I think I will write today.

Is AI good for copy editing?

>>25416348
>full-frontal
that phrase didn't appear by accident. give us the real pictures from this night, buddy.

>>25416795
I write for about an hour and a half every weekday morning, before schlepping off to my day job.

Haven't written anything in 8 months. The dread is too strong.

>>25416867
That's not a writing problem; that's a psychological problem. Get your head together first, then think about writing.

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>>25416875
>That's not a writing problem; that's a psychological problem.
99.9% of this board

>>25416890
Clearly, NJB doesn't suffer from dreading the act of writing.

>>25416900
Being such a prolific writer, he just writes whatever comes to his mind.

hello! I'm not much of a writer but I visited here to askk for tips for my comics and you guys always enjoyed and had interesting things to say when I posted them here.
I just finished one today and submitted it to a contest for laughs so why don't you give it a read too (reads right to left):
https://gofile.io/d/C2z4DO

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https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/176028/the-chemical-divorce/chapter/3711360/pickup-line

New section of The Chemical Divorce is up on Royal Road. New cover art as /lit/ requested is being worked on for the second edition. Thank you

>>25417060
bro, give it up. what is that thing, three pages long? write something new already.

>>25417063
>hamlet? bill, give it up. write some LitRPG already

>>25417063
Good advice
>>25417068
Frank is no Bill

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ending of a thing I’ve been working on.

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>>25417078
if you don't think this is is bussin', you're an unc

sick of asking ai if im any good at this hobby of ours:

I unstick myself from the wall, shuffling to the other side of the TV where the video cables are plugged in, but as I pass the window I spot a man on the streets below. He’s naked, almost covered in a coat of fur except for his hands which are starkly bright, and barely in control of his own legs. His drunken ballet propels forward only by random chance while his dick flaps around in the air. A failed pirouette of sorts sends him onto all fours, and he must have decided he was better off down there, because he begins crawling. I trace his journey around the street, admiring whatever resolve is keeping him from passing out. He anchors himself first to the curb and then to the almost completely faded paint on the road; lights flicker lightly in the houses of countless families, clapping on and off the trails of steam rising from his back, doused with sweat. I watch how the fat on his body ripples after every thud his knees make on the ground, until he reaches the point on the pavement directly below me. To keep my eyes on him I crack the window open and poke my head out. He’s not moving and he is a ball of pulsing senses. A primal instinct causes his head to shoot up, and I lock eyes with it, and I begin to feel so cold. I blink and it’s stood up, its knees grated and covered with hundreds of tiny pieces of gravel.
“Shine your shoes, sir?” It slurs and groans.
The beast is a shoe shiner. I cannot respond before its head cracks to the left and the rest of its body turns with it in a mechanical instant and it books it down the street, the head loose on its shoulders, looking to be shattered and broken each time it jerks suddenly to the opposite side of the blackened foot that slaps the ground. As it makes an abrupt stop on its heels and lunges right towards the back of the building I turn quickly and slam my back into the wall and its bloodshot eyes are right where mine are supposed to be. I feel my lungs swelling with gas and my arms wade through tar to the front of me and I’m fumbling with the back of the TV. It’s finally happening.
I rip and tear at the mangle, feeling the thunks of cables coming loose from their sockets. The metal gate at the entrance of the flat block clanks against the fence and I hasten and still do not breathe. Something comes loose in my hand and I yank, but the swarm of these capillaries hang on tightly, with a great lurch the excess force sends the TV toppling forwards.

>>25417092
Chef’s kiss

I'm scared to self-publish my story. I'm still trying to get an agent, but it's been rejection after rejection. It seems like I have no choice but to self-publish now.

>>25417490
Just hire an editor first

>>25417805
then there's no point in going traditional if you hire an editor.

>>25417113
Nice use of unbounded-middle fallacy.

>>25417092
FYI, "caught" -> "catches". Otherwise, the sample was consistently present tense.

>>25417805
Oh, of course, your majesty!
Editors cost money, Richie Rich.
Also, there's a good chance they'll just outsource the job to AI and pretend it's their own work.

>>25417490
Are you a straight white male? Then you have no choice but to pull an Andy Weir, i.e. self-publish a book that becomes a best-seller, then the tradpubbers will beat a path to your door.

Hear me out, man vs. translator.

>>25417904
>then the tradpubbers will beat a path to your door
At that point you can tell them to go fuck themselves.

>>25418086
If Andy Weir hadn't said yes, he presumably would have never sold the movie rights to his novels, which is where the real money is.

Gemini's summary of my main character: "an insufferable, smug author-surrogate who is always right, never truly challenged, and casually orchestrates mass state executions with the detached glee of a tech-bro optimizing a spreadsheet." Yes, and?

Why doesn't anyone here write comedy or even put comedic scenes in their stories? Every piece put on here is always drama and/or action

>>25418163
Not everything has to be marvelslop.

>>25418184
if marvelslop quips is the only comedy you can think of, you need to get better as a writer