Cynus

Some of the issues are solvable by outside help, some are not. Assuming it's something like lack of feedback/lack of motivation keeping a work from being finished, then simply showing interest in the author's work would help, A review, and email, even a like sometimes is enough for me to feel better about my story. Sharing the story so that others can find it and read it is an amazing thing, too. All of these things can help, though none of them would necessarily solve the issue.

Gary, I finally got around to reading again, and I'm glad that I did. This was a wonderful chapter for me, especially the emotion in the conversation between Ace and Deuce (I like the code names. Maybe it's because I'm asexual and so respond to the name 'Ace'?). I can relate to Ace a lot; his own sexuality must not fit the hetero-normative platform either, though at the same time he's capable of having heterosexual relationships without feeling like he's lying to himself. Having gone through a great deal of that myself, it makes Ace a lot more real to me. Thanks for writing this story. I look forward to reading further, once I have the time.

I currently have two stories here that do not have a definitive end. Both are non-fiction, one being a place for me to give my perspective on a number of topics and the other being a place to relate my own experiences. I don't know that either will ever be marked "complete", because there are a seemingly infinite amount of things for me to have additional perspective on, and I'll continue to have life-changing experiences until I die. I assume, however, that your question is in reference toward works of fiction, rather than non-fiction. There aren't many lessons I learned as a child which I consider positive, but there is one that I think will always stick with me. My father was a long-distance runner, and he was of the opinion that even if you aren't going to win a race, it's paramount that you finish it, because then you've proven to yourself that it can be done. There were several movies I grew up watching which also carried this theme. "Cool Runnings" is one I remember fondly, in which a crash at the end of the team's final race keeps them a short distance from crossing the finish line in their bobsled. The team picks up their broken sled and carries it across the finish line to the cheers of the crowd, even though they no longer have any chance of winning. That thought process has been one to guide me time and time again. Anyone who has ever attempted to write a story, especially those of significant length, knows that it is far more difficult than it seems when you've never made the attempt. It's not a race, certainly, but it is a competition that has a definitive end. You, as the writer, are competing against yourself, and striving to bring about a superb result by breathing life into your characters and your scenes. It can be brutal, at times, especially if you don't have anyone cheering for you. Sometimes it's even worse and instead of positive reinforcement you have people jeering at you and telling you that you're wasting your time; that you're not good enough to be a writer. Sometimes, as others have pointed out, life gets in the way. You're suddenly working overtime to pay unexpected bills, or you're going through some sort of stressful situation that saps your energy. Or sometimes it can even be something positive that pulls you away, like preparing for a wedding or the birth of your child. But, as I was attempting to illustrate above, what matters isn't the speed at which you run the race, or the speed at which you write your novel, what is important is that in time, it does get finished. Not everyone shares that mentality, however, and that's okay. Some people get so discouraged, or are pulled away by life for so long, that they simply don't know how to get back in there and finish the story that they started so long ago. It's to be expected that some stories fall into this category, and we simply must accept that it's the way things are. Normally, because I don't like to keep people waiting for chapters they may never see, I try to finish my stories before I begin posting them. This hasn't always been possible, but I find it puts a lot less stress on me. It's like being properly prepared for the race your running, instead of trying to push yourself when you're out of practice. Although I've tried to follow this philosophy, I've released at least two novels that were not even close to being finished when I started posting them, one of which is my current one. And it's still as hard as it ever was. It's still as taxing an effort to bring your characters to life. Sometimes it very nearly gets to me, and I can understand how it can stop a person completely. Hopefully someday, those who have stopped will be able to come back and finish what they started.

Wow! To think there was one hidden in my own post! Thanks for the information. Knowing that it's actually a brand name makes me feel less awkward about it, haha!

I've taken to listening to a J-Pop Pandora station when I write. It works for me because I like the sound(usually) but I don't get lost in trying to follow the lyrics which I don't understand. Occasionally I come across J-Pop songs I knew from High school, and these ones end up getting stuck in my head. Like this one, "Are You Feeling Fine?" by L'arc en Ciel

Thanks, Ace. It was written to be a parody of every "typical" gay teen story. If it caught you off guard then it had the desired effect. This will always be one of my favorite stories that I've written, because I had so much fun writing it.

Thanks, Dave! I seem to have a hard time finding story reviews, so I must have missed this one the first time through.

A very merry existence day to you, Cannd!

Welcome, Phillip. I hope you enjoy your stay.

I worked at an ice cream parlor/restaurant when I was in high school, and they must have been influenced by that small area in Pennsylvania/Ohio, because they called our floats "sodas" too. It's the only place I'd ever heard it.

I run the concessions at the arena where I work, and I had a guy come up to me and ask me if we sold "Spits". He was asking for Sunflower Seeds, but I've never heard them called that before. Apparently it's a Canadian word for them, which I'll try to remember next time I write a Canadian character who likes sunflower seeds, but I wonder how many other words we take for granted just because we all speak English. Obviously this is hardly a new subject, but I found it incredibly fascinating when it occurred. What are some of your experiences with words from a different dialect of your same language?

“Elder Hadley, wait!” Luke called as he ran after Jason. He was still in nothing but his garment bottoms, but he didn’t care. They were still in the dorm and surrounded entirely by male missionaries. As far as he was concerned, he wasn’t breaking any rules yet, though that could change quickly if he was forced to follow Jason outside. “I don’t want to talk to you, Elder Phillips,” Jason yelled back as he stepped through the pair of double doors that led toward the stairwell. He turned around

I love the emotional control you had over this scene. I'm looking forward to seeing it continue in later chapters.

I appreciate the depth, Gary.

I am happy to know people who have seen and watched so many of these. It means I can learn what's good! I started Black Butler but then something distracted me from it, and I never got around to finishing it. Maybe I'll get back to it after Mushishi.

I shared this quote on the "Inspirational Quotes" forum a short while ago, and it was brought to my mind again in response to several of the comments on my last blog posting: "If you one day make it back to the West, what will you tell men of this strange word, 'kung fu'? Will you tell them that it means to fight? Or will you say like a monk from Shaolin to summon the spirit of the crane and the tiger? Kung Fu. It means, 'supreme skill from hard work.' A great poet has reached kung fu. The painter, the calligrapher they can be said to have kung fu. Even the cook, the one who sweeps steps or a masterful servant can have kung fu. Practice. Preparation. Endless repetition. Until your mind is weary, and your bones ache. Until you're too tired to sweat, too wasted to breathe. That is the way, the only way one acquires kung fu." -Hundred Eyes, "Marco Polo" I want to expand on my view of what "Life is meant to be art, and most treat it as work" means to me. There are many necessary things in life, that are unpleasant, uncomfortable, and are, quite simply, mundane. We still have to do the laundry. We still have to wash dishes, or do paperwork. How do we make these things into an art rather than work? I believe that's where the philosophy of Kung Fu comes into play. My first job, which I acquired several weeks after my sixteenth birthday, was in a restaurant washing dishes. Our restaurant, although it served a full menu of food, was specialized in ice cream, which we served in all manner of glass dishes. Our job as the dishwashers, was to clean these glass dishes that were covered in gooey melted ice cream. It was a messy job, it was a wet job, and it was fast-paced. If you didn't move quickly then the piles of dirty dishes would back up and before you knew it you'd be overwhelmed. At first, I hated this job. I couldn't stand going home soaking wet and smelling like rancid ice cream. I hated having my bosses riding my back and telling me that we needed more clean of some dish that was buried beneath mountains of other dirty dishes. I would have never expected that I'd come to enjoy it. But I did. The job transformed gradually. As I continued to work, I became more practiced at methods which helped us get the job done more quickly. I learned how to set myself up for success rather than failure through careful preparation, as instead of washing one dish at a time I learned how to line them up in such a way that I could wash many of them all at once. These and other skills I acquired helped me grow as a dishwasher, and eventually I became one of the best that we had. Through constant exposure to the task, countless repetitions of the movements required, I could do these things as if they were a second nature to me. At the beginning of my six months in that dish room, I was a teenager with no respect for anything. At the end of it, even when I'd go home tired, weary, wet, and smelling like spoiled milk, I felt like I was accomplishing something, because I had been able to turn my work into an art. Practice. Preparation. Endless Repetition. Until your mind is weary, and your bones ache. Until you're too tired to sweat, too wasted to breathe. That is the way that we make the mundane into something extraordinary. It doesn't matter if you're a writer, lawyer, painter, executive, or the cashier at McDonald's. All work can become art, for all work can grant you "supreme skill from hard work". Every mundane task can become an art form. Sometimes, when I'm washing dishes, I remember those nights in the dish room, and I can't help but smile. Not much is better than fond memories made from simple pleasures of a job well done.

Seems to fit everything above, which is what I used as the basis for what I've been working on(albeit slowly). I'm only slightly concerned about Mary and Tina, specifically the part about one being Zach's mom. I'll explain that via PM to you, Drew, and to Valkyrie as well, just so that we keep it with everyone who is intending to work on the project but not give spoilers to anyone else who may be reading.

Jason is an asshole, but there are changes in store for him as much as everyone else in this story. Chris is the eldest, which has a lot to do with his confidence on top of his voluntary joining of the church. He also has a dad who has never stood in the way of his personal choice, which has affected things as well. Gary and Luke? Well, I'll leave off talking about them for now. They are the true stars of this story, and so to say much about either would potentially give too much away.

Hopefully you'll enjoy it through to the end. I have to admit that my missionary experience affects a lot of what I write, so it was about time that I wrote a story focusing on the missionary life itself.

My first class in the MTC was a similar experience. I'm 90% certain that all of us were either bluffing about why we were serving or were as dogmatically devoted as Jason. It was a very sad reality. I enjoyed engaging with people on my mission who wanted to challenge my church's beliefs, likely because I wasn't really buying into it much myself, and I was able to gain new insight from them. The one who finally convinced me to leave the church was one of these people, and I'm going to write that chapter in my autobiographical piece, "At the End of the Day", pretty soon. Can I just say that "It only takes one ass to blow it up" definitely sounds like a double entendre?

I think there will still be a few surprises in store for everyone. If I wrote them how I intended, then each of the four will show their strengths, and will also show their fatal flaw soon enough. Jason is, unfortunately, like many of those who grew up with a belief set being forced upon them. They haven't taken the time to study life critically to determine truth from their own perspective, rather than relying upon the words of others. He's trapped in dogma. *sigh*

The smallest one was the worst. Somehow, he had become the leader of the gang of miscreants, and they all answered to him. He wasn’t just small, he was scrawny, but he had a tough streak like no one I had ever seen, and he could out cuss anyone who had ever crossed my path before. Maybe it was that brutal mouth of his which gave him the loyalty of the three thugs who followed him around, but I thought it was something more. The boy had brains; he was smart and sly, and I was sure the others foll

Every Halloween, Jack works at the "Haunted Corn Maze". Some years are more eventful than others, for sometimes the spirits of the harvest are called upon to protect those who who live within the boundaries of the corn field.

I think I have an idea. Will address below Drew's post. I think I have an idea on how to start a prologue for this story, keeping with the theme of running each line (Though we've been starting to do paragraphs, and I'm cool with that too) in alphabetical order. If I remember correctly, there's a way to add authors to a story on story submission, right? So anyone who wants to join me in the actual writing of this story, I am definitely game to work with. Drew, Valkyrie, Reader1810, Greg_A, and anyone else who worked on these scenes. (Clochette too, right? And Renee?) Anyone who wants join in on the writing, I'd love to pull together for the project. I'm going to write the few paragraphs I have thought out and send it to anyone who is interested. Peace.

I will do what I can to bring honor to you all. *bows head solemnly* Absolutely! Should we leave it up to chance, and once we start the scene we can determine whose sister she is?