Reading Like a Writer is a fantastic candidate as well.

    Thanks again for sharing with us. I hope someone else can jump in and maybe give a more accurate reading than me. I look forward to seeing where you go from here :-}

    "...the one with whom he so sought to talk has already interceded for him." -The Master and Margarita

    Taylor Clogston

    @theinconceivable1 Sorry, I posted yesterday but it got caught in the spam filter. Also, I meant Invisible Ink and not The Golden Theme. TGT is really just an expansion of Invisible Ink =P

    "...the one with whom he so sought to talk has already interceded for him." -The Master and Margarita


    wow! Just wow! Although the results were not what I was hoping for I REALLY appreciate all the time you took! No one has ever given me such a detailed and descriptive analysis of my writing and that means alot to me. Thanks a whole lot, I dont think this is the story I want to make my stand on, (you know, pick and choose your battles) but I am attempting to write a novel so, should I actually start writing it again, this should be helpful in fixing my meny week points. Since you obously took the time to know what I need to do to improve XD would you have any articles you would advise, places to go, stuff to do that would take me up to the next level?

    INTJ- trying to grow into real wisdom; James 3:17

    Taylor Clogston

    @theinconceivable1 I think giving yourself the space of a novel will be helpful for sure! I don’t have any articles or classes to advise, but the books I mentioned are a really good starting point. The Art of Fiction by John Gardner is a kind of dense and old-fashioned but otherwise valuable source on all aspects of writing, especially character (I believe this was the book that introduced the idea of flat vs round characters, and why flat characters are sometimes okay).

    Probably the best way to improve is to regularly critique and receive critique in an in-person group, but that can be very difficult! If you have the time to spare to regularly critique others, the Scribophile website is a decent alternative.

    "...the one with whom he so sought to talk has already interceded for him." -The Master and Margarita


    alright, I’ll see if I can read some books then! Thanks for all your help!

    INTJ- trying to grow into real wisdom; James 3:17

    Andrew Schmidt

    *returns to this thread* Sorry, it’s a little late, but I’m here now again.

    , hi! Being in the intermediate level, I’m working on themes.

    (I accidentally posted about this in the thread Advanced Writers, but that was an accident (duh). I usually do not ever do that, but I have to say I did it just once. *feels stupid about it* I won’t ever let that happen to me again. But I’m not here to talk about that, so I’ll try not to let it bother me so much.)

    Anyway, since I’m working on themes, do you happen to have any tips about them of any sort? But if you don’t, that’s really okay. I guess I’ll have to force myself to stick around the theme section, even if I don’t feel like it at the moment.

    It wasn’t that long ago that I realized that I should probably get into themes more – after all, themes are a big part of the story.

    My themes are okay, though I try to improve them. I remember watching Josiah’s Theme Mastery Course, so I guess I’ll have to go find that book I kept all those notes in.

    That’s a part where I’m trying to grow as a writer for right now.

    Well anyway, now that I said all that, I’ll just wait for your response.

    Random Stranger: "What do you want to do when you grow up?"
    Me: "Write every inch of your future."

    Andrew Schmidt

    @theinconcivable1, oh my goodness! That is a wonderful story! Hi-five!

    I should have read it sooner, but I didn’t know about it then.

    Good job!

    Random Stranger: "What do you want to do when you grow up?"
    Me: "Write every inch of your future."

    Andrew Schmidt


    Sorry, I got your tag wrong.

    Random Stranger: "What do you want to do when you grow up?"
    Me: "Write every inch of your future."


    @andrew: Really? *glairs incredulously* I mean I appreciate the compliment but I wouldn’t call it wonderful… It has alot of flaws XD but thanks! what to share one of your pieces?

    INTJ- trying to grow into real wisdom; James 3:17

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