Wretched writing is the lowest of the low; it is a felonious assault on the English language. Exuberantly excessive, it is a sin committed often by amateurs and all-too-frequently by gifted writers having an off day. In short, it’s very bad writing. Truly bad. Appallingly bad.
It’s also very funny.
A celebration of the worst writing imaginable, Wretched Writing includes inadvertently filthy book titles, ridiculously overwrought passages from novels, bombastic and confusing speeches, moronic oxymorons, hyperactive hyperbole, horribly inappropriate imagery in ostensibly hot sex scenes, mangled clichés, muddled metaphors, and unintended double entendres.
Sit back and enjoy these deliciously dreadful samples, and try not to cringe too much.
|Publisher:||Penguin Publishing Group|
|Sold by:||Penguin Group|
|File size:||453 KB|
|Age Range:||18 Years|
About the Author
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
Wretched Writing was a fun little read. It was easy to pick up and put down, great when you only have five minutes or so to read. Many of the passages they show are quite funny and worth sharing. It's also heartening to know that everyone has bad days!
I sat across from my twin sister, Rosabelle, watching her drawn. She tapped the pencil in her right to her chin, baby blue eyes upward. She beamed amd picked up a purple colored penicl in her left hand amd began to draw. I watched her curiously, as soft-looking fur was sketched into the paper. Belle continued to stay focused on her task. Once done, she closed her eyes, counted to ten, and whirreled around. She squealed in joy and dashed to the back of our room. She wrapped her little arms around a brand-new purple, fluffy teddy bear the size of a doberman. I grinned, and being six, I saw no harm in creating my own friend. Grabbing a black colored pencil in my left hand and a green one in my right, I quietly and quickly drew my favorite animal, with percice detail. Like Belle, once I had completed it, I closed ky eyes, counted to ten, and whipped myself around to a small, "Mew." I beamed and picked up the tiny black kitten. She had green eyes and a scruffy pelt, and I fondled her head. The kitten purred like a motar boat. "I'll name you Missy, Missy!" I giggled. Belle's jaw dropped and she ran over, sliding to her knees. "Rory! Mom'll know we Created again!" As if on cue, out mother knocked on the door. "Rory, Rosabelle, nap time!" We exchanged looks and darted to out beds, shoving Missy under my thick fleece sheets. By the time our mom walked in, we were both out cold.