I'm in a writing group. Last week, I turned in 3 short stories, one of them was finished, and the others were not. The two other people in the group liked the one story I don't like at all, one that isn't finished. I think there are a lot of problems with this story. First, there is a tendency for new writers to fall into a Raymond Carveresque style of writing, one with a bare bones type of prose and very few, uh, stylized words. They (we) do this because they are afraid to lend too much for critiquing. By eliminating all but the absolutely necessary parts for your story, it is hard to criticize. Anyway, that is what this story does. And this is why I hate it.
But, they suggested I finish the story. And I need help. Should I finish the story? I'm not too attached to it, so in what way should I continue?
Help me decide where this story goes. Read the story and then answer the poll on the right.
Here is the question:
How do you want my story to end?
-Depressing fashion
-Happy fashion
-Surprising fashion
-Dude, the story sucks, give it up
-I refuse to read this story
Here is the story:
“Would you do it over?”
“Do what over?”
“This,” said Steve, sweeping his palm around his head like he was holding a lasso. “This.”
“You mean the job? Would I take this job again? Well man, it was either this job or sit at Can…”
“No, not just the job,” Steve interrupted. “Everything; this.” Steve stuck out his arm and carefully pretended to scan John from a distance, waiting for some sort of extraordinary, telling light to stream from his hand.
“You know, your life, this, everything.”
“Everything?” questioned John.
Steve finished scanning and his eyes slowly moved from John to the office, searching for items or mementos, snippets representing John’s life. Steve’s eyes widened and he quickly pointed to a framed picture of John’s daughters that hung on the wall.
“That,” said Steve. “Or,” moving to a picture of John’s wife, “That”.
John said nothing, only watched. Steve carefully searched the room and came to John’s desk. He recklessly picked up a stack of papers and files. “These,” he said and carelessly dropped the pile back into place, some papers slipping out to the floor.
“Everything,” Steve said again.
Tiring of his explanation quickly, Steve carefully moved his hand to his chest. His mouth curled in a mischievous, dumb grin.
“Or maybe, even this,” Steve said coyly. Satisfied with his finale, he leaned back in his desk chair and sipped his bourbon with a loud slurp.
John laughed.
“Well,” said John. “There are some things,” he flicked his hand towards Steve, “I certainly wouldn’t miss.”
Steve smiled warmly. They sat in silence for a moment, examining the office, letting the smell of bourbon sink into the room. Rain pattered against the office window.
“But seriously,” Steve started again, “if you had the chance to do it all over, everything over, would you?”
John didn’t respond. He wanted to recline and lift his feet up to his desk in the ultimate position of corporate relaxation and superiority, but he knew his shoes were too filthy.
“Imagine,” said Steve, leaning close to John’s desk with excitement, “if you knew you could have a re-do. Start fresh from the beginning. New job, house, car, wife, all that shit. The kids. Not a semblance of similarity with your current life. You start different from the beginning. You fail grade school this time, or, better yet, you go to Harvard.”
“No job in sales?” asked John with mock concern. Steve didn’t hear him.
“You become a world class physicist,” said Steve, his eyes lost in a manner that suggested he was talking about himself, not John. “You travel the world giving lectures. You spend years discovering some complex equation and are renowned all over the world. You’re written up in books and scholarly journals.” Steve cradled his bourbon in both hands. “You don’t marry because you don’t have the time. Intellectual discussions and writing books. The occasional dinner, but that’s it.”
“Ha. Do you think you’re stupid, Steve?” asked John.
“No, nothing like that. I just think maybe I missed the boat with this sales stuff. I’m a smart guy and maybe I’m wasting my l … uh, talent, but that is neither here nor there.”
John’s eyes once again wandered around the room. This is a great office, he thought. I keep a decanter full of liquor in my bottom desk drawer and no one can tell me otherwise. Steve’s question was boring him. It was too mundane, too everyday. Who the fuck cared if he could do everything over again? It’s a pointless hypothetical question and the opportunity for doing things over will never occur, so why dwell on the subject?
Steve saw John was loosing interest. He tried to change topics.
“You taking the girls to the lake this weekend?” asked Steve.
Tom rolled his chair close to his desk and grabbed the decanter of bourbon.
But, they suggested I finish the story. And I need help. Should I finish the story? I'm not too attached to it, so in what way should I continue?
Help me decide where this story goes. Read the story and then answer the poll on the right.
Here is the question:
How do you want my story to end?
-Depressing fashion
-Happy fashion
-Surprising fashion
-Dude, the story sucks, give it up
-I refuse to read this story
Here is the story:
“Would you do it over?”
“Do what over?”
“This,” said Steve, sweeping his palm around his head like he was holding a lasso. “This.”
“You mean the job? Would I take this job again? Well man, it was either this job or sit at Can…”
“No, not just the job,” Steve interrupted. “Everything; this.” Steve stuck out his arm and carefully pretended to scan John from a distance, waiting for some sort of extraordinary, telling light to stream from his hand.
“You know, your life, this, everything.”
“Everything?” questioned John.
Steve finished scanning and his eyes slowly moved from John to the office, searching for items or mementos, snippets representing John’s life. Steve’s eyes widened and he quickly pointed to a framed picture of John’s daughters that hung on the wall.
“That,” said Steve. “Or,” moving to a picture of John’s wife, “That”.
John said nothing, only watched. Steve carefully searched the room and came to John’s desk. He recklessly picked up a stack of papers and files. “These,” he said and carelessly dropped the pile back into place, some papers slipping out to the floor.
“Everything,” Steve said again.
Tiring of his explanation quickly, Steve carefully moved his hand to his chest. His mouth curled in a mischievous, dumb grin.
“Or maybe, even this,” Steve said coyly. Satisfied with his finale, he leaned back in his desk chair and sipped his bourbon with a loud slurp.
John laughed.
“Well,” said John. “There are some things,” he flicked his hand towards Steve, “I certainly wouldn’t miss.”
Steve smiled warmly. They sat in silence for a moment, examining the office, letting the smell of bourbon sink into the room. Rain pattered against the office window.
“But seriously,” Steve started again, “if you had the chance to do it all over, everything over, would you?”
John didn’t respond. He wanted to recline and lift his feet up to his desk in the ultimate position of corporate relaxation and superiority, but he knew his shoes were too filthy.
“Imagine,” said Steve, leaning close to John’s desk with excitement, “if you knew you could have a re-do. Start fresh from the beginning. New job, house, car, wife, all that shit. The kids. Not a semblance of similarity with your current life. You start different from the beginning. You fail grade school this time, or, better yet, you go to Harvard.”
“No job in sales?” asked John with mock concern. Steve didn’t hear him.
“You become a world class physicist,” said Steve, his eyes lost in a manner that suggested he was talking about himself, not John. “You travel the world giving lectures. You spend years discovering some complex equation and are renowned all over the world. You’re written up in books and scholarly journals.” Steve cradled his bourbon in both hands. “You don’t marry because you don’t have the time. Intellectual discussions and writing books. The occasional dinner, but that’s it.”
“Ha. Do you think you’re stupid, Steve?” asked John.
“No, nothing like that. I just think maybe I missed the boat with this sales stuff. I’m a smart guy and maybe I’m wasting my l … uh, talent, but that is neither here nor there.”
John’s eyes once again wandered around the room. This is a great office, he thought. I keep a decanter full of liquor in my bottom desk drawer and no one can tell me otherwise. Steve’s question was boring him. It was too mundane, too everyday. Who the fuck cared if he could do everything over again? It’s a pointless hypothetical question and the opportunity for doing things over will never occur, so why dwell on the subject?
Steve saw John was loosing interest. He tried to change topics.
“You taking the girls to the lake this weekend?” asked Steve.
Tom rolled his chair close to his desk and grabbed the decanter of bourbon.
1 comment:
I think you should give her the old depressing ending... Happy endings blow. Or maybe a surprise ending with a hilarious M. Night Shyamalan plot twist.
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