Literarna radionica

Sudjelujete u literarnoj radionici pisanjem, čitanjem i komentiranjem priča

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Kris
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Unread post by Kris »

Nema problema, dapače! :D
You think of me as rats. You think of a thing known as The Air Force Survival Handbook, where it explains that if you cut off one of my heads --which is where the poison is -- you must then slit open the ventral side and continue the cuts to extend the length of each leg. Subsequent to this, the skin can be peeled off, the belly opened and emptied, the backbone split and both halves roasted on sharpened sticks over a small fire.
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Klara
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ban wrote:Nimrod, pa sto ne stavis ovdje svoje prijedloge glede radionice sto mi spominjes u pm-u? :idea: Ako se Kris slozi, a nema razloga da se ne slozi, mozes recimo ti voditi drugu radionicu.
Kakvi prijedlozi, znatiĹželjna sam? :?:
MadDog
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PaĹžnja, paĹžnja, ovdje "Lokalni zafrkant" va[?] radio bez licence, jo[?] samo malo s vama:
ban wrote:Ako se Kris slozi, a nema razloga da se ne slozi,
... jer ako mu ja kaĹžem da se sloĹži, mora se sloĹžiti, kuĹži[?]? Kris - sloĹži se!!!!
I Kris se sloĹži k'o ispeglani stoljnjak.

Ufff... slijede?a LR za mene samo - literarna forma do 15 redaka... sa [?]to vi[?]e baljezganja na kvadratni metar. :oops:
"Zapravo najbolji dokaz da postoji inteligentni život u svemiru je da ga mi još nismo pronašli" by Nessa
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L.Z.
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Unread post by L.Z. »

Kad će drugi krug, da se i ja uključim (baš mi je žao što su me više sile spriječile :) )
Život je samo san na putu do smrti
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L.Z.
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Unread post by L.Z. »

By the way Kris, u SFemiru 19, u tvojoj priči, strašno me zanima zašto je stroj eksplodirao (taj je dio ostao u tami pa koristim priliku, inače priča mi se svidjela.) :?:
Život je samo san na putu do smrti
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Nimrod
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Klara wrote:
Kris rekao si da je:"promjena ritma kod ovakvih minijaturnih formata najvažnija."

Da li bi mogao nešto više objasniti o tome, možda dati neki primjer ili re?i gdje se može pro?itati više? :?:
svaki put kad se krene o tome i o poslije spomenutom obratu, punchline-u, bilo je još imena, meni dodje ova prica u glavu kao klasicni primjer.

pa evo vam je. (moje isprike svima kojim je engleski klimav ili ga ne govore, ali nemam vremen za prevodit. Saki je inace preveden, mislim da je u izdanju Školske knjige) znam da ova prica i nije najkraca, ali ipak, evo vam je.

THE RETICENCE OF LADY ANNE

Egbert came into the large, dimly lit drawing room with the air a man who is not certain whether he is entering a dovecote or a bomb factory, and is prepared for either eventuality. The little domestic quarell over the lunceon-table had not been fought to a definite finish, and the question was how far Lady Anne was in a mood to renew or forgo hostilities. Her pose in the armchair by the tea-table was rather elaborately rigid; in the gloom of a December afternoon Egbert's pince-nez did not
materially help him to discern the expression of her face.

By way of breaking whatever ice might be floating on the surface he made a remark about a dim religious light. He or Lady Anne were accustomed to make that remark between 4:30 and 6 on winter and late autumn evenings; it was part of their married life. There was no recognized rejoinder to it, and Lady Anne made none.

Don Tarquinio lay astretch on the Persian rug, basking in the firelight with thhe superb indifference to the possible ill humour of Lady Anne.

His pedigree was as flawlessly Persian as the rug, and his ruff was coming into te glory of its second winter. The page-boy, who had Renaissance tendencies, had christened him Don Tarquinio. Left to themselves, Egbert and Lady Anne would unfailingly have called him Fluff, but they were not obstinate.

Egbert poured himself out some tea. As the silence gave no sign of breaking on Lady Anne's initiative, he braced himself for another Yermak effort.

"My remark at lunch had a purely academic application," he annouced; "you seem to put an unnecessarily personal significance
into it."

Lady Anne maintained her defensive barrier of silence. The bullfinch lazily filled in the interval with an air from _Iphigenie en Tauride_. Egbert recognized it immediately, because it was the only air the bulfinch whistled, and he had come to them with a reputation for whistling it. Both Egbert and Lady Anne would have preferred something from _Yeoman of the Guard_, which was their favourite opera. In matters artistic they had a similarity of taste. They leaned towards the honest and explicit in art, a picture, for instance, that told its own story, with generous assistance from its title. A riderless warhorse with harness in obvious dissaray, staggering into a courtyard full of pale swooning women, and marginally noted "Bad News," suggested to their minds a distinct interpretation of some military catastrophe. They could see what it was meant to convey, and explain it to friends of duller intelligence.

The silence continued. As a rule Lady Anne's displeasure became articulate and markedly voluble after four minutes of introductory muteness. Egbert seized the milk-jug and poured some of its contents into Don Tarquinio'saucer; as the saucer was already full to the brim an unsightly overflow was the result. Don Tarquinio was prepared to play many roles in life, but a vaccum carpet cleaner was not one of them.

"Don't you think we're being rather foolish?" said Egbert cheerfully.

If Lady Anne thought so she didin't say so.

"I daresay the fault has been partly on my side," continued Egbert, with evaporating cheerfullness. "After all, I'm only human, you know. You seem to forget that I'm only human."

He insisted on the point, as if there had been unfounded suggestions that he was built on Satyr lines, with goat continuations where the human left off.

The bullfinch reccomenced its air from _Iphigenie en Tauride_. Egbert begain to feel depressed. Lady Anne was not drinking her tea. Perhaps she was feeling unwell. But when Lady Anne felt unwell she was not wont to be reticent on the subject. "No one knows what I suffer from indigestion" was one of her favourite statements; but the lack of knowledge can only have been caused by defective listening; the amount of information available on the subject would have supplied material for a
monograph.

Evidently Lady Anne was not feeling unwell.

Egbert began to think hhe was being unreasonably dealt with; natuuraly he began to make concessions.

"I daresay," he observed, taking as central a position on the hearth-rug as Don Tarquinio could be persuaded to concede him, "I may have been to blame. I am willing, if I can thereby restore things to a happier standpoint, to undertake to lead a better life."

He wondered vaguely how it would be possible. Temptations came to him, in middle age, tentatively and without insistence, like a neglected butcher-boy who asks for a Christmas box in February for no more hopeful reason than that he didn't get one in December. He had no more idea of succumbing to them than he had of purchasing fish-knives and fur boas that ladies are impelled to sacrifice through the medium of advertisment columns during twelve months of the year. Still, there was something impressive in this unasked-for renunciation of possibly latent enormities.

Lady Anne showed no sign of being impressed.

Egbert looked at her nervously through his glasses. To get the worst of an argument with her was no new experience. To get the worst of a monologue was a humiliating novelty.

"I shall go and dress for dinner," he announced in a voice into which he intended some shade of sterness to creep.

At the door a final access of weakness impelled him to make a further appeal.

"Aren't we being very silly?"

"A fool," was Don Tarquinio's mental comment as the door closed on Egbert's retreat. Then he lifted his velvet forepaws in the air and leapt lightly on to a bookshelf immediately under the bullfinch's cage. It was the first time he had seemed to notice the bird's existence, but he was carrying out a long-formed theory of action with the precision of mature
deliberation. The bullfinch, who had fancied himself something of a despot, depressed himself all of a sudden into a third of his normal displacement, then he fell to a helpless wingbeating and shrill cheeping. He had cost twenty-seven shillings without the cage, but Lady Anne made no sign of interfering. She had been dead for two hours.
English is the result of Norman soldiers attempting to pick up Anglo-Saxon barmaids, and is no more legitimate than any of the other results.
- H. Beam Piper, from "Fuzzy Sapiens"
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Klara
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Ovo je bilo zanimljivo. Naro?ito zato [?]to nisi prevela. :wink:

Po?ela sam ?itati samouvjereno - ma znam ja engleski :D . Ali odlomak po odlomak, skupilo mi se dosta nepoznatih rije?i. :? No ?itala sam uporno dalje (ma [?]to zna?e dvije-tri nepoznare rije?i) - i ?ekala obrat. Ali nigdje obrata - stigla ja i do posljednjeg odlomka - jo[?] ni[?]ta :( . I onda kada sam mislila da nisam ba[?] ni[?]ta shvatila : :x - na[?]la sam ga u posljednjoj re?enici. PunchLINE. :roll: Je, stvarno dobar primjer obrata. Hvala Nimrod! :P
Osla
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Unread post by Osla »

Sve price su fantasticne!

Prica od Khisuyaw mi se naj vise svidja.

Khisuyaw BOTH THUMBS UP!
8)
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MadDog
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Kris, hvala ti za LR...
Mogu re?i da me to potaklo da malo razmislim o sebi i svom nepisanju pa sam, eto, odlu?io po?eti pisati...
:oops:
Ideja imam, realizacija bi mogla biti upitna, ali, ?im 'iznjedrim' ne[?]to [?]to bi moglo biti vrijedno ?itanja, [?]aljem kao mogu?i djeli? budu?eg nosf-a (20?, 21?... ovisi o brzini objavljivanja... ban?), ili kao novi prilog budu?oj L.R., ovisi o novoj temi...
"Zapravo najbolji dokaz da postoji inteligentni život u svemiru je da ga mi još nismo pronašli" by Nessa
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Kris
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Unread post by Kris »

L.Z. wrote:By the way Kris, u SFemiru 19, u tvojoj priči, strašno me zanima zašto je stroj eksplodirao (taj je dio ostao u tami pa koristim priliku, inače priča mi se svidjela.) :?:
Stroj nije eksplodirao nego se samo zapalio, tj. pokvario. Što je svejedno bilo dovoljno da ubije glavnog junaka koji je zato i imao one probleme u "snu".
You think of me as rats. You think of a thing known as The Air Force Survival Handbook, where it explains that if you cut off one of my heads --which is where the poison is -- you must then slit open the ventral side and continue the cuts to extend the length of each leg. Subsequent to this, the skin can be peeled off, the belly opened and emptied, the backbone split and both halves roasted on sharpened sticks over a small fire.
ban

Unread post by ban »

MadDog wrote:djeli? budu?eg nosf-a (20?, 21?... ovisi o brzini objavljivanja... ban?), ili kao novi prilog budu?oj L.R., ovisi o novoj temi...
A sto cemo. Nosf raste. U zadnje vrijeme zezao sam se oko foruma i pehapeiziranja sajta. Sad ce i nosf. Sad ce :) Svakako price iz radionica snajpam za jedan posebni broj: nosfradionica Ako bude bilo za nosfradionica2, bogdaj :)
Osla
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Bit ce, bit ce. Muze su nam naklonjene!
Let's roll!
8)
---------------<br>Osla was

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Kris
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Unread post by Kris »

Ok, dakle mislim da je vrijeme da krenemo s drugim krugom radionice... Ako će odaziv opet biti ovakav, smiješi nam se svijetla budućnost :)

Moj prijedlog je da priče sad budu do 4,500 znakova (fleksibilno, dakle može i duže a i kraće). Molim dodatne prijedloge i ideje ako ih imate, kao i ideju za naslov (ili nešto drugo ako nećemo opet zajednički naslov).
You think of me as rats. You think of a thing known as The Air Force Survival Handbook, where it explains that if you cut off one of my heads --which is where the poison is -- you must then slit open the ventral side and continue the cuts to extend the length of each leg. Subsequent to this, the skin can be peeled off, the belly opened and emptied, the backbone split and both halves roasted on sharpened sticks over a small fire.
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Klara
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Unread post by Klara »

Ja se slaĹžem - idemo dalje :) . Ne?u davati ideje za naslov (ili sl.) jer je pro[?]li puta pro[?]ao moj prijedlog pa ne bi bilo fer.
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