#DescriptiveWriting

[jade-malay]

Jade Malay Talks Techniques for Balancing Descriptive and Action-Packed Writing

In the realm of literature, finding the perfect equilibrium between showing and telling is akin to mastering a delicate dance. In this podcast, Jade Malay delves deep into the techniques essential for achieving a harmonious balance between descriptive prose and action-packed narration. Whether you're a novice writer seeking to refine your craft or a seasoned wordsmith looking to polish your skills, this exploration promises invaluable insights to elevate your storytelling prowess.

[penandprompt]

[solutionlab]

Product Review Writing - Product Writing - Product Descriptions - Produc...

https://youtu.be/5dXN6Jdv5GU

Product Review Writing - Product Writing - Product Descriptions - Product Research

🌟 Welcome to www.solutionlab.online! 🌟 Are you ready to elevate your product review writing game? Look no further! In this power-packed video, we delve deep into the art of crafting compelling product descriptions and conducting thorough product research. 📝✨ Whether you're an aspiring product reviewer or a seasoned pro, our expert tips and tricks will guide you through the intricacies of writing reviews that captivate your audience. From the initial brainstorming phase to the final touches of polishing your prose, we've got you covered. 🚀 Join us on an insightful journey as we share valuable insights on how to analyze products, extract key features, and present them in a way that resonates with your audience. Our step-by-step guide will empower you to write reviews that not only inform but also engage and inspire. 🌐✍️ But that's not all – we're not just about imparting knowledge; we're building a community of passionate content creators. 🤝💬 Don't forget to hit that like button if you find our tips helpful and, most importantly, subscribe to our channel for a treasure trove of content that will take your writing skills to the next level. 🛎️📲 Share this video with your fellow enthusiasts and let's grow together! 🌱🎉 Thank you for choosing www.solutionlab.online as your go-to source for all things product review writing. Let's embark on this exciting journey together – like, subscribe, and let the creativity flow! 🚀📸 So 💖 with a commitment to excellence and a passion for creativity, our team of professionals is ready to collaborate with you to achieve your goals and we invite 🤝 you, to our world where innovation, precision, and imagination converge. We, Welcome to our services hub, where your vision becomes reality.

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[madelynwritesalone]

The Floral Chair

     The room was small and cramped. When I entered it, there was a faint scent of roses with an even fainter hint of citrus. It reminded me of the perfume my grandmother wore when she visited for the holidays. In the center of the room, there was a dusty pink chair with a floral print. A beige blanket was draped over the chair, and two floral pillows colored in different shades of tan. A stack of old books sat balanced atop them. One book that caught my eye was Little Red Riding Hood, one of my favorite books from my childhood. I remember lying in my bed as a toddler, all tucked in and comfy, and having my mother read it to me.

    Surrounding the chair were old sculptures and paintings that my father had collected over the years. He was always taking any chance he could get for new art to put in the house. They always ended up in the attic after a while, though, when he found a new one to go in its place. There was a bronze sculpture shaped like a ball of rubber bands on the edge of the coffee table. I remembered staring at it on the mantle in the living room, just wondering what the point of such a thing would be. I still don't understand it to this day.

    On the antique wooden coffee table, next to the sculpture, there was an old lamp that used to be in my bedroom, just collecting dust like everything else in this attic. The lamp shade was pink floral, but a drastically different shade to the chair. It had pink gems dangling from the rim of it when it was new, but now most of them have fallen off now. The white base of the lamp was cracked and wobbly. I would be astonished if that old lamp still worked, it looked like it would blow up if it was turned on ever again.

[cocoquezada]

Descriptive writing

The level of descriptive writing that I aspire to one day achieve when I become an author:

"It's sitting by the overcoat The second shelf, the note she wrote That I can't bring myself to throw away"

~ "Long Day" by Matchbox 20

[neverwrong-onlywrite]

The second they leave, the second I push them out, I start to realize what I missed. The first time we met, I was drawn into them and now we’re the same side of a magnet, unattracted, pushing away.

~M

[lynrical]

#projectjustwritecauseifyouneverwriteyoullneverimprove

Prompt: The view out your window (light, shadows, colors, the look of the sky, the look of the ground, what's there)

I crane my neck to look out my window, reminded that one needs to be deliberate about what one sees (especially when one’s window is facing nothing but a huge slab of grey wall).

I manage a peek of what looks like many fields of variegated red which are really rooftops that feel so cosy and warm, enclosing its fortunate inhabitants underneath. I imagine what lies beneath each neat square - the tiny humans probably sitting, sleeping, talking. Crying, hoping, working - perhaps.

The smattering of green in the form of bouncy-looking treetops looks almost like clouds that have decided to venture down from the sky to be closer to us in our dwellings. The tinier squares move in a line so neat that I wish I could break them up.

The number of houses and cars all captured within even this tiny picture testifies to the reality of community, a peoplehood, and makes the notion of living individualistically somehow laughable. In the very fibre of things, of the world we breathe our air in, is a given design we just can’t close our eyes to (though technically speaking, we can).

So I’m glad. I’m glad I craned my neck to lay my eyes on the view that was there - just beside that wall.

[rhianna-judith-blog]

I wrote something today and I think it’s really nice. Please read? :)

Ascending up the side of a hidden hill in a discrete corner of some forgotten countryside was a set of stone stairs. They ran up a gentle slope, sheltered by green hedges standing silent like centenels; little twigs of thorns protruding like swords protecting from a threat unknown. The staircase was untouched. The extending branches of a blossom tree created a canopy of reds, ochres and warm oranges that absorbed the large droplets of rain as they tried to slip through the cracks between the leaves to peek at the top of the stairs.

A soft glow of light, thin enough to sneak past the guarding leaves, created a spotlight at the top; encompassing and warm. The small stone cottage it’s subject. Presented like a trophy upon a pedestal, the cottage was tinged a silent gold. It was silent, any previous rustling of the wind or pattering of tiny rabbit feet ceased as if to worship the cottage.

I moved up the staircase slowly, the serenity that washed over me warmed me against the cold chill of the breeze that carressed the ends of my hair and the tail of my coat.

I reached the cottage and the smell of freshly brewed herbal tea and warm scones danced around my nose and settled in the back of my throat, inducing a childhood nostalgia for mums fruit cakes that evoked a bittersweet pang of emotion.

The cottage itself was small, possibly 4 rooms, with two large bay windows framed in white and a pastel green door with a golden handle worn by time. Wildflowers of yellow, purple and pink stretched from the ground and grazed the bottom of the window frames.

“Anna, hurry up!” A soft call from the bottom of the steps drew my attention and I ran back down to join Clarke. When I had turned to get a final look up the stairs, the cottage was gone and all I had left was a nagging sense of longing that is still deep inside me today.

[twilightsun25]

Did I write a descriptive shirt story just about my cat? Yes. Yes I did. (The full photoshoot that inspired this coming up!) Crossposted on Tumblr and Insta. #shortstories #descriptivewriting #writersofinstagram #writing https://www.instagram.com/p/B4P4JM9HZ4j/?igshid=ceefzvuhj4ey

[hazelnutter-universe-blog]

The Mountain

From the upper-most window of the eastern tower, the view of the mountain was best. The mountain was lonely. It wasn’t tucked away in a vast mountain range, nor did it tower above a great cordillera. Solitary and undisturbed, it stood alone. It was so distant, that the pine trees sprinkled around its base appeared black. A thick layer of snow painted their treetops white. I wondered how the winds whistled as they brushed through the needles. I liked to think that the pines swayed peacefully, but I was never able to tell. The mountain’s peak punctured the heavy clouds, though they rolled, like an ocean-tide consistently. 

My father found his peace by staring out towards the mountain, I think that’s why he showed me this particular nook of the castle. He enjoyed the silence. As vultures circled the summit, he would rest his head in his hands, occasionally sighing. I knew he marvelled the grace and size of it. It was nature at its finest.

But everything my father loved about the mountain, was everything I feared most. I didn’t dream of one day scaling the beast. Instead, I cowered in thought at those who considered tackling it. They would surely become lost in its everlasting, icy emptiness. 

I wondered what creatures howled as the night drew in, when the moon came out, only to pale in comparison to this mighty brute that was the mountain. And when the sun shone over it, where were its darkest crevices hidden in the shadows of its other side? I sometimes imagined an avalanche hurtling down the slopes, but I only ever saw the mountain still. The mountain never disturbed from its slumber. The only reminder of life at its loneliest edges were the deep cracks etched into its body, running from the very top to the very bottom. They were the mountain’s veins, pumping its blood, keeping it alive.

Were you to stray there, would you even stand a chance? Or would you vanish with the elements as the swept you away, never to be seen again? Would they bellow at you as a warning before they stormed you? Or would bury you silently, as if you never existed? If there were by chance, an enchanted cave hidden beneath a frosted ridge, would anybody hear your cries for help from within the rock? Of course not. You’d be a fool to be there in the first place, nevermind attempt escape.

[starryeyeset]

The Lion’s Mew

The lion is told to have gargantuan presence; the soul must be loud and powerful, fierce in its approach. 

Yet the lion, having been born with the ability to master everything, the feral mane, and a prowl that haunts the memory, possessed the personality of a timid and diminutive kitten afraid of its own shadow. 

The Lion’s world, consumed by an incalculable number of lions, lost meaning. This Lion did not act as it should, as was expected, as was accepted. The Lion, in a world of lions, became a pariah. 

Grueling day after grueling day, the Lion stalked within the fields of swift tall grass, astute golden eyes peeking between the edges to the open Savanna, despising all its seen. 

For this Lion did not look with eyes of the present moment, but the eyes of all time. The eyes of all time observed the other lions, observed their pasts, presents, and futures. 

In a growing fit of rage, the Lion mewed. The Lion mewed, offering affection,  friendship, opportunities, and dreams. 

For one second of one moment of the Lion’s entire life, every lion was aware. Every lion became aware of the Lion standing before them, emitting such conviction in the offer.

Every lion considered the benefactions, and simultaneously, refused to respond with rejection or “yes.” 

The Lion stalked back into the grass, as if to the tune of an adagio, only returning every red moon to mew in the night.  

[ohmybooknessblog]

No Good Deeds By D.E Wyatt Below is the review of "No Good Deeds" by D.E. Wyatt and has been posted to Goodreads and Amazon per Author's Request: Bookreview of: No Good Deeds By: D.E Wyatt Review by: Brittany Perez (Oh My Bookness) This is an excellent story that starts strong with distinctive sword fighting. This is special and noteworthy because it's done by a woman and this is a special and unique quality, especially for the mid-15th century in Western Europe. This is a fantasy/adventure about Elsabeth Soesten who is a strong young woman who is a sterling sword fighter and can best any man. The opening of the story was her besting a big strong obnoxious drunk and this shows what type of character we’ll be looking forward to. A strong female protagonist with weapons and one that is quite contentious. I like how we get to know the MC, she is an independent and self-supported protagonist of the story. Elsabeth and Hieronymus ( someone who has her back even when she may not want it) make mistakes along the way, which we have come to expect, and love a bit because they're not perfect and creates emotions and creates an investment into these characters and the need to know more. This makes these characters feel human in this fantasy world but that’s just some of the things that make them not perfect but also entertaining. Oddly this makes them relatable on some level (because none of us are perfect and sometimes find ourselves scrambling to do the right thing and struggling to find the way how and if we are), and they always find a way to slip out of whatever problems they may find themselves in. This fantasy/adventure novel is very imaginative and the creation of the characters is fun and dubious. The details are very descriptive, the characters are well-developed they keep you intrigued. These characters keep you captivated and they always keep you entertained. style. Read the entire book review: review:https://at.tumblr.com/ #fantasybooks #adventure #femaleprotagonist #strongfemalecharachters #reading #bookstagram #books #read #muatread #muatreadbooks #books #relatable #descriptivewriting #description #charachter #yafiction #leisurereading #adultreads https://www.instagram.com/p/CllN72TgXzy/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[mybubblesofthought]

4. Anxiousness

It starts somewhere in the pit of the stomach and bubbles up, overflowing into the nervous system. It shoots through the body as an electrical impulse. First, the hands begin to twitch, frantically searching for something to keep them occupied. Then the jaw repeatedly clenches and relaxes as the mouth, like the hands, become agitated. The brows furrow. You want to lie in an ice-cold bath or to run far, as far as possible until your body aches and you no longer think about the internal discomfort.

[neverwrong-onlywrite]

Wait till you can lay back, legs up and head pointed to the sky. That’s when you can think freely. That’s when you want to do nothing but look around and feel grateful for the grass between your toes and the breeze swaying in your hair. That’s when you feel like it’s possible to fall in love with life and all it’s little moments.

~M

[wedding-photographer-josephine]

#366 Photo 1 Enjoying the late evening sun - it’s low in the sky so I need to wear a hat! Sitting out in our front garden, beside the Grand Union canal, reading. 2. And tucking in to:- warm from the oven, Homemade (gluten free) bread, butter, cinnamon and sultana pudding, served on a yellow rimmed dish, accompanied with custard and a dollop of clotted cream, with a generous pinch of sunshine and happiness for the more simple things. 3. Floss ambled out to join me in the front garden - her black ears twitching back and forth as she listened to the wood pigeons flapping about in the huge Alder tree on the towpath opposite, the evening was sprinkled with the chatter and laughter of the voices of walkers, runners, cyclists and strollers along the towpath and drifting towards us along the canal from some of the gardens nearby. It’s a forever changing scene, always something different to see as the world on trundles by. Photo 4 A walk in the woods We wander though these gentle fronds of cool green ferns, wafting in the slightest breeze. Tall trees with stout thick trunks and rich green leaves, have stood here for hundreds of years; Reaching, stretching up, up, high into the sky. And always the constant chit and chatter of forest sounds, harp harp of the fox, rustling leaves, snapping of twigs, the song of birds and the buzzing of bees. This cool green natural spa and sanctuary; Always welcoming, calming, Uplifting, refreshing, Abundant, inspiring, And.... forever cool. 🙏🏽 #Londonphotographer #headshotsLondon #productphotograoher #specialistbrandphotographer #businessbrandphotographer #hertfordshirephotographer #brandphotographer #businessphotographer #marketingphotographer #advertisingphotographer #woodlandwalks #descriptive #descriptivewriting #tryingtowrite #iwrotewhatifelt #iwrotesomewordstoday #omgiwrotesomething (at Grand Union Canal - Uxbridge to Watford) https://www.instagram.com/p/CChKpMYh8LV/?igshid=pd3rvnfokouh

[threemorewords]

Written Selfie

I’m a few inches lacking of 6 foot. My shoes are never dirty but they never look brand new. My legs are long and skinny and I like when my jeans squeeze me just a little. My torso is long and skinny like my legs. It’s a little crooked because of a curve in my spine but I put on a t shirt and it’s almost unnoticeable. My face is an oval or it would be if my jawline weren’t so defined. My facial hair rarely makes it past a stubble but when it does my jawline and cheek bones are sharpened. My lips aren’t slivers but I wouldn’t call them plump. They’re somewhere in the middle hiding a straight white smile with it’s share of imperfection. A genuine smile is admired by the drawn back bow of the lip and the laughter in the eyes and their brows. Mine are brown and in the heat of the day or the heat of an argument they turn badly burned orange. When I’m sad they get a dusty charcoal dark. My dark brows start medium thick, have a slight arch and point. When you see them work together parentheses frame my smile and three lines transform with my expression on my forehead. Curls rest on the top of my and fade shorter from my temples to my ears and the back of my neck. Medium brown unless the sun is around to show the different shades almost the perfect compliment to my eyes and my salted caramel skin.