Writing Short Stories About My Job...
<div class="IPBDescription">Need an analysis, here is a sample.</div> OK, I've been working for nearly a year as a Shoe Salesmen in Steinmart. I've been planning to write down my experiences for an extremely long time. Anyway before you I have provided a sample of my writing. Can any of the writing buffs in the forum analyze it for me, and sort of give me an idea of what sucks and what doesn't, and help me fix it? This is the <u>first part of a short story</u>, about to lead in to my interview.. So read & review it like it is one. I had this crazy dream right before I had to go for the job interview...
====================
<!--QuoteBegin-Cold-NiTe's Short Stories+--></div><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>QUOTE</b> (Cold-NiTe's Short Stories)</td></tr><tr><td id='QUOTE'><!--QuoteEBegin-->
Sheets of rain splattered down on the water's glossy surface with unpronounced despondency. Lightning arced overhead in furious whites and blues, greedily drinking in the colors of the surrounding skies. Grey clouds smothered the heavens, like jealous mythological behemoths they stole the light they themselves could not produce. I screamed but made no sound, cried but shed no tears, drowned but did not die… All directions were lost to me as I revolved around in panic within those turbulent waters. My lungs filled with liquid as the riptide carried me down, choking me like some hellish miasma. In the distance, a green light acquiesced, faint at first but gathering in strength like a dislodged boulder beginning its movement down a mountain. There was danger there, in that light, and yet there was cognizance of some lost but important knowledge.
Somewhere, a siren went off…
Startled I fell from my bed onto the floor, to the tune of Spanish folk music. Men in sombreros had gangbanged me into wakefulness, one holding me while his fellows punched and another stole my dream as surely as he would have my wallet, had it been there. I dismissed them with a shake of my head and a launch of my fist into the alarm clock’s mocking face. Their services rendered; their accompaniment was no longer needed… or wanted.
After morning preparations I ate breakfast to the sound of my mother racking up long distance charges. “Anna, I’m thinking of sending the boy’s to Toronto for the summer to stay with you and Haseen. It’s just that Hansa down in Los Angeles wanted them to come down there. I should call her; I haven’t talked to her in Ages! I could talk to her for hours!” The old man in me cringed. Must she insist on calling people so far away for so long and still complain about my cable internet bill every month? It didn't matter, something else had already preoccupied me. I had an appointment today, a very <i>special</i> appointment.
My first job interview.
For the unenviable position of shoe salesman… In Steinmart.
<!--QuoteEnd--></td></tr></table><div class='postcolor'><!--QuoteEEnd-->
====================
So if anyone who does a lot of writing on the side can give me an idea of what they think needs work, that would be really helpful. Supremely so. Also yes, I wake up to spanish folk music, because it's really effective in waking me up. Something about it makes me want to run over to my car and check my windows to make sure my neighbors haven't broken into it again.
====================
<!--QuoteBegin-Cold-NiTe's Short Stories+--></div><table border='0' align='center' width='95%' cellpadding='3' cellspacing='1'><tr><td><b>QUOTE</b> (Cold-NiTe's Short Stories)</td></tr><tr><td id='QUOTE'><!--QuoteEBegin-->
Sheets of rain splattered down on the water's glossy surface with unpronounced despondency. Lightning arced overhead in furious whites and blues, greedily drinking in the colors of the surrounding skies. Grey clouds smothered the heavens, like jealous mythological behemoths they stole the light they themselves could not produce. I screamed but made no sound, cried but shed no tears, drowned but did not die… All directions were lost to me as I revolved around in panic within those turbulent waters. My lungs filled with liquid as the riptide carried me down, choking me like some hellish miasma. In the distance, a green light acquiesced, faint at first but gathering in strength like a dislodged boulder beginning its movement down a mountain. There was danger there, in that light, and yet there was cognizance of some lost but important knowledge.
Somewhere, a siren went off…
Startled I fell from my bed onto the floor, to the tune of Spanish folk music. Men in sombreros had gangbanged me into wakefulness, one holding me while his fellows punched and another stole my dream as surely as he would have my wallet, had it been there. I dismissed them with a shake of my head and a launch of my fist into the alarm clock’s mocking face. Their services rendered; their accompaniment was no longer needed… or wanted.
After morning preparations I ate breakfast to the sound of my mother racking up long distance charges. “Anna, I’m thinking of sending the boy’s to Toronto for the summer to stay with you and Haseen. It’s just that Hansa down in Los Angeles wanted them to come down there. I should call her; I haven’t talked to her in Ages! I could talk to her for hours!” The old man in me cringed. Must she insist on calling people so far away for so long and still complain about my cable internet bill every month? It didn't matter, something else had already preoccupied me. I had an appointment today, a very <i>special</i> appointment.
My first job interview.
For the unenviable position of shoe salesman… In Steinmart.
<!--QuoteEnd--></td></tr></table><div class='postcolor'><!--QuoteEEnd-->
====================
So if anyone who does a lot of writing on the side can give me an idea of what they think needs work, that would be really helpful. Supremely so. Also yes, I wake up to spanish folk music, because it's really effective in waking me up. Something about it makes me want to run over to my car and check my windows to make sure my neighbors haven't broken into it again.