Can I write =]
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andwesaidourprayers
- Posts: 1
- Joined: 05 Jan 2010, 22:47
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Can I write =]
Hey my name is David. I am 19 years old, and have taken a new interest in writing. I grew up loving to write, but have lost interest as I've gotten older. If you have a minute please read the beginning of what I hope is to become a novel. I am curious as to whether my structure is solid. Any opinions will be awesome!
The weather was cold that day. Silent and windy, every light was but a simple reminder of life within houses lined up in the most linear of ways. Walking along the sidewalk was Cooper, a young boy of fourteen who was making his way home from the gas station. Ahead of the boy were trees of which autumn had most definitely sprung its grasp. Despite the blistering feeling of which wind is associated with, Cooper was wearing nothing more than worn down shorts along with a sweat shirt he had found weeks before. He often found that warmth was no more than a mental trick on the mind, and was capable of feeling just fine in summertime clothes. The boy walked alone; cautiously and curiously as he pictured the families inside the little cubes that were known as homes. Were they like his family he asked? He had no reason to believe any different, however at the pit of his stomach was a feeling that said life was not what he had lived. As he continued to walk along the road, he kicked rock after rock almost praying for the silence to end.
“Your late ya know!” bellowed Ray Barker, a man known for his angry streak. As he utilized all his energy to scream, the boy became frightened. He knew for a fact that Ray was drinking just as he did all nights and could not remember the time or the day of which the encounter took place. But what was the boy to say? He knew that after a few minutes of screaming (and perhaps a slap to the face) that he would go to his room with no emotional attachment to save his life. Ray had been married to Cooper’s mother for sometime now, although the boy would lay dead in a grave rather than call the man Dad. Cooper remembered his dad, a man who had done everything for his family. He knew that at age eight his mother had clinched his wrist carrying him off to a new world of which he knew nothing of. She had explained that “your father is gone, and now is not the time to sorrow,” and had rarely given more details rather than telling him that his father had sold their house and was off to the East coast. This scenario played often through Cooper’s mind, as he did not believe that there was any possibility that a man with such pride would run out on his family. However, he had no reason to doubt his mother’s story and conceited that he at least knew his father was safe…somewhere.
“I’m sorry sir,” squeaked the boy, for he knew there was no point in arguing. As Ray got closer to him he could smell the liquor on his breath. He did not understand the purpose of alcohol and had no interest in ever taking a sip of the forbidden liquid. As the liquor began to inflame Cooper’s nostrils, a more violent monstrosity engulfed the boy. “You damn rat!” howled the man as he swung his arm towards the boy. Immediately hitting the ground, the boy laid still hoping that the allusion of unconsciousness would be enough to prevent any further blows.
The weather was cold that day. Silent and windy, every light was but a simple reminder of life within houses lined up in the most linear of ways. Walking along the sidewalk was Cooper, a young boy of fourteen who was making his way home from the gas station. Ahead of the boy were trees of which autumn had most definitely sprung its grasp. Despite the blistering feeling of which wind is associated with, Cooper was wearing nothing more than worn down shorts along with a sweat shirt he had found weeks before. He often found that warmth was no more than a mental trick on the mind, and was capable of feeling just fine in summertime clothes. The boy walked alone; cautiously and curiously as he pictured the families inside the little cubes that were known as homes. Were they like his family he asked? He had no reason to believe any different, however at the pit of his stomach was a feeling that said life was not what he had lived. As he continued to walk along the road, he kicked rock after rock almost praying for the silence to end.
“Your late ya know!” bellowed Ray Barker, a man known for his angry streak. As he utilized all his energy to scream, the boy became frightened. He knew for a fact that Ray was drinking just as he did all nights and could not remember the time or the day of which the encounter took place. But what was the boy to say? He knew that after a few minutes of screaming (and perhaps a slap to the face) that he would go to his room with no emotional attachment to save his life. Ray had been married to Cooper’s mother for sometime now, although the boy would lay dead in a grave rather than call the man Dad. Cooper remembered his dad, a man who had done everything for his family. He knew that at age eight his mother had clinched his wrist carrying him off to a new world of which he knew nothing of. She had explained that “your father is gone, and now is not the time to sorrow,” and had rarely given more details rather than telling him that his father had sold their house and was off to the East coast. This scenario played often through Cooper’s mind, as he did not believe that there was any possibility that a man with such pride would run out on his family. However, he had no reason to doubt his mother’s story and conceited that he at least knew his father was safe…somewhere.
“I’m sorry sir,” squeaked the boy, for he knew there was no point in arguing. As Ray got closer to him he could smell the liquor on his breath. He did not understand the purpose of alcohol and had no interest in ever taking a sip of the forbidden liquid. As the liquor began to inflame Cooper’s nostrils, a more violent monstrosity engulfed the boy. “You damn rat!” howled the man as he swung his arm towards the boy. Immediately hitting the ground, the boy laid still hoping that the allusion of unconsciousness would be enough to prevent any further blows.
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sjhaughty
- Posts: 8
- Joined: 29 Jan 2010, 14:33
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I think you have a great start.
Images that involve all of the senses -like you use with the liquor- are very strong for writing.
However, I recommend looking online for tips regarding showing-versus-telling. For example, the first line, "It was cold that day." Is telling your reader. Describing the scene, the wind, the way characters behave in this weather would be telling.
Images that involve all of the senses -like you use with the liquor- are very strong for writing.
However, I recommend looking online for tips regarding showing-versus-telling. For example, the first line, "It was cold that day." Is telling your reader. Describing the scene, the wind, the way characters behave in this weather would be telling.
