#pmathesson

░░░░ —— ⊰ ✼ ⊱ 

                       ❝ ᴩʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ stop talking.                            I'm trying to finish this. ❞

thenewsuicideblonde

gentleprimrose

pmathesson

chloeaharris

Hey guys, just to let you know I don't do greeters but feel free to answer to any opens I have or ask memes (which I still need to start tagging tbh). Or just send me an ask and we can talk. 

❝ Here's your book. I don't need it anymore,

pmathesson

florxodiada

milesxsapientia

pearlxjones

"Would you like to explain why you referred to my class as, how did you put it,                                       

                                       'hogwash'?"

Where do I begin… Your writing embodies that of an actual author would entail and upon further inspection of your rules page I see you are in fact a published author! I too have published works and would like to amend you! Your writing is very admirable in the symbolism it accomplishes looking over your open threads. Particularly the ones on death strike me as such simple and yet elaborate character analysis that Peter feels very real and human and it is really lovely how you spell that out.

Sometimes, however, I feel like your word usage could be more simple, but even then there’s just a symbolic layer you lay over your work that I feel like telling you to change anything would be stripping away a piece of that symbolism. Really. You do a great job and it is so beautiful.

Things I would work on, speech patterns. Occasionally, though not often, I feel like you deviate from your characters natural speech pattern, I would work on rendering as best an audio of his voice and speech patterns as you can and then saying his lines over in your head. It is rare that I see you stray from it and I could even be wrong, it could be intentional, but it is an area a lot of people need work on.

In addition you use a lot of recycled phrases, something common of authors, changing it up can sometimes add a nice flare and spice and keep things from getting old or overused.

Her footsteps echoed softly against the stone walls of the corridor. In her hands was a letter she had received only a few minutes ago. The red stamp that had sealed the envelope had been ripped, the yellow parchment unfolded as Elyssa's eyes became submerged in the words written in fine, black ink. 

...I wish to see you at some point. I can only imagine the kind of woman you have-