Quote from Lethal5

Plan the plot >>> Go to Google and search some words that are suitable for my story and sometimes I'll find a synonym/antonym of the word I found >>> Put the word I found on Google into my story >>> Go to Wattpad and read some short stories and try understanding some words they used in their stories >>> Now google all the hard-to-understand words I found from Wattpad and then after Googling it I'll put them in my story when I understand it now >>> Repeat process until I'm done.

Quote from Nish]I liked that blonde mexican whore. What happened to him?[/quote]
[QUOTE=Jutsu

After a blurry night of drug induced sexual adventure wrapped in chemical delusion and complete ecstasy Nish drifts into consciousness.
He was shoulders down on the tile floor in the bathroom of his studio apartment, awoken only by the constant rattling of a ceiling fan that has probably been broken since Jesus was corporeal, the sound of his bath tub faucet dripping and the sudden guttural urge to purge his stomach of the various illegal substances that were put into it the night before. Opening his eyes he can see his ceiling swirling with the checkered red and black roof tiles oozing blood from in between one another. He pays no attention to the tiny blue men standing there, upside down, throwing polka dots that upon impact dissipate into a cloud of hearts and make the sound of lightning.
Suddenly spurred to regurgitate copious fluid from his digestive bits he lurches forward, shaking uncontrollably. His tongue flops out of his mouth down into the bowl only after his collar bones crashes ungracefully and bounce off of the toilet seat, his legs folded beneath him limp. "Huuuuuuuuuunhhhhhhh" He breaths out exasperatedly. A glob of drool and stomach bile oozes out of his mouth and splashes into the toilet water, forming from a frothy, foamy disgusting mess into a hungry school of piranhas. Out of the corner of his eyes that burn dry as the scorching desert sands that he slept with open, he can see a coyote sitting on the edge of his bathroom counter eating a bag of lays sriracha flavored potato chips. It's irises glowing a fierce electric blue and its pupils, one black as the abyss, one bright as the core of a star. It speaks to him "Only through feeding, life". It crackles into a stream of dazzling electricity right into his mirror/medicine cabinet combo that hovers over his sink, causing it to smash and spill pills out all over the counter and the floor. Immediately all the blue men on the ceiling point synchronized and begin cackling at him like a pack of rustled devils, then they slowly step together and neatly line up single file and begin leaping into the ceiling fan one by one, hand in hand, ecstatically singing with grimaces on their faces ."Human are blue, now we're red. First alive, then we're dead through and through. Heyyyooo!"
His intestines rumble, his mouth tastes like filth and Nish thinks it better not to leave the piranhas hungry. The fluid launches violently as his abdominal muscles clinch with all their might and out the esophagus and nostrils a tea cup worth of very yellow fluid trickles down the side of his face and cheek, then dripping into the toilet. Accompanied only by a single painful, burning tear, trudging itself miserably across his face. The piranhas down below enthusiastically met the droplets and devoured them in a swirling mess, like starving creatures clinging to life. "Ulp! Hrrrrrrrrrrrrg!" He wretches as another burst of vomit arises, however this time it's projected rapidly and in quantity.
Soon, only between excruciating dry heaves, muscle convulsions and coughing fits can Mister Niruthan take a few desperate gasps for what passes for fresh air when you're face down in a shit and piss receptacle. His heart throttles his veins, each pulse is like the thunderous concussive blast of god slamming his car door. His skin writhing, drenched in sweat from brow to toe he looks to be a sickening ghoulish color and his skeletal structure quivers and quakes tremulously like a child playing too hard with a new toy...and he's the toy.
"BANG!" He hears, his eyes squint and he cringes in exquisite agony. "BANG!" He hears and feels it again as it echoes through his whole body. "BANG!" Gritting his teeth until they feel like they're about to crack beneath the pressure, and again. "BANG!" His shaky, blood shot eyes rock back and forth and leer over towards his bath tub faucet, watching as a drop of water accumulates from inside it to the bottom and plummets into the bathtub as it crashes it makes yet another "BANG!"
"FUCK that's FUCKING loud" He croaks, with his raspy weakened voice. Like a limp puppet with its strings being tugged on he hastily and shakily reaches to the knob that control the water, twisting them firmly, to assure himself that the water is now fully off to stop the noise. He wheezes like a wounded animal with his lungs clicking as loose vomit rattles around the inside and sloppily wipes the sweat from his forehead with the same hand he had just used. Feeling an abnormality in temperature and texture from his palm, blinking several times attempting to straighten his dazed vision he notices he is covered in red from finger to wrist.
Suddenly unnerved he hastily glances to the bathtub, then to his hand, then to the bathtub, then to his hand, then to the bathtub.
Only now does he notice a whore who goes by the handle of "ChristainEater" laying dead in an arterial red pool of their own blood laying lifeless in Nish's tub.

This is the story of a man name Nish Niruthan and his journey to learn exactly what happened to ChristainEater.
*Que intro theme*

Quote from Nightlock

Could you put up a link to this article, Wyrm? You've peaked my interest with the information you've given us, and I'd like to read a little from the source. ^_^

I would say I'm a bit of both. I'm constantly rewording sentences to make sure I'm happy with them, and then when I finish a paragraph I go back and read it then edit. Then when I finish a page I reread and edit. And once I've finished the story I AGAIN reread and edit. Write then edit, reread and compare then edit, then back to write; LOL It's a cycle for me really.

Quote from Hewitt

Anyways, I think Swoopers are the "right" way to write AKA White Heat and Cold Blood. I'd like to think much of the ambitiously competent writers here who aren't in a rush to get instant praise are Swoopers. Bashers are for the inexperienced; people who wanna get into writing and just "wanna have fun". But not to say Bashers are bad. Sometimes the situation calls for them like a comp for Flash Fiction or a brainstorm session. Regardless, quality work from Bashers is the exception not the rule and should only be produced if said certain conditions require it.