beauty oozes from inside out

[Tdol]

You didn't ask me to be Dickens.

[alpacinoutd]

You didn't ask me to be Dickens.

I believe there is a Dickens inside each and every one of us. We need to be motivated enough to summon it.

[emsr2d2]

I believe there is a Dickens inside each and every one of us. We need to be motivated enough to summon it.

I disagree. Not everyone can write like that. That's like saying every single person can play the piano like Elton John, if only they were motivated enough. People have different natural abilities and talents.

[Tarheel]

I really don't care for oozes there. (The things that ooze are usually things you don't want to have to deal with.)

[Tdol]

I believe there is a Dickens inside each and every one of us. We need to be motivated enough to summon it.

Read the opening pages of Bleak House- I'd love to have that in me, but I don't. Nothing could make me write like that.

[Charlie Bernstein]

Alright. So, what do you think about this one?

She exudes beauty from inside out.

It's reduntant. Exuding is always from inside out. (So are oozing and radiating.)

So just say she exudes beauty.

[alpacinoutd]

Read the opening pages of Bleak House- I'd love to have that in me, but I don't. Nothing could make me write like that.

Are you talking about this?

London. Michaelmas term lately over, and the Lord Chancellor sitting in Lincoln’s Inn Hall. Implacable November weather. As much mud in the streets as if the waters had but newly retired from the face of the earth, and it would not be wonderful to meet a Megalosaurus, forty feet long or so, waddling like an elephantine lizard up Holborn Hill. Smoke lowering down from chimney-pots, making a soft black drizzle, with flakes of soot in it as big as full-grown snowflakes — gone into mourning, one might imagine, for the death of the sun. Dogs, undistinguishable in mire. Horses, scarcely better; splashed to their very blinkers. Foot passengers, jostling one another’s umbrellas in a general infection of ill temper, and losing their foot-hold at street-corners, where tens of thousands of other foot passengers have been slipping and sliding since the day broke (if this day ever broke), adding new deposits to the crust upon crust of mud, sticking at those points tenaciously to the pavement, and accumulating at compound interest.

It is pretty damn good!

[Charlie Bernstein]

I believe there is a Dickens inside each and every one of us. We need to be motivated enough to summon it.

Let's not all write like the same person. That would be boring. Let's write like ourselves. That's more entertaining.

By the way, here's a short story you might look for, about someone who figured out how to write like someone else:

"Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote" (original Spanish title: "Pierre Menard, autor del Quijote") by Jorge Luis Borges

It's in the Borges anthology Labyrinths.

[alpacinoutd]

Let's not all write like the same person. That would be boring. Let's write like ourselves. That's more entertaining.

By the way, here's a short story you might look for, about someone who figured out how to write like someone else:

"Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote" (original Spanish title: "Pierre Menard, autor del Quijote") by Jorge Luis Borges

It's in the Borges anthology Labyrinths.

No I said that because our friend mentioned Dickens. But of course I believe being original really matters.