Five Tip Top Hints to Wordualise a Literary Hit

Here's a fantastic article that Ian found written by Bournville College. I'm putting this up here mainly because I know I'll loose the link and regret never being able to find it again.

The article explores George Orwell's 5 rules to good writing, including an inspiring smackdown quote from Ernest Hemingway. Here are the rules. Slosh about in the original article HERE.

1. Never use a metaphor, simile, or other figures of speech which you are used to seeing in print.
2. Never use a long word where a short one will do.
3. If it is possible to cut a word out, always cut it out.
4. Never use the passive where you can use the active.
5. Never use a foreign phrase, a scientific word, or a jargon word if you can think of an everyday English equivalent.
6. Break any of these rules sooner than saying anything outright barbarous.

Here's Ernst to lead us out with a buzz phrase to look down thread super bitched up on the street:

Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words? He thinks I don’t know the ten-dollar words. I know them all right. But there are older and simpler and better words, and those are the ones I use.

Need to write a story fast? Use Frankenstory

Using Frankenstory you can create a sort of blind story writing tennis match. You write 40 words, of which the next contributor can only read the last few words. When you've done 4 entries you have your story.

Ian served up the first 40 words, which ended with:

"...the park and before he knew it something terrible happened."

I accidentally lost the rest of it due to me serving it onto Tom (you can't play tennis in three's apparently) so here's how the rest went:

... St Mary's apple orchard had vanished. What was left? Biscuit crumbs. Tons of the stuff. This was the work of Fat keith. 'No more cider for Jack', he weeped as he sprinted full pace with his hands failing towards the devastation. The child wept as the chilling events unfolded before him, surely that old woman couldn't have been right? The blind man, the prostitute and the ferrel child scrambled for the last rust encrusted wrench.. Only one would be beaten to death. The sky gods turned their eyes away in disgust. There was no fight. There was no picnic. Just appalling rust induced hugging. 'What hope can there be if they can not learn to hate properly?' said Hovis the God of Elasticity. He backed off momentarily, catching his breath before allowing the last remnants of blood to dribble down his chin. He should have know all along, who else but Eamonn Holmes could have done this? He held his shins praying for death.

THE END

You can get to Frankenstory here: http://frankenstory.com/stories/34ac7a0f