Creative Writing Descritions...

I wrote a couple of fanfictions and even I seem to end up writing a 10 sentence paragraph just descibing a person, and that really annoys me. This probably why I never put my writing on-line I never finish it and my wordings suck I have a limited words in my head, and I seem to use simple words. (This is what happens when you get an average grade in english) But I'm going off topic right now, Lets see:

My room is small and with the bed in the middle, it makes it even smaller. Beside the door lies two tables, one of them with my computer and other computer accessories and and the other table with several books and small containers holding my pens and pencils. The walls of my room is in a sort of beige like color, with two large window with the view of a small park outside. Beside the windows is a small closet and inside, my clothes, such as my pants, and shirts etc. and the probably the only unique thing about this closet is a small 20 inch TV with the PS2 attached to it. The room itself isn't exactly clean, and if I brought any of my girlfriends there, they'll probably laugh at me being such a messy person.

See I ain't good at this writing thing, unlike my brother, I suck don't I

A well, again thats what happen when you suck at english, plus I hate english.

 

Adjectives, ye can't beat them.

I'm sitting at the computer in the room I am, these days, most often in. If I let my gaze wander the first things I notice are the pictures hanging on the walls. There are other things hanging as well. Oriental scrolls with chinese writing on them. This hints at the room's true purpose. There are boxes of accupuncture needles, and various eastern herbs and medicines on the table behind me and to my right. The feeling of the room is definatly asian. There is are a few asian sculptures placed sporadicly about the room. A Buddah on the table, some old man with a fishing rod on the mante piece above the fireplace, that big naked ruber guy with all the accupressure points dotted on his body. Directly behind me, so I have to strain my neck to see is the bed. Not a bed for sleeping in, but rather for my mother's patients to lie on when being treated. But my eyes are always drawn back to the table in frint of me. The keyboard, my DVDs, the printer, speakers, and monitor of my computer. And the glass of water I always have sitting in front of me.

 

I'm known to lay down a good description from time to time, often "ripe with imagery", as a teacher once put it. Let's see ...

I'm in a small room in a large house. Straight ahead there is a computer desk, cluttered with a plethora of CD's, ranging from backup discs to games, encyclopaedias and old PC Accelerator demo disks. There are Coke cans, food wrappers, shoes and plastic bags everywhere ... you can tell my sister is home from university. There is an old cup from a Chatham bowling league filled to the brim with broken pencils and old batteries, sitting atop some diskettes, next to a white disk case with even more CD's on top of it. There are some clay pots behind that, remnants from last year's Junior Achievement campaign, along with a large pencil sharpener that has to have been around since I was in grade three. The computer monitor, which faces me, is a model a few years old, and is stained with a bit of coffee and some kind of red liquid. Wedged underneath the monitor is a bent and scratched Star Wars CCG card that was in my wallet for about a year. On the floor next to the desk, which is actually stuck in a closet, apart from the rest of the room, is my computer itself, again stained with various liquids, probably a lot of Kool-Ade and coffee. On top of sit a wrapper from a writable CD, more disks and my copy of The Hobbit. Behind the CPU is a writhing mass of cords, tangled to the point that you could have nightmares about it. Above the desk is a cheap metal shelf that my dad and I set up when we first moved in here. The shelf is painted the same colour as the doors and parts of the walls, a drab, monotonous white, and is cluttered with a piles of legal-size paper and crumpled paper from an ancient dot matrix printer we had years ago. There are various books on the shelf as well, ranging from Julius Caesar to a thesaurus. The shelf looks as though it might collapse on itself at any minute. The floor is covered in a brownish carpet of some rough material. It looks like it could use vacuuming, as various pieces of lint and other debris fill the room. The doors to the computer area/ closet are again that boring white, with cheap brass-coloured doorknobs. A For Better Or For Worse calendar of my mom's is tacked to the inside of the doors, a sharp contrast to the bland taste of the rest of the decor. An old, beat up couch the same colour as the carpet sits to the right. The thing looks like it should have been trashed years ago, but it's still around anyway, like some obscure reminder of an age now gone. On the couch sits an even older brown blanket, hand-made by some relative of my mother's. Three pillows are strewn about the couch, along with my sister's beat-up denim jacket and a French impressionism calendar. Behind the couch is an open window, the only thing keeping this room's temperature below boiling point. White blinds cover the window, blocking off all contact with the outside world and making this one of the least interesting places to be in the whole house. An old sewing machine, broken down after years of use and missing irreplaceable parts, sits next to the couch. Next to it is an old table with a broken leg I had to rig back together last spring. The table is cluttered with a few books I lent my sister, biographies, Shakespeare and Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy, mostly. Opposite the sewing machine is a small garbage can, which probably is not used as much as it should be. There is a telephone on the phone, in that ridiculous grey-white the kitchen in our old house was. A scanner sits on the floor to my left, more or less in one piece, though it might as well have been dismantled before even being shipped, for how useless it is. A plain white heating/cooling vent is mounted on the wall next to the scanner. The door, situated behind me, is open, and is again a flat white. Through the door, I can see another white door, an coat rack and a beat up pair of black boots, looking very much older than they actually are. I sit now in a black computer chair, the chair somewhat bent out of shape from years of use. At my finger tips is a keyboard, stained with a bit of coffee and fruit juice, plus a lot of my own blood and sweat. I hold in my hand a cup of some unidentifiable flavour of pink liquid.

Well, that was a nice description, wasn't it? I guess it wasn't so much nice as it was long :sweat: ... I probably should clean that keyboard now ...

 

I sit in the computer room, staring at the monitor, my eyes drifting about to glance at the miscellaneous green lights. Speaker... monitor... printer... scanner... I look down at the desk that the computer sits at, spotting a small, manilla ceramic cup with a red squared design upon it, white dots and forest green diamonds adorning it. It holds multiple writing utensils; pencils, pens, permanent markers. What stands out is an emerald-colored handled letter opener. I look down further, past the mouse and mouse-pad, to the right. Two sharpened pencils and a wicker cup coaster. Folded papers with eraser debris and pencil lead markings. Changing to the other side, before me is a clipboard loaded with pure ivory colored computer paper, the grey pencil markings shaping out the start of an anime character picture, little pink shavings, eraser debris, here and there on the picture.

That's just part of the desk area... I don't do well with describing rooms, I'm more into people and such, though usually when that heappens, I exceed my limit. >_<

::wonders if RP has effected his description in always talking in first person when he describes something ::