I am in great need of advice

[Guest TheZsaszHorsemen]

I've written a short piece for my High School's Literary Magazine, and I would like a few opinions on it, by people other than my friends and family. I haev a great respect for the opinions of many on this board and I dearly hope that I will get some sort of feedback.

 

NOTE: THERE ARE SOME INDENT ERRORS IN THE TRANSFER FROM WORD TO MB.

 

 

 

Few things in life are more frustrating than a blank sheet of paper. Everyone would like to think they have a gift for words, that they have the next great American novel just bubbling inside them, waiting to surface at a moment’s notice. America is a nation of would-be artists, would-be authors, would-be actors, and would-be philosophers. Very comforting, isn’t it?

I am just such a person, sadly enough. I, like so many others, refuse to acknowledge that I am the same decaying organic sludge as everyone else. I desperately cling to an idea, a hope that I am somehow destined for great things, that I can be the voice of my generation.

One never considers practicalities when thinking this. For example: I never considered what a dull generation I have decided to speak for. I try to find some rallying point. Some common, unspoken, emotion that’s on the tip of everyone’s tongue, and yet still goes un-championed. I search for the message to surface, for which I have obviously been put here to articulate.

 

My search continues.

 

And so, I stare at a blank piece of paper at every spare moment of school. I must have spent hours of my life staring in front of a blank computer screen at home. I have become consumed with finding my great idea. Possessed by the very thought of it. My life has become one giant hunt for the idea that will be worthy of my undoubtedly vast creative power. I’m waiting, as all of us are to some extent, for my Hamlet. For that which will catapult me amongst the immortals of literature.

Don’t get me wrong, I have ideas most certainly. But they’re always unworkable, or they’re always more difficult to put to paper than I had anticipated, most of time they’re just awful. But, I always solider on, ready for my muse to get back on the clock. She’s given me flashes of good storytelling to be sure, but she seems to have the decade off. I never once doubt that I still have that muse, for better or for worse, if I did, than I acknowledge the simple fact that I was wrong. I would have to acknowledge that I wasted the half of my life that I’ve been given. I would have to acknowledge that I am doomed to a life of mediocrity and normality. I would be forced to swallow my pride.

Pride and stubbornness are very much alike. I’ve generated a lot of both in my short life and I must say they share one very important characteristic: they never help you. You will never be glad you are a pigheaded fool who won’t recognize the simple facts of life out of some petty bias. Likewise, you will never be glad you are too proud to accept help from those you know better than you do.

Those who I call friends at school seem to have faith in me. To them, I am some kind of brilliant satirist, or amazing author, or brilliant speaker. What they don’t know is that sometimes, a little praise can be deadly. For me, it made me think that I was better than I am, it made me into a perfectionist. Now, I can’t get in an opening paragraph without tearing it up, I set an unrealistic goal before me and I couldn’t write without approaching it. Failure led to frustration, frustration led to anger, anger led to creative bankruptcy, and the miracle of literary stillbirth continued.

There’s a joke that really sums up my life to that point. There’s this guy at a baseball game, he sits down and begins watching the game. After a while someone yells out, “Hey, Steve!” He turns but cannot find the man who yelled. He begins to watch the game again, when suddenly he hears the same man yell, “Hey, Steve!” Once again he cannot find the man. He turns to watch the game again, and once again the same man yells out, “Hey Steve, I’m up here!” The man turns, disgusted, and yells up to the man, “Whoever you are, my name is NOT Steve!” You see I had become so engrossed in my problems, I didn’t care about anything else. Relatives in the hospital? Yawn. The President leading the country closer and closer to economic meltdown? Who cares, I had a problem! My fellow pupils became less and less interesting to me. In fact, they started to seem like a bunch of idiots. When you don’t know what you want to be, it’s a frightening thought. But to know what I wanted to do, and why I wanted to do it, and then not be able to seemed almost…cruel.

 

Then something very odd happened to me.

 

I had a realization, an epiphany, maybe. It came to me suddenly, and it came, as these things have a tendency to do, at the least expected and opportune time and place possible.

I had decided, begrudgingly, to go to a dance being held by my school. I was sure that I’d hate it. Trapped in a place I didn’t like, listening to music I didn’t like, and surrounded by people I didn’t like.

While I was there, something odd happened to me. For reasons I may never know about, Fate had decided then and there to grace me with a tidbit of wisdom. And so, during a conversation I was having about something totally unimportant and irrelevant… I had a revelation.

I realized I had been so busy trying to summarize life, so busy trying to encapsulate it, that I had forgotten to LIVE life. I had been trapped in my own arrogance so long; I never had time to listen to any of peers’ problems. I couldn’t grasp what my generation was about, because I was too busy trying to escape it. I was so busy thinking about how my writing would be great, that I forgot why writing is great in the first place. Writing is great because it touches our hearts and our minds. It comforts our sorrows, it shares our joy, and it is our lives put to paper by men and women who are brilliant enough to express what we all wish we could say. Instead, I had just thought about me, and how I would benefit, not how I could help others express their feelings. I had been living a lie, and I was forced to accept the truth and alter my life, or continue living the lie and hope for an errant bolt of inspiration to hit me. The choice was not as difficult as I expected it to be.

Ironically enough, even though I was all I was thinking about, I had never striven to find MY voice, never hoped to reach MY summit, I had been to busy worrying about to sum up the inner angst, that it’s oh-so-cool for young authors to have.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that by deceiving yourself into thinking you are what you are not, whatever it may be, is sometimes more harmful than abandoning your dreams altogether. Sometimes, in our rush to become, we forget to be. We forget that our lives, our experiences are all that we can possess, and instead are willing to relinquish them for a pipe dream that we know deep in our hearts cannot be. It’s been said that there is nothing worse than a quitter, well when you lie to yourself you quit before you even begin. - 2 -

I’ve come to accept that if I all I have to offer is this short piece, and if the only message I have to give to my fellow friends, is that final paragraph, then I succeeded. I may never write the great American novel, or pioneer some new literary style, but I wrote something that I hope others who hope to achieve can read, and relate to.

 

In the end, isn’t that what literature is for?

 

-----------------------------

 

Opinions?

[Guest Kinetic]

You need some jokes. It plays pretty heavy on self-absorption, to tell you the truth, but some of that can be alleviated with genuinely humorous self-deprecation. Yeah...you need some jokes.

[Guest Johnson1620]

Not a bad read. You do need a joke or two though, just to liven it up a little.

[Guest TheZsaszHorsemen]

You need some jokes.  It plays pretty heavy on self-absorption, to tell you the truth, but some of that can be alleviated with genuinely humorous self-deprecation.  Yeah...you need some jokes.

I did add some generous self-deprication in the last paragraph concerning my social staus at my HS.

 

If the story seems self-absorbed, it's because it's about me. It's something that happened to me that I think reflects a universal truth in everyone's life. (Ironically, the narrator was searching for just such a concept.)

 

To tell you guys the truth, I'm afraid to add jokes because I don't want my message to get lost. I also hate the way the story disintegrates after the first three paragraphs. It started out bvery well and just fell flat till the end.

[Guest Kingpk]

Awesome. A lot of people I'm sure can relate to this. It doesn't help to be an egotistical person who thinks they're right all the time. Sometimes when I write something, I don't think it's that great but you have to realize your own opinion doesn't really matter much since, as the saying goes, "you are your harshest critic".

 

I don't know, just what I think, but your writing put it into much better words.

[Guest Kinetic]

It still needs more jokes. I guess I'm probably trying to get you to write it like I would, which is wrong. But as a reader, I think it needs more balanced doses of serious introspection and gut-busting humor.

[Guest TheZsaszHorsemen]

It still needs more jokes. I guess I'm probably trying to get you to write it like I would, which is wrong. But as a reader, I think it needs more balanced doses of serious introspection and gut-busting world-weary cynicism.

No, there's ajoke that pretty much sums up the way I used to be, and it's going in the essay:

 

"A man is at a baseball game. He sits down and begins to watch the game. Suddenly, he hears someone yell "HEY STEVE!" He turns, but he can't find who said it. He goes back to the game when he hears it again, "HEY STEVE!" Again he turns, but he can't find anyone. He goes back to the game and one more time he hears "HEY STEVE!": So finally he turns and yells back, "WHOEVER YOU ARE...MY NAME IS NOT STEVE!"

[Guest AM The Kid]

Good piece of writing, I also wish it had a bit more humour though.

 

That joke is good as well.

[Guest Banky]

............

[Guest The Metal Maniac]

Take out the "decaying organic sludge" bit, and put something else in. That just REEKS of "Fight Club" theft, whether intentional or not...

[Guest TheZsaszHorsemen]

I'd really appreciate any feedback you guys have.

[Guest HecateRose]

I'd definitely have to say it was a good read, very relatable. I did notice you used the word "bolt" twice in the last paragraph, in reference to a flash of inspiration. I'd try to find a replacement for one of them. I'm a grammar freak myself, and have to say I did not find much of a problem in that department. It flowed well, though it did lose some momentem near the end. I disagree with everyone saying it needs more humor, and I in fact found your little bit about your "lack of social talents" to be distracting. Just my opinion there, but figured (especially since it isn't the norm) that I would express it.

[Guest TheZsaszHorsemen]

I'd definitely have to say it was a good read, very relatable. I did notice you used the word "bolt" twice in the last paragraph, in reference to a flash of inspiration. I'd try to find a replacement for one of them. I'm a grammar freak myself, and have to say I did not find much of a problem in that department. It flowed well, though it did lose some momentem near the end. I disagree with everyone saying it needs more humor, and I in fact found your little bit about your "lack of social talents" to be distracting. Just my opinion there, but figured (especially since it isn't the norm) that I would express it.

Guys, first of all they're not *mine* perse, they're the narrator's. I've been a bit more successful with women, (they seem to like the illusion of sensitivity and every once and a while they appreciate a good dose of cynicism.) but never really found a niche to fit in with.

 

The lack of social skills is rather important to the narrator. He can't relate to his generation, because he's too wrapped up in expressing that very generation's hopes and fears. Why does he do it? For HIM.

 

However, I did agree that it came at an odd time in the story. At the time, I felt it added a touych of conversationalism to the story, an air of authenticity.

[Guest SP-1]

I enjoyed it, Zsasz. And can identify with the narrator as well. As a romantic christian storyteller with a suprememely analytical eye towards movies and a fanatical obsession with great emotional moments in storytelling, I often find myself at odds with trying to be a perfectionist instead of just going out there and doing something.

[Guest Angle-plex]

Advise this.....

 

::kick, STUNNER::

[Guest TheZsaszHorsemen]

I took in some of your suggestions, and altered the first draft into the current draft. I'm going to edit the first post now.

 

 

I was really hoping to hear what cwm and Sass thought of this.

[Guest HecateRose]

"Illusion of sensitivity" indeed. I did not find this narrator to be truly sensitive at all. Soft, maybe, but not sensitive.

[Guest TheZsaszHorsemen]

Sensitivity is relative. This narrator is far too jaded to be sensitive in the way we usually think, but he really seems to care how he effects and changes people with his writing.

 

It's importent to remember that this is not an emotional piece, this is satire mixed with a dash of contentment at the end.

[Guest IDrinkRatsMilk]

I like the piece, Zsasz. Keep that "decaying organic sludge" in there. It screams Fight Club, but satirically, that's a good thing. I find the satire of this writing to be very clever, bordering on brilliant even, but my only complaint is that it might be too clever. I can't help but think that maybe one out ten people to read that would "get" it. I wouldn't have even been too sure without your other comments in this thread. On the whole, good work, I just think it might be a little above it's target audience.

[Guest TheZsaszHorsemen]

I like the piece, Zsasz. Keep that "decaying organic sludge" in there. It screams Fight Club, but satirically, that's a good thing. I find the satire of this writing to be very clever, bordering on brilliant even, but my only complaint is that it might be too clever. I can't help but think that maybe one out ten people to read that would "get" it. I wouldn't have even been too sure without your other comments in this thread. On the whole, good work, I just think it might be a little above it's target audience.

Thanks IDRM, I was afraid of going over my target audience's heads, but if I start second-guessing it now I might somehow disrupt what I have now.

 

This is really the first thing I've ever written that *feels* right.

[Guest DrTom]

It's good, Zsasz. I think it does its job as a satire effectively, and the best part about it is that the target audience may not even realize it's a satire.

 

I have one caveat with it, though: the narrator is completely unlikeable in the middle portion. In everything between "My search continues," and "Then something very odd..." I don't like him at all. I like him a lot in the beginning and at the end, though. He loses all of his appeal in the middle section, and the best reason I can give is because his struggle becomes less immediate and personal. He just paints himself as a prick, without the other factors in the beginning and the end to salvage him and make him likeable.

 

It's definitely good, though. If you can find some way to make your narrator likeable throughout, I think it can be even better.

[Guest Incandenza]

It's a fine piece, and I have little add that wouldn't be repeating what other people have already said.

 

Why did you put this in NHB, by the way? This isn't the first time you've put a very GC-ish thread in this folder. I'm curious as to why.

[Guest IDrinkRatsMilk]

Actually, this could have gone in the Comics and Literature folder, but I wouldn't advise that.

[Guest Incandenza]

Also, as I read it, I kinda assumed it was Zsasz talking, as those words were pretty much how I felt when I was in high school. To hear him speak of a narrator afterwards caught me by surprise.

[Guest Sassquatch]

Very nice work, Zsasz.

 

I honestly was surprised at how good of a satire this was as you just hit a home run with this.

 

My only I dispute is with the narrator towards the middle of the article. When you reach the middle of the article he just seems to deviate from the type of character he was in the beginning which was a person vying to succeed through his struggles which made him fun to read about in the beginning. I just don't see this when I get down to the middle of the article which I feel needs to be a constant in telling a story like this since the narrator is very likeable in the beginning along with the ending as well.

 

Overall, the story was very good with my only problem being how the narrator comes off in the middle of the story.

[Guest TheZsaszHorsemen]

It's a fine piece, and I have little add that wouldn't be repeating what other people have already said.

 

Why did you put this in NHB, by the way? This isn't the first time you've put a very GC-ish thread in this folder. I'm curious as to why.

I put it here because not enough people go into the Comics board, and wasn't really sure if it would be better here or in General Chat.

[Guest TheZsaszHorsemen]

Quick note about the middle of the piece:

 

The narrator seems like a prick because at this point in his life he's too wrapped up in his own frustrations. The piece really needs him to be an asshole at this point because if not, then why should he change. I think the main reason the narrator seems to get unlikable is that in the first paragraphs he's making a commenatry on human nature, but in the next portion he's talking abouthis own life with the same amount of bitterness and cynicism. It makes come off as a prick.

[Guest TheZsaszHorsemen]

Guys, I took the piece into the literary mag's office, and they loved it. Not only will they publish it, they want more stuff from me.

 

I'm...really, really, happy.

[Guest IDrinkRatsMilk]

Congratulations, Zsasz.

[Guest The Amazing Rando]

Very cool, man... now if only people in my area would look at my writing that way...