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#WriterArt

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Doesn't it ever seem that the expansiveness of deviantArt comes with the cost that it becomes harder to find good art—and for your own art to be found as well? And it's even harder for us writers, since "art" is something visual to so many people.

But #WriterArt is a mini-community within the big world that is deviantArt, where writers can focus their audience to just a specific group of people who are more likely to discover and comment on each other's literature. We aim to:
:bulletblue: Get your work out there by accepting only quality lit into our gallery, so everything that shows up in your inbox is guaranteed to be quality work;
:bulletblue: Help you improve by telling you of major flaws in your piece if it is declined, having a Critique folder with official group Critiquers, posting biweekly tutorial blogs, and collecting writing how-to's in our favourites;

This is Where Writers Find Writing.
Group
Founded 3 Years ago
Jan 3, 2010

Location
Global

Group Focus
Art Creation

Media Type
Literature

1,585 Members
1,348 Watchers
26,677 Pageviews
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Featured
what fear is.Lainey has been dating the same man for a while now.  If you ask me what he does for a living, I won't be able to give you much of a straight answer.  My theories revolve around some kind of corner office with a rotating door of lawyers and accountants.  He may not even know what he does on the twenty-seventh floor.

Lainey has her qualms about the relationship already, as the early throes of the tryst begin to take the serious turn.  It's about time.

"More like we're dating only one day of the week!" she'll exclaim.  "He's spending the rest of the week behind his desk!"

I asked her a few weeks ago, when the problem first surfaced, if she'swhat fear is. by *Laura-Lie
a post-apocalyptic christmas.Ember had been the one to bring up the idea of lights, after finding some in a tangled mess in a garage down the street.  We were on a routine trip to scrounge for canned food and supplies.  She'd held up the ball of glass and wire and said, "Wouldn't it be fun to do this again?"

"It's just like the good old days," she sighs to me now, and pulls down her hat when the wind begins to nip at the frost-burned of her forehead.  She's got it worse on her toes, but her face never shows it.  "We had them up every year."

I was leery of doing it at first.  It may be too cold for the undead to emerge from their cavernous homes without freezing solid, a post-apocalyptic christmas. by *Laura-Lie
deviation in storage by *Laura-Lie
Orcus, My Love"How can you afford a place like this?" she asked him, without any hesitation.  Her right hand was resting on the railing of the deck, her gaze resting on the spectacular view of the trees and the ocean.  She didn't worry about offending him, because she felt like she deserved to know.

He shifted uncontrollably at her question, creaking the boards underneath his feet in the process.  His hands were deep in his pockets, and a look of uncertainty overtook his face.  A loan officer does make good money, but nothing this good.  "I just want you to stay here.  This is your home now."

..Orcus, My Love by *Laura-Lie
Featured
2012 Contest Entries
never mindI guess it’s kind of funny, if you think about it. You always see in the movies – in the TV shows – people running and screaming and praying and stuff. That’s what Hollywood always thought it would be like: some sort of ‘death cloud’ or something – or like an asteroid or something like that – that just happened: that just totally hit everybody by surprise.

People have known about it for months. It’s not like in the movies. The word ‘inevitability’ comes to mind: and hey, guess what – nobody cares to run from the inevitable. It’s pretty stupid – isn’t itnever mind by =andrewpom
12.20.12“You’re going through with this?” asked Clement, glancing up from the glass of brandy in his hand.  It was a tradition between them, meeting and drinking and being as merry as their situations allowed, but this evening there was no merriness.  A tense, grim atmosphere had descended upon them despite the luxurious setting and the city below.

“Of course,” answered Haydn, standing at the window.  He appeared to be surveying the city, but in truth his eyes were focused solely on the massive building beside their own.  “There is little choice now, Clement.  The people are expecting it.  I should not disappoint 12.20.12 by ~MeadowMaiden
12.20.2012I walk along an empty street;
Everyone is hiding.
It can't be true that the world is ending-
Or is it?
Confused, I take another left-
Still, no one there.
I let out a sigh and watch my breath gather.
The cold is eating me alive.
The crunching of my boots on the sparkling snow-
The only sound to be heard.
A bustling city turned into a ghost town,
All because of some ancient quacks?
But then a voice, muffled by wind.
"Save yourself!"
My eyes move on from him.
I was never one to humor the crazy.
"Get a job; you're gonna wish you had one,
When the world DOESN'T end."
He yells unprintable words, flailing violently.
His words don't faze me.
The world can't end yet,
I don't want to be alone.
If ever my secret gift failed me,
I don't know what I'd do.
Three wishes in return for a good deed,
Almost, but not quite.
When asked one thing that I could wish for,
I wished I'd never die.12.20.2012 by ~iAmoret
The end of the roomsI’m in my square room.
Tolling in a vast, black space
with other square rooms.
If an outsider would look at us
he would only see white dots
on a black canvas.
From inside my room I can see others, but I can’t get out.
I’m being retained, as if I were banging on a glass window.
Others come closer and leave again.
I can get control of my prison too,
I can approach others,
but I can’t get inside an other’s space.
The others don’t seem to be bothered
being in their room.
They aren’t aware of the room.
Am I the only one trying to get out?
Something weird happened today.
Until a couple of hours ago,
I saw everyone going on with their lives
as I’ve always seen them do.
But suddenly,
some people became aware of their rooms.
Not immediately,
it came very gradually.
At first,
I saw puzzled looks around me.
Not from everyone,
but from people that I regarded as sensitive or intelligent.
They sensed something even I didn’t sense.
A couple of houThe end of the rooms by ~feelomen
2012 Contest Entries
Short Stories
Paper GuillotineA cockroach lay on its back beside the chalk line traced across the hall. Its soft brown belly and six hairy legs were pointing at Roach who came back from his chore of fetching the Sunday paper. Roach rolled the paper into a club to do the vermin in.

       “Hold on good Sir,” the previously inanimate cockroach twitched its legs and antennae. “You might regret not hearing me.”

       “Alright,” Roach put the paper down.

       “Thank you,” the cockroach stilled its antennae and nodded. “I am Alfonse Wegner, descent from Central Europe. I say to you Sir, it would be so kind of you to spare mePaper Guillotine by ~JaxkelS
Someone Smokes.Sistine was supposed to be named after the Chapel, even though her parents aren’t religious.  It sounds nice, her mother chirped after she was free from the membranes and amniotic fluid of the womb, still damp to the touch. Neither knew at the time that her mother had really gotten the name from a stripper she’d run into during a drunken night in her early twenties.  The original Sistine wore Lucite heels and underneath her trench coat only had pasties stuck to her nipples.

This Sistine is not like the first.  She wears flats when she’s out walking the sidewalk and is only willing to show an appropriate amount of cleavage wSomeone Smokes. by *Laura-Lie
The Outland CampEveryone had their own reasons for leaving the city.  Some didn’t like the rules, and others simply yearned to explore the rest of the world.  I was a little bit of both.

The world beyond the high stone walls and the barbed wire fences was something from both a dream and a nightmare.  It was new and it was natural, a world you’d never seen before where trees grow by the thousands and no signs tell you what direction to point.  There were no paved roads, only beaten paths used by the authorities on the hunt for convicts.  At the same time, this world teemed with the unknown.  What lies in the shadows?  Were the rumors only circulaThe Outland Camp by *Laura-Lie
The Evanescent ManHe’s sitting at the dinner table, waiting for me when I open the door. His wrinkled hands are clasped around each other, spindly fingers locked tight like manacles, so still he could be made of stone. He doesn’t look up, he doesn’t need to, he knows me well like an old friend.  And it wells up within my chest, a swelling, building ache that’s growing hard and heavy. I drop the groceries, drop my keys, clink as they hit the floor, kick off my shoes and

take

my

seat.

The fingers come unlaced. He smoothes a crease in his threadbare black suit; the suit that's full of darkness, swallowing any light that hits it. It&rsqThe Evanescent Man by ~blubbityblub
Short Stories
First Chapters
Vices and Virtues: Chapter 1Upon waking, Luke felt the effects of a hangover hit him immediately. The throbbing in his brain and the nausea in his stomach caused the Earth to tilt as he forced himself into a sitting position. It seemed as though he woke up this way every day, it was nothing new to him.

The man groaned as he held his head for a moment, trying to remember what had happened last night. It seemed as if he had made it back to his shitty studio apartment somehow. Luke sat there in a daze for quite a while before bits and pieces of last night flooded back to him, though most remained elusive.

Luke remembered meeting up with his gang members and discussing Vices and Virtues: Chapter 1 by ~BurningSilhouette
Always for Eternity - ProloguePrologue

My grandparents always spoke of two ancient races. One race is known as Night Children and the other is known as Keepers of the Wolves. Both races live for much longer than humans, often for eternity if they played their cards right.
I was constantly warned about being confronted by a Night Child, since they could kill me in an instant, without remorse. However, since I was a Keeper of the Wolves, they would think twice about attacking me.
I was young when they told me this and not much older when they passed. I didn’t understand it then and I’m not entirely sure I understand it now, even after all that I had gone through. My brother shared my view, since we both thought our grandparents were a little off their rocker. Neither of us knew what to make of it, and more often than not, we ignored what they said.
Many years had passed since then and I had unwittingly befriended and possibly even fallen for one of the dreaded Night Children, though at the time, IAlways for Eternity - Prologue by ~WyldWerewolf
Storm of the Soul Ch 1Rain fell down in torrents, dashing across the deck as the crew hurried to furl the sails before the fierce wind ripped them off the masts. The ship rose on the crest of a wave, lingered there for a treacherous moment as it threatened to capsize, then slammed down in the valley, only to repeat the process again and again. Lightning cut through the steel gray clouds, providing a flash of light before the world was encased in darkness once more. The canvas cracked sharply in the winds, sounding like cannon fodder, drowned out only by the growling thunder. The water frothed below, the sea had gone from warm sapphire blue to a menacing inky blackStorm of the Soul Ch 1 by ~shadowspirit07
AlterOne - Chapter 1`
The sound of hard leather boots against wood filled the air as they rushed through the halls and up the stairs, drawing closer. Akko fell back against the wall and slid to the floor, his eyes went to the mirror across the darkened room, illuminated by the light of the full moon. The last time he had looked into that mirror, he’d promised himself that should he ever return, a different man would be looking back at him. Now, the brown eyes that looked back at him carried no cheerful glow, the mid-length hair now matted with sweat and dirt, the chiseled nose, now broken, the thin lips, from which a linear streak of blood now trickled; these were not the things he thought he’d see when he last stood before this mirror. He looked down, the blood seeping through his fingers as he held his stomach in an effort to slow the bleeding. He raised his head, leaning it back against the wall, and looked out oAlterOne - Chapter 1 by ~TheVeldt
First Chapters
Poetry
I Am a WriterI am a writer.
Yes, it’s easy for me to fall into a dream.
But there is nothing wrong with being tighter
With a story’s theme.

I am a writer.
That is all I will ever want to be
In the end, my story will be lighter,
And my characters will finally be free.

I am a writer.
There is nothing easier to say than that.
I will never let a story wither
Nor let a story fall flat

I am a soon to be author.
With several books ready to be read,
I want them to have great honor
And wish there will be tears shed.I Am a Writer by ~sandracaskey
Missing From The WorldSometimes, I’m missing from the world,
But no one even cares.

Oh look, they’re playing a game,
I wish I could join.

My feet move like clockwork,
They’re moving towards the group.

My hand reaches out to them,
But I’m instantly shoved away.

Pray,
Pray I don’t die lonely.

Tears fall from my face,
I run towards the sea.

Its arms comes closer to me,
I can’t help but to smile.

I’m standing in the puddle,
I’m ankle deep with my emotions.

People please,
Why am I ‘scary’?

I feel as if I’m dying inside,
The light went dark.

Wait,
There’s someone running to me.

His haMissing From The World by ~SunsetSprite
MusicaIn a silent room,
The piano sounds, bringing
Harmony to the emptiness
Of the aural vacuum—

Chords, arpeggios,
Pianissimo a forte
And back again,
Life in a hollow shell.

Fingers fly; emotions
Alien to the pianist
Burst forth as
Waves of noise

Before dying down,
The room silent
Once more.
The bench is empty.Musica by ~Xokpet
The Tired (Japanese) Employee (limerick)Said a 会社員 "I feel better!
To my boss I've just written a letter.
To avoid getting fired,
I've early retired,
And I'm glad 'cuz I'm feeling 疲れた "The Tired (Japanese) Employee (limerick) by *SrTw
Poetry
Prose
Hypergraphiai.        Night comes once again and her lashes only flutter, her eyes do not close, she is as predictable as the cycle of the moon. Oh come sacred Sleep, steal through her window and bless her with a nepenthean kiss and let her dream serenely till her mind is quiet and her limbs are loosened, and let her not wake for days! However, inspiration sinks its claws in her and she awakens before she can drop her guard and surrender. The pen she clutches looks more like an extension of her gaunt hands that have no time to waste when seizing notebooks off the nightstand, and the pen can never keep up with the quickness of her thoughts. Writing all daHypergraphia by ~TheLunaLily
Natsunoyo (Summer Night)Lashing throughout the sky, lighting up the darkness like a vicious whip of lightning, shone a teal and green aurora borealis. Its luster and appearance reflects upon a non-deflectable surface. Upon a lantana meadow, amongst the autumn trees, its shape can be described. Within the shadows, the height of the forest’s bed, sprints a young couple, each barefoot, each pale, each have glistening smile. The albino girl leads the hazy boy throughout the forest’s maze. She helps him bound over uprooted portions of trees as he helps her dodge the stretching limbs of trees. They race all around the forest until they reached the meadow, wherNatsunoyo (Summer Night) by ~sandracaskey
Every night i count the starsMy dearest,
I spend every night counting the stars. If you asked me to write each cloud classification down I could do it. So I will. Cumulus, altocumulus, cirrus, stratus, cirrostratus, cumulonimbus, altostratus, nimbostratus, and then there’s always one that’s on the tip of my tongue and I just can’t quite get it but it’s definitely there, I know it for sure. If you spend the night counting stars, you become highly aware of the moon. The craters, the crevices, the veins that split the milky orb into sectors, pieces to dissect and probe with the eyeball. You can see a man. If you squint your left eye so it spasms at 1Every night i count the stars by ~ssoltan
RideInfinite. That’s not a feeling. You can’t feel infinite.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

My heart had never been so high. It must’ve flown from the tip of my tongue when we sang together and landed somewhere in the volatile sky. I thought I saw it with wings but it could’ve been some exhausted illusion like when you see colored spots in your vision that float around and begin again when you blink.

I want to remember that drive more than I'm able to. All that I'm certain of now is that I didn’t have to be in your arms to feel your warmth in the passenger seat; I felt your love in the scent of your breath whenRide by ~palesile
Prose
Scripts and Screenplays
The Birth of LoveThe Birth of Love

1: Hey…what are they doing?
2: Who?
1: Those two. They’re just lying there.
3: No, they’re doing something else…they’re kissing.
2: They are. Just like the other ones. It seems sweet, but peculiar.
3: It is. Why do they do that?
1: I don’t know. It doesn’t look particularly enjoyable. It looks quite…wet.
2: I think it’s sweet. A strange way to show affection, but a sweet way.
3: I wonder why they choose each other to kiss. Why not anyone else?
2: They love each other.
1: Are they even capable of love?
3: I think so.
2: They wouldn’t be kissing if they weren&rsThe Birth of Love by ~GinaMangrove
CRETE Project - Part 1FADE IN:

INT.  MAINTENANCE DISTRICT HALLWAY - NIGHT

A hand glides down a wall holding a paintbrush, belonging to a TEENAGE BOY. He stands in a hallway, empty in an eerie way, its walls a dull, grey-green colour. A paint can rests next to his foot on the tiled floor. He paints a mural of a tree, brightly coloured and contrasting with the dismal colours of the walls.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT.  GRASSY FIELD - DAY

Flashback to a beautiful day; the sky is bright and sunny. A tree mirroring the illustrated one in the mural basks in the sunlight. They are almost identical. Animals scurry through its leaves.

The sky darkens abruptly, and wind rustles tCRETE Project - Part 1 by *GuinevereToGwen
Porcelain Casket by ~Shiberoth
The Ingenious Inspector Suspit
                                        The Ingenious Inspector Suspit
                                                 ~ A One-Act Play ~

           The Ingenious Inspector Suspit by ~ScarletDevil1503
Scripts and Screenplays
Fanfiction
XCOM: The First Encounter ProXCOM: The First Encounter

Prologue

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
Hamlet (1.5.166-7)

That quote from Hamlet right there was one of my dad’s favorite sayings. Every night, we would look up at the stars and dream about…well, all kinds of things: the past, the present, the future; hopes and dreams; the cruel mistress that was reality; the slow passage of time. But I think the one thing my dad always thought about was the big question a lot of people have asked over the years: are we alone in the universe…?

Now, I admit it sounded romantic but it just wasn&rsquoXCOM: The First Encounter Pro by *mzhamma
Liberation - Infinity Blade IISiris despised betrayal: the feeling of fury and isolation, dense yet hollow, weighed down on his chest. He was cold in his armour, playing with the pommel of his sword, staring at the God King still lying on the dark ground. Saving the world? He shook his head. No, he had abandoned it, fallen for the Worker's trap. He'd guessed, of course. He'd guessed that Ausar had been the one to originally confine the Worker of Secrets in the Vault of Tears - the overpowering agitation and distrust that had arisen whenever he had spoken to him warned him so. Yet he felt like a fool - oh the irony, he thought, still gazing at Raidriar - for ignoring it anLiberation - Infinity Blade II by ~Shurely
Fan Fic: Sonic: Chemical LakeChemical Lake

The blue hedgehog rose to his feet, standing on the base of a grassy hill that overlooked a field filled with flowers growing and flowing into the wind as their petals took them.

His eyes were green and focused, scanning the area in the attempt to find what he was looking for. The legendary stone, the chaos emerald, what everyone sought for but moreover what he was bound to like second nature; connected to by spirit and soul.  He let them get away from him again in an attempt to bring peace to his world yet again but he was unsure just why it was him that had to be the one with this destiny, this part of him that told him thatFan Fic: Sonic: Chemical Lake by ~TrixiePrower
God's Lovers Ch. 1Charm-

The path ahead was grassy and covered in colorful leaves, mainly velvet red, sunset orange and fire yellow.  These leaves were bright against the midnight black sky that carried thousands to millions of stars that looked like glitter in the sky. The only sounds were the whisling wind and the crunch of foot-steps against the wild life filled floor. A young snow white haired male slowly approched a hard stone covered path that lead to a huge castle like building.

This male wore a thin short sleeved white shirt, dark grey jeans that were pretty thick and an necklace that was given to him by an old friend. It was said that if this neckGod's Lovers Ch. 1 by =Vanished-Lives
Fanfiction
Non-Fiction
let's prove them wrong.“Will you meet me halfway?”

“Of course.”

“See you soon.”

“Soon isn’t soon enough.”

After a hot and humid day under the sun, there had been enough moisture in the air to fuel the formation of a super cell.  The bow echo came in from the west, promising relief from the call of summer with a price.  It barrelled through sometime after night had fallen, when the city was lit by streetlamps swaying in the wind.  Pouring rain made everything slick and lightning shook the tallest buildings still under construction, but at least the air felt cooler for a moment.

Once the rain had pitter-pattelet's prove them wrong. by *Laura-Lie
A Writer's Guide to Adoption and Foster Care Imagine you’re sitting in a small room shared with other kids. Some are older, some are younger. The beds aren’t all that great, you get fed but it’s not exactly a warm family meal like you see in movies, and you don’t always get the attention you really want or need. Those around you are busy doing their own thing and the adults have to take care of each kid, not just you. Suddenly, one day, a miracle has happened. You’re told that you’re going to be adopted. You feel nervous and excited. Who are the parents? Will you finally have a good home? But at the same time, you’re scared. What if they don&rsA Writer's Guide to Adoption and Foster Care by *FlashyFashionFraud
What is man? Man is a learner.What is man? Man is a learner. Man learns, it is what creates him and forms him, man is an endless people of knowledge to which we all are pools created from droplets to which are our learnings.

But man is two types of learner, that of the man in the shower and that of the man in the forest.

The man of the shower is the man of society, the man who follows the rules of society in all its form. He learns from the media and daily life; he has no true experience of the world around him and is often ignorant to what he feels does not concern him. He is in a shower. Sheltered from harm by his glass door and thermostat, protected from what doesn'tWhat is man? Man is a learner. by ~ShadowsOfAVorlon
Never Too Late: New Laws on Bullying by *hunapo
Non-Fiction
Six Word Stories
Six Word Stories
Critique
I stuffed myselfI stuffed myself full of what they wanted
Fed my body food with ingredients
Which I couldn’t even begin to pronounce
And bit by bit I began to slow down
Face miserable and bloated
As my body trudged forward
And my mind ran miles ahead

Worry lines were etched prematurely into my face
As I struggled and screamed
In the quicksand of their never-ending expectations
But my screams fell on deaf ears
And struggle soon gave way to apathy
Until I fell face first
And found I didn’t have the will to rise back up

What was the point?
I thought to myself
As my breathing turned shallow from the sand I swallowed
When all I would do was sink I stuffed myself by *withinmeloveresides1
Towards the WindmillWe live on a dead island
swirled about a stoney mound
with corpses in its heart;
in the midst of a sea of green
bare trees are littered,
and peak from roofless houses
with burned foundations.

And beneath the smokey sun
an army of black sapplings stirs;
followers of the rusted beast
conducted upon a fallen log
that bleeds before their roots;
to smother his spouse the cypress
and their cones in their cradles.

The bent weeds watch as they
are watched and avoided
so plastic flowers are smelled
- the litter of the false nature.
In a garden where blind sunflowers
guard the molded prison,
tainted shells hide venomous pearls;
they drip on impTowards the Windmill by ~Pr0metheusUnb0und
The ArchiveOld ambered men,
rotting in vanilla,
are bounded together
and numbered
in open coffins.
And a mist of dust
protrudes through
their wooden prison;
conspiring with the
ever tempting dark
shining from above.
White paper roses bud
below ladders that end
where shadows begin;
there silk webs spread
over this waste of heads
that thrust upwards
towards the bars.The Archive by ~Pr0metheusUnb0und
The Modern Mariner by ~Pr0metheusUnb0und
Critique
Two-Sentence Story Contest
Two-Sentence Story Contest

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oh hey there.

:iconlaura-lie:

I hope everything has been going well in 2013!  Right now the group is a little quiet, but I'm hoping to run another contest in the summer.  In the meantime, this journal is for a short announcement:

From now on, all non-fiction submissions submitted to other folders will be declined.  You will be asked to resubmit to the Non-Fiction folder.

It's just something little I've noticed recently, and makes sense to me.  So there we go.  I hereby commence this rule...valid.

Stay awesome!

*Laura-Lie :heart:
7 Comments
oh hey there. March 25 7 Comments No Favourites
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deviation in storage by `SparrowSong
Writing Tutorial: Dialogue"An Amateur-Editor's Note on How to Paragraph Dialogue, and Other Dialogue-Related Crime Avoidance Techniques" by Dailenna

On my daily walk about the internet I often come across some horrible piece of writing at which I'm forced to stop reading and take a few deep breaths to calm myself before either sending a note to the writer, or fleeing in terror. These pieces of writing are usually just an accumulation of terrible spelling, grammar, syntax, and too much or too little plot, description, dialogue or action. Yes, there are stories that may have a lean towards dialogue or action and still look absolutely wonderful – in fact, these are the Writing Tutorial: Dialogue by ~dailenna
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How To WriteAbstract: an analytical approach to plotting and writing fiction upwards of 1,000 words

Acknowledgements: the potentially amazing Rachel (:devifrozenspiriti:) served as guinea pig to this; go and tell her to finish the product of that experiment, because you'll love it. Chris Widdison (:devtearstone:) approached me indecently with the idea of writing a longer essay (which will still happen, and be a lot more purdy than this here thing), which would incorporate this essay in another form, amongst others. He doesn't need to read any of this, because he already knows it all.

Target audience: young, inexperienced writers, especially those that How To Write by `danielzklein
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Voices... For and About KidsVoices in Writing For and About Kids

Overview

Well, the title of this piece promises a guide to writing ‘for and about kids’.  This is an all-encompassing phrase that, I hope, will grab anybody who wants to write for or about any characters between the ages of about nought and eighteen.  So, is this the part where I reveal that this guide is actually more limited than that?  No it is not!  At least, I have done my very best to cater to all possible needs, with the following handy headings:

Issues and Obstacles

The Voice of the Child: Advice on Writing Dialogue

Children’s Literature and the Narrative Voice

Young Adult FictVoices... For and About Kids by ~simplyprose
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Resources for all of you writers! Try to take a look at at least one, it'll help you improve or help you get your work published!
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:icon6alcor-eldioan9:
Mood: Joy ~6alcor-eldioan9 May 13, 2013  New member
thanks for accepting me here. Hello everyone, I'm just new here.
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:iconaloverscharm:
*aloverscharm Apr 14, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Hi lovelies,
So I hope this isn't against protocol, but since you are all writers, I was wondering if you might be willing to help me with a project which may or may not involve a prize for the best description of a rainbow to a blind person. The deadline is April 26th, so hurry on over, please! XO
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:iconthomasbisbee:
*thomasbisbee Dec 19, 2012   Writer
Hey everybody, all you have to do to get about the ten groups rule is submit here first, then the rest.

Just wanted to point that out because it's like the 20th time my thing got rejected for this ha. Whatever I'm leaving the group, just wanted to let ya'll know that :p
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:iconmartinsilvertant:
*MartinSilvertant Dec 11, 2012  Professional General Artist
Hey, I was wondering why my article Mastering Typography was rejected.
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:iconenlightenu:
!EnlightenU Nov 28, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Hello everyone,

I just wanted to let you all know that I'm merging this account into another (Dr-Pen) and will eventually delete this one. Because of this, I may have to resubmit my writings to most of the literature groups here if it is allowed.
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