What Types Of Writers Are There?

creative-writing

What Types Of Writers Are There?

Now for this writing article I know I will not be featured on Freshly Pressed nor any other family orientated weblog, I have good reason though. I have to show all if the writers out there about finding an angle for their writing and yes, this will have foul language, so if you think bad words are corruptible then I suggest you look away. If you would like to further your writing knowledge that is rather dire for you to become an awesome writer, keep reading my sane friends.

Okay in my opinion you have ‘The Gracious Writer’ and ‘The Hard-Hitting Writer’ both utterly unique and critical within the writing industry. Which one are you?

I will start off by portraying a hard-hitting writer, what they do and how they affect readers.

Now Hard-hitting writers are the ones who are not afraid of words, such as Rap artists, psychology/horror/epic/sci-fi screenwriters to the same genre of novelists and short-story writers; such as Stephen King (The legend) Eminem (My Hero!) James Cameron (Great movies, dude.) Shane Black (I love all your films) Dan Brown (The DaVinci Code was the shit!) Edgar Allen Poe (Not bad my friend, not bad.) There are some more but I would be here all day listing writers.

I will show you along-the-lines of what a hard-hitting writer does.

‘Jackson bursts through the main doors with a wamble from his shooter. The shine of hell turns furnace within his eyes. The pain from each of his family members keeps him moving forward into the path of a thousand bullets that hole him.

“Die, you motherfuckers, you deserve this and more!” He bawls from his hell to the heavens. Death does not become him as he takes on the role as his server.  The blood that seeps from him doesn’t slow Jackson down; it is his rage that keeps him marching forward.

The room floods with god-fearing men and jumping bullet casings that soon lay still beside the bodies Jackson is wafting into an endless-sleep.

All Jackson can smell is the tinge of discharged weapons and burning skin as the hot metal pierces through blood with revenge. As the last bullet is fired from Jackson piece an eerie silence of the chokes and gargles of hemorrhaging and squeaks of pain are all that warm the room.

Jackson walks over to a dying foe, uncaring and lost within his stare.

“We-We… were just …doing our job, you and your family just got in the way, man.” The death-gripped challenger falters.

“And now, I’m just doing mine. Tell the devil I’ll be seeing him soon, you piece of shit.” Jackson lifts his cannon with no life and ends his enemies.

Are you starting to see the big picture now? Two types… That’s all we have. Now a Gracious Writer is the type to be very poetic in writing, attention to deal is crucial to the whole story and above all else they are very focused on each piece of work.

Such as J.K.Rowling (Love Harry Potter) Stephanie Meyers (Edward Cullen you’re so hunky!) 50 Shades of Grey (Not for me, but women seem to like it. Plus I have done better stuff than that.) And so on….

Here you go with my take on a Gracious Writer. Tell me what you think.

Each blink is too long and each beat is too much to cage and bare, so I shall rip off my eyelids to keep you in my sight’s a little longer and tear through my chest and place myself as a sacrifice to the goddess of my inner war. My lips become unworked and dry without your pressure and I wonder and pace in circles to this addiction called you, your essence or smoke clings to my lungs, I know each inhale is deadly but the remembrance will one day be my murderer. I know you have found your feet and walked the ground you stood on but you left a blood-trail when you drove your hand through my ribs, clasped your fingers around my heart and dragged it off to the unknown, thank you.

I have tried to rip and burn the photographs of you but your witchcrafting spells are protection against your stillness towards the weak. It feels as if I am chained to a monstrous mountains peak of snow and I am kneeling at its feet, tortured to watch the skies clouds that have now been replaced with images of our better times and precious seconds. There was no Cupid with a bow and arrow only a silent thief with a dagger. No medical diagnosis or prescription to help me now, the only answer it to go cold turkey, the oldest of remedies and cures but it will surely almost destroy me as you have ripped out my insides, cooked them and now I am ready to carve. The thought of you make me throw-up, not in a sickening way to your portrait but fear, anxiety, frustration and anger, those are the invisible fingers down my throat. Thank you, Love.

So there you have it, one more step towards a Literary Agent. What do you think? Tell me.

Keep those pens busy!

Alex

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Filed under 2013, Articles, Author, Blog, Blook, Books, Celebrity, Eminem, Fiction, Literacy, Literary Agent, Love, Novel, Poems, Random, Story, Wordpress, Writer, Writing, Writing #2

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