Iridescence and intermediate boots.
I gave constructive criticism to the author of "Rescued."
She didn't like it.
Tomorrow, I shall MST an angry e-mail for you.
TITLE:Enticed Passion
CULPRIT:SpArRoWsWeNcH
SUMMARY:He doesn't stay all night. Or he didn't, until she came along. A new style of writing, I, as an author, am trying out. Stick to your old style. Please review! Thanks! -Jaimie
Best First line: "The supernatural, iridescent parcel of light reflects in his direction as his intermediate boot stumbles into the land he knows so significantly." *pounds on her desk, howling with laughter*
Verdict:
NAME: Catherine
HAIR: "Golden locks tumbled softly unto her shoulders."
EYES: Color is not described, although they glint and glitter a lot.
DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: She is a beautiful whore.
OH-SO-SPESHUL POSSESSIONS: A hair clip.
OBNOXIOUS AND/OR IMPLAUSIBLE ORIGINS: Tortuga.
OBNOXIOUS AND/OR IMPLAUSIBLE CANON CONNECTIONS/AFFIILATIONS: Jack's One True Love.
SOOPER SPESHUL ABILITIES: Making "poetic" speeches at the drop of a hat.
The "Plot": Jack goes to this whorehouse. He spies Sue. He is smitten. Secondly, he is devoted to her, with lots of bad description. Then, just when we suspected a plot was going to get going, he shows that he adores her. Next, he absolutely is infatuated with her. And finally, they are invited to Will and Elizabeth's wedding and Jack looooooooooooooooves Catherine!
If you can find a real plot in here somewhere, please let me know.
Notes:
Worst. Prose. Ever.
I'm not talking about spelling or grammar. There are very few anachronisms. It's mostly historically accurate.
But, so help me, I could not finish reading it.
This, dear readers, is what a fanfic would be like if it were typed jointly by a dictionary, a Scrabble board, and a first-year student of English. This tripe can fool the spell-checker, but yeesh, the prepositions! The word order! The malapropisms!
All throughout the story, lines like this keep cropping up: "A few golden coins had found themselves removed from their original retirement of the Captain's cloak pocket and in-between the breasts of the greedy whores who waited relentlessly for their turn." The sentence is wordy, packed with five-dollar diction, and yet it has glaring errors. I think the author meant to write coat pocket, not cloak pocket, and the phrasing (coins "retiring" in his pocket?) sounds silly.
I gave up commenting about five paragraphs in. Every single line is ridiculous. There's no point in highlighting the worst of the fic, because every phrase is equally appalling.
Hideous excerpt #1
The supernatural, iridescent parcel of light reflects in his direction as his intermediate boot stumbles into the land he knows so significantly. Someone has squeegeed all of the adjectives out of her thesaurus. He didn't walk, saunter, or steal in, oh no. He stumbled. He stumbled so beautifully in the drunken sway that many fathom in an understandable amount of awe- the stumble that we can also mistake as the sea legs. He owns pure sea legs that are only acquired by the mere being of one on a ship for an allotted amount of time.
His entrance was like any other that the men in the tavern had experienced- the echo of his voice amongst the crowd, the pouring of women from the central corners of the pub, and the bold order of the tankards of rum he required from the bartender. I never thought boldness was the mark of someone who ordered alcohol from a pub. Strangers to his being whisper the name that fills the entire saloon- Jack Sparrow. He could clearly hear his name being recalled throughout the crowd.
"'ey, ye addled fools! It's Captain Jack Sparrow to ye!" He announced to the lot of the scoundrels that he be addressed as the Captain of his ship- The Black Pearl. His mission was to enlighten the crowd of his title being that of proper name. Is this author a non-native English speaker, or is she just trying to sound fancy? A hefty, warming chuckle resounded throughout the building as old acquaintances associated themselves with the Captain just as they had a mere few months prior to his recent incident of finding himself once again in the pleasurable town of Tortuga.
A number of quick whores had scattered themselves squarely on his lap and fondled him for a bit of his satisfaction. A few golden coins had found themselves removed from their original retirement of the Captain's cloak pocket He has a cloak? and in-between the breasts of the greedy whores who waited relentlessly for their turn.
"'ere ye go, Cap'n." A bartender of medium weight had delivered the many tankards to the Captain's table and allowed them to spill ever so gallantly How do you spill something gallantly? over the edges of their tops, creating deliberate patterns in the groves of the wooden counter. Pine or oak groves? The Captain wittingly flashed his smirk of gold in the tender's direction and tossed a few measly coins in the man's bearing, simply hoping to find a few adoring glances in his direction from a number of his newfound captors of his splendor. That's it. *bangs on the walls of the fic* Get me out of here!
Hideous excerpt #2
The stars seemed to brighten themselves as the pair began a waltz at a timely pace, rocking to the deep motion of the sea. One hand of each rested peacefully between the fingers of the other; a perfect match. Her delicate fingers were placed ever so gracefully atop his shoulder, that same shoulder's hand resting sturdily against the small of her back. A thin chemise wasn't quite enough to satisfy the woman of the warmth she needed in the crisp night, therefore pressuring the Captain to hold her a bit closer than what would be considered proper for a basic waltz.
Footsteps fell politely aside each other as the pair moved swiftly across the decks; no sounds made, no words spoken. And if the sky could reflect the innermost thoughts of a being, two lovers would come across as clouds on the horizon. A deep breeze fell between the slight morsel of space that still lay between them, her body contracting to the briskness. He concealed that space with a change in pace as they continued their living reverie, her head falling tenderly upon his shoulder.
"Jack?" She called to him as though he would not answer.
"Hmm?" Their pace did not falter.
"Where did you learn how to dance?" The words seem to slip in their volume as each came from her lips.
"After my father died, mother needed a figure to accompany her to the festivities of the town. Not that a figure comes the equality of a human. I wasn't much more than a burden to her as opposed to her son." The velocity grew less rapid as the words were exchanged. "Hidden away and only called upon when needed was all I'd appeared as."
Catherine instantaneously pulled away, as did her expression morph from peacefulness to one of anger and bewilderment. She searched in his eyes for any hint of emotion, and much failing to do so, abruptly ended the footfall.
"Please continue," he whispered, "it comforts me." They found the contented place upon each other's bodies with their hands and continued precisely where they had left off. "I'd stolen away to find books on a sailor's life in the hours of darkness when I was sure that my name wouldn't be called upon, releasing myself into the world I did not know. Coming back with an inspiration to learn was all that I needed to know something better was for me." A sad grin darkened his eyes. "And now, I have found what I was looking for. The Pearl- something to call my own, and all of the riches that money can buy."
Hideous excerpt #3
Rain had begun to fall hard upon the windows and thunder cracked vividly in the distant sea. Streams of water separated themselves into minor groups as they reached and cascaded down the window and spread slickly down the pane. Candles had set the room in a warm manner and no lights had been lit. The only view they allowed the Captain to discover were red, silk drapes patterned in triangles along every window. The two now tired bodies lay as one on the bed, and several minutes had passed their lives. Jack slipped himself out of the bed and brushed a hand over the woman's face beside him.
"Good night," he whispered it so softly that it was almost as though he simply mimed it. The oak door laid feet away from the man and he plumaged a few steps ahead. And when his hand felt the rough grooves etched into the wood, he halted. His cloak still lay settled in his arms and he spread it before him, reaching towards its corner.
His hand plummeted deep into its space and reached for an item of adoration to him. And the light showed a compass resting in his hands. It was simply a compass that didn't point north. And he pressed it unto the night table dwelling beside the bed of the sleeping woman.
The Following Day…
The previous storm had broken into a morning of a dawn of truthful beauty. The waves tugged at the shoreline every few moments and birds flew effortlessly over the horizon. A cloud didn't rest in site and the crunching of gravel beneath your feet could be heard steadily. And then dusk broke the silence, erasing the day's past into a newfound world in the center of town, Hope & Anchor.
Hope & Anchor. The name swayed on its wooden plaque in the light breeze announcing the bundles of enjoyment to occur in the late ours of the darkness. This was not the house of whores, not by any means; this was the house of drunkenness, the house of sheer merriment to find yourself in painful headache when the sunlight glistens through the blinds of your window.
Surely Jack Sparrow was the final captor to the bar, though the one of most interest to the womenfolk. His off-white chemise, now resting on his chest in plots of rum, soaked him to the skin due to careless attempts to place the rum actually in his mouth.
The men haphazardly scattered about the room had gradually inched their way to the Captain's table, and never once allowed themselves to be parched of thirst as the Captain continuously ordered, "Drinks all around," for the men so intrigued in his tales. And any man who wasn't listening, crowed about the small table, was simply a passed out, unable to hold his rum- The poor man who had consumed a bit too much rum for his own well being.
And a 'thump' shattered the recreated legends, and men covering the Captain's view of the doorway dodged out of his line of site almost as quickly as a woman was revealed in the dusty light.
"Jack Sparrow, I've searched every pub on this land, and of course you happen to be in the last one I check!" Her voice was full of rage and she was quite short of breath. Droplets of sweat littered her face and small curls had begun to peek from their holder of a clip.
The Captain instantaneously jumped from his seat and rushed to the woman's side. "What are ye doin' 'ere, love? Ye shan't be interruptin' the infamous captain in the middle 'o his tale, yet alone burst in screamin' at me by me improper- ye look lovely by the way- title."
"I thought I'd return this 'artifact' you happened to leave by my side last night."
"Ah, I was hoping you'd be much favoring the decision to drop me off my compass. But I also had the thought in mind as to why you would return me a compass that is seemingly broken." A sly grin plastered his face into its own sea of mystery and confusion to the receiver of his words.
"And I figured, 'what would this man be keeping a broken compass for if it were no use to him?' So it must mean something, Jack?"
"Aye, something I don't intend on telling ye, young Miss. And I believe you were harboring a secret desire to find me lying next to you in the sheets as well?"
"And what if I was?" She began to playfully tug at the hem of his shirt and slowly unbutton the clasps, bringing her body closer to his and feeling the tickling of his mustache upon her face.
"Wait until we get aboard, my love." And he kissed her forehead.
Anyone who made it through all three excerpts: kudos. You deserve a gold pirate medallion.
She didn't like it.
Tomorrow, I shall MST an angry e-mail for you.
TITLE:Enticed Passion
CULPRIT:SpArRoWsWeNcH
SUMMARY:He doesn't stay all night. Or he didn't, until she came along. A new style of writing, I, as an author, am trying out. Stick to your old style. Please review! Thanks! -Jaimie
Best First line: "The supernatural, iridescent parcel of light reflects in his direction as his intermediate boot stumbles into the land he knows so significantly." *pounds on her desk, howling with laughter*
Verdict:
NAME: Catherine
HAIR: "Golden locks tumbled softly unto her shoulders."
EYES: Color is not described, although they glint and glitter a lot.
DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: She is a beautiful whore.
OH-SO-SPESHUL POSSESSIONS: A hair clip.
OBNOXIOUS AND/OR IMPLAUSIBLE ORIGINS: Tortuga.
OBNOXIOUS AND/OR IMPLAUSIBLE CANON CONNECTIONS/AFFIILATIONS: Jack's One True Love.
SOOPER SPESHUL ABILITIES: Making "poetic" speeches at the drop of a hat.
The "Plot": Jack goes to this whorehouse. He spies Sue. He is smitten. Secondly, he is devoted to her, with lots of bad description. Then, just when we suspected a plot was going to get going, he shows that he adores her. Next, he absolutely is infatuated with her. And finally, they are invited to Will and Elizabeth's wedding and Jack looooooooooooooooves Catherine!
If you can find a real plot in here somewhere, please let me know.
Notes:
Worst. Prose. Ever.
I'm not talking about spelling or grammar. There are very few anachronisms. It's mostly historically accurate.
But, so help me, I could not finish reading it.
This, dear readers, is what a fanfic would be like if it were typed jointly by a dictionary, a Scrabble board, and a first-year student of English. This tripe can fool the spell-checker, but yeesh, the prepositions! The word order! The malapropisms!
All throughout the story, lines like this keep cropping up: "A few golden coins had found themselves removed from their original retirement of the Captain's cloak pocket and in-between the breasts of the greedy whores who waited relentlessly for their turn." The sentence is wordy, packed with five-dollar diction, and yet it has glaring errors. I think the author meant to write coat pocket, not cloak pocket, and the phrasing (coins "retiring" in his pocket?) sounds silly.
I gave up commenting about five paragraphs in. Every single line is ridiculous. There's no point in highlighting the worst of the fic, because every phrase is equally appalling.
Hideous excerpt #1
The supernatural, iridescent parcel of light reflects in his direction as his intermediate boot stumbles into the land he knows so significantly. Someone has squeegeed all of the adjectives out of her thesaurus. He didn't walk, saunter, or steal in, oh no. He stumbled. He stumbled so beautifully in the drunken sway that many fathom in an understandable amount of awe- the stumble that we can also mistake as the sea legs. He owns pure sea legs that are only acquired by the mere being of one on a ship for an allotted amount of time.
His entrance was like any other that the men in the tavern had experienced- the echo of his voice amongst the crowd, the pouring of women from the central corners of the pub, and the bold order of the tankards of rum he required from the bartender. I never thought boldness was the mark of someone who ordered alcohol from a pub. Strangers to his being whisper the name that fills the entire saloon- Jack Sparrow. He could clearly hear his name being recalled throughout the crowd.
"'ey, ye addled fools! It's Captain Jack Sparrow to ye!" He announced to the lot of the scoundrels that he be addressed as the Captain of his ship- The Black Pearl. His mission was to enlighten the crowd of his title being that of proper name. Is this author a non-native English speaker, or is she just trying to sound fancy? A hefty, warming chuckle resounded throughout the building as old acquaintances associated themselves with the Captain just as they had a mere few months prior to his recent incident of finding himself once again in the pleasurable town of Tortuga.
A number of quick whores had scattered themselves squarely on his lap and fondled him for a bit of his satisfaction. A few golden coins had found themselves removed from their original retirement of the Captain's cloak pocket He has a cloak? and in-between the breasts of the greedy whores who waited relentlessly for their turn.
"'ere ye go, Cap'n." A bartender of medium weight had delivered the many tankards to the Captain's table and allowed them to spill ever so gallantly How do you spill something gallantly? over the edges of their tops, creating deliberate patterns in the groves of the wooden counter. Pine or oak groves? The Captain wittingly flashed his smirk of gold in the tender's direction and tossed a few measly coins in the man's bearing, simply hoping to find a few adoring glances in his direction from a number of his newfound captors of his splendor. That's it. *bangs on the walls of the fic* Get me out of here!
Hideous excerpt #2
The stars seemed to brighten themselves as the pair began a waltz at a timely pace, rocking to the deep motion of the sea. One hand of each rested peacefully between the fingers of the other; a perfect match. Her delicate fingers were placed ever so gracefully atop his shoulder, that same shoulder's hand resting sturdily against the small of her back. A thin chemise wasn't quite enough to satisfy the woman of the warmth she needed in the crisp night, therefore pressuring the Captain to hold her a bit closer than what would be considered proper for a basic waltz.
Footsteps fell politely aside each other as the pair moved swiftly across the decks; no sounds made, no words spoken. And if the sky could reflect the innermost thoughts of a being, two lovers would come across as clouds on the horizon. A deep breeze fell between the slight morsel of space that still lay between them, her body contracting to the briskness. He concealed that space with a change in pace as they continued their living reverie, her head falling tenderly upon his shoulder.
"Jack?" She called to him as though he would not answer.
"Hmm?" Their pace did not falter.
"Where did you learn how to dance?" The words seem to slip in their volume as each came from her lips.
"After my father died, mother needed a figure to accompany her to the festivities of the town. Not that a figure comes the equality of a human. I wasn't much more than a burden to her as opposed to her son." The velocity grew less rapid as the words were exchanged. "Hidden away and only called upon when needed was all I'd appeared as."
Catherine instantaneously pulled away, as did her expression morph from peacefulness to one of anger and bewilderment. She searched in his eyes for any hint of emotion, and much failing to do so, abruptly ended the footfall.
"Please continue," he whispered, "it comforts me." They found the contented place upon each other's bodies with their hands and continued precisely where they had left off. "I'd stolen away to find books on a sailor's life in the hours of darkness when I was sure that my name wouldn't be called upon, releasing myself into the world I did not know. Coming back with an inspiration to learn was all that I needed to know something better was for me." A sad grin darkened his eyes. "And now, I have found what I was looking for. The Pearl- something to call my own, and all of the riches that money can buy."
Hideous excerpt #3
Rain had begun to fall hard upon the windows and thunder cracked vividly in the distant sea. Streams of water separated themselves into minor groups as they reached and cascaded down the window and spread slickly down the pane. Candles had set the room in a warm manner and no lights had been lit. The only view they allowed the Captain to discover were red, silk drapes patterned in triangles along every window. The two now tired bodies lay as one on the bed, and several minutes had passed their lives. Jack slipped himself out of the bed and brushed a hand over the woman's face beside him.
"Good night," he whispered it so softly that it was almost as though he simply mimed it. The oak door laid feet away from the man and he plumaged a few steps ahead. And when his hand felt the rough grooves etched into the wood, he halted. His cloak still lay settled in his arms and he spread it before him, reaching towards its corner.
His hand plummeted deep into its space and reached for an item of adoration to him. And the light showed a compass resting in his hands. It was simply a compass that didn't point north. And he pressed it unto the night table dwelling beside the bed of the sleeping woman.
The Following Day…
The previous storm had broken into a morning of a dawn of truthful beauty. The waves tugged at the shoreline every few moments and birds flew effortlessly over the horizon. A cloud didn't rest in site and the crunching of gravel beneath your feet could be heard steadily. And then dusk broke the silence, erasing the day's past into a newfound world in the center of town, Hope & Anchor.
Hope & Anchor. The name swayed on its wooden plaque in the light breeze announcing the bundles of enjoyment to occur in the late ours of the darkness. This was not the house of whores, not by any means; this was the house of drunkenness, the house of sheer merriment to find yourself in painful headache when the sunlight glistens through the blinds of your window.
Surely Jack Sparrow was the final captor to the bar, though the one of most interest to the womenfolk. His off-white chemise, now resting on his chest in plots of rum, soaked him to the skin due to careless attempts to place the rum actually in his mouth.
The men haphazardly scattered about the room had gradually inched their way to the Captain's table, and never once allowed themselves to be parched of thirst as the Captain continuously ordered, "Drinks all around," for the men so intrigued in his tales. And any man who wasn't listening, crowed about the small table, was simply a passed out, unable to hold his rum- The poor man who had consumed a bit too much rum for his own well being.
And a 'thump' shattered the recreated legends, and men covering the Captain's view of the doorway dodged out of his line of site almost as quickly as a woman was revealed in the dusty light.
"Jack Sparrow, I've searched every pub on this land, and of course you happen to be in the last one I check!" Her voice was full of rage and she was quite short of breath. Droplets of sweat littered her face and small curls had begun to peek from their holder of a clip.
The Captain instantaneously jumped from his seat and rushed to the woman's side. "What are ye doin' 'ere, love? Ye shan't be interruptin' the infamous captain in the middle 'o his tale, yet alone burst in screamin' at me by me improper- ye look lovely by the way- title."
"I thought I'd return this 'artifact' you happened to leave by my side last night."
"Ah, I was hoping you'd be much favoring the decision to drop me off my compass. But I also had the thought in mind as to why you would return me a compass that is seemingly broken." A sly grin plastered his face into its own sea of mystery and confusion to the receiver of his words.
"And I figured, 'what would this man be keeping a broken compass for if it were no use to him?' So it must mean something, Jack?"
"Aye, something I don't intend on telling ye, young Miss. And I believe you were harboring a secret desire to find me lying next to you in the sheets as well?"
"And what if I was?" She began to playfully tug at the hem of his shirt and slowly unbutton the clasps, bringing her body closer to his and feeling the tickling of his mustache upon her face.
"Wait until we get aboard, my love." And he kissed her forehead.
Anyone who made it through all three excerpts: kudos. You deserve a gold pirate medallion.