Writer looking for work (of any kind)
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Rev.H.B.Snood
- Forum Member
- Posts: 6
- Joined: Sat Jan 24, 2009 6:02 pm
- Location: Worcester, MA
Writer looking for work (of any kind)
I'm looking for any kind of work in comics I can get. My biggest strength is dialogue, and I've been told I write especially interesting female characters. I will admit that I don't have much of a portfolio set up yet, but send me the basics of what you'd want me to write and I'll send back a sample for you to judge. My email address is jnoble@caladorecity.com
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Rev.H.B.Snood
- Forum Member
- Posts: 6
- Joined: Sat Jan 24, 2009 6:02 pm
- Location: Worcester, MA
Here's a sample of my writing:
The sound of running water filled the bathroom. By contrast, everything else was dead silent, solidifying the feeling of loneliness that saturated the room. Nicole sat on the floor, opposite the shower, cradling her knees in her arms. Her eyes were fixed, unfocused and inattentive, at the sink in front of her. In her mind, the word "freak" completely drowned out the sound of water. The images of the afternoon's events kept playing over in her head. Reluctantly, her train of thought headed in the direction of the sensation of it. Like millions of tiny pin pricks, running up and down and through her body. It had flowed inside of her, a raging, flooded river, pushing outwards as waters forced against a hastily made dam. She had felt it before, but never with so much intensity, or pain. In her head she circled around and over it, horrified by it's presence but also unable to ignore it. She thought, for a moment, that she could feel it again, deep in the pit of her stomach, and said to herself that it was just her imagination. However, she quickly realized that it was quite real. Uneasiness soon turned into a panic, and in turn the feeling started to grow in her body, more and more with the speed of her breathing, it seemed. After a few attempts at trying to convince herself that it wasn't happening, that she was somewhere else and someone else, she started to try and calm herself down. Slowing her breathing, she simply let it sit inside of her. Nicole closed her eyes, and with some reluctance, focused on the sensation, to understand it instead of being afraid of it. For a minute or so, she did nothing but feel it dance and spin inside of her. But soon, when she focused on a particular part of her body where she felt it, she found that it shifted around. Experimenting with this, she discovered that she could push it all into one general area of her body. Concentrating completely on influencing the ebb and flow of the sensation, she was, slowly, able to confine it in her right hand. She could feel it barely contained there, stabbing at her fingertips from the inside out. She raised her hand, and after a second's hesitation, she snapped her fingers. There was a bright blue flash, and a loud cracking noise, like a miniature thunderbolt. Nicole stared at her hand for a moment, afterwards. Her eyes began to glaze glaze as what just happened started to sink in. She sat like that for what seemed to be a very long time. Then, over the running water, the sound of someone crying could just barely be heard.
Across the street from Nicole's home, in front of the Morrison's hedges, about five feet down from the street lamp, right next to the fire hydrant, there was a man, talking on a cell phone, making regular glances at the house on front of him.
"Yes, Jeremy. She's the genuine article."
He practically broadcasted a look of annoyance on his face. He was uncomfortably warm, even in shorts and a T-shirt.
"Well, when have I ever led you astray?"
A smile crept across his face as he decided to have some fun at his employer's expense.
"I'm legitimately hurting here. All these years, I've been devoting my skills to your causes and not only have I come through time and time again, I have turned more than one potential failure into a success. And yet, I feel no trust. It wounds me."
The smile on his face now stretched from ear to ear. He was having more fun than he'd had in the past two weeks. The fact that this was slightly pathetic did not go unnoted.
"And another thing..."
He was abruptly cut off by the now fairly irate man on the other end, who simply wanted to get back to business.
"Yes sir."
His eyes drifted back towards the house as his boss went back to asking the standard questions.
"There's a lot of wrong things going on in this girl's head. You're normal teenage angst, but a bit on the extreme side."
He fixed his gaze on one of the windows. It was the bathroom. She was in there. He could feel it.
"...no. This kid's sharp as a tack. At least when she wants to be. And she's got a good heart. I see a lot of potential in her."
He started smiling again. This time, however, it wasn't impish. It was warm. Loving.
"No. I'll bring her in myself. ...God, 'bring her in.' Damn it, Cantwell, you're turning me into a bad noir character."
His boss bid his former fairwells, of course not without getting in a shot at his character first, and hung up. He closed his phone and looked down at it in his hand.
"Love you too, snookums."
He looked back at the house. For a moment, he stood there. He could still feel her. Indulging himself, he widened his scope. He could feel her family, and her neighbors, and even the birds in the trees. He could feel what they felt, he knew their pasts, and sensed the possible futures too numerous to count. He started to get lost in the flow of sensation, and then after some minor internal protests, quickly snapped himself out of it. He had work to do, after all. He walked off down the street, and started muttering about the heat under his breath.
The sound of running water filled the bathroom. By contrast, everything else was dead silent, solidifying the feeling of loneliness that saturated the room. Nicole sat on the floor, opposite the shower, cradling her knees in her arms. Her eyes were fixed, unfocused and inattentive, at the sink in front of her. In her mind, the word "freak" completely drowned out the sound of water. The images of the afternoon's events kept playing over in her head. Reluctantly, her train of thought headed in the direction of the sensation of it. Like millions of tiny pin pricks, running up and down and through her body. It had flowed inside of her, a raging, flooded river, pushing outwards as waters forced against a hastily made dam. She had felt it before, but never with so much intensity, or pain. In her head she circled around and over it, horrified by it's presence but also unable to ignore it. She thought, for a moment, that she could feel it again, deep in the pit of her stomach, and said to herself that it was just her imagination. However, she quickly realized that it was quite real. Uneasiness soon turned into a panic, and in turn the feeling started to grow in her body, more and more with the speed of her breathing, it seemed. After a few attempts at trying to convince herself that it wasn't happening, that she was somewhere else and someone else, she started to try and calm herself down. Slowing her breathing, she simply let it sit inside of her. Nicole closed her eyes, and with some reluctance, focused on the sensation, to understand it instead of being afraid of it. For a minute or so, she did nothing but feel it dance and spin inside of her. But soon, when she focused on a particular part of her body where she felt it, she found that it shifted around. Experimenting with this, she discovered that she could push it all into one general area of her body. Concentrating completely on influencing the ebb and flow of the sensation, she was, slowly, able to confine it in her right hand. She could feel it barely contained there, stabbing at her fingertips from the inside out. She raised her hand, and after a second's hesitation, she snapped her fingers. There was a bright blue flash, and a loud cracking noise, like a miniature thunderbolt. Nicole stared at her hand for a moment, afterwards. Her eyes began to glaze glaze as what just happened started to sink in. She sat like that for what seemed to be a very long time. Then, over the running water, the sound of someone crying could just barely be heard.
Across the street from Nicole's home, in front of the Morrison's hedges, about five feet down from the street lamp, right next to the fire hydrant, there was a man, talking on a cell phone, making regular glances at the house on front of him.
"Yes, Jeremy. She's the genuine article."
He practically broadcasted a look of annoyance on his face. He was uncomfortably warm, even in shorts and a T-shirt.
"Well, when have I ever led you astray?"
A smile crept across his face as he decided to have some fun at his employer's expense.
"I'm legitimately hurting here. All these years, I've been devoting my skills to your causes and not only have I come through time and time again, I have turned more than one potential failure into a success. And yet, I feel no trust. It wounds me."
The smile on his face now stretched from ear to ear. He was having more fun than he'd had in the past two weeks. The fact that this was slightly pathetic did not go unnoted.
"And another thing..."
He was abruptly cut off by the now fairly irate man on the other end, who simply wanted to get back to business.
"Yes sir."
His eyes drifted back towards the house as his boss went back to asking the standard questions.
"There's a lot of wrong things going on in this girl's head. You're normal teenage angst, but a bit on the extreme side."
He fixed his gaze on one of the windows. It was the bathroom. She was in there. He could feel it.
"...no. This kid's sharp as a tack. At least when she wants to be. And she's got a good heart. I see a lot of potential in her."
He started smiling again. This time, however, it wasn't impish. It was warm. Loving.
"No. I'll bring her in myself. ...God, 'bring her in.' Damn it, Cantwell, you're turning me into a bad noir character."
His boss bid his former fairwells, of course not without getting in a shot at his character first, and hung up. He closed his phone and looked down at it in his hand.
"Love you too, snookums."
He looked back at the house. For a moment, he stood there. He could still feel her. Indulging himself, he widened his scope. He could feel her family, and her neighbors, and even the birds in the trees. He could feel what they felt, he knew their pasts, and sensed the possible futures too numerous to count. He started to get lost in the flow of sensation, and then after some minor internal protests, quickly snapped himself out of it. He had work to do, after all. He walked off down the street, and started muttering about the heat under his breath.
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Rev.H.B.Snood
- Forum Member
- Posts: 6
- Joined: Sat Jan 24, 2009 6:02 pm
- Location: Worcester, MA
This was, by the way, just a rough draft. I've been editing and adding to it today. Here's the most recent revision:
The sound of running water filled the bathroom. By contrast, everything else was dead silent, solidifying the feeling of loneliness that saturated the room. Nicole sat on the floor, opposite the shower, cradling her knees in her arms. Her eyes were fixed, unfocused and inattentive, at the sink in front of her. In her mind, the word "freak" completely drowned out the sound of water. The images of the afternoon's events kept playing over in her head. Reluctantly, her train of thought headed in the direction of the sensation of it. Like millions of tiny pin pricks, running up and down and through her body. She had felt it before, but never with so much intensity, or pain. In her head she circled around and over it, horrified by it's presence and unable to ignore it. She thought, for a moment, that she could feel it again, deep in the pit of her stomach, and said to herself that it was just her imagination. However, she quickly realized that it was quite real. Uneasiness soon turned into a panic, and in turn the feeling started to grow in her body, more and more with the speed of her breathing, it seemed. After a few attempts at trying to convince herself that it wasn't happening, that she was somewhere else and someone else, she started to try and calm herself down. Slowing her breathing, she simply let it sit inside of her. She closed her eyes, and with some reluctance, focused on the sensation, to understand it instead of being afraid of it. For a minute or so, she did nothing but feel it dance and spin inside of her. But soon, when she focused on a particular part of her body where she felt it, she found that it shifted around. Experimenting with this, she discovered that she could push it all into one general area of her body. Concentrating completely on influencing the ebb and flow of the sensation, she was, slowly, able to confine it in her right hand. She could feel it barely contained there, stabbing at her fingertips from the inside out. She raised her hand, and after a second's hesitation, she snapped her fingers. There was a bright blue flash, and a loud cracking noise, like a miniature thunderbolt. Nicole stared at her hand for a moment, afterwards. Her eyes began to glaze glaze as what just happened started to sink in. She sat like that for what seemed to be a very long time. Then, over the running water, the sound of someone crying could just barely be heard.
Across the street from Nicole's home, in front of the Morrison's hedges, about five feet down from the street lamp, right next to the fire hydrant, there was a man, talking on a cell phone, making regular glances at the house on front of him.
"Yes, Jeremy. She's the genuine article."
His face broadcasted his annoyance. He was uncomfortably warm, even in shorts and a T-shirt.
"Well, when have I ever led you astray?"
A smile crept across his face. He decided to have some fun at his employer's expense.
"I'm legitimately hurting here. All these years, I've been devoting my skills to your causes and not only have I come through time and time again, I have turned more than one potential failure into a success. And yet, I feel no trust. It wounds me."
His smile stretched from ear to ear. He was having more fun than he'd had in the past two weeks. The fact that this was slightly pathetic did not go unnoted.
"And another thing..."
He was abruptly cut off by the now fairly irate man on the other end, who simply wanted to get back to business.
"Yes sir."
His eyes drifted back towards the house as his boss went back to asking the standard questions.
"There's a lot of wrong things going on in this girl's head. You're normal teenage angst, but a bit on the extreme side."
He fixed his gaze on one of the windows. It was the bathroom. She was in there. He could feel it.
"...no. This kid's sharp as a tack. At least when she wants to be. And she's got a good heart. I see a lot of potential in her."
He started smiling again. This time, however, it wasn't impish. It was warm. Loving.
"No. I'll bring her in myself. ...God, 'bring her in.' Damn it, Cantwell, working as your talent scout is turning me into a bad noir character."
His boss bid his formal farewells and told him not to screw this up.
"Love you too, snookums," he replied, and hung up.
He stood there for a few minutes, looking back at the house. He could still feel her. Indulging himself, he widened his scope. He could feel her family, and her neighbors, and even the birds in the trees. He could feel what they felt, he knew their pasts, and sensed the possible futures too numerous to count. He started to get lost in the flow of sensation, and then after some minor internal protests, quickly snapped himself out of it. He had work to do, after all. He walked off down the street, and started muttering under his breath about the heat.
Also, in case you were wondering, I'm perfectly capable of writing in scripted format. In fact, I prefer it.
The sound of running water filled the bathroom. By contrast, everything else was dead silent, solidifying the feeling of loneliness that saturated the room. Nicole sat on the floor, opposite the shower, cradling her knees in her arms. Her eyes were fixed, unfocused and inattentive, at the sink in front of her. In her mind, the word "freak" completely drowned out the sound of water. The images of the afternoon's events kept playing over in her head. Reluctantly, her train of thought headed in the direction of the sensation of it. Like millions of tiny pin pricks, running up and down and through her body. She had felt it before, but never with so much intensity, or pain. In her head she circled around and over it, horrified by it's presence and unable to ignore it. She thought, for a moment, that she could feel it again, deep in the pit of her stomach, and said to herself that it was just her imagination. However, she quickly realized that it was quite real. Uneasiness soon turned into a panic, and in turn the feeling started to grow in her body, more and more with the speed of her breathing, it seemed. After a few attempts at trying to convince herself that it wasn't happening, that she was somewhere else and someone else, she started to try and calm herself down. Slowing her breathing, she simply let it sit inside of her. She closed her eyes, and with some reluctance, focused on the sensation, to understand it instead of being afraid of it. For a minute or so, she did nothing but feel it dance and spin inside of her. But soon, when she focused on a particular part of her body where she felt it, she found that it shifted around. Experimenting with this, she discovered that she could push it all into one general area of her body. Concentrating completely on influencing the ebb and flow of the sensation, she was, slowly, able to confine it in her right hand. She could feel it barely contained there, stabbing at her fingertips from the inside out. She raised her hand, and after a second's hesitation, she snapped her fingers. There was a bright blue flash, and a loud cracking noise, like a miniature thunderbolt. Nicole stared at her hand for a moment, afterwards. Her eyes began to glaze glaze as what just happened started to sink in. She sat like that for what seemed to be a very long time. Then, over the running water, the sound of someone crying could just barely be heard.
Across the street from Nicole's home, in front of the Morrison's hedges, about five feet down from the street lamp, right next to the fire hydrant, there was a man, talking on a cell phone, making regular glances at the house on front of him.
"Yes, Jeremy. She's the genuine article."
His face broadcasted his annoyance. He was uncomfortably warm, even in shorts and a T-shirt.
"Well, when have I ever led you astray?"
A smile crept across his face. He decided to have some fun at his employer's expense.
"I'm legitimately hurting here. All these years, I've been devoting my skills to your causes and not only have I come through time and time again, I have turned more than one potential failure into a success. And yet, I feel no trust. It wounds me."
His smile stretched from ear to ear. He was having more fun than he'd had in the past two weeks. The fact that this was slightly pathetic did not go unnoted.
"And another thing..."
He was abruptly cut off by the now fairly irate man on the other end, who simply wanted to get back to business.
"Yes sir."
His eyes drifted back towards the house as his boss went back to asking the standard questions.
"There's a lot of wrong things going on in this girl's head. You're normal teenage angst, but a bit on the extreme side."
He fixed his gaze on one of the windows. It was the bathroom. She was in there. He could feel it.
"...no. This kid's sharp as a tack. At least when she wants to be. And she's got a good heart. I see a lot of potential in her."
He started smiling again. This time, however, it wasn't impish. It was warm. Loving.
"No. I'll bring her in myself. ...God, 'bring her in.' Damn it, Cantwell, working as your talent scout is turning me into a bad noir character."
His boss bid his formal farewells and told him not to screw this up.
"Love you too, snookums," he replied, and hung up.
He stood there for a few minutes, looking back at the house. He could still feel her. Indulging himself, he widened his scope. He could feel her family, and her neighbors, and even the birds in the trees. He could feel what they felt, he knew their pasts, and sensed the possible futures too numerous to count. He started to get lost in the flow of sensation, and then after some minor internal protests, quickly snapped himself out of it. He had work to do, after all. He walked off down the street, and started muttering under his breath about the heat.
Also, in case you were wondering, I'm perfectly capable of writing in scripted format. In fact, I prefer it.