Opinionated Writing Novels & Stories

After all, doxa means public opinion, and it doesn’t seem justifiable for there to be a class of men whose particular office consists of giving an opinion if their opinion is to coincide with that of the public. Is this not redundancy or, as is said in our Spanish language, which is more the product of muleteers than lord chamberlains, a packsaddle over a packsaddle? Doesn’t it seem more likely that the intellectual exists in order to oppose public opinion, the doxa, by revealing and maintaining a front against

"Do I want to put this here? Should I make this long or short? Does this statement or humor or pun offend anybody?" Authors have all that to think of and the last thing we want right now is somebody on our necks drilling us because we didn't write how they like or we didn't write what they wanted to read. The book is mine and I write it how I want. Although opinions are highly welcome, I will not change or modify my book because then it becomes unoriginal. If everyone's opinion is taken, we wouldn't live our lives freely now, would we?

Every opinion was a challenge. All the while Anthony listened, and I realized, that was the point. He barely spoke, only nodding occasionally, letting out a quiet laugh not when jokes were funny - they never were - but mostly at the stupidity of a statement, or the fakeness of an appearance. I silently noticed it all, a bit amused myself, but not so much as I was growing increasingly annoyed. When Anthony did offer an opinion, it was measured, diplomatic, impossible to fault. Like he alone had the complete information, when the rest each had parts of the whole.

“I really do, not that my opinion matters.” He turns me to face him. “Of course it matters. I hope that you’ll be wearing them, so I want your opinion. Also,” he says, giving me a stern look, “never sell yourself short. Your opinion should always matter. If it doesn’t, you’re in the wrong place.” I duck my head at the sudden burst of emotion that surges through me at those words. “We barely know each other; you can’t know that.”

"Their opinions don't matter. And they don't have the right to talk down on you like that. Whoever uploaded the article wanted this to happen, for it to have this effect on you. Are you going to give an anonymous a chance to decide who you are?" "No. They don't have the right to say anything about me. They don't know me so I won't let their irrelevant opinion have any effect on me. That was what I told myself at first but I don't even know why I started thinking about what they said, why I started overthinking everything."

let me know your opinion. happy reading :-)

Physical stimuli to focus on instead of being overwhelmed emotionally. “Did you get in trouble for speaking?” I asked her. She nodded again. That made both Theo and me furious, but we were able to keep that reaction contained and only internal. “You’ll never get in trouble again for speaking, princess. Speak as much or as little as you’d like. Let me tell you that Brynn is the most opinionated person I have ever met, and I love that about her. It’s okay to have opinions because you’re unique. That’s one thing that makes you special.”

"We didn't like what you wrote about the cheer squad. You need to stop saying stuff like that." I affected an expression of shock. "Really? You can read? Wow, let me go alert the media. I think we just found our headline for next week's paper." Trish's eyes narrowed. "Listen, bitch-" "No, you listen." I stared back at her. "It's an editorial. My opinion. I can write what I want." Trish's face took on an ugly sneer. "No one cares what you think. So maybe you should-"

Tomo said as they all laughed and tell stories of how Nato would always get drunk first and do the silliest and craziest things. There was one time that the four of them went out drinking like they always do and Nato took notice of the pitcher that they were served and told everyone that he never saw a pitcher with this design. While they were drinking, Nato continue to tell everyone how amazing the pitcher is and that he liked how it was designed after aesthetics and function. As they get drunk, Nato seemed to make an attachment to the pitcher. The pitcher was resting on his leg while his arm was wrapped around it like he was holding a baby. he continued to hold the empty pitcher while they

“I need to see it.” His jaw flexed. “You don’t need to absorb that.” “I do,” I countered, forcing my voice to stay steady. “This is what we chose yesterday, remember? Transparency. That means I don’t get to hide when it turns ugly.” “It’s not ugly,” he said sharply. “It’s misinformation.” “It’s opinion,” I corrected. “And it matters, whether we like it or not.” He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair before stepping closer. “Public opinion doesn’t get to define you.”