Me, cartoonist? Yeah.
I really wish I was a better writer. Cartoons I can write ok because people don't naturally speak with extremely colourful wording. For example:
Novelist:
There was a blanket of violet drenched across the meddow.
Cartoonist:
There were a lot of purple flowers.
Novelist:Her presense reflected with an illumination that could barely be contained by ( Read more... )
Novelist:
There was a blanket of violet drenched across the meddow.
Cartoonist:
There were a lot of purple flowers.
Novelist:Her presense reflected with an illumination that could barely be contained by ( Read more... )
Comments 3
Poet:
Her presense reflected with an illumination that could barely be contained by the four walls that imprisoned my passionate love for her.
Cartoonist:
She was hot.
Novelist:
She stood in the doorway, looking at the desk in front of her. Her long golden hair glistened in the moonlight. The stale air touched dryly on her fair skin. It was obvious that no one had been here in a while. Walking over to inspect the wall, she found a mirror. Her full she lightly covered her lips with a dark rose gloss, reflected as black in the mirror.
See, the difference is that the poet makes a flowery way of saying that she's hot. The cartoonist says she is hot. The novelist says how she looks and you decide whether or not she's hot.
Poet: Tell, flowery
Cartoonist: Tell, straight-up (sometimes show through the picture, as it is a cartoon)
Novelist: Show, telling as little as possible.
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I'm happy to finally make your real-life acquaintance.
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Bwahahahahahah.
Okay. As a poet I take some issue with the use of the word "flowery." I mean, sure, your example was fantastic if you're speak of 15th-16th Romantic poets, but they all died a long time ago. Anyway, if you run into anything that sounds like a Romantic, but wasn't actually written by a Romantic, it's generally worthy of mocking.
What a poet actually does is call upon images that are not neccesarily physical descriptors, but rather psychological, emotional, or metaphorical in order to communicate a simple idea.
I saw her standing in the cool grey
moon-riddled night, arms twined
around her waist, and the sweet
tingle of air draped over her
shoulders, a liquid crystal river flowing down
over her hips, and then over to me.
I drank slowly, filling the ache she left,
when her moon pebble eyes saw me and turned away again.I never even mentioned that any of her features were particularly attractive, but I bet you can imagine, right ( ... )
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