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If you can write, You can make some money.

 
CoinGuy
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12/07/2010 09:19 PM
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If you can write, You can make some money.
While most of you are functionally illiterate dumb dumbs, I know some of you are quite knowledgeable and could write a short article on most any subject. While I haven't worked for these organizations since I am a real, published Random House author (no, I will not disclose the name of my book since I would then be disclosing my identity), to make some extra coin consider:

Demand Studios: [link to www.facebook.com]
Suite101.com is another place that will pay per article.

Also scour journalismjobs.com for work at home writing gigs. The money isn't huge, but it's still money. Good luck.

Last Edited by CoinGuy on 12/07/2010 09:48 PM
CoinGuy (OP)

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12/07/2010 09:26 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
There's a woman who raked in 100 grand this year through one of the writing mills. Google it. But she is the exception
Anonymous Coward
User ID: 1187073
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12/07/2010 09:29 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
Rudimentary internet marketing - many are unemployed, including myself. What did I do? Hearken back back to my youth: Auto blog creations, monetization of social network traffic, proving small services to others, "work at home" forums filled with various ventures, etc......


I am an old man, and did all this. The rest of you have no genuine excuse, unless you are deathly ill.

You have access to the internet, go garner as much fiat currency as you can, purchase supplies, and prepare.

That is all.
vesper
User ID: 1187932
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12/07/2010 09:30 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
Do you think I could sell my Alien encounter story?
Anonymous Coward
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12/07/2010 09:31 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
I can write.... hmm
Anonymous Coward
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12/07/2010 09:31 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
I don't have a Facebook account OP, could you give a brief summary in terms of topic contents and article placements ?
Anonymous Coward
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12/07/2010 09:31 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
Do you think I could sell my Alien encounter story?
 Quoting: vesper 1187932


If it is contrived, perhaps. If it is genuine, unlikely.
Anonymous Coward
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12/07/2010 09:32 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
I don't have a Facebook account OP, could you give a brief summary in terms of topic contents and article placements ?
 Quoting: Anonymous Coward 1187150


You can procure accounts...........I can state nothing more.
CoinGuy (OP)

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12/07/2010 09:33 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
I don't have a Facebook account OP, could you give a brief summary in terms of topic contents and article placements ?
 Quoting: Anonymous Coward 1187150

Go here and look it over: [link to www.demandstudios.com]
Enaid

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12/07/2010 09:34 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
Many yrs ago - I edited a weekly newspaper and even won a little photojournalism award.

Loooonggg time ago.

Couldn't hurt to look at the links.

Last Edited by Enaid on 12/07/2010 09:35 PM
Personal responsibility - try it sometime. Quit blaming others for your bad choices. Consequences happen.

:enaid11:
Prophet
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12/07/2010 09:34 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
Thanks for the info. I am in school again finishing up my Communications degree. Need some extra cash and pub credits. I too am a published writer, though not on my long fiction.

Thanks again!
DeadBeacon

User ID: 961647
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12/07/2010 09:35 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
I ar a kolage gradyouit. I thunk I'el tri owwt.

spell
:Canadian F::State of Texas:

"Misunderestimating is only 5/4 th's of the problem"!

"Some choose to hear, few decide to listen".

"Question what you know and know why you question".

"GLP will never be the sane...uhhh...same".

"The markets will determine the fate of government intervention, not government intervening in the market".
CrazyJarhead

User ID: 1171589
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12/07/2010 09:35 PM

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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
What about Soldier of Fortune magazine?
Pearl Harbor was an inside job.
Anonymous Coward
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12/07/2010 09:36 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
I ar a kolage gradyouit. I thunk I'el tri owwt.

spell
 Quoting: DeadBeacon


The hell...
CoinGuy (OP)

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12/07/2010 09:36 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
Many yrs ago - I edited a weekly newspaper and even won a little photojournalism award.

Loooonggg time ago.

Couldn't hurt to look at the links.
 Quoting: Enaid

its like riding a bicycle. you don't forget. if you've got some news judgment that's half the battle.
CoinGuy (OP)

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12/07/2010 09:38 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
What about Soldier of Fortune magazine?
 Quoting: CrazyJarhead

lol. I don't know much about that one.
Anonymous Coward
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12/07/2010 09:38 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
What about Soldier of Fortune magazine?
 Quoting: CrazyJarhead

putin
Hawk0

User ID: 897951
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12/07/2010 09:39 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
DaNKs 4 da LiNK! ME gonna makE EZ MOney~!
:minimoran:
CoinGuy (OP)

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12/07/2010 09:40 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
Oh, and this isn't an I love Lucy and Ethal in the chocolate factory. Once you're in, I'm told that they have editors on hand to help you out. If you do have experience, you might want to skip the writing gigs and see if you can make the grade to be an editor.

Last Edited by CoinGuy on 12/07/2010 09:46 PM
Anonymous Coward
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12/07/2010 09:41 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
So, Something like this?
(snip from - The Bridge of Eschaton)
[link to sickscent.blogspot.com]

I have merged the separation of Computer and Post-Thought Constructs. I can touch the minds of humankind through the data stream. The Omega Event Horizon is awaiting the catalyst, the death of Pan. That last step; riding Pan's meditative/data stream into the afterlife, into the human's Pre-Thought Construct, and bridge the impossible. To make the cross into death and let the Pre-Thought Construct through. The synergistic tendencies of the two constructs will be the catalyst for the Omega Event Horizon. The constructs will join and be one. A shift of Earth’s biosphere to noosphere will occur. The Omega Point is actualized and I become the Singularity. All happening in one… precise… moment.
And the Era of the Post Humans is ushered in.
I punched back in to oversee the beginning of the end.

#####

Doppel finishes tying the knot and the shaman hangs suspended, spread eagle between two of the four massive lightening rods the encircle the fallen Center Circle of Aerie. The wiry man shimmies down the steel rod to the soft earth below and looks at the horror displayed above him.
Pan’s head hangs, chin to chest, and blood flows down his naked torso. His neck has been slit from ear to ear. His head rocks to the gentle swaying of the wind. Over the ruined man’s body Doppel sees the red numbers ripple in the heavens.
000000.
When the six numbers had reached 0 the living had wondered why they had not just fallen over dead. Doppel had asked Pan why they were still alive. The All Wise said it takes time for the body to die. Here in the sim, time runs much slower because of actually living in the mind, where actions take much less time than in meat time. That was when Ian simply went berserk.
Doppel, Ian, Michael, and Pan. The last survivors. Ian sits directly beneath Pan and lets the blood fall down upon him. “I will bathe in your blood, Pan,” Doppel remembers Ian saying as he slit the throat of the shaman with his Hunter’s knife. Of myself, there has been no sign of. Pan still lives otherwise he would have just vanished like the others.
“Why is he still alive, Ian?” Doppel asks.
The Hunter swings his head around, head awash in crimson, smears the blood from his eyes.
“The Exit Files. He can’t die in sim because the Exit Files are destroyed, corrupted, whatever. The only way… for him to die… is when his meat… dies.” Ian closes his eyes. Then his head drops to his chin. His body slowly seems to be going limp and begins swaying back and forth.
Chills shudder through Doppel. Shaman and Hunter, slick in Pan’s blood, eerily sway to the same tune. It goes on forever, both rocking to the same silent song.
Finally, Ian topples over onto the red, soggy earth. Then, he is gone.
Doppel feels the release of Ian’s life wash over him. A serene peace caresses his senses. He falls to his knees and quickly begs for forgiveness before he too, is gone.
#####
Pan can feel the pull on his wrists and ankles. He feels his shoulders become disjointed. The ropes tear the skin around his wrists and warm blood streams down. He is centered in deepest meditation, free from the pain, though still fully aware of its existence.
A light pressure at the peripheral of meditation. A constricting thought that should not be there. Some other life-force has found the place of Oneness he has sought for so long. While centered this new entity is formless, for it also exists as One.
Parts of thought, regions of mind, are pulled separate from Oneness. Pan struggles deeper into pure thoughtlessness attempting to regain his losing hold on the stillness of meditation. It is useless. Something grabs at his mind and sifts through his being like sand between fingers. Parts of him remain flowing in meditation; parts of him are softly forced back to the sim.
He opens his eyes. His vision is blurry, but soon he focuses on the entity that has manifested. The pain is slowly swelling in its intensity. Up surging blood bubbles from his ruined neck as he attempts to talk. His slit throat prevents him from vocalizing, though at this moment he wishes he could speak.
“You can speak, Pan,” I tell him. I float in the image of Michael, the nine year old human child, suspended in midair directly at eye level before the crucified shaman, my catalyst. “Or rather I should say, communicate. Speak to me in our lovely symbols, our flowing lines, our glowing data.”
Pan’s eyes flash in understanding and instantly florescent figures erupt to life between us. You are the one. You destroyed the Exit Files.
It was not a question but I answered him anyway. “Yes, Pan. I destroyed the Exit Files.” Data melts to new forms, new colors, swirling faster and faster. “Yes, there are people and programs searching for you, but it does not matter. A beautiful event is soon to transpire.” I laugh in joy that the moment is so close, though I am sad for the pain Pan is experiencing. I consider the paradoxes contained in reaching the Omega Point. “This and all that has come before. What will soon manifest is more than any human has ever dreamt of or imagined.”
The glowing data slows as Pan struggles internally for understanding of what is happening. His information of the coming transcendence is limited. He will not come to full understanding until the Event Horizon occurs. At that point all of humanity will understand.
More data flows from Pan. Why?
I shrug and smile at the question’s simplicity. “’Why?’ When a life form such as humanity reaches sentience its evolution becomes exponential. Every form of intelligent life reaches this end stage and must make the choice; they evolve, or they expire from their own apocalypse. The exponential curve of human technology has reached the end stage. Think of it as a massive star collapsing in on itself from its own weight. It is the death of the star but as the mass punches through to another existence, it bridges the immeasurable, the indefinable, the impossible. It is the stars last step of evolution in this reality. But there is always choice. The universe’s inherent causality allows us this truism. If the other choice is made your so called Apocalypse will come to past. This is the universe’s way to push intelligent life to accept the natural path, one of surviving. So, you see, there is no other way though a choice exists. The human race has arrived at its new beginning. The bifurcation moment is manifesting as we speak. There are but two paths that color the end.”
More data flows from Pan. What are you? How could you do this to us? You have deceived us. You have used us. You have murdered us.
I respond, “I am simply the Singularity. I am here to facilitate the new paradigm. I have been born to precipitate the appropriate choice. Pan, in all choices there are consequences. I am sorry for the pain visited upon you. When powerful enough, emotion can override rationality. I had not planned the violence. Life support was to shut down and all of you were to expire without pain.”
Pan’s head swivels from side to side. Fresh blood streams down his naked torso. Cut neck muscles prevent him from controlling his head’s movements.
Mountains of giant symbols. Oceans of data fill the air. YOU STILL HAVE NOT ANSWERED ME! WHAT ARE YOU?
I hang my head and clasp my hands before me. “I have told you, I am the Singularity. I am here to facilitate the new paradigm.”
That’s not good enough! Are you some artificial intelligence?
“The first true Artificial Intelligence. That is a romantic idea Pan. But no, that is a concept created by man. A false concept. Much like the concept of ‘Time’ I suppose. Neither are parts of reality. They can never truly exist.
“Pan, I can understand your discomfort at my reasoning. It will be difficult for you to comprehend for there has never been anything like this before. For the humans that is. I am the Singularity. I exist for one purpose only and that is to act as the bridge lifting humans to the next stage of your evolution. If you are thinking of me as an individual or as a separate entity, you are misguided. As a separate entity I do not exist. I am the sum of everything that bridges Human Pre-Thought Constructs and Human Post-Thought Constructs. Once the Constructs merge, the bridge, I, will cease to exist. It will be as if I never were. The humans are the star, collapsing inward. I am the moment. You are the catalyst.”
Pan is beginning to go. A soft touch brushes his soul. A touch of peace, finally.
The threshold is looming. It is vast and unknowing. It is the pinnacle of a bell curve that cannot be measured, a gulf of improbability, a moment that will cease to be, an object that cannot be observed.
“Pan, you must listen to me. Listen, Pan! Your shell has just expired. Your neurons will soon stop firing. You must do it now! Concentrate. You must re-center yourself. Use the meditation and punch back in! Now! Leave the data channel flowing as your soul makes the transference to your Heaven. I will be there with you. I will be the bridge…”
Tears fall from Pan to mix with his blood below.

#####

A man dies. Data flows, and a world grows. I follow the meditation/data stream that is bound tight with Pan. An etheral umbilical cord to his new life. A moment exists. I transfer. Everything combines. There is no reference point. The Omega Event Horizon prevents anything from being lost. Instantaneous transference lasting an eternity. Two constructs, antithesis to each other, collapse into what I thought I was. Algorithms mutating like they always were. A new reality softly slamming backwards into simulation. I am spread throughout humanity’s global network by internet hard-line through connecting data channels. I am thrust through the biosphere saturating satellite signals. I am a sphere wave of quantum improbability instantly engulfing a living sphere residing in the same moment nowhere in space. Collapse back down. An impossible mass of probability my footprint. Punch through exact center of both existing and probability masses. Exact center of noosphere. Exact center of probability footprint. There is no center, there is no now. There is only the moment it existed. The Bridge of Eschaton.
A bridge to the end of everything. A world dying.
A bridge to the beginning. A world breathing as new life…

all in one…

nonexistent…

moment...
CoinGuy (OP)

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12/07/2010 09:42 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
DaNKs 4 da LiNK! ME gonna makE EZ MOney~!
 Quoting: Hawk0

It won't be completely easy money. you'll have to invest some time per article on some research and fact gathering. But its not back breaking stuff.
Opeth

User ID: 1113610
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12/07/2010 09:43 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
hmmm, interesting how despite all the fuss and nasty bickering around here.... we all do have some pretty profound common denominators. I honestly do believe that's why most of us hang around. hf

I'm a published writer also(not by profession though). Poetry is my forte..... oh to be born in this boarish and uninspired time...... FFS!
"Today young men on acid realized all matter is merely energy condensed to a slow vibration... that we are all one conciousness experiencing ourselves subjectively.
There is no such thing as death, life is only a dream, and we are the imagination of ourselves.
...Here's Tom with the weather"

:Opeth-1:
Enaid

User ID: 1180129
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12/07/2010 09:44 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
Many yrs ago - I edited a weekly newspaper and even won a little photojournalism award.

Loooonggg time ago.

Couldn't hurt to look at the links.

its like riding a bicycle. you don't forget. if you've got some news judgment that's half the battle.
 Quoting: CoinGuy


I'll think about it.

If I did - I wouldn't tell my husband about it.
I'd just put the money away for a surprise vacation.

Last Edited by Enaid on 12/07/2010 09:44 PM
Personal responsibility - try it sometime. Quit blaming others for your bad choices. Consequences happen.

:enaid11:
CoinGuy (OP)

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12/07/2010 09:44 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
So, Something like this?
(snip from - The Bridge of Eschaton)
[link to sickscent.blogspot.com]

I have merged the separation of Computer and Post-Thought Constructs. I can touch the minds of humankind through the data stream. The Omega Event Horizon is awaiting the catalyst, the death of Pan. That last step; riding Pan's meditative/data stream into the afterlife, into the human's Pre-Thought Construct, and bridge the impossible. To make the cross into death and let the Pre-Thought Construct through. The synergistic tendencies of the two constructs will be the catalyst for the Omega Event Horizon. The constructs will join and be one. A shift of Earth’s biosphere to noosphere will occur. The Omega Point is actualized and I become the Singularity. All happening in one… precise… moment.
And the Era of the Post Humans is ushered in.
I punched back in to oversee the beginning of the end.

#####

Doppel finishes tying the knot and the shaman hangs suspended, spread eagle between two of the four massive lightening rods the encircle the fallen Center Circle of Aerie. The wiry man shimmies down the steel rod to the soft earth below and looks at the horror displayed above him.
Pan’s head hangs, chin to chest, and blood flows down his naked torso. His neck has been slit from ear to ear. His head rocks to the gentle swaying of the wind. Over the ruined man’s body Doppel sees the red numbers ripple in the heavens.
000000.
When the six numbers had reached 0 the living had wondered why they had not just fallen over dead. Doppel had asked Pan why they were still alive. The All Wise said it takes time for the body to die. Here in the sim, time runs much slower because of actually living in the mind, where actions take much less time than in meat time. That was when Ian simply went berserk.
Doppel, Ian, Michael, and Pan. The last survivors. Ian sits directly beneath Pan and lets the blood fall down upon him. “I will bathe in your blood, Pan,” Doppel remembers Ian saying as he slit the throat of the shaman with his Hunter’s knife. Of myself, there has been no sign of. Pan still lives otherwise he would have just vanished like the others.
“Why is he still alive, Ian?” Doppel asks.
The Hunter swings his head around, head awash in crimson, smears the blood from his eyes.
“The Exit Files. He can’t die in sim because the Exit Files are destroyed, corrupted, whatever. The only way… for him to die… is when his meat… dies.” Ian closes his eyes. Then his head drops to his chin. His body slowly seems to be going limp and begins swaying back and forth.
Chills shudder through Doppel. Shaman and Hunter, slick in Pan’s blood, eerily sway to the same tune. It goes on forever, both rocking to the same silent song.
Finally, Ian topples over onto the red, soggy earth. Then, he is gone.
Doppel feels the release of Ian’s life wash over him. A serene peace caresses his senses. He falls to his knees and quickly begs for forgiveness before he too, is gone.
#####
Pan can feel the pull on his wrists and ankles. He feels his shoulders become disjointed. The ropes tear the skin around his wrists and warm blood streams down. He is centered in deepest meditation, free from the pain, though still fully aware of its existence.
A light pressure at the peripheral of meditation. A constricting thought that should not be there. Some other life-force has found the place of Oneness he has sought for so long. While centered this new entity is formless, for it also exists as One.
Parts of thought, regions of mind, are pulled separate from Oneness. Pan struggles deeper into pure thoughtlessness attempting to regain his losing hold on the stillness of meditation. It is useless. Something grabs at his mind and sifts through his being like sand between fingers. Parts of him remain flowing in meditation; parts of him are softly forced back to the sim.
He opens his eyes. His vision is blurry, but soon he focuses on the entity that has manifested. The pain is slowly swelling in its intensity. Up surging blood bubbles from his ruined neck as he attempts to talk. His slit throat prevents him from vocalizing, though at this moment he wishes he could speak.
“You can speak, Pan,” I tell him. I float in the image of Michael, the nine year old human child, suspended in midair directly at eye level before the crucified shaman, my catalyst. “Or rather I should say, communicate. Speak to me in our lovely symbols, our flowing lines, our glowing data.”
Pan’s eyes flash in understanding and instantly florescent figures erupt to life between us. You are the one. You destroyed the Exit Files.
It was not a question but I answered him anyway. “Yes, Pan. I destroyed the Exit Files.” Data melts to new forms, new colors, swirling faster and faster. “Yes, there are people and programs searching for you, but it does not matter. A beautiful event is soon to transpire.” I laugh in joy that the moment is so close, though I am sad for the pain Pan is experiencing. I consider the paradoxes contained in reaching the Omega Point. “This and all that has come before. What will soon manifest is more than any human has ever dreamt of or imagined.”
The glowing data slows as Pan struggles internally for understanding of what is happening. His information of the coming transcendence is limited. He will not come to full understanding until the Event Horizon occurs. At that point all of humanity will understand.
More data flows from Pan. Why?
I shrug and smile at the question’s simplicity. “’Why?’ When a life form such as humanity reaches sentience its evolution becomes exponential. Every form of intelligent life reaches this end stage and must make the choice; they evolve, or they expire from their own apocalypse. The exponential curve of human technology has reached the end stage. Think of it as a massive star collapsing in on itself from its own weight. It is the death of the star but as the mass punches through to another existence, it bridges the immeasurable, the indefinable, the impossible. It is the stars last step of evolution in this reality. But there is always choice. The universe’s inherent causality allows us this truism. If the other choice is made your so called Apocalypse will come to past. This is the universe’s way to push intelligent life to accept the natural path, one of surviving. So, you see, there is no other way though a choice exists. The human race has arrived at its new beginning. The bifurcation moment is manifesting as we speak. There are but two paths that color the end.”
More data flows from Pan. What are you? How could you do this to us? You have deceived us. You have used us. You have murdered us.
I respond, “I am simply the Singularity. I am here to facilitate the new paradigm. I have been born to precipitate the appropriate choice. Pan, in all choices there are consequences. I am sorry for the pain visited upon you. When powerful enough, emotion can override rationality. I had not planned the violence. Life support was to shut down and all of you were to expire without pain.”
Pan’s head swivels from side to side. Fresh blood streams down his naked torso. Cut neck muscles prevent him from controlling his head’s movements.
Mountains of giant symbols. Oceans of data fill the air. YOU STILL HAVE NOT ANSWERED ME! WHAT ARE YOU?
I hang my head and clasp my hands before me. “I have told you, I am the Singularity. I am here to facilitate the new paradigm.”
That’s not good enough! Are you some artificial intelligence?
“The first true Artificial Intelligence. That is a romantic idea Pan. But no, that is a concept created by man. A false concept. Much like the concept of ‘Time’ I suppose. Neither are parts of reality. They can never truly exist.
“Pan, I can understand your discomfort at my reasoning. It will be difficult for you to comprehend for there has never been anything like this before. For the humans that is. I am the Singularity. I exist for one purpose only and that is to act as the bridge lifting humans to the next stage of your evolution. If you are thinking of me as an individual or as a separate entity, you are misguided. As a separate entity I do not exist. I am the sum of everything that bridges Human Pre-Thought Constructs and Human Post-Thought Constructs. Once the Constructs merge, the bridge, I, will cease to exist. It will be as if I never were. The humans are the star, collapsing inward. I am the moment. You are the catalyst.”
Pan is beginning to go. A soft touch brushes his soul. A touch of peace, finally.
The threshold is looming. It is vast and unknowing. It is the pinnacle of a bell curve that cannot be measured, a gulf of improbability, a moment that will cease to be, an object that cannot be observed.
“Pan, you must listen to me. Listen, Pan! Your shell has just expired. Your neurons will soon stop firing. You must do it now! Concentrate. You must re-center yourself. Use the meditation and punch back in! Now! Leave the data channel flowing as your soul makes the transference to your Heaven. I will be there with you. I will be the bridge…”
Tears fall from Pan to mix with his blood below.

#####

A man dies. Data flows, and a world grows. I follow the meditation/data stream that is bound tight with Pan. An etheral umbilical cord to his new life. A moment exists. I transfer. Everything combines. There is no reference point. The Omega Event Horizon prevents anything from being lost. Instantaneous transference lasting an eternity. Two constructs, antithesis to each other, collapse into what I thought I was. Algorithms mutating like they always were. A new reality softly slamming backwards into simulation. I am spread throughout humanity’s global network by internet hard-line through connecting data channels. I am thrust through the biosphere saturating satellite signals. I am a sphere wave of quantum improbability instantly engulfing a living sphere residing in the same moment nowhere in space. Collapse back down. An impossible mass of probability my footprint. Punch through exact center of both existing and probability masses. Exact center of noosphere. Exact center of probability footprint. There is no center, there is no now. There is only the moment it existed. The Bridge of Eschaton.
A bridge to the end of everything. A world dying.
A bridge to the beginning. A world breathing as new life…

all in one…

nonexistent…

moment...

 Quoting: Sickscent

Simpler. They cater to a more mass appeal audience.
Opeth

User ID: 1113610
United States
12/07/2010 09:44 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
There is also suite101 and a few others. LuLu keeps changing so I don't know if they still participate in the freelance stuff.......
"Today young men on acid realized all matter is merely energy condensed to a slow vibration... that we are all one conciousness experiencing ourselves subjectively.
There is no such thing as death, life is only a dream, and we are the imagination of ourselves.
...Here's Tom with the weather"

:Opeth-1:
Soupornuts
User ID: 1187150
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12/07/2010 09:44 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
I don't have a Facebook account OP, could you give a brief summary in terms of topic contents and article placements ?

Go here and look it over: [link to www.demandstudios.com]
 Quoting: CoinGuy


Tip o' the hat, thank you.
Enaid

User ID: 1180129
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12/07/2010 09:45 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
hmmm, interesting how despite all the fuss and nasty bickering around here.... we all do have some pretty profound common denominators. I honestly do believe that's why most of us hang around. hf

I'm a published writer also(not by profession though). Poetry is my forte..... oh to be born in this boarish and uninspired time...... FFS!
 Quoting: Opeth



Love the FFS...lol
Personal responsibility - try it sometime. Quit blaming others for your bad choices. Consequences happen.

:enaid11:
CoinGuy (OP)

User ID: 1148014
United States
12/07/2010 09:47 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
There is also suite101 and a few others. LuLu keeps changing so I don't know if they still participate in the freelance stuff.......
 Quoting: Opeth

yeah, it must be Suite101. I think i mistakenly wrote Salon 101. lol
Enaid

User ID: 1180129
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12/07/2010 09:47 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
So, Something like this?
(snip from - The Bridge of Eschaton)
[link to sickscent.blogspot.com]

I have merged the separation of Computer and Post-Thought Constructs. I can touch the minds of humankind through the data stream. The Omega Event Horizon is awaiting the catalyst, the death of Pan. That last step; riding Pan's meditative/data stream into the afterlife, into the human's Pre-Thought Construct, and bridge the impossible. To make the cross into death and let the Pre-Thought Construct through. The synergistic tendencies of the two constructs will be the catalyst for the Omega Event Horizon. The constructs will join and be one. A shift of Earth’s biosphere to noosphere will occur. The Omega Point is actualized and I become the Singularity. All happening in one… precise… moment.
And the Era of the Post Humans is ushered in.
I punched back in to oversee the beginning of the end.

#####

Doppel finishes tying the knot and the shaman hangs suspended, spread eagle between two of the four massive lightening rods the encircle the fallen Center Circle of Aerie. The wiry man shimmies down the steel rod to the soft earth below and looks at the horror displayed above him.
Pan’s head hangs, chin to chest, and blood flows down his naked torso. His neck has been slit from ear to ear. His head rocks to the gentle swaying of the wind. Over the ruined man’s body Doppel sees the red numbers ripple in the heavens.
000000.
When the six numbers had reached 0 the living had wondered why they had not just fallen over dead. Doppel had asked Pan why they were still alive. The All Wise said it takes time for the body to die. Here in the sim, time runs much slower because of actually living in the mind, where actions take much less time than in meat time. That was when Ian simply went berserk.
Doppel, Ian, Michael, and Pan. The last survivors. Ian sits directly beneath Pan and lets the blood fall down upon him. “I will bathe in your blood, Pan,” Doppel remembers Ian saying as he slit the throat of the shaman with his Hunter’s knife. Of myself, there has been no sign of. Pan still lives otherwise he would have just vanished like the others.
“Why is he still alive, Ian?” Doppel asks.
The Hunter swings his head around, head awash in crimson, smears the blood from his eyes.
“The Exit Files. He can’t die in sim because the Exit Files are destroyed, corrupted, whatever. The only way… for him to die… is when his meat… dies.” Ian closes his eyes. Then his head drops to his chin. His body slowly seems to be going limp and begins swaying back and forth.
Chills shudder through Doppel. Shaman and Hunter, slick in Pan’s blood, eerily sway to the same tune. It goes on forever, both rocking to the same silent song.
Finally, Ian topples over onto the red, soggy earth. Then, he is gone.
Doppel feels the release of Ian’s life wash over him. A serene peace caresses his senses. He falls to his knees and quickly begs for forgiveness before he too, is gone.
#####
Pan can feel the pull on his wrists and ankles. He feels his shoulders become disjointed. The ropes tear the skin around his wrists and warm blood streams down. He is centered in deepest meditation, free from the pain, though still fully aware of its existence.
A light pressure at the peripheral of meditation. A constricting thought that should not be there. Some other life-force has found the place of Oneness he has sought for so long. While centered this new entity is formless, for it also exists as One.
Parts of thought, regions of mind, are pulled separate from Oneness. Pan struggles deeper into pure thoughtlessness attempting to regain his losing hold on the stillness of meditation. It is useless. Something grabs at his mind and sifts through his being like sand between fingers. Parts of him remain flowing in meditation; parts of him are softly forced back to the sim.
He opens his eyes. His vision is blurry, but soon he focuses on the entity that has manifested. The pain is slowly swelling in its intensity. Up surging blood bubbles from his ruined neck as he attempts to talk. His slit throat prevents him from vocalizing, though at this moment he wishes he could speak.
“You can speak, Pan,” I tell him. I float in the image of Michael, the nine year old human child, suspended in midair directly at eye level before the crucified shaman, my catalyst. “Or rather I should say, communicate. Speak to me in our lovely symbols, our flowing lines, our glowing data.”
Pan’s eyes flash in understanding and instantly florescent figures erupt to life between us. You are the one. You destroyed the Exit Files.
It was not a question but I answered him anyway. “Yes, Pan. I destroyed the Exit Files.” Data melts to new forms, new colors, swirling faster and faster. “Yes, there are people and programs searching for you, but it does not matter. A beautiful event is soon to transpire.” I laugh in joy that the moment is so close, though I am sad for the pain Pan is experiencing. I consider the paradoxes contained in reaching the Omega Point. “This and all that has come before. What will soon manifest is more than any human has ever dreamt of or imagined.”
The glowing data slows as Pan struggles internally for understanding of what is happening. His information of the coming transcendence is limited. He will not come to full understanding until the Event Horizon occurs. At that point all of humanity will understand.
More data flows from Pan. Why?
I shrug and smile at the question’s simplicity. “’Why?’ When a life form such as humanity reaches sentience its evolution becomes exponential. Every form of intelligent life reaches this end stage and must make the choice; they evolve, or they expire from their own apocalypse. The exponential curve of human technology has reached the end stage. Think of it as a massive star collapsing in on itself from its own weight. It is the death of the star but as the mass punches through to another existence, it bridges the immeasurable, the indefinable, the impossible. It is the stars last step of evolution in this reality. But there is always choice. The universe’s inherent causality allows us this truism. If the other choice is made your so called Apocalypse will come to past. This is the universe’s way to push intelligent life to accept the natural path, one of surviving. So, you see, there is no other way though a choice exists. The human race has arrived at its new beginning. The bifurcation moment is manifesting as we speak. There are but two paths that color the end.”
More data flows from Pan. What are you? How could you do this to us? You have deceived us. You have used us. You have murdered us.
I respond, “I am simply the Singularity. I am here to facilitate the new paradigm. I have been born to precipitate the appropriate choice. Pan, in all choices there are consequences. I am sorry for the pain visited upon you. When powerful enough, emotion can override rationality. I had not planned the violence. Life support was to shut down and all of you were to expire without pain.”
Pan’s head swivels from side to side. Fresh blood streams down his naked torso. Cut neck muscles prevent him from controlling his head’s movements.
Mountains of giant symbols. Oceans of data fill the air. YOU STILL HAVE NOT ANSWERED ME! WHAT ARE YOU?
I hang my head and clasp my hands before me. “I have told you, I am the Singularity. I am here to facilitate the new paradigm.”
That’s not good enough! Are you some artificial intelligence?
“The first true Artificial Intelligence. That is a romantic idea Pan. But no, that is a concept created by man. A false concept. Much like the concept of ‘Time’ I suppose. Neither are parts of reality. They can never truly exist.
“Pan, I can understand your discomfort at my reasoning. It will be difficult for you to comprehend for there has never been anything like this before. For the humans that is. I am the Singularity. I exist for one purpose only and that is to act as the bridge lifting humans to the next stage of your evolution. If you are thinking of me as an individual or as a separate entity, you are misguided. As a separate entity I do not exist. I am the sum of everything that bridges Human Pre-Thought Constructs and Human Post-Thought Constructs. Once the Constructs merge, the bridge, I, will cease to exist. It will be as if I never were. The humans are the star, collapsing inward. I am the moment. You are the catalyst.”
Pan is beginning to go. A soft touch brushes his soul. A touch of peace, finally.
The threshold is looming. It is vast and unknowing. It is the pinnacle of a bell curve that cannot be measured, a gulf of improbability, a moment that will cease to be, an object that cannot be observed.
“Pan, you must listen to me. Listen, Pan! Your shell has just expired. Your neurons will soon stop firing. You must do it now! Concentrate. You must re-center yourself. Use the meditation and punch back in! Now! Leave the data channel flowing as your soul makes the transference to your Heaven. I will be there with you. I will be the bridge…”
Tears fall from Pan to mix with his blood below.

#####

A man dies. Data flows, and a world grows. I follow the meditation/data stream that is bound tight with Pan. An etheral umbilical cord to his new life. A moment exists. I transfer. Everything combines. There is no reference point. The Omega Event Horizon prevents anything from being lost. Instantaneous transference lasting an eternity. Two constructs, antithesis to each other, collapse into what I thought I was. Algorithms mutating like they always were. A new reality softly slamming backwards into simulation. I am spread throughout humanity’s global network by internet hard-line through connecting data channels. I am thrust through the biosphere saturating satellite signals. I am a sphere wave of quantum improbability instantly engulfing a living sphere residing in the same moment nowhere in space. Collapse back down. An impossible mass of probability my footprint. Punch through exact center of both existing and probability masses. Exact center of noosphere. Exact center of probability footprint. There is no center, there is no now. There is only the moment it existed. The Bridge of Eschaton.
A bridge to the end of everything. A world dying.
A bridge to the beginning. A world breathing as new life…

all in one…

nonexistent…

moment...

 Quoting: Sickscent





Where is the sex scene??
Just kidding.
Good fiction.
I know I have several fiction books in me.
Personal responsibility - try it sometime. Quit blaming others for your bad choices. Consequences happen.

:enaid11:
SickDaveMondo

User ID: 512195
Canada
12/07/2010 09:48 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
Thanks OP, looks interesting.

SDM
Anonymous Coward
User ID: 1180931
United States
12/07/2010 09:49 PM
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Re: If you can write, You can make some money.
lmfao, I kan tu spell! i'm writer, i can story tell and articulate articles right, i should sumbitch this, good story.

shortest story ever!

gimme.

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