Boxing is a brutal sport, and here the author describes a fighter well past his prime, in a contest he is losing badly.
Being a former Muay Thai fighter myself, I understood the questioning this character has during his final bout...it is just as much a battle of the mind as it is in a physical sense once that bell rings and it is just one athlete against another...all the hype and talk disappears and the only talk from there on is from the cornermen in the seconds between rounds and the talk inside your own head, which is well captured here in this story.
A good portrayal of how it really is inside the ring, although at 10-1 odds, this guy got in a lucky shot...I just hope he backed himself with every penny he had earned from the years of pain and sacrifice he had endured.
Hi Sisco...I have only been here for one year, yet still consider myself a newbie because I have so much yet to learn...both in my life, as a writer, and about this site.
I noticed that you tagged me and to be honest, I have no idea how you would have come across me or what tagging me even means...sorry for my ignorance on this, but I write...a lot...and I suppose this tends to make my learning of how these things work suffer.
Just the fact that you have noticed me is humbling, considering my relative lack of experience. I do want to thank you though, for that alone. I don't do as much reviewing as I should...a few bad experiences have made me wary, and as I mentioned, I spend a lot of time writing and so, as you would be well aware, we only have so much time in any given day, and so priorities must be made.
I will try and read some of your work in the coming weeks...but in any case, please know, I appreciate any and all encouragement I receive. I would like to donate these gift points towards your causes, I am sure they are worthy.
Best laid plans...and a school yard crush are the ingredients for this short story. Not sure which demographic this piece is aimed at, but I imagine over thirties could reminisce about their own clumsy attempts at getting the girl and living happily ever after.
It's a straight up, wholesome story without any twists or surprises, except, the boy in the story actually got the girl, which didn't happen to me when I was besotted by that new girl at school.
Well written, with only one small mistake, in the third paragraph where it reads...'Frustrated, he wandered off to the side where sat...should read 'he sat'. Overall, a good yarn to kill ten minutes with.
I note this review of the reviews given on this site that I will be reviewing today, indicates this kindness over critique is not a new phenomenon...and that not a lot has changed in the ten years since it was first posted.
I agree with the crux of the argument here, that we can benefit more from truth rather than pandering, and while each piece of writing should be judged on merit alone, there is a degree of prejudgment going on in most of the reviews that happen here on WDC...as per management instructions I might add, but then creates a type of selection process where we pass over those items we cannot honestly glow over and give five-star ratings to and in reality, helps no one when looking at the overall quality of work which is found on the site.
I think there is a word to cover this err...balance.
The author has done the leg work and researched the stats...read the top reviews and show us that there is a problem with this 'be nice and don't hurt feelings' reviewing style. A style which, yes, fluffs the ego and doesn't cause memberships to plummet...and therein may be another underlying reason management doesn't want the truth to be at the forefront of lifting the overall quality of the pieces being reviewed...better to have membership numbers up, rather than lose the few who may not handle some critique and don't see this is the number one benefit we can have from balanced and fair reviews of our work.
The shortest path to becoming a better writer is through truth, and the only way to hear that truth is by getting reviews that reflect both the flaws along with the highlights of the piece in question...and as the author points out, can help them deal with the rejections they will experience along the way to becoming published authors.
Some good info here for those who still believe in the dream of being published (self-publishing is something else altogether). It is one aspect of writing that seems so remote and difficult to achieve. My method is simple...don't bother. Not because I have had my work rejected or the tasks that must be performed just to get a piece read by a junior staffer are too much (even if they are).
No, it's the odds of actually being published. Even if the i's and t's are dotted and crossed and the submission is perfectly presented to the particular standards they have set...even if the piece is entertaining, funny, spine chilling or just really well written...it's a fickle world and publishing houses know what they want and 999 out of a thousand submissions are not that.
So, I write for myself...the way I like and with all the imperfections that make it mine. Even if I am the only person to ever read something I have created, so long as I am proud of the work and I gave it my best then for me that is enough.
It does seem a little unfair...that the people who create and put their heart and soul into the work are looked at like bottom feeders, yet the publishing houses, who do nothing but select, print, market along with some risk of loss if it doesn't sell well...but if it does they make the lions share of the profit and act like they are above the art but really, only profit from a (select) writers efforts.
It's not that Matt killed his wife in cold blood...I mean, who doesn't want to do that. If I had a wife, I would spend hours trying to figure out, not just how to do it, but how to get away with it. And this is the crux of the story 'Therapy'.
The fact that the cold blooded killer was planning a new life before he brutally murders his wife with his fists shows his premeditation was obviously by his wife (and typically now known as 'the victim') caused him to act in such a way...it always is. The reason most men don't follow through is their balls are missing and so are no longer of any benefit, at least not to them...not because of age or dysfunction but because they are in the wife's handbag. She uses them to destress from a hard day shopping or hanging out with her friends at the club, by rolling them in between her fingers...one for each hand.
Well, Matt had one way to take back possession of one's "ball's...another is to man up and refuse to hand them over in the first place...it's well known that a woman has no respect for a man who gives in without a protest (that's right guys, if you say no more often you will hear yes more often). A woman likes a man who stands up to her and tells her that she is taking his precious balls over his cold dead body.
I wonder if she pleaded temporary insanity when he was found dead from cyanide poisoning, was stabbed 24 times and had his balls removed with her teeth...in this day and age I doubt she would even be charged...he must have done something to provoke her.
Loved the twist at the end.
I personally suffer from temporary insanity on a permanent basis. It's called Crazsanity.
Disclaimer; no balls were removed during the writing of this review.
Well...that's a different take on rejection. Through rejection can be found true happiness. I do see your point. The fact that almost everyone has been rejected, we might as well put a positive spin on it. One person's trash is still trash make no mistake...but with some training, a job and a haircut I am trash who used to be suspected, dejected and infected...but now I understand rejection, something unexpected...I'm connected, projected perfected and disinfected.
You wrote this eight years ago and I am wondering if it is still your philosophy? I am so lucky to have been rejected by almost every person I know...my kids, siblings, friends, people online, editors and women (except my mom...she tried but I used every mother's Kryptonite...guilt). I even rejected myself once...but I sneaked back when I wasn't looking.
I've been looking at rejection the wrong way...I'm truly free because nobody wants to hang with me which means I have so much time for me now...my expectations were lowered by rejection, so I am not disappointed anymore. I'm still waiting for all the like-minded people (rejects) to fill the emptiness, but when they do show up...I'll reject them...I don't want to be seen with a bunch of rejects.
Your story grabbed my attention for obvious reasons...I was so pissed about my situation I wrote a book called, 'The Minefields of Separation and Divorce'. It covers family law in Australia and the points you make in your story are the same the world over. The grubby tricks used by ex's and their lawyers boggles the mind and is all acceptable by courts when seeking an agreement on children.
There are more stories than I could say here which support your arguments for change...but don't hold your breath because legislators and the justice system like to take their time, especially with family law. You won't see any stories in the media about the unfair, often spiteful and illogical outcomes for fathers and their kids...they would rather highlight the few who take the law into their own hands and act violently when the vast majority of men who are going through separation do the right thing.
To say a woman could be responsible for causing harm to the kids they are supposed to love by denying them access, putting their dad...their hero, down constantly and using kids as tools in some spiteful and senseless game of revenge...well that sort of thing never gets said because here in Australia, a domestic violence order will be the next court appearance we find ourselves facing and that is a place no man ever wins regardless...and then everything changes.
Well, I never...a seventy-four-year-old grandmother dressing up all glamorous and attending parties...why wasn't I invited?
Ok, let's do some investigating...first of all, there were thirty guests in attendance (Imagine Ol Bill wiff a Cockney accent) yet only twenty-nine of your books sold...Hmmm, something seems odd...you sold twenty-nine books! At one party...sorry, it wasn't a party it was a ?? It was a success story that's what it was.
And that should be when we all go home for a cuppa and watch Coronation Street or East Enders...but you Madame likely went out to some rave club and danced all night with all the youngsters who couldn't keep up no matter how many pills they ingested...(A message to all those foolish enough to take drugs...Drugs are bad..there my guilt is now gone so...go bonkers next Sat'd night at da club...do they accept seniors cards at the bar?). Now, where was I...Oh yeah...I have to share...I am a caregiver to my eighty-five-year-old mum...she's from Hull (it's in England like you are) and after living here in Australia for the last fifty-seven years she still talks like a pom.
So, to conclude my reviewish ranty thing...you are a glamorous successful author who has lots of friends, some you are willing to delegate tasks to, which if we ever meet...I can be tasked...although somewhat unwillingly...but I'm sure you have tasked much more difficult people than I.
You party at The Cube and understand the importance of being fashionably late, especially when you are the guest of honour...you had fotos (that's an in-joke just between you and me) taken so you love the attention but you love your Granddaughters more. I can just picture you in your royal blue top with long chiffon sleeves, and black trousers...a wine in one hand and the other free to do what it does best...delegate.
And so, to the business end of the reviewish thingy I'm doing now...Ten out of five star-spangled banners...Oh wait, you're from Old Blighty...ten out of five God save the Queens.
This is the kind of poem that can be read and read again and still it retains such depth and sorrow and hope and emotion that pours from every syllable and line. The pain we feel is God's reminder that we are still alive.
In time, the pain dissipates and memories fade...and like the new green grass that grows the sweetest shoots only after the fires have passed, new love can only come after the wildfire that has ravaged and scorched a heart black, only time makes it possible to turn the sour taste of loss into the sweetest of loves.
Nicely written poem on a subject that not just effected Americans but the entire world...we held our breath and sent our thoughts and prayers hoping that you would not tolerate the situation and gather enough support to make a change for the better.
I have no doubt this poem contributed towards that goal and played a part. It is the small things each individual did that has brought sanity and respect back to the office of the United States of America and to the world.
I know for many Australians it felt like we had lost a friend over the last four years, but we never lost faith in your system or your people...who rose to the challenge and made it a one term presidency...and knowing how reluctant you would normally be to do that and making the win for the Democrates even more significant.
Thank you Lisa, for writing this piece and for your contribution towards making the United States truly great again.
Yo Dog...I like this concept of freewriting word art. Letting go of the boundaries and constraints we are told we must follow from a young age limits the artistic quality to some degree I think...but may also affect the overall readability of the piece...nothing comes for free in life and each time we move in one direction it is certain we move towards one thing and away from another...but what if we want it all?
You wrote this seven years ago according to the copyright date...seven years is a long time to learn and develop skills and develop habits good and bad. I hope you now look back and see those improvements and are proud of the effort you have made to get here and now.
I read your story and I felt for you...not pity but understanding.
I'm a drug addict and when I read what you think of me it hurt...because I would not kick you and I would not say I am glad I never turned out like you. I have a disease which I accept full responsibility for...if I had never touched a drug I would not be an addict. But if you look back, can you honestly say you did nothing to bring about your own situation? Are you free from responsibility for your own life?
I have a good friend and she at one stage in her life became a prostitute...and you when say you are glad you never turned out like her and had to sell your body to stay alive, that hurts...it hurts me that you look down on us when you yourself say you have had it so hard...we have all had it hard and I don't think it is OK to kick other people just because other people have kicked you.
I am sorry for this alone...that you feel you are glad you are not like me yet, you don't even know who I am to make that judgement.
For me, having such limited experience, knowledge of styles and technique in poetry, I must rely solely on how the work makes me feel...and this poem certainly made me feel...sadness that is palpable and deep...longing for the past, that could reflect in anyone's life who is not so young anymore...pain...so much pain.
I am a writer of poems, but I know I am no poet...and this work was written by a poet...someone who knows how to capture feelings and emotions in their essence and deliver them in powerful and beautiful verse.
Simply outstanding...and I say that with tears in my eyes.
This song reminds me of my trip to Thailand in 2018...curry tastes so good but the next morning it comes back to haunt the ass...Burn baby burn, disco inferno, burn baby burn, burn my ass down.
It wasn't just going to college and getting an education that was going to change Ruby's life...Ruby is a young woman who has an overactive mind and I suspect her imagination is the same way. With everything in her life going wrong,she has a mini-breakdown and begins hallucinating and sees a ghost who gives her some spiritual guidance. If she didn't believe before, she certainly will now that she has imagined herself a Christian...and God bless her for accepting Him and not putting it down to the frat house party she was at the night before and one of those naughty but handsome boys spiking her drink...no I made that up and she really did see a ghost...well, I assume she was a ghost...why can't something like that happen to me so I could shed my atheism and get with the program...oh, and heaven sounds better than nothingness or worse...is it hot today?
Good story, well written and entertaining with that little twist at the end I never saw coming.
I am fascinated by the nasty but nice human critter, and so to it seems is Joy the Masked Ghoul. At different times I have had very different thoughts about us as a species...from loving us to despising us. Human beings show all of the characteristics of a virus...we need a host (Earth), we take from our host and give nothing in return but our toxic waste...we eventually kill it but not before infecting another...well, those last two have yet to be seen.
Now, I feel that this behaviour is part of our evolution...and if we survive our own stupidity, eventually we will become a more caring and knowledgable being...The human brain is a very complex organ, a biological computer if you will. And it has the potential to achieve things we at this stage cannot even begin to conceive...but in order for our children and their children and beyond to fulfil this destiny, we who are alive today are the only ones who can ensure their destiny is possible...by changing how we look at and treat the Earth and come to terms with its fragility and the finite nature of this planet we live on
I think the message we should all get from Joy the Masked Ghoul's story is that it is not good enough to expect someone else to make the changes required for our survival...we have run out of time and tomorrow will be too late...we all need to change NOW...withs our thoughts, our behaviours and our attitudes...and the best way to foster these changes is to pressure our so-called leaders by writing to your local representatives about your concerns and make localized suggestions for positive changes in your area...and if you are old enough by voting for candidates whose policies are pro-Earth (or getting mom and dad involved by getting them to vote in the same way), or better still...become a leader and lead us away from this catastrophe and towards a sustainable and better future.
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