Okay here is to striaght to the point im starting a passage with writters. I need stories, Im making a news paper where im living and if you write a short passage i and email it to me, i will post it on the in the paper. How will this be advantage to you? if a person sees your story and they might publish your story and would like to make it a book.
I wont steal your story
I wont take credit from you.
i want short stories and either post it in the paper once a week or everyday depends on the story. The story just has to be interesting it. This for people who write stories and just watch it waste. Here is somthing to do with it. I will post your name in as the author.
Comics, or cross words are welcomed
for more information or interested email me at [email protected]
remember if you email me make the subject saying writters guild and way to get back at you .
All the ways you wish you could be, that's me. I look like you wanna look, I **** like you wanna ****, I am smart, capable, and most importantly, I am free in all the ways that you are not.
so if I send him a story and someone wants to publish it, I am supposed to just trust him to not take credit? suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuure.
__________________
All the ways you wish you could be, that's me. I look like you wanna look, I **** like you wanna ****, I am smart, capable, and most importantly, I am free in all the ways that you are not.
okay yea! i understand that you couldnt trust me. If your story was to be publish you could keep record data that you would be sending it to me and if i turned around tried to keep credit you can turn around and sue. Im a writter my self. I belive everyone has title to there own story. Belive me or not. Your name would be at the end of the story. Also i was thinking you write an intro i write one for my story and if a whole certain amount of people do it. That would be at least good amount of intros.
let say i post yours on mon and wed and others on tues and thurs. it would work out. just short passages now and than. For awhile to the readers who are reading it, i would ask a feed back wat story you like best than i would post it back saying what story they like best and least.
also i only way 145 and report me im not doing nothin wrong and i know you have no way to trust me. So if you have just a random story you dont want go ahead i dont care its just i cant just throw my story around than it would be just someone asking for attention and that sounds a little lame!
Not really, it's just that there are many fraudsters in the world, and they have become more common, I can't understand what you are saying, but it is easy to edit peoples material, especially with online services.
Gender: Male Location: Sailing the seas of cheese.
I got this story for you. Once upon a time this guy started begging people on the internet to write stories for him, well . . . he got his head bit off by polar bear. Zing! The End.
haha yea i did that on purpose. I thought it would be funny because im looking for writers and writers are actually anal sometimes about that.
Neo i know where your coming from about fraud and i know its easy to edit this is why im asking just for a short passage at first than just one week see how it goes. If doesnt work i wont be accepting anymore if it does than great.
also i dont understand why would i be reported? what am i doing thats wrong?
My father's family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip,
my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more
explicit than Pip. So, I called myself Pip, and came to be called
Pip.
I give Pirrip as my father's family name, on the authority of his
tombstone and my sister - Mrs. Joe Gargery, who married the
blacksmith. As I never saw my father or my mother, and never saw
any likeness of either of them (for their days were long before the
days of photographs), my first fancies regarding what they were
like, were unreasonably derived from their tombstones. The shape of
the letters on my father's, gave me an odd idea that he was a
square, stout, dark man, with curly black hair. From the character
and turn of the inscription, "Also Georgiana Wife of the Above," I
drew a childish conclusion that my mother was freckled and sickly.
To five little stone lozenges, each about a foot and a half long,
which were arranged in a neat row beside their grave, and were
sacred to the memory of five little brothers of mine - who gave up
trying to get a living, exceedingly early in that universal
struggle - I am indebted for a belief I religiously entertained
that they had all been born on their backs with their hands in
their trousers-pockets, and had never taken them out in this state
of existence.
Ours was the marsh country, down by the river, within, as the river
wound, twenty miles of the sea. My first most vivid and broad
impression of the identity of things, seems to me to have been
gained on a memorable raw afternoon towards evening. At such a time
I found out for certain, that this bleak place overgrown with
nettles was the churchyard; and that Philip Pirrip, late of this
parish, and also Georgiana wife of the above, were dead and buried;
and that Alexander, Bartholomew, Abraham, Tobias, and Roger, infant
children of the aforesaid, were also dead and buried; and that the
dark flat wilderness beyond the churchyard, intersected with dykes
and mounds and gates, with scattered cattle feeding on it, was the
marshes; and that the low leaden line beyond, was the river; and
that the distant savage lair from which the wind was rushing, was
the sea; and that the small bundle of shivers growing afraid of it
all and beginning to cry, was Pip.
"Hold your noise!" cried a terrible voice, as a man started up from
among the graves at the side of the church porch. "Keep still, you
little devil, or I'll cut your throat!"
A fearful man, all in coarse grey, with a great iron on his leg. A
man with no hat, and with broken shoes, and with an old rag tied
round his head. A man who had been soaked in water, and smothered
in mud, and lamed by stones, and cut by flints, and stung by
nettles, and torn by briars; who limped, and shivered, and glared
and growled; and whose teeth chattered in his head as he seized me
by the chin.
Wrote it all by myself.
__________________ [SPOILER - highlight to read]: You were adopted.
KMC Community Forums
Writers guild (writters wanted)
Dec 10th, 2007 09:15 AM
