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[Writing] "This is John"

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Doneski
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This was just a short writing I did. I'm going to try and write for half an hour to an hour (hopefully more like an hour) every day to get better. Let me know what you think, like, and don't like, and maybe even how you think it could be better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John sat in his empty room. His room was a reflection of himself: empty, desolate, a void waiting to be filled. Filled with what, he didn’t know, but he longed for it, needed it. In recent years John had moved around a lot, as his father was a military man.

It always began like this: a new home and an empty room. The furniture had not yet arrived and he sat with a hollowed-out mind. Every few minutes a spark would attempt ever so desperately to light a fire with plans of how to arrange the room when his furniture did arrive, or what kind of friends he would make in his new home; whether they would be short or tall, wide or narrow, introspective or outgoing, black or white, male or female. Of course, this spark attempted the impossible, as there was no fuel for a fire in his mind.

John was quiet. Yet once he found friends and settled in, he opened up, lost his shell. He didn’t play sports and was only average height. He was thin and not very muscular. He was a video game “fanatic” as his mother so frequently states. He found solace and peace in video games, such a peace that could not exist in the real, war-cluttered, rape-ridden, and downtrodden world. The video game world offered an escape, a way to vent his anger without hurting other people or causing a chain of anger.

His favorite video game had always been Final Fantasy IX, with its beautifully created world, its romantic heroism, its complex characterization, and the emotional connection that gave John a meaningful feeling every time he played it. He played it often when he was young, but newer toys came out and he began to grow up, yet he never forgot it.

And although this story is about John, and not video games, these tools were a major developing factor for his personality. Philosophical pieces of games, movies, even books he reads were absorbed into his own lifestyle as he tried to be a hero, or at the very least, a good person. He tried to be the best possible friend he could be; supportive, comforting, fun, he tried very hard to take on all the qualities of the perfect best friend and tried to push that personality out to everyone.

He’d lost a couple friends along the way, but it was mostly due to conflicts of interest. Losing friends was one of the most painful things he could go through. And it wasn’t that he wanted a large number of friends, but each friend he gained he formed a deep emotional connection with, and it was rare that his friends formed the same connection. In fact, he only truly knew of one other friend in which the connection was mutual. She was a long ways away though, which sent him into a spiral of depression, and yet, with so many technological advances, she was able to bring him right back out.

John stood up straight, stretching his legs with his arms pulled out, hand in hand, above his head. His furniture arrived and the movers in Army uniforms began to unload the truck, asking him where he wanted it all. Of course, with no real plan, he just spouted out the most logical places in his mind, which happened to be the same layouts as his past few rooms. From the door to the rest of his house, on the right wall was his TV and video game consoles (of which were an Xbox 360, a Wii, and a Playstation 3); the left wall held his dresser with the far wall the resting place for his bed with a window at the foot. His closet was directly next to the door and was a full walk-in closet.

As the movers left, he lay on his bed and watched the ceiling, his hands behind his head on his pillow. Soon his vision faded to black and the ceiling reappeared, only to melt away, revealing a black, starlit night. He couldn’t actually see anything, yet he felt the light was there. He stumbled through the darkness as a blind man stumbles through his own home after only a short time of being blind. His arms waved in an erratic manner and he staggered constantly.

One wrong step was all he took and it set off a chain reaction of blood-curdling screams and ear-blasting explosions and rippling shockwaves. His eyes burned and his skin felt as though it were dripping from his body. Wind and debris tore past his body at ungodly speeds, stinging intensely at his body. He fell to his knees as he cried out in pain. Suddenly he felt a blow to his chest as if being punched or kicked and fell backwards for what felt like hours. Then he woke up.

John jolted to a sitting position, his hands on his thighs and sweat dripping from his brow. He licked his dry lips as he gasped for breath. Every first night was like that. He’d had some nightmare. He figured he’d be used to the anxiety, but it was the same every time. Nothing changed. Nothing would ever change. Just as history in the books repeats itself, a person’s past, present, and future is one cycle that is constantly in motion. This is most often due to the fact that people hate change. No one is willing to break their own cycle and do something unusual. And so it happens every day and will happen for the rest of man’s time on Earth.

As he gazed tiredly at the clock, noting its time of two o’clock in the morning, he laid back down. He hoped he would meet someone soon that he could call friend. He was a mess, as he always was after a move: leaving old friends for new friends, only to suffer a new sequence of heartache, anxiety, and joy.
« Last Edit: May 25, 2015, 09:41:04 AM by boe »

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John sat in his empty room. His room was a reflection of himself: empty This second use of empty is jarring, so soon after the first, desolate, a void waiting to be filled. Filled with what, he didn’t know, but he longed for it, needed it. In recent years John had moved around a lot, as his father was a military man. This sentence seems off with the rest of the paragraph, you've introduced something new.

It always began like this: a new home and an empty room. I like this sentence, it works real well, and gives me insight to his world. The furniture had not yet arrived and he sat with a hollowed-out mind. Every few minutes a spark would attempt ever so desperately to light a fire This is an awkward metaphor, jarring with plans of how to arrange the room when his furniture did arrive, or what kind of friends he would make in his new home; whether they would be short or tall, wide or narrow, introspective or outgoing, black or white, male or female. Of course, this spark attempted the impossible, as there was no fuel for a fire in his mind.

John was quiet. Yet I don't think you can start a sentence with yet, should be a comma after quiet once he found friends and settled in, he opened up, lost his shell. He didn’t play sports and was only average height. He was thin and not very muscular. He was a video game “fanatic” as his mother so frequently states. He found solace and peace in video games, such a peace that could not exist in the real, war-cluttered, rape-ridden, and downtrodden world. I found this jarring too, the world ain't that bad, if you intended this to be his viewing of the world you need to make it clearer The video game world offered an escape, a way to vent his anger First mention that he has anger issues, why wasn't this mentioned earlier? It also seems to conflict with the "once he found friends he opened up..." sentence without hurting other people or causing a chain of anger. What's a chain of anger?

His favorite video game had always been Final Fantasy IX, This was jarring too, real-world references need to be really carefully thought out to avoid that, it breaks me away from the story you're creating and brings me back to reality with its beautifully created world, its romantic heroism, its complex characterization, and the emotional connection that gave John a meaningful feeling every time he played it. He played it often when he was young, but newer toys came out and he began to grow up, yet he never forgot it. This entire paragraph is pretty much pointless.

And although this story is about John, Breaking the fourth wall can snap a reader out of the story too. This is also a really casual phrase, and out of place with the narration tone and not video games, these tools were a major developing factor for his personality. Philosophical pieces of Pieces of sounds weird followed by games, maybe remove it? games, movies, even books he reads You don't need to mention that he reads books, it's implied were absorbed into his own lifestyle as he tried to be a hero, or at the very least, a good person. He tried to be the best possible friend he could be; supportive, comforting, fun, he tried very hard to take on all the qualities of the perfect best friend and tried to push that personality out to everyone.

He’d lost a couple friends along the way, but it was mostly due to conflicts of interest. Losing friends was one of the most painful things he could go through. And starting a sentence with and is improper, and in this case, not necessary it wasn’t that he wanted a large number of friends, but each friend he gained he formed a deep emotional connection with, and it was rare that his friends formed the same connection. In fact, he only truly knew of one other friend in which the connection was mutual. She was a long ways long ways would be fine spoken out, but not written, should be long way away though, which sent him into a spiral of depression, and yet, with so many technological advances, she was able to bring him right back out.

John stood up straight, stretching his legs with his arms pulled out, hand in hand, above his head. His furniture arrived and the movers in Army uniforms began to unload the truck, asking him where he wanted it all. Of course, with no real plan, he just spouted out the most logical places in his mind, which happened to be the same layouts as his past few past few breaks the flow, try previous rooms. From the door to the rest of his house, on the right wall was his TV and video game consoles (of which were an Xbox 360, a Wii, and a Playstation 3); the left wall held his dresser with the far wall the resting place for his bed with a window at the foot. His closet was directly next to the door and was a full walk-in closet. Show, don't tell. This house plan was boring, and didn't add to the story.

As the movers left, he lay on his bed and watched the ceiling, his hands behind his head on his pillow. Soon his vision faded to black and the ceiling reappeared, only to melt away, revealing a black, starlit night. He couldn’t actually see anything, yet he felt the light was there. He stumbled through the darkness as a blind man stumbles through his own home after only a short time of being blind. "after only a short time..." breaks the flow, maybe remove it. His arms waved in an erratic manner and he staggered constantly.

One wrong step was all he took and it set off a chain reaction of blood-curdling screams and ear-blasting explosions and rippling shockwaves.You've used and twice His eyes burned and his skin felt as though it were dripping from his body. Wind and debris tore past his body at ungodly speeds, stinging intensely at his body You've used "his body" three times in the space of not many words, breaks the flow . He fell to his knees as he cried out in pain. Suddenly he felt a blow to his chest as if being punched or kicked and fell backwards for what felt like hours. Then he woke up. Then he woke up should be in a new paragraph, it's changing the subject. You could do away with it entirely though, given the next paragraph.

John jolted to a sitting position, his hands on his thighs and sweat dripping from his brow. He licked his dry lips This conflicts with sweaty brow, dry lips breaks the image of a sweat-covered person as he gasped for breath. Every first night was like that. He’d had some nightmare. This nightmare sentence is awkward and unnecessary He figured he’d be used to the anxiety, but it was the same every time. Nothing changed. Nothing would ever change. Just as history in the books repeats itself, a person’s past, present, and future is one cycle that is constantly in motion. This is most often due to the fact that people hate change. No one is willing to break their own cycle and do something unusual. And so it happens every day and will happen for the rest of man’s time on Earth. Tried to be deep, but doesn't really provoke any thoughts, also comes across as slightly sanctimonious.

As he gazed tiredly at the clock, noting its time of two o’clock in the morning, he laid back down. The time was jarring, also the sentence is kinda weird, "as he looked at the clock he laid down" doesn't make much sense. He hoped he would meet someone soon that he could call friend. He was a mess, as he always was after a move: leaving old friends for new friends, only to suffer a new sequence of heartache, anxiety, and joy.



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Keep in  mind this is only my own critique, you may disagree or whatever, I'm just trying to be helpful. When writing short stories you really gotta be careful to pick out every single sentence, and make sure it all adds to the story.

Don't forget to go through and edit multiple times too, let's you pick up things that are out of place, or don't really add to the story.
I'm much too lazy to put an actual signature here.

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Doneski
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Thanks for the input. I agree with a lot of the stylistic things you mentioned (like the flow of the blind sentence), but certain things I felt were fairly important (such as the room). And he doesn't have anger issues, but everyone gets angry at some point, right? It's just some more than others.

Obviously it's gonna be a bit sloppy after a long hiatus from writing and without editing, but it's more of a means to see what I need to work on or how I can improve, so your input helps.

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Thought about writing in NaNoWriMo?
you awoke in a burning paperhouse
from the infinite fields of dreamless sleep

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Doneski
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I have, but I feel like I wouldn't have enough time. I might look more into it this year.

And I take it that means you liked it?

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I did, it reminds me a lot of my early writing. I would look in to atleast attempting NaNoWriMo, it taught me a lot about putting flesh and weighting writing down.
you awoke in a burning paperhouse
from the infinite fields of dreamless sleep