Is this too poetic for a prose?

[miyako73]

"Who needs eyes when all I can stare at from sunrise to sunrise, which I do not see, are ceilings, bars, steels, and walls and occasionally, holstered weapons, uniformed bodies, and stern faces I do not want to know? No mirror, I cannot even look at myself, for a change; my bed made of stainless steel has lost its sheen, and the water in the toilet bowl appears like the beef soup they usually serve that has no hint of meat at all. There is nothing I can glance to check my face, my hair, my skin. Anywhere is either black or dark, even the white-painted ceilings, the flaking beige walls, the gray bars that peel and expose their rusts. I look at them with shut eyes even when I am fully awake. I am beginning to understand the lament of the blind. Although mine are closed and theirs are open, like them, I am tired of seeing nothing."

Please share what kind of prose do you love to read: straightforward, soothing, abstract, poetic, or .....

[hillwalker]

I wouldn't use the term 'poetic' as such here - the piece does tend to read as rather long-winded or over-written but that is not the fault of the imagery. I think the main problem here is that most of the sentences are too long (because as well as describing your predicament you qualify your descriptions in places)

e.g. all I can stare at from sunrise to sunrise, which I do not see, are ceilings.....

I think the individual elements you have introduced, poetic or otherwise, are fine - but because they are crammed in so tightly it is difficult to pay adequate attention to each one.

Personally I enjoy reading all sorts of prose - anything that stimulates the thinking process or fires the imagination. And each style has its place - even within the same story if used subtly enough. Style, when used properly, often goes unnoticed on first reading.

[miyako73]

I'm a confused writer. I used to employ big words in my writing, and a professor advised me to go simple. I used to have a lot of compound and complex sentences in my prose, another professor said to keep them simple. Which is really which? If I have to listen to my inner voice, I just want a relaxed writing with a zen feel to it. But again, it can be sophomoric or amateurish to some. Or is it my aversion towards contraction (don't instead of do not) in my prose that's problematic? I want dialogues between quotation marks to use contraction so they will stand out and be conversational. Can a writer really please everyone?

I'm interested in magic realism with a documentary style tackling family, history, suffering, justice, intellectualism, religion, savagery, modernity, death, and renewal/change/resurrection. Is writing not a contrived endeavor? For God's sake, marquez had the ants carry the baby. Isn't that a contrived writing since there is a manipulation of reality involved?

What is an inspired writing? I am so willing to learn even from 10-year olds. Does my work below uninspired? I have watched too many prison movies and tv shows already. Ain't I inspired by what I see and watch? What is an inspiration to a writer?

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

Who needs eyes when all I can stare at from sunrise to sunrise, which I do not see, are ceilings, bars, steels, and walls and occasionally, holstered weapons, uniformed bodies, and stern faces I do not want to know? No mirror, I cannot even look at myself, for a change; my bed made of stainless steel has lost its sheen, and the water in the toilet bowl appears like the beef soup they usually serve that has no hint of meat at all. There is nothing I can glance to check my face, my hair, my skin. Anywhere is either black or dark, even the white-painted ceilings, the flaking beige walls, the gray bars that peel and expose their rusts. I look at them with shut eyes even when I am awake. I am beginning to understand the lament of the blind. Although I was born with a healthy set of eyes and unfortunately, they were not, like them, I am tired of seeing nothing.

My last hope dimming, on my thirtieth birthday last month that also happened to be the day my final appeal was denied, I tried blinding myself, by scratching my eyeballs and rubbing my eyelids vigorously like I had seen enough of suffering and wanted to wake up from my nightmare. I only got a severe case of sore eyes afterwards that eventually healed by its own after a couple of weeks. Although it left scars on both of my corneas and irises, I have had no regret. At least, when my day comes, they will not think of gouging my eyes to sell them at exorbitant price to someone desperate to see the light.

Everyone in the prison knows about the organ harvesting and how the authorities make money from it. I cannot help but wonder why the rate of suicide among prisoners is high. Someone dies every day, and a new prisoner comes in to take her place. Is it really self-murder or something else? Even those who are glad they are in prison suddenly disappear. I mean those who find comfort and lead an easy life behind bars—free food, free medicines, free clothing, free housing, free utility bills, free everything but freedom—better than what they used to have outside, in the streets, in the cold of winter. They are not the individuals who will ponder upon the idea of hanging themselves. They have been numb to suffering even before they got in and donned their orange overalls. Simply, no hardship can push them to the edge. Even the Buddhist prisoners who believe suicides will reincarnate as lizards in their next cycles, crawl flat on all fours as their atonements, and croak their prayers all night also become victims of the murder masked with a concocted story about a prisoner’s despair and self-infliction.

With or without death sentences, they execute guilty and innocent prisoners for their body organs. No wonder the prison’s clinic is like a hospital with a surgical unit complete with facilities and medical practitioners and open twenty-four hours a day, but I do not really see them treating rashes, boils, and bed sores. The prison wardens give away medications for colds, cough, and fever not the workers at the clinic. There are a dozen of nurses and another half a dozen of doctors for every shift, although the total population of the incarcerated individuals is less than one thousand.

I do not think our health is their main concern, contrary to their media propaganda about penal reforms. We seldom see a psychiatrist or a psychologist, even though there are many prisoners who lose their minds, who yell gibberish all day and all night, eat their feces, gulp their urine, and slash their wrists. I have not also seen a dentist who can check our gingivitis and wisdom teeth. Why will they care? Teeth are not harvested for implantation. As an added torture, they leave us to bear the bad breathes of some of our cellmates due to tooth decay smelling like a dead rat. I do not wonder anymore why dental problems are common among all prisoners. The food they serve us is either too salty or too sweet. Only God knows what they put in it besides monosodium glutamate.

If I did the crime they accused me of, I would gladly donate all my organs without defects as my way of paying off for my sin. I am a big believer of karma in life and in death. In truth, I have been a victim more than anything else, but I cannot prove my innocence. Also, if I were blind, I would refuse any parts of the eyes of a prisoner who was mercilessly executed and whose guilt was doubtful. I will not be an accessory to any barbaric injustice perpetrated on anyone just so I will feel better. The suffering of others cannot lull my own.

Fortunately, I can still see, but there are tiny strings in my sight that follow wherever I move my eyes. I have two of them that look like hairs or shadows of hairs; one on each eye. The one on the left curls its horizontal tail to the upper side as if it is designed and intentional, and the other one, which is longer and straight, slants like a perfect slash almost that does not fall or move. I see them when I stare at the air or at the yellow bulb at night trying to think about the past that can make me forget the present.

[hillwalker]

First of all, stick to your guns. Your writer's 'voice' will develop the more you exercise it. Ok, some of what you scribble down will be embarassing when you re-read it a month or so later. But you have to get it on paper in order to make way for other ideas that are no doubt cramming themselves into your subconscious, begging to be heard/read.

Simplicity of expression does not have to involve simple language or style or imagery. Perhaps aiming for clarity is better than trying to maintain simplicity. For example, that opening sentence is 'difficult' rather than 'over-literary'. It could be broken down into four or five shorter, punchier sentences that would make the images easier to assimilate, and make the protagonist sound truly more desperate than self-centred.

What do you class as sophomoric or amateurish. If you can recognise those faults in your own writing (compared to what you enjoy to read) then you know which path to follow.

As for manipulating reality - yes, writing is certainly meant to be contrived if it is to say anything different. You can be as contrived as you wish - a poetic licence removes pretty much every barrier to freedom of expression - but give your readership a little consideration at the same time. From what I have read of your work so far you have genuine talent - perhaps you are unsure which are your strong points and which are not.

Contractions in dialogue but not in narrative - sounds good to me if that is the style you employ. Style is not meant to be a strait-jacket so don't be too hard on yourself.

Inspiration from prison movies - well, short of getting yourself incarcerated for the sake of your art, this seems an acceptable approach. Everyone says write about what you know best, but I tend to disagree. I say, write about what inspires you most at the time you are writing - it will change, maybe even from day to day. The key is to write as soon as that inspiration rings inside your head, while it is still fresh. Trying to rediscover that echo a week or so later never works as well.

My advice would be to think a little less about HOW you write and concentrate more on what you enjoy most (hopefully that will be the writing itself). The time to analyse it is perhaps a couple of months later after it has lain in a drawer, and the initial urge to write about that particular subject has gone. Reading your own work with 'fresh' eyes can be a challenge - but it will help you develop good working practice and allow you to edit ruthlessly whilst also recognising those particular pieces that you should indeed be proud of.

Good luck, H

[miyako73]

Guys, please be honest. Is the prose below amateurish, contrived, and uninspired? I want a point of reference using my writing, so I will know what not to write. Thanks a bunch.


"If I were blind, I would refuse, if given to me, any parts of the eyes of a prisoner executed without mercy and whose guilt was doubtful. I would not be an accessory to any barbaric injustice perpetrated on anyone just so I would be complete and feel better. The suffering of others could not lull my own. I would also refuse if I were to receive body organs from a guilty prisoner who must die for he had led the life of crime and violence only an eye for an eye could make sense of it. I would not yearn for his guiltless heart, his bone marrow as vile as his genes, his eyes that had seen how he tainted his wicked hands with devilries and how he sinned without remorse and penance in his lifetime. I would not resurrect someone evil in my blood, in my flesh, in my bones, in my body. I would not pollute my soul with someone’s poison. I would not want to repay for his sins, nor would I want to continue his deeds deserving of extreme punishments—even if meted out a thousand times would not be enough. I would rather stay blind than see with the eyes of an unrepentant sinner."

[hillwalker]

Ok - I'll be harsh.....


If I were blind, I would refuse, if given to me, any parts of the eyes of a prisoner executed without mercy and whose guilt was doubtful.

A long, rather pretentious, sentence which could do with a trim :
'if given to me' is redundant - since you only 'refuse' what you are 'given' (agreed?)

and why 'executed without mercy'? - are some executions more merciful than others?


I would not be an accessory to any barbaric injustice perpetrated on anyone just so I would be complete and feel better.

the second half of this sentence is a bit woolly - 'even if I were to gain from it' is what you are suggesting


The suffering of others could not lull my own.

'lull' a rather strange word to use - 'relieve' goes better with 'suffering'


I would also refuse if I were to receive body organs from a guilty prisoner who must die for he had led the life of crime and violence only an eye for an eye could make sense of it.

Another long, muddled sentence which loses its way. You can't 'refuse' something you have already 'received' - you can return it, or refuse something you are being offered.
Personally I would leave out 'if I were to receive' as again it is a redundant phrase.
Also the final section about 'an eye for an eye' would be better covered in a fresh sentence - plus the phrase 'could make sense of it' doesn't 'make sense'
- 'An eye for an eye remains the only justice acceptable' perhaps?


I would not yearn for his guiltless heart, his bone marrow as vile as his genes, his eyes that had seen how he tainted his wicked hands with devilries and how he sinned without remorse and penance in his lifetime.

A rather over-ornate sentence - would benefit again with a little less melodrama
- 'his vile bone marrow and his eyes that watched his devilish acts and a lifetime of unrepentant sin' says pretty much the same thing a little more clearly (but I'm sure you could improve on my re-interpretation here)


I would not resurrect someone evil in my blood, in my flesh, in my bones, in my body.

Is it someone evil, or the actual evil you are resurrecting? I think by accepting a donated organ or blood transfusion it is probably the latter - since the body is already presumably irrepairable.


I would not pollute my soul with someone’s poison. I would not want to repay for his sins, nor would I want to continue his deeds deserving of extreme punishments—even if meted out a thousand times would not be enough.

'repay for his sins' I don't understand - is it 'repent for his sins' you mean, or 'replay his sins'?
- and that closing bit 'deeds deserving of extreme punishments - even if meted out a thousand times would not be enough'
I think you need to start a new sentence here in order to express this thought more clearly.


I would rather stay blind than see with the eyes of an unrepentant sinner. is fine by the way.

Overall this whole piece is quite pretentious - in style and in what you are trying to say - and it is repetitive (far too many 'I would's)

The premise is that your conscience would not allow you to accept organs donated by an unrepentant killer; the eyes in particular.

Trying to use such dramatic language to underline your own principles and to moralise about an unrepentant killer doesn't work here. You are telling, telling, telling - and it feels like you are hitting the reader over the head with a mallet. The more you rant the less coherent your argument becomes.

From other postings I know you have a delicate touch - and this piece could be written far more effectively if you took a rather more subjective approach.

e.g. if you were actually blind and were given this killer's eyes, what do you imagine you might see? might you perceive evil differently or might your instinctive sympathy for others be changed by his tainted organs? How would this make you reconsider accepting a killer's corneas, for instance?

Incidentally, the reasons you actually give for refusing a criminal's eyes -
1 - because he is innocent and has unjustly been executed, or
2 - because he is guilty and having his eyes taken away is his punishment
mean you would never take a criminal's eyes because there are no other options left, so where does that leave us.....?

These are just some thoughts.
I gather from your request that you know there is something wrong with this piece. Trust your instincts and give it a rewrite.

H

[miyako73]

Thanks a lot, Hill. That really helps. I chose this paragraph because I just wrote what came up in my head without feeling and scrutinizing what I wrote. Now I know the feeling of uninspired writing-- it is too verbal without a heart. Thanks again.

[feignfeign]

keep at it miyako, dont give up