• Flash Fiction I wrote; would like second opinion
    4 replies, posted
This got a somewhat good response in my college writing courses, and my teacher said it was 'really cool' and the style 'just poured out of me,' but I also think half the time my professors were 'full of shit.' Second opinions? Third opinions? Et cetera opinions? edit: if you have ever read Tao Lin's work (Bed, EEEEE EEE EEEE, Shoplifting from American Apparel) then you might like the style better. if not, you'll probably have a hard time finishing it. ---- Nothing Will Ever Be the Same Again Jordan was going to bed at three in the morning. Jordan went to sleep on his bed on top of the sheets, fully clothed, drunk and sweaty. Jordan woke up very early and realized he had vomited on himself. Jordan walked out to the laundry room in just pajama bottoms holding his clothing and sheets in his arms. He passed a girl and she stared at him and giggled. Jordan felt embarrassed as he put his clothes in the wash and thought about his ex, Ellie. Jordan went back to sleep on the bare mattress. - The previous night Jordan was standing out on the side walk in front of his dorm building smoking a cigarette with a girl named Cindy. She was talking and he was pretending to care, speaking in noncommittal, monosyllabic noises like “hmm” and “ahh”. Jordan’s back was to the building. He heard a window open and a girl laughing. He turned around and saw a girl’s head duck below the window sill, peeking up over the edge and laughing more, nervously. Jordan looked at Cindy and Cindy shrugged. “Should we not be looking?” Jordan yelled. He thought he was missing the important parts of a prank. A man’s head appeared out from the side of the window. “Yeah.” “Chris?” Jordan thought it was his friend Chris. “Chris’ room is one over,” Cindy said. The window closed. Jordan continued smoking and Cindy continued talking, forgetting the incident. A short time later, the side door to the building was kicked open and an angry man came out, pulling his coat awkwardly over his arms. “You ask me a fucking question, I’ll give you a fucking answer!” The man was screaming. “What,” Jordan said. “You don’t stare at a naked girl and ask if you should be looking or not!” He was walking towards Jordan very fast. “I didn’t know she was naked,” Jordan said. “Sorry.” “Yeah, we thought we were missing a joke,” Cindy said, softly. The angry man stood for a few seconds looking at nothing and then walked back to the door of the building. “Whatever. Keep smoking your cancer sticks, asshole.” Jordan and Cindy were silent for a few moments. “I think he was going to try to beat me up,” Jordan finally said. “You think so?” Jordan’s friend Chris said he saw the girl from the window talking about the incident a month later. “She said, ‘My boyfriend is so funny.’” “It wasn’t very funny to me,” Jordan sighed. He had just recently forgotten about it. He could not remember the last time he saw Ellie naked. He could not believe the girl was still talking about it. - Before checking on his clothing and bed sheets, Jordan made eggs. As he made the eggs he realized he was not very hungry. He cooked them over easy and put them on toast. He sat down at the table as Tyler came out of his room and stared at the plate. Then Jordan threw away his eggs and toast. “Why did you do that?” Tyler asked. “I don’t know.” “I would have eaten it.” “Sorry.” Jordan regretted throwing the eggs away. He was hungry now. Tyler ate cereal and breathed heavily. Jordan lay on the couch and stared at the table and unfocused his eyes. He focused on the Wii sitting in the table’s corner. He unfocussed his eyes again. He focused at the half-empty coffee cup that had been there for three days. He thought about drinking what was left. He thought about his vomit covered clothes. He thought about skipping class for the rest of the week before he went on break. - A week later, Jordan was home for Thanksgiving break. He missed being at school. He did not feel like he ‘got along’ with his parents as well as they would have liked. Jordan’s mother was convinced he was losing his faith in God. Jordan was just losing interest in talking about it. He knew how he felt about the issue. He had not had a cigarette in days. He had a headache. Jordan had to get his wisdom teeth and two other teeth removed for some reason. He went to the oral surgeon. The waiting room was quiet. A guy his age with a beard and very short hair stared at him. Jordan stared back. They stared at each other for awhile then the receptionist asked his name and Jordan said, “Jordan,” and she said, “Okay,” and Jordan sat down. The guy his age was now reading a magazine with his mouth open and slack. Jordan began reading Dogrun by Arthur Nersesian. A tall skinny girl came in. She had short hair. Jordan stared at her lips as she talked to the receptionist. Jordan was very attracted to her face. Jordan was very attracted her lips. They were big. Jordan watched until she turned her head and moved to sit down. Jordan felt ashamed for some reason. He said, “I feel ashamed for some reason,” quietly and continued to read the book. He wanted to look at the girl’s face some more. He imagined getting up and sitting next to her. He imagined asking her to a movie, fearless and positive and hopeful. He imagined getting her phone number and smiling at her and giving her eye contact and feeling happy as he went into surgery. He did not do any of this. Jordan felt defeated. Jordan told himself she probably had a boyfriend anyway. This made him feel better, in an existential sort of way. The nurse called him over and the surgeon came in later and they put things in his arm and told him he would feel comfortable soon and then Jordan looked at the ceiling and a nurse put something rubber between his teeth and then he watched layers of red and brown sand shifting against each other for a few seconds like a clip from that video in that movie The Ring and then he woke up and wondered when they were going to start. “When are you going to start?” he asked, slurred and blurry. There was bloody gauze hanging out of his mouth. His mother was there to get him home. His mother and a male nurse helped him stitch a shapeless path out the back door and the male nurse left and his mother had to drag him to the car and get him in the passenger seat and gave him some ice packs. Jordan told her the story about how he almost got beat up. His mother cackled. She later told him he was charming when he was drugged up. Jordan was not sure how to take this statement. Jordan threw up several times when he got home. Then he drank ginger ale and threw up some more and fell asleep with his head on the toilet seat for an hour. Jordan dreamed about the girl from the waiting room. Jordan sat on the couch and popped Vicodin pills for four days before feeling good enough to do anything. He told someone he felt like he’d given a blowjob to a maul. They gave him an odd look of some kind. He felt weird about saying it. Ellie probably would have laughed. - Jordan decided buying a mandolin would relieve the tedium of being at home. He went to Daddy’s Junkie Music. They had one used. He went to Vermont Guitar and Amp. They had two. The man working the desk showed him the cheaper one. Jordan thought the color was ugly. “The color is ugly,” he said. “Oh. We only have these two.” “Okay.” “We might get more next week.” “Okay.” Jordan went to Advance Music and found one that he decided he could settle on. It was still more expensive than he would have liked. Jordan was already spending money he knew he should not be spending. He bought it anyway. A man with very large eye brows offered to give him lessons. Jordan said he did not live in the area. He thought the man looked ridiculous. He laughed as he left, thinking about the size of the man’s eyebrows, and got in his car. He smiled at a stop light as he looked at the mandolin in the passenger seat, where Ellie used to sit, and immediately stopped smiling. Jordan went home and began to learn some Celtic songs. He wasn’t very good. His fingers bled after the first two hours. - It was Thanksgiving Day. Jordan’s parents made him feel guilty for not wanting to go play games with them and the neighbors. He knew he should feel guilty but he did not like meeting new people who were more than twice his age. He did not like going to strange houses either. Jordan did not like change, for as often as it occurred. He thought about what it meant to feel guilt. He thought about what it felt like to be old and fragile. Then he got bored and went on AIM. Breanna started talking to him immediately. “Happy Thanksgiving! How was it?” “Happy racist massacre binge and purge day.” Then he wrote, “It was okay.” “I wouldn’t expect any less from you.” “Change is scary.” There was a long pause. Jordan checked his Facebook notifications. There were none. He checked his Deviant Art messages. Someone told him his most recent submission was ‘okay’ but ‘not his best work.’ This made Jordan feel hopeless and doomed. He said out loud, “I feel hopeless and doomed.” One of his parents’ cats vomited on the rug in front of him. Jordan though he felt more doomed and hopeless than a fat, spoiled, puking house cat. Then he felt tired. “I want to have sex and fall asleep.” Jordan wrote to Breanna. “I want to have sex and eat eggs. Deviled.” “Hahahaha,” Breanna wrote. “I have deviled eggs! And pumpkin cheesecake! My gramma made it.” Another pause. Jordan drank the rest of his soda, which was warm. “Come have sex with me. Bring the eggs.” Jordan and Breanna had had sex before. It was comfortable. “Hahahaha…” Then she wrote, “I can’t.” “I know.” Breanna had a boyfriend who was on tour with his stupid shitty band. They talked more about sex and food and then they talked about something else and then Jordan got bored and signed off without saying goodbye. This did not make Breanna very happy. She went to the kitchen and ate pumpkin cheesecake with her grandmother in silence. - Jordan walked down Church Street. He was incapable of looking at any girl without wondering how the two of them would look together, fitting the mold of the ‘cute couple’ or not. Then he would wonder how she’d look having sex with him. How she’d look on top of him. How her breasts would hang. Then he would catch himself thinking this and feel embarrassed. Then he would feel stupid. Then he would smoke a cigarette and think about Ellie. - Jordan and Ellie had gone to a house warming party for a friend of hers in the summer while they were still dating. She and the new home owner had only been friends for a week. Ellie had the amazing ability to make friends very quickly. Jordan noticed that a lot of these ‘friends’ quickly became acquaintances once Ellie had learned about them. Ellie loved people in an abstract sort of way. Ellie loved the idea of people. Ellie loved learning about new people. Once they were learned about they were no longer as interesting and faded into the periphery of her interest. The party hadn’t quite started when Jordan and Ellie arrived. Ellie was more excited than Jordan. Jordan was introduced to the home owner, whose actual birth name was Velcro. Velcro wore all black clothing with his black shirt unbuttoned to show his black chest hair and black sandals and a black necklace with large black beads of varying shapes. He had too much gel in his black hair, separated into purposefully placed spikes. Jordan stared at the necklace. Jordan stared at the hair. He decided the best way to describe Velcro was ‘contemporary goth.’ It was not a compliment but he was also not surprised Ellie found Velcro so interesting. Velcro gave Ellie a tour of the small home and Jordan followed feebly. Velcro’s neighbor who lived above him, Jake, was there. Other people showed up: large groups of hipsters, bohemians, scenesters, other genres of eccentricity. Jake was the most conventional person there, next to Jordan. Jake looked uncomfortable. Jordan felt uncomfortable looking at Jake’s uncomfortableness. Then Jordan decided he felt uncomfortable anyway. He asked for a beer and drank the beer slowly. He stood in the kitchen next to Ellie and looked at things. People were talking around him in small groups. Jordan did not talk. Ellie talked. Jordan decided he would continue not talking. Ellie began talking to a boy who came in with some people carrying a novelty oversized bottle of wine. He introduced himself as Foster. Foster and Ellie talked for a while. Foster made Ellie laugh. Jordan felt uncomfortable in new, more meaningful ways. Jordan stared at Foster’s head. His hair was curly and short all over except a large clump in the front he let flop over the side of his face. Jordan decided this was a very stupid haircut. Jordan said, “Stupid fucking haircut,” under his breath with the beer lifted to his mouth. Nobody heard him. Jordan walked to an open spot on the floor in the living room. He stood for a few minutes looking at the people talking on the couch. A black woman was telling an Asian man a story and the black woman was laughing at her own story while the Asian man looked very serious and contemplative, if not entirely disconnected from the conversation. Jordan took a slow drink mechanically. His beer was warm. He went back in the kitchen and Ellie was still talking to Foster. Jordan felt disappointed and jealous and small. He said, “I am disappointed and jealous and small,” and a man with a beard by the fridge said, “What,” and Jordan said, “I play bass guitar,” and beard said, “Oh,” and Jordan walked outside and threw his beer over the fence. It hit the side of the neighboring house and made a hollow noise. Jordan grabbed two more beers from the fridge, opened one and threw it over the fence in the same spot. He pretended he was throwing a grenade that made the enemy drunk when it blew up. It made a sputtering noise. He shook the other can and opened it, spraying it towards the fence, then threw the empty can in the yard somewhere. Jordan felt very ridiculous. He stared at the wet spot on the fence for some amount of time without thinking anything specific. Then he thought about Ellie’s breasts. Then he thought about Ellie talking to Foster. He didn’t feel good anymore. He went in to get another beer to throw somewhere. An hour later Ellie dropped Jordan off at his house because he didn’t want to be at the party anymore, for no concrete reason. Jordan made vague comments about being jealous of Foster. Ellie was quiet and angry. Jordan got out of the car and apologized and Ellie said it was okay, that she was just mad from a fight she had with her father earlier and then she said she was going back to the party. She left and Jordan went inside until her car was out of sight. Then he went back out and stood in the driveway where her car was when they were talking and sighed heavily. He thought about Foster waiting for Ellie, anxiously. He thought about how happy Foster would look when he saw Ellie walk back in. He thought about how happy Ellie would be talking to Foster. He pulled out his cell phone, opening and closing it over and over, staring at the stuttered glow from the screen with a neutral facial expression.
I didn't read every single word, but I saw a LOT more "Jordan" than I should considering the size of the text. Use pronouns. They make it sound a lot less childish. :science: Not to say that the story does sound childish as a whole, but the repetition really spoils what could have been great. F'r instance: [quote] Jordan was going to bed at three in the morning. Jordan went to sleep on his bed on top of the sheets, fully clothed, drunk and sweaty. Jordan woke up very early and realized he had vomited on himself. Jordan walked out to the laundry room in just pajama bottoms holding his clothing and sheets in his arms. He passed a girl and she stared at him and giggled. Jordan felt embarrassed as he put his clothes in the wash and thought about his ex, Ellie. Jordan went back to sleep on the bare mattress. [/quote] In 6 sentences, you've used (what I presume is) the protagonist's name just as many times. You should be using it once a paragraph, and even that's pushing it. Better sounding is this: [quote] Jordan was going to bed at three in the morning. He went to sleep on his bed on top of the sheets, fully clothed, drunk and sweaty. He woke up very early and realized he had vomited on himself. He walked out to the laundry room in just pajama bottoms holding his clothing and sheets in his arms. He passed a girl and she stared at him and giggled. He felt embarrassed as he put his clothes in the wash and thought about his ex, Ellie. He went back to sleep on the bare mattress. [/quote] Of course, that took me 15 seconds to do (I did count :v:) and hence is extremely rudimentary. There's a lot of things you could brush up in that first paragraph, pronouns aside. I don't want to sound mean, but in the first paragraph, it just seems like you've put a number of statements together in sentences. It just doesn't feel right, and it somewhat spoils the rest of what would otherwise be a decent piece of work. Hope this helps.
That's actually the point. The main character is incredibly self-centered. This is a self-obsessed story. Everything is about 'Jordan' so 'Jordan' is everywhere.
Writing style reminds me of The Road, I liked it, told a good story.
This is decent but you're being too objective. [QUOTE]Jordan walked to an open spot on the floor in the living room. He stood for a few minutes looking at the people talking on the couch. A black woman was telling an Asian man a story and the black woman was laughing at her own story while the Asian man looked very serious and contemplative, if not entirely disconnected from the conversation. Jordan took a slow drink mechanically. His beer was warm. He went back in the kitchen and Ellie was still talking to Foster. Jordan felt disappointed and jealous and small.[/QUOTE] I'm going to pick apart this bit, for example. What you're doing here is telling us what is happening, which is all very well, but you aren't showing us. Showing appeals to the senses, lets us see things and picture them in our minds. Showing is what separates an okay story from a brilliant one. I'll take a bit of the above paragraph to illustrate what I'm saying: [QUOTE]Jordan took a slow drink mechanically. His beer was warm.[/QUOTE] Okay, in this sentence, you're telling us that he took a sip of his drink and it was warm. Fair enough. Now we know that he took a sip of his drink and it was warm. But really, we don't get any impression out of Jordan from this. From what we know, he's just this dude. He doesn't appear to have any emotions, because you aren't delving into the character. It would have been better to write something along the lines of "He took a sip from his pint. The pungent smell of the beer perfectly matched its taste - bitter, warm, alcoholic." Of course that's just an example. I'm not too crash-hot a writer but you should be able to see what I mean. [QUOTE]The previous night Jordan was standing out on the side walk in front of his dorm building smoking a cigarette with a girl named Cindy. She was talking and he was pretending to care, speaking in noncommittal, monosyllabic noises like “hmm” and “ahh”.[/QUOTE] You see what I mean. You need to pick his brains more. You have to give us more of his feelings. More emotion. He didn't feel disappointed, jealous and small, he felt threatened, Foster was bigger than him and more confident, Foster knew how to speak to Ellie where Jordan couldn't bring himself to, Foster was everything Jordan wanted to be and Jordan felt like a dwarf next to a giant, blah blah. I like writing in first person. If you're writing a self-centred character, try first person, it might work better.
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