BelleCanzuto
Professional Sloth
- Joined
- Mar 19, 2019
- Posts
- 2,791
Last night I suddenly had an idea for a winter holiday story, but when I was "writing" it in my head* I kept thinking as a first person narrator telling the story to a specific person. As in "I watched you" vs "I watched him".
I know the use of the second person can get kind of off putting, and I'm not sure if what I was thinking counts as 'using the second person' or not. So, I wrote up couple hundred words of the opening, in two different versions, and I'd really like feedback on which one reads better.
Also - what do you all think the reception would be for a holiday story with a sort of surprise sad ending?
Here are the two versions
A:
I watch you reach over to turn off the car’s radio. The weather is frightful, the snow falling fast and heavy on the roof as we drive out to the cabin. I know you’re worried, I see the whites of your knuckles as you grip the steering wheel. I’m quiet, trusting that you remember how to drive in conditions like these.
We’d decided on going to the cabin, when all the flights got cancelled and we realized that neither your sister, nor my mom would be able to join us. Rattling around a house that suddenly seemed too big, we’d thought of the cabin. On the back side of the lake, near where the state carved out the park, in the area not even the summertime tourists go. Our secret hideaway. The perfect place.
You glance over at me, trying to smile as the useless windshield wipers clack. I smile back, wanting to touch you, to rest my hand on your knee like we so often do when you drive. But you’re tense, and I understand. The car slides a little, shimmying on a slick spot as you round the last curve before the access road.
B:
I watch him reach over to turn off the car’s radio. The weather is frightful, the snow falling fast and heavy on the roof as we drive out to the cabin. I know he’s worried, I see the whites of his knuckles as he grips the steering wheel. I’m quiet, trusting that he remember how to drive in conditions like these.
We’d decided on going to the cabin, when all the flights got cancelled and we realized that neither his sister, nor my mom would be able to join us. Rattling around a house that suddenly seemed too big, we’d thought of the cabin. On the back side of the lake, near where the state carved out the park, in the area not even the summertime tourists go. Our secret hideaway. The perfect place.
He glances over at me, trying to smile as the useless windshield wipers clack. I smile back, wanting to touch him, to rest my hand on his knee like I so often do when he drives. But he’s tense, and I understand. The car slides a little, shimmying on a slick spot as he rounds the last curve before the access road.
(* also, not for nuthin' but I need one of you techno wizard folk to invent a contraption that I can put on my head {my cranium, you pervs} when I'm getting ready for bed, that automatically transcribes these wonderful 'thought' drafts of stories that I come up with when I'm trying to sleep. I 'wrote' several thousand words of this holiday story last night (and a couple of nights ago, a good chunk of a Halloween story for next year). I lay there, thinking it out just like dictation, and somehow the tone and the verbiage seems great, then I go to sleep and trying to remember exactly what I thought the next day is almost impossible. So, get right on that, won't ya?)
Thanks for any comment or feedback!
I know the use of the second person can get kind of off putting, and I'm not sure if what I was thinking counts as 'using the second person' or not. So, I wrote up couple hundred words of the opening, in two different versions, and I'd really like feedback on which one reads better.
Also - what do you all think the reception would be for a holiday story with a sort of surprise sad ending?
Here are the two versions
A:
I watch you reach over to turn off the car’s radio. The weather is frightful, the snow falling fast and heavy on the roof as we drive out to the cabin. I know you’re worried, I see the whites of your knuckles as you grip the steering wheel. I’m quiet, trusting that you remember how to drive in conditions like these.
We’d decided on going to the cabin, when all the flights got cancelled and we realized that neither your sister, nor my mom would be able to join us. Rattling around a house that suddenly seemed too big, we’d thought of the cabin. On the back side of the lake, near where the state carved out the park, in the area not even the summertime tourists go. Our secret hideaway. The perfect place.
You glance over at me, trying to smile as the useless windshield wipers clack. I smile back, wanting to touch you, to rest my hand on your knee like we so often do when you drive. But you’re tense, and I understand. The car slides a little, shimmying on a slick spot as you round the last curve before the access road.
B:
I watch him reach over to turn off the car’s radio. The weather is frightful, the snow falling fast and heavy on the roof as we drive out to the cabin. I know he’s worried, I see the whites of his knuckles as he grips the steering wheel. I’m quiet, trusting that he remember how to drive in conditions like these.
We’d decided on going to the cabin, when all the flights got cancelled and we realized that neither his sister, nor my mom would be able to join us. Rattling around a house that suddenly seemed too big, we’d thought of the cabin. On the back side of the lake, near where the state carved out the park, in the area not even the summertime tourists go. Our secret hideaway. The perfect place.
He glances over at me, trying to smile as the useless windshield wipers clack. I smile back, wanting to touch him, to rest my hand on his knee like I so often do when he drives. But he’s tense, and I understand. The car slides a little, shimmying on a slick spot as he rounds the last curve before the access road.
(* also, not for nuthin' but I need one of you techno wizard folk to invent a contraption that I can put on my head {my cranium, you pervs} when I'm getting ready for bed, that automatically transcribes these wonderful 'thought' drafts of stories that I come up with when I'm trying to sleep. I 'wrote' several thousand words of this holiday story last night (and a couple of nights ago, a good chunk of a Halloween story for next year). I lay there, thinking it out just like dictation, and somehow the tone and the verbiage seems great, then I go to sleep and trying to remember exactly what I thought the next day is almost impossible. So, get right on that, won't ya?)
Thanks for any comment or feedback!