My attempts at writing

Do you notice how writers always have a certain style they are adept at?
Usually based on what the writer reads during his/her free-time.

Hence my tip for improving writing skills:
Read from the best author you can find.
My personal favorite is Ed Greenwood.

(yes you are good, but everyone has room for improvement)

thanks, and thanks for the author. I reccomend by anything Anne McCaffery and Neil Gaiman, and "Dragon World" by Byron Preiss

"Good Omens" by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman Is excellent too

Here's another attempt at writing, tell me what you think.


It slept beneath the waves, his slumber uninterrupted by the crabs scuttling over his hide, to his immense girth they were nothing more than a distraction, the most minor of annoyances. Occasionally a shark swam by on their never-ending quest for flesh if they knew what napped below the silt they would have swum very quickly in another direction. Fishing boats in their quest for profit had begin to set their nets out in above the beast as well, if they had had the misfortune to land such a catch they would have very quickly drowned. It had been sleeping for centuries the humans, tiny chittering creatures to it, had fought wars and begin to use new weapons to kill themselves. Little did they know how effective they would be.
The Nations top scientists had been gathered, they were charged with the task of building a better bomb. The Soviets had already announced their new piece of destructive force, and the US government would be damned to see those damn commies take the lead. They had be working for months, writing formulas, building models, scrapping poor ideas, finally they had come up with what they believed to be the most destructive bomb know to mankind, now all that remained was to test it. The Atlantic ocean was where they would do so. The bomb was carefully floated out a good distance from their island so as to prevent damage from the fallout, and dropped into the ocean. Back on their island John, the projects leader, gave one last look around, his team were eager, good they had worked hard they deserved to see it come to fruition. Several high-ranking members of the military were also seated nearby, John had invited them to witness the newest weapon, he hoped that they would not be disappointed; he missed his family, and wanted to leave this island paradise. He looked one last time at the switch that would fire the weapon, and placed his hand on it, letting out a tiny prayer, he flipped the switch. Dozens of miles away a submerged weapon of massive destruction imploded, then released it’s charge with a tremendous blast that could be seen even from it’s creators vantage point, millions of fish were killed, and the fishing industry took an unexpected nose dive the next season, but that doesn’t really matter to the story. The scientists, and even the assembled military cheered, in their success, they had done it, but then one of them looked at the seismic readings they were dropping after the blast, but then rose, sharply, something was shaking the earth, far more than any earthquake.
It woke up. It rose from the silt, sand and small bottom feeders shedding from it’s back. It was the Leviathan, and it was awake. It is a creature of legend, it’s visage appeared everywhere from stories told by sailors, to the bible. It’s teeth are gleaming sabers, fit inside a head larger than a aircraft carrier, it’s eyes the size of cars glow with an eerie light. It’s awakening had shifted the waters depth, it was now miles deeper than its former depth. It had been woken up in a rude manner, and it was not happy, it began to rise to see where the offending noise had come from. It’s head began to poke out of the water, it’s horns splitting the water for almost a hundred yards. The beast had awoken, the apocalypse had begun.