August 03, 2015 11:45:33 PM





“The sun rose and everything fell.”
Well, actually, “everything” is a pretty. I knew Ma was right, I am no good at this.
Should’ve become an accountant. Wouldn’t need my words then.
Come on, Q, don’t do this to yourself. Don’t disappoint your therapist.
Let’s try this: (Now that’s the spirit!)
“The sun rose and but all remained dark. “ - it’ll do for now.
“Sarabeth’s image danced across Alex’s mind, not permitting him to welcome the glow of the Texas sun to permeate his lids”
Hey! That’s not too shabby, right?
Who am I kidding that sucks. Fishsticks. Alright, alright we’ll just workshop it.
“Sarabeth. Her image. It danced. Alex’s eyes. No glow. Her glow.”
The lyrical approach, never fails!
. .
. . .
. . . .
Until now.. Jesus that sucks.
“Sarabeth’s glistening image violated Alex’s thoughts, allowing darkness to persist regardless of the sun’s state”
Okay I’m just not going to proofread this crap and move on.
(Take that, Ma)
“Her devilish smiled caused Alex to toss, and turn. And toss again. Till he could no longer toss, anymore. Ever.”
Good Q, the dramatic approach is good. But back it up.
Alright -
“Her devilish smiled caused Alex to toss, and turn. And toss again. Till he could no longer toss, anymore. Because he fell out of his bed.”
“Sarabeth was out of his sight but he couldn’t help miss her fictitious yet thrill evoking persona”
YAS Q, slay. Okey.
Maybe you should proofread, it seems like the authorly thing to do.
Sure, Ma’s right that you aren’t a published author (YET.) and that you still live in her basement and you probably should be able to meet a girl who is willing to spend the rest of her life with you and to bare your children (moreover, Ma’s grandchildren) and your “questionable” (frack you, Ma) personality and you dairy and peanut and gluten allergies and not be embarrassed by your ACTUAL first name but great things take time. And greatness to match this greatness (me) definitely will be slow, but perking up!
Like your coffee order!
Pat yourself on that back for that one buddy.
This is why you’re meant for the page, Q! You clever devil you. Ah geez.

What was I gona..OH YEAH! Proofread. Let’s do this deed.
. .
. . .
. . . .
What the shit(take mushrooms)… this is awful…
Where is your symbolism, Q? Where is the emotional core? The stomach wrenching drama? The exposition? Rising action?? Climax???! falling action??!?! And dénouement/resolution/revelation/catastrophe?!??!?!?
Don’t let Freytag down man, you just can’t.
Alright Q, how about we just move on. Maybe make this scene a flashback or something later. The reader, s(he) just isn’t ready for it quite yet. And you need to recover. We all really know who Sarabeth is man. Take time. Heal. Do some yoga. Pet the cat. Tell Ma you love her.

Alright, next scene. So Alex is gona leave his bed to get dressed cause the glow of the Texas sun totally burns his adolescent eyes and he's gona rub-a-dub-dub the gunk out of them/ the image of Sarabeth till he thinks he hears her voice and slowly approaches the closet to open the door, see her there, freak the frick out, and hide under his sheets just to realize he’s actually in another dream when he wakes up to the shrill yell of his mother’s voice and the smell of burnt toast.

Can we fit that into a sentence? Survey says -
N o .

Okay Q, victor’s breath. Be concise. Try for concise.

“Alex stared at the door handle and slowly turned the knob.”