Okay, here's the deal.
I've been writing for years now and contributed to Lit under a different pen name before. I wrote a seven-chapter series that received mostly positive feedback, but I know my writing skills were not nearly as advanced as they are now.
I don't think I'm the best writer by any means, but I'm not a newbie.
With that said, it's been almost two years since I've written creatively (I was a columnist/journalist for a while) and I need HONEST feedback. If that's blunt, cool. If it's overly mean but has some helpful pointers, right on. I just need to know where I stand.
Writing is my first and only love. I can't think of anything else I'd want to do and I'd love to be published someday. I know there's debate and disagreements over what makes a writer's material "publishable," but I think we all can agree that the writer has to have SOME talent.
I'll end my rambling by posting a short excerpt from a story I've been working on. I've developed an outline that is, for the most part, complete, but we all know changes happen during the actual writing of the novel or story. I don't want to share the plot of the story -- I want the reader to be intrigued at the end, but not confused or turned off completely.
*
I've been writing for years now and contributed to Lit under a different pen name before. I wrote a seven-chapter series that received mostly positive feedback, but I know my writing skills were not nearly as advanced as they are now.
I don't think I'm the best writer by any means, but I'm not a newbie.
With that said, it's been almost two years since I've written creatively (I was a columnist/journalist for a while) and I need HONEST feedback. If that's blunt, cool. If it's overly mean but has some helpful pointers, right on. I just need to know where I stand.
Writing is my first and only love. I can't think of anything else I'd want to do and I'd love to be published someday. I know there's debate and disagreements over what makes a writer's material "publishable," but I think we all can agree that the writer has to have SOME talent.
I'll end my rambling by posting a short excerpt from a story I've been working on. I've developed an outline that is, for the most part, complete, but we all know changes happen during the actual writing of the novel or story. I don't want to share the plot of the story -- I want the reader to be intrigued at the end, but not confused or turned off completely.
*
As I walked up the staircase to my room, long forgotten memories made its way back into my psyche. The unidentifiable, musky aroma reminded me of all the times I’d flown up the stairs in a huff after an argument with my parents; the sound of the floorboards moaning and creaking under my weight jogged memories of rushing down the steps in a usually futile effort to catch the bus during my high school years.
The door to my room was, and had always been, rather worn and shabby. I had tried to conceal its old age by plastering posters of my favorite singers and actors over it. A stubborn Backstreet Boys poster that refused to come off was stuck to the door, and I debated whether to smile or cringe in embarrassment.
I entered the pitch-black room and ran my fingertips against the wall, searching for the light switch. Seconds later, a fluorescent bulb illuminated the tiny area.
With the exception of an old, cracked vanity mirror in the corner, the lavender-colored space that formerly belonged to me was as empty as the day my parents and I moved in twenty years ago. My picture window was boarded over with 2x4’s, blocking the view of Auricle Street.
I spotted the faint outline of where my desk used to be; up against the wall, right next to the door. I stood where it once sat and nostalgia set in again, recalling late nights of catching up on homework and obsessively drawing fashion sketches.
And then I remembered Jason.
I remembered climbing out of my window and having him catch me, our midnight drive in spring I could hear the song that played as the confession of a budding romance between best friends came to fruition.
I remembered the car crash that left me with debilitating anxiety and the loss of Jason moving away shortly after.
I stood frozen and recalled the entire night, from beginning to end.
Last edited: