the last person to post here wins

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to live is to win, where to post is to win too, but where again to build up those wins was to actually triumph then"

To live is to win...To live is to die isn't it?

"...simply living is dying depending on which end of ones lifespan one is looking from, agreed, since one starts dying from the moment one is born though one isn't dead yet, so to me at least, life is "winning the unwinnable" while it lasts..." replied the goblin, adding "...but when I make a post I make a reflection, for what is life where one has no reflection upon it, so that is the second win then, to live and to post then...", simply the goblin was going out a winner, posting to his last

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on a day slightly different from others, the sun almost burns ones back from its brightness, and yet, the passing view from this village minibus is of a winter's cold frost here, where the goblin too,calmly holds on his lap his workday rucksack containing the plastic urn of what was his mother, and where the feeling is serene enough, surreal in its oddness even, with that same old slideshow of passing scenery without coupled with memories from within, where together they idled away the goblin's time aimlessly enough, "...first exeter bus terminal, a quick snack, and then that long leg down to london, then finding some cheap undemanding hotel in an old haunt, and then..., ..." but the goblin broke off form wording it now as if knowing that it wasn't really like him to think things through beyond their planning side, besides, his expectations were ever "well whatever happens, happens then", continuing "...and tomorrow, it's on down to felixstowe, that beach, and her sea once more, well perhaps it'll be our sea till I sprinkle her into it, then it's just my sea after that I suppose, so "so long" mum, you were ever restless during your lifetime, guess there's no point in my uttering "rest in peace" now, but would "so long then" do as some passing note between us...", but the goblin never did know how long that "long" actually was, nor how long it would be either, where no doubt that sea would seem an ocean of tears at the time

repost from elsewhere, the introduction section there, goblin welcoming someone

"...welcome human to this forum..." started the goblin now, adding "...let us first discard all that you have heard about this forum being a troll's site, far from it in fact, no, this forum is for those who wish to bring out their creative side, the avant grade of posting perhaps, anti-posting even...", where maybe the real joke was not so much how ludicrous the goblin's words actually sounded here, but more how often he had been proved right by them, simply most posters given a free hand in posting evolved into something immeasurably better than if they had just been told to follow standard posting procedures

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Queenbot laughed and said, "Oh goblin, you are so clever. But how can one exit through an entrance? It is a conundrum! But yet since the door may yet lead to some place else it could be the entrance to that place. So it is yet again a clever answer. But the real question Goblin is why can you not marry me? I have only yet begun stalking you...." said The Queen rubbing her gloved hands together, and then laughing maniacally.

"...ah no, with forumland one only ever has two choices now, that of a known wendy, or that of an unknown peter pan..." replied the goblin quite seriously about it too, explaining "...well now, wouldn't you agree that the majority of posters on writer's forum are, understandably even, wendys, that is that they crave fame and fortune enough to be willing to pay madusa's price for it, setting themselves in stone so to speak as known dated and detailed, ah but not me now, no, I am ever peter pan, where by my anonymity I remain ever unknown undated and undetailed, hidden from mudusa's glance...", not that the goblin didn't know that that too came at a price, for all the goblin actually had was his persona now, where even his posts were dead by the time he hit the post button, explaining "...for how can anyone anonymous lay claim to anything I wonder without stepping straight into mudasa's view..."

repost from elsewhere, someone asking the wrong goblin for an appraisal where the goblin prefers just to let posters evolve for themselves

"...reads well..." mentioned the goblin in passing now, adding "...you know, these days, writing a book is little more than "save whatever contents in pdf format and just add a link to it then", so no, and what with thousands of books out there already, your real challenge is amassing and retaining your readership now, rather than the book itself...", simply, that although most ordinary folk clearly understood that one was synonymous to what writes on forumland, most writers tried to devoice it into the two of "me" and "my works" then, where any gap, resulting from that this miscomprehension of forumland now, either betrayed their readers expectations of them , or failed to entice their readers towards them, whereupon the goblin just smiled trying to nail it, saying "...my guess is that you want to be read as a writer, don't you just, but you will have to play forumland's game at forumland's price, because things are not going back to paperbooks now, for even canute for all his sentiments is not going to turn back this rising posting tide here, but just perhaps you might learn to swim to its surface, now that would be amazing, and you would be one of its firsts to do so too..."

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"...must admit, actually living in australia must be the nearest thing to living on another planet..." mentioned the goblin, feeling that there was something surreal to a "normal life" lived in such an abnormal environment, and yet, here in skiing village of chamonix today, it was minus 8c outside, so the goblin wouldn't mind living in that beautifully warm australia, save that he didn't want to check the toilet seat each time, explaining "...I mean imagine getting to those pearly gates, one could brag about being ravished by a bear, or eaten by a lion, but imagine having to say "well actually I was bitten on the bum by some little redback spider", I mean where did "death with dignity" go..."

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"...your best post yet, and so true too..." replied the goblin, happy to have someone smart feeding him now, continuing "...true that we think we are what we are, most probably because of how we see ourselves in the context of our dailylife then, but then again, that's exactly why too, I remain anonymous now, besides, since I can't prove anything about myself anyway, someone has yet to explain to me why I need to qualify my words here with some unprovable paraphernalia at this point, for here folks, both you and I are just as so many words writen upon a screen, living books if you like perhaps, livewriters then...", and with that the goblin went over at the text he had written in terms of an image now, knowing how important it was to illustrate his texts, adding "...saying, well if every picture tells a story, then conversely every text must convey an image, but how does portray the image of internet anonymity, where it could be anyone and anything now..."

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"...actually, I remember a lot more when making a point to recollect the past, than when I don't test my memory at all..." mentioned the goblin, adding "...though admittedly whatever I did at some point past has no meaning in my today now, just that it's best to not let ones memories go unrecollected too long I suppose, and yet, when I address my past objectively like this, lots of other memories that I had forgotten come to the fore, but however much I recollect them, it all means nothing to anyone else and is of no consequence to me, as it's just gone...", and besides, the goblin had long noted that there seemed some pattern in his childhood, carried on through his youth into early adulthood and beyond, summed up by that term the path of least resistance towards ones dailylife here, where one just repeats the same routine week in week out year after year, etc, so the goblin just laughed, saying "...amazing isn't it, that one dreams of adventure here, yet everyone actually prefers that little "nine to five" dailylife of theirs, with its security and creature comforts against that big unknown, that fear of death too, whatever, simply we all shelve the big adventure for some other moment to come, mine are memories of this shelving then..."

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"...must admit, actually living in australia must be the nearest thing to living on another planet now..." mentioned the goblin, feeling that there is always something that came across as somewhat surreal in the context of a "normal life" lived in such an abnormal environment, where here in chamonix today, it was minus 8c outside, so in fact, the goblin wouldn't mind living in beautiful australia, save that he didn't want to check the toilet seat each time, explaining "...yes, I imagine that if I ever got to those pearly gates, I could brag about being ravished by a bear, or eaten by a lion, but imagine having to say "actually I was bitten on the bum by some little spider", I mean whatever happened to "death with dignity"..."

"...ah now, that is the world of humans then is it not..." went the goblin, reading xxxxx's post, thinking how important it was to render unto dailylife what was dailylife's, and unto the internet that which is more uncompromising here, adding "...when I was younger, whenever I wanted something, I would simply compromise for it, not so much as a deception towards her here, more as a delusion towards myself in believing such a compromise was at all workable in the long run, or that somehow today's gratification wouldn't come without tomorrow's consequence, simply youth for me was the folly of no foresight then...", where today, even if the goblin were to be given some time-machine, he couldn't go back to his youth, as his inner age has killed off his youth, just like his youth in its turn had killed off his childhood, concluding "...so perhaps one day now, medicine will make one young again, but it will never make me youthful like I was, no I would only hate myself for hurting her with compromise again..."

Ah to be young yet retain the wisdom of age.

(the goblin was happy to see shelagh's post, and enjoyed her forum very much, saying "...it's nice to write on this forum then, where one knows ones readers so to speak...")

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"...snow with a vengeance here, it has attitude too, like luther saying "for here I am and here I stay" bigtime..." mentioned the goblin not entirely unaware that the ski season in chamonix starts tomorrow too, where no doubt a sea of skiers, like so many escaped convicts then, will savor that yearly yearning deathwish of theirs, adding "...after about a week's skiing, some semblance of sanity returns to it but for the casual onlooker like myself, it's a clear lesson in pent up addiction and momentous release..."

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Do you believe critiquing others' work is important? Do you believe critiquing others helps you improve your own writing? Do you learn from others' critiques? Do you believe you can critique? Do you critique/review/comment in a constructive way, or at all? if not, Why? Thanks for your time and thoughts. Sync

"...well I suppose I do form an opinion on that which I read, if that is meant by critique here, and then reply where need be too, aka feeding then, or correspondence perhaps..." replied the goblin, continuing "...though I'm careful not to tell you humans how to write now, or how anything should be either least you all turn into clones of one another...", no, what the goblin actually craved for was an individuality from posters based on their imperfections, saying "...you see, anyone could say anything but on forumland I am simply my own writer/reader/editor/illustrator/publisher/journalist/whatever, if only because I write/read/edit/illustrate/post/inquire/whatever for myself here, and where I could put on those meaningless writer's airs too, offer qualifications, or justifications then, but at the end of the day it's the hitcount to my posts which either condones or condemns my efforts now, me I just write then..."

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Fleamailman, if you dont mind me asking, where do all of these reposts come from?

"...they're just a residue of those posts that one makes vis a vis forumland here.." explained the goblin "...for example this post too will follow that same process then, that is, I will first store it, and later repost it across many elsewheres in some air/edit/backup context, knowing that the airing got me feedback, whereas the editing improved it, and backing it up was due to the fickle nature of this forumland here...", in fact, the goblin was often doing the air/edit/backup of posts from forums that no longer existed, joking "...a door to door blogger perhaps, rather than someone who just waits to be read then..."

repost from elsewhere, the "what give the state the right to exist" thread

"...since humans lean toward the comfort of an authority, which is a compromise of some sort or other, they form their family unit, or their clan, their state, their empire, etc., where any absence of authority, the state in this context, in some form or other, is a non starter in my view, since they always fall back into that comfort of this authority each time..." mentioned the goblin, adding "...however authority, being a compromise too, suffers from structural stress over time, meaning that families, clans, states right on up to empires, wax wane and collapse then, just as history has so clearly shown us, even if the underlying desire for authority on the part of the individual remains constant throughout, albeit one tempered with a desire for some impossible freedoms...", simply the goblin was stating that humans were like incapable chickens in terms of the great wild outdoors, where they still aspired to those very ideals they could never survive in, "...well goblin, why not just misquote lincoln then, putting it "a chicken-coop of the chickens, by the chickens, for the chickens"..." went the voice in the back to the goblin's mind now, not that the goblin himself would ever dare utter anything like that though

repost from elsewhere, the "who's the worst author" thread

"...one question humans..." went the goblin now, continuing "...if to post is to publish, then am I allowed to nominate myself, where if not, can I at least be allowed to offer this distinction to someone else here...", but to date, the goblin had yet to hear of the prize then, guessing that, what with nasa slashing its budget and now doing that manned mission to australia in search of intelligent life no less, that perhaps a daytrip to walmats was more appropriate, adding "...well I'm open to suggestions, but I guess any prize will do..."

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christmas morning and the goblin was awake now, alone too, anyway at his age it simply meant that, like it or not, he couldn't sleep off those mornings like he once did, saying "...so the view from the window this morning is of windswept white rooftops, some bare trees too, but mostly it's of a grey featureless sky, and yet in a short while I will go for a walk within this painful scene, and with luck it'll spur my mind into gaining something worth posting from it for the surrounding adjectives will be fortitude, gratitude, and sobriety, ah yes bitter fruits compared with those of my youth perhaps but nonetheless mine for the writing about here...", in fact, the goblin's wasn't looking back, nor looking forward either, no his present mind now seemed filled with a sense of foreboding towards those european economies in the forthcoming year, explaining "...the key to understanding this is an easy line sovereign debt does not have to be repaid here, where the logic is exactly as machiavelli explained in his book "the prince"...", so somehow the goblin knew too, that his christmas walk was going to be worth every cold hardship if the plot was evidently deeper than anything the media was offering piecemeal and superficially in their coverage

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So what’s it like on the other side? That’s the side opposite life, in case you don’t get my drift. Have you dipped your toe in, and returned? What did you experience? Have you communicated with someone on the other side? How did that communication take place? Can you recommend it as a place to go? Do you have any views on the notion that when a person dies, that person's soul returns to Earth to inhabit a new-born baby's body? And do we know we’ve been here before? If you’re wondering what I’m on about this time, I’m going under the knife in two weeks. The doc told me there’s a chance I might die. If that happens, I know you’ll breathe a collective sigh of relief and then throw a party, but in the meantime I want answers** **erm, but not from Christians. Go annoy someone else.

"...does anybody have any more life than anyone else I wonder, where tomorrow is not promised even to the most healthy amongst us..." mused the goblin, adding "...and besides, where are those you loved in life if not within you at this point, so too, by that logic then, if someone loves you in the way you yourself hold someone dear within you now, then you already know where you will be, just welcome in the their hearts...", in fact, the goblin often wondered if the heart was not some portal to a spirit-dimension then, where perhaps the afterlife was akin to our internet then, just another sea of forumland perhaps

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what do i win? and when. i'd settle for an autograph from the Goblin.

"...I guess one wins a reflection of self by each post xxxxx..." replied the goblin adding "...just write out my name, and think of it as mine then, for in truth there was never any way that I could prove to you my identity anyway..." replied the goblin as if knowing that fame and fortune were medusa's enticements to let her set one in her published stone again, like those many dead or dated authors now, adding "..well, wasn't it enough to have lived these thoughts as someone free here, rather than having suffered the weight of her full gaze..."

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Anyway, so I've recently started a fantasy novel and am on my third chapter, but I'm finding it difficult to get the right balance between dialogue and description. At the moment it seems to be mostly dialogue, and whenever I try and add more description the plot seems to stand still... So my basic problem is: how do I keep the plot moving without leaving out the description entirely? However, there's also the problem of trying to find various ways of saying "said"

"...ah now, put it this way then..." started the goblin looking out across today's gray white winter's view of more whatever all this winter's snow was about anyway, not that it was actually cold indoors though, just that it was coldly dull outside, enough to make one feel cold everywhere, as the untrustworthy goblin slowly built up to his idea again, saying "...look, suppose one addressed any musician about what they need to do for some forthcoming concert, they probably reply "well first I'd look over the composition again, and then I'd practice my instrument till I got it fluid now", then ask any actor what they'll do for some forthcoming film, where they'd probably reply "I'd go over the script again, and practice my lines till I felt myself to be the part"...", at which point the goblin wondered just how many writers really wanted to write fluidly in third person within their books but spent most to the posting days here writing in that monotone first person, smiling "...you see, there's nothing is stopping you now but it's does takes a bit of madness to do it well, so what say you human, for practice sake then, your transition awaits you does it not, where you could become any persona you like, so why so first person always, can't I tempt you a little bit into my world now..."

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Ok, I've been wanting to write a successful horror novel for more than half my life (or, rather, one that actually gets finished). I'm asking of this thread to see what people think is the creepiest thing about ghosts. reason being, my story is going to have ghosts as its main adversary. what about ghosts creep you out? It can be anything.

"...if there are ghosts then they are just us in the future are they not, for we become our own ghosts by that logic..." mentioned the goblin, continuing "...where oddly too, I feel that writers live a sort of shared life, where both ones memory and ones imagination are reinforced by all this practice of first seeing something and then writing/rewriting it, where perhaps again, ones memories then become those ghosts that seek out ones pen then...", and often the goblin confessed to conversing with those same ghosts now, reliving the scene each time, adding "...look, writing is hardly sanity, in that one has to repeatedly walk back and forth between some vision and its portrayal, and where too, it would indeed be scary if one hadn't come to terms with the way one is by now, an addiction then, where this shared life is my strange compromise here, but mind you, they're strange ghosts too, so it all equals out now..."

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Ah, but what are we being distracted from? When the South polar ice cap melts there will be no economy, we do not know if it will go bit by bit or in one hot summer, but probably sometime within the next 30 years most of the earth will be uninhabitable and the population back to bronze age levels, about 1% of the present population. Don't let them think about that too long.

the goblin liked xxxxx's reply very much for the way he fed the goblin's mind so well, replying "...oh yes and all that too, agreed, but things I fear will fall apart long before those thirty years from now then, in that simply there are too many indicators that the overall situation, both in europe and america, is unsustainable here, where simply too much liquidity chases too little productivity, and where too, too many people expect the system to support them where obviously their savings and pensions are growing steadily worthless with the rising cost of living here, and where again the gap between the haves and the have nots, the enfranchised and the disenfranchised is widening steadily too...", the goblin paused, knowing that it didn't take much googling to backup this argument that the system is too severely strained at this point to be sustainable for long, saying "...there's another war coming, for they daren't let us watch/comprehend this slow decline here, this our end of empire age, so they'll offer us more distraction instead, yet another war, some royal marriage perhaps, or those london olympics then, climate change, brutal repression in faraway dictator states, etc., in fact anything to avoid us looking at directly at that fact that the economic sums don't add up nor bode well, where the cuts are coming even if no one knows how the axe will land..."

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Fleamailman – I always wanted to know why you state your opinion in through a talking goblin? It’s interesting, but unusual for me at least. What isn’t it about? Theology, psychology, science, the meaning of life and alcohol embedded in a tale of fiction.

"...ah now, one can't write in third person without having a persona here, simply it always begs the question "yes ok, but who or what is actually writing this then", that is since most readers being used to books, expects it, where some blanc from experience annoys them and where a persona played well amuses them..." mentioned the goblin who also knew that most people wouldn't remember the username fleamailman, just like they wouldn't remember most, if not all, of the other usernames on this forum, but here again using a persona was the trick since he didn't know how many times he had actually read somewhere that line oh no not that bloody goblin again, explaining "...so perhaps the idea here is to have a unique username that people can google, thus find you by, and a loose association with some persona that people can remember you by, where I in return get the chance to practice writing in third person and to illustrate my posts by adding a picture here, so welcome to my world human, now I imagine the next question is either why in the games section goblin, or that other one why remain anonymous goblin, or why that writing style goblin or who are the other livewriters goblin, though more likely you probably just want to know what I've been smoking..."

repost from elsewhere, supporting a livewriter against a heckler then

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it is..sadly..I rarely read his posts and didnt see it..

"...nah, it's because she actually likes you now, I just wish more women would ignore me too like that, instead, they just don't notice me even, not fair is it..." mentioned the goblin

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But it seems that US services, no matter what hat they wear, are more interested in 1) standing around making a lot of noise about what they intend to do, and 2) being paid for it when they eventually get around to doing it. Americans just don’t have that “let’s all pitch in now and help each other” attitude that we do. They simply don't understand the concept of mateship.

"...no it's just those ramifications of size again, where the bigger the unit in question is the more its laws stifle self sufficiency to encouraging dependency..." mentioned the goblin, thinking of how each empire in their turn became so clogged up, by bureaucracy and red type, that they were either overtaken or toppled on the one hand, or just fell apart by on their own accord on the other, adding "...each empire, one after the other then, like so many waves on a beach perhaps, and each without exception too, where each seemed so powerful that no one at the time possibly imagines that it could ever crash, which is probably what most people today think too, about the powers that be here and of the present status quo, where human nature always submits to authority pushing that wave along each time, why should this be any different now, death by waiting for orders then..."