tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249687911247481070.comments2023-05-01T06:30:10.948-07:00JJ RitonyaAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09796279434396201876noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249687911247481070.post-86747910364103062392020-06-15T22:58:20.566-07:002020-06-15T22:58:20.566-07:00Something's are best to let rest. I don't ...Something's are best to let rest. I don't recommend going there alone. Moving it was a mistake. You won't be the same if you go there alone. Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12883016469028180811noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249687911247481070.post-69949183015174665832015-03-05T11:51:34.051-08:002015-03-05T11:51:34.051-08:00The Hatchet house was originally on 114th and Gile...The Hatchet house was originally on 114th and Giles road. The city of Papillion moved the one room schoolhouse to 242 Jefferson Street in Papillion. It sits next to the Sautter house which is another historical site. <br /><br />GAnonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10725923596411930257noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249687911247481070.post-90841871663095563452015-03-05T11:47:19.266-08:002015-03-05T11:47:19.266-08:00The Hatchet house was originally on 114th and Gile...The Hatchet house was originally on 114th and Giles road. The city of Papillion moved the one room schoolhouse to 242 Jefferson Street in Papillion. It sits next to the Sautter house which is another historical site. <br /><br />GAnonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10725923596411930257noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249687911247481070.post-43325740959419178552013-05-09T03:39:08.330-07:002013-05-09T03:39:08.330-07:00http://www.hauntedhollowomaha.com
This place shou...http://www.hauntedhollowomaha.com<br /><br />This place should be able to give you more information. Heartbeat Bridge is one of their attractions which is the bridge you would cross to go to the Hatchet House.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13549409165612914949noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249687911247481070.post-80672027772560339662009-10-16T15:36:02.257-07:002009-10-16T15:36:02.257-07:00It's somewhere south of Harrison street, go do...It's somewhere south of Harrison street, go down 96th and then it's supposed to be just a little to the west. Sorry i don't have anything more exact.Matthttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07276046525360494705noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249687911247481070.post-33528959629289591112009-09-08T09:10:49.698-07:002009-09-08T09:10:49.698-07:00I remember going there in high school, but can'...I remember going there in high school, but can't remeber where it was? Where was it approximately?LilyGracehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09851599683533607386noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249687911247481070.post-54258187068831969972009-06-15T12:33:19.481-07:002009-06-15T12:33:19.481-07:00Good, I suspect, and this is my suspicion only, of...Good, I suspect, and this is my suspicion only, of course, that you can build much more with your work if you take the plunge, and find a mentor. I also suggest you write short stories and start submitting them to any and all markets. Good luck.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249687911247481070.post-35291074715613402862009-06-15T10:10:52.703-07:002009-06-15T10:10:52.703-07:00Thanks for your comments. I welcome all constructi...Thanks for your comments. I welcome all constructive criticism and try to learn from it. It helps much more than criticism for criticism's sake.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09796279434396201876noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249687911247481070.post-39297205640707684032009-06-13T21:42:28.705-07:002009-06-13T21:42:28.705-07:00Let me give you a brilliant, flash fiction example...Let me give you a brilliant, flash fiction example of a perfect first person story.<br /><br />Notice the details used, how smooth and logical the story flows, and how much "music" this writing taps. Aspire to <br /><br />this, and follow my original advice. go to an in-person workshop, with at least one legitimately published author, <br /><br />let them tear you a new one, and learn from the experience. Read what's below.<br /><br /><br />In Dublin, One almost got away.<br /><br />He was halfway out the door when they caught Him, the spikes cast aside, His wounds already healed. It took five <br /><br />strong men to hold Him to the cross while the others drove the nails back in.<br /><br />I know how hard it must have been. I had cross-watch duty at our church (St. Luke's) last Friday, when Ours awoke <br /><br />and I had to hammer back the spikes. I'll never forget the look of betrayal on His face, the blood from His crown <br /><br />of thorns trickling down into His accusing eyes. He turned back to wood that way, still facing me.<br /><br />He didn't stop bleeding.<br /><br />We've grown used to the blood, all of us. When the crisis first started, we had to dump the buckets once a week. <br /><br />Now we have to do it twice a day, and soon we'll be doing it every hour.<br /><br />But the worst time was when He came alive Sunday morning, while Minister Farley was reading from John. It took Him <br /><br />almost a half-hour to turn back, the sound of the hammers and His screams drowning out the sermon. The congregation <br /><br />had left as fast as they could, their eyes wide with terror and shock.<br /><br />I pray every night, and when I pray I think about the look in His eyes. I pray desperately for guidance, for a sign <br /><br />that I'm doing the right thing, that I'm still worthy of salvation. And yet I still feel the fear, the cold <br /><br />uncertainty that grips my every waking hour.<br /><br />But we dare not stop now. I saw pictures of the congregation of St. Jude, the one that let Him escape, the blood <br /><br />oozing from the wounds that appeared in their hands and legs. I saw their faces twisted in pain from the stigmata, <br /><br />their eyes blinded with blood from their invisible crown of thorns, and knew what we had to do.<br /><br />No one knows how it started, what war or genocide finally tipped the scales against our redemption. All we know is <br /><br />that the period for our grace, once given so freely, has now expired, and the Savior upon which we have all leaned <br /><br />for 2,000 years now wishes an end to His sorrows. Dear Jesus, please forgive us, but we cannot let You go. Is it <br /><br />any wonder that we, frail creatures that we are, run from the shadow of our own Golgotha? Our sins are many, and we <br /><br />dare not bear the weight of our crosses alone.<br /><br />And so I watch when I have to watch, and nail when I have to nail. And pray.<br /><br />In fact, I pray now more than ever, four or five hours every night. I pray fervently that Our Lord's bleeding will <br /><br />stop, and that neither I, nor anyone else, will have to see those accusing eyes, or drive in those nails, ever <br /><br />again. And most of all, I pray that there is still salvation, that mankind has not filled our world with so much <br /><br />blood that even the infinite mercy of Our Savior can no longer contain it all.<br /><br />And still the words of Luke 23:34 haunt me, for though those Roman soldiers may not have known what they were <br /><br />doing, dear God, we most certainly do.<br /><br /><br />JJ, if after this you don't heed my advice, then you're lost. It's hard to develop your writing at nearly middle <br /><br />age, especially when you don't take an honest look at your work. Good luck, either way.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249687911247481070.post-37918541875735186392009-06-13T21:42:04.256-07:002009-06-13T21:42:04.256-07:00Alright, you don't listen to reason, so let me...Alright, you don't listen to reason, so let me show you what a difference an editor can make even in your <br /><br />professionally unedited writing.<br /><br />Your version, chapter 1, paragraph 2:<br /><br />It happened two days ago when I was walking home from work. Since graduating from high school two<br />years ago, I have worked at Movie Time, the local movie rental store. It’s a cool job when the jackass<br />manager isn’t yelling at me to get to work. I get to watch the newest movies before anyone else in town<br />and they are free for employees to rent. I also don’t have to do very much. I basically put tapes away<br />and run the cash register.<br /><br /><br />Edited version:<br /><br />It happened two days ago when I was walking home from work. The whole world changed then.<br /><br />I graduated from Meyerson High School two years ago. I knew college wasn't for me, so I took a job at Movie Time, <br /><br />working the cash register, renting videos, selling movies; sitting on my ass when I can, watching the latest <br /><br />releases when I want, avoiding the mangager, Joe, a dude who was only four years older than me, and a total <br /><br />jackass. Joe thinks he's cool because he wears a goatee, and sports a leather jacket, like Brando in The Wild <br /><br />Ones.<br /><br /><br />Again, JJ, your writing has no bite, no foreshadowing of events as they unfold. You're trying to link things <br /><br />together that have no link, and because you're providing no color, or background for characters, setting, or even <br /><br />the plot, this book reads as very dull.<br /><br />It takes a lot of skill to write in the first person to not make the mistakes of timing, or the balancing act of <br /><br />switching between viewpoint characters and keeping their personalities separate. You haven't succeeded. These are <br /><br />the problems you clearly can see in your second paragraph (and I picked this one at random, because it's worse than <br /><br />the first one).<br /><br />Your version, chapter 1, paragraph 2:<br /><br />It happened two days ago when I was walking home from work (What happened? You need to name "something", be vague, <br /><br />but draw the reader in with a bit of dread, ever heard of "in medias res?"). Since graduating from high school two<br />years ago (which high school?, is it that Chad doesn't remember? Or it's not worth mentioning?), I have worked at <br /><br />Movie Time, the local movie rental store (There's only one movie rental place? Your language here is way too <br /><br />generic). It’s a cool job when the jackass<br />manager (what's the manager's name? Is he fat? A movie buff?)isn’t yelling at me to get to work. I get to watch <br /><br />the newest movies before anyone else in town<br />(I have never, ever heard of a store providing this kind of freedom to their employees; most small places can't <br /><br />afford not to have movies on the shelves for fear that they won't get a rental fee . The logic here doesn't hold <br /><br />water) and they are free for employees to rent (impossible). I also don’t have to do very much. I basically put <br /><br />tapes away<br />and run the cash register.<br /><br />There are so many glaring inconsistencies in your writing. This puts the reading off, and you wouldn't get one <br /><br />paragraph past an editor if you ever decide to submit work to one (and by the way, no publishing house would deign <br /><br />to publish a vanity work--which is what this is.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249687911247481070.post-41773235929662399442009-06-07T21:27:33.760-07:002009-06-07T21:27:33.760-07:00better beginning 2 < I_did_notlikethissorry >...better beginning 2 < I_did_notlikethissorry > 06/02 22:15:37 <br /><br /><br />I keep my 9 under my bed in shoe box and put comics on top of it, the ammo was stored under my mattress, making a slight bump in the bed that mom never noticed when she came in to change sheets. Or maybe she did notice and didn’t want to find porn, or drugs, or some of the other things she was so sure I was into. She wasn’t wrong about that, but my other stash, porn, weed, I hide in the closet; which she never cleans. <br /><br />No one knew about the gun. I didn’t even tell my girlfriend, not that I kept her in my confidence like that, but I was fucking her, and though she wasn’t beautiful, and I wasn’t in love, in the afterglow of a good fuck, fucking on top of all that ammo, I never felt the need to brag. I kept cool. <br /><br />Time passed, shit was coming closer, I grew a little jumpy, nervous, but I kept cool; on the outside I was cool, and the day before the shit came, I stared at the funny clouds in the sky, and felt the difference in the air, and any outside observer would have seen me and said, “Hey, that’s one cool dude.” And they would have been right. I was cool. Almost catatonic. <br /><br /><br />JJ, you need to belong to a live, and in-person writer's group, who is moderated by at least one currently publishing author. Find one, and develop a thick skin; your writing needs a lot of work. Get the help from experienced people. The editor in your self-published attempts isn't good at what they're doing. The don't help you develop characters, or plot. only a real editor, or honest working professionals can help you with that.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249687911247481070.post-66912555902391133472009-06-07T21:24:26.712-07:002009-06-07T21:24:26.712-07:00better beginning < I_did_notlikethissorry > ...better beginning < I_did_notlikethissorry > 06/02 22:14:45 <br /><br />Chapter 1 <br />Sunset: Survivors <br />Chad Grable Wichita, KS October 5th, 1991 <br /><br />Ever run into to people that just know, without a doubt, that shit has hit the fan? That things are about to go south? They know when to run, not show up, or make no effort to involve themselves in life to keep themselves safe. That’s me, I’m one of them, so I knew, just knew this was going to happen. I knew. But, no one believed me, even though I shared what I knew with everyone around me. When I say, “The shit’s going to hit the fan,” it does, but no one paid attention. I tried to let people know harder this time. “Shit’s coming.” But most of the time people would just look at me, laugh, and say, “What, Chad? Again? Come on, shit’s always hittin’ the fan. Life sucks, we don’t need you tellin’ us how much it sucks all the fuckin’ time.” <br /><br />But this time, this time, lots of shit would be hitting the fan. Lots of it. I stopped preaching about shit right before I knew it was coming. <br /><br />I bought a gun. A 9 millimeter automatic, with a thousand rounds of ammo, 6 clips, that’s how I got ready. No big preparation, most of my friends had guns themselves, and I never saw the need for a weapon; I didn’t hunt. Didn’t target shoot. So I surprised myself when I walked into a gun shop, filled out the paperwork, and 2 months later I bought my gun. I have to admit, it’s pretty cool to have a weapon, and all those years playing Grand Theft Auto gave me some keen hand-eye coordination; so I think, as far as I can judge, I’m a pretty good shot. I blew through three hundred rounds pretty quick, tearing beer cans and small trees to shit. I bought more ammo to keep me at a 1000; for some reason that seemed like a magic number.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249687911247481070.post-90681299283817055772009-06-07T21:22:56.320-07:002009-06-07T21:22:56.320-07:00a short critique <
Please, take this seriously...a short critique < <br />Please, take this seriously; I wish someone had kicked my ass and pointed me in the right direction the way I'm doing here with you, if you want to write, and be published by a publishing house, you need to heed my warnings.<br /><br />ididnotlikethissorry > 06/03 06:52:49 <br /><br /><br />a short critique < I_did_notlikethissorry > 06/02 22:12:52 <br /><br />Your writing has no bite, it's written in an entirely too passive voice. Your characters have no taglines, details, description. and there's no action. I had so much trouble getting through the first chapter because it reads like a list of things, Chad says this happened, they laugh at him, he has a job, he walks home, no one's home...the writing is colorless. you need to figure out what to add, what your characters think, how they talk, what they like, tell us if they smell, or can't speak without spitting, if they like porn, or dominoes; you need to add lots of detail, and please, god, ratchet up the action. Nothing happens in the first chapter. below i'm including a better beginning. it's not great, i'm working from the bones of your story, but it's better. for what it's worth, here it is.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3249687911247481070.post-34795484321267403372009-06-07T21:20:24.966-07:002009-06-07T21:20:24.966-07:00I'm glad you're going to edit it this. Re...I'm glad you're going to edit it this. Remember Sturgeon's law, 90 percent of everything is crap. And Hemingway had something to say about writing himself, which paraphrased comes down to, mostly everything in your first draft is shit.<br /><br />btw, I don't read, or post to my livejournal page, it's a bookmark, that's all.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com