This was sort of an outlet for me to get some stuff down out of my head. See I usually do my homework and write essays to the sounds of smooth jazz and very mellow music, very classy.
In fact, I was listening to this specifically [url=http://www.facepunch.com/threads/946719-Time-to-get-Classy]stay classy facepunch[/url] as I was doing a specific piece of homework for my Literature classes. (I highly suggest you go to that thread and turn on the music now)
Well, right after I finished my homework the music just got to me and I started writing down what was going on in my mind.
It's written in the vein of those old Private Eye movies and stories, but with a small hint of very dry humor to lighten the situation and it just fits with the music really.
I'm usually very (read: [b]very[/b]) self conscious about my writing but I felt like this was a good place to get some out. Honestly this is a [highlight] shoutout to the few very good writers we have here [/highlight]
Here's the link to [url=https://docs.google.com/document/d/1AK_UbIiMNQd4SXL5DfpIWy3WKAfPmcLmgQQduMx5vEo/edit?hl=en&authkey=CN_Fxe8J#] Tommie's Diner [/url]
and here's an excerpt
Keep in mind that I tried to pay a lot of attention to how I used italics and word spacing. Without italics and the structure of the words I don't think it makes enough sense.
[quote] Tommie’s Diner. Now this is a joint that’ll always be special to me. I’d say I was a regular. I mean maybe the guy at the counter who recently replaced Tommie doesn’t know me yet, but I have a feeling he will. I’ve been coming here for at least a year now, ever since I rolled into town. It’s just got that ‘midnight diner’, ‘night-hawks’ sort-of feel to it, like I’m walking straight into an Edward Hopper painting. I come here when I need to relax, or think things over, or when I simply need a nice cup of coffee in the middle of the night. I just feel at home here, more so than my own apartment up the street.
As I look around I see some other ‘regulars’. As it is I’m certain that we’re all pretty aware of each other’s presence, we all kind of keep to ourselves though. There’s this old guy, for example, in the back corner booth of the diner who always buries himself in some newspaper that looks like it came straight from the 1940’s, right after he orders an egg over-easy, a strip of bacon, and a cup of coffee. I always ponder his story. Maybe he, like me, just likes the feel of this place. Maybe it reminds him of his own era. Whatever the case, he seems like a pretty stand-up guy with a lot of great stories. Maybe I can hear them one day. I call him ‘trench coat’, for obvious reasons.
On any given night like this there’s also a young man, about his twenties, two booths from the door who always orders a glass of water and two pieces of toast. He always comes in with the day’s news-paper and a pencil stuck behind his ear so I figure he’s down there doing crosswords and puzzles. He’s always really nice to the waitress and orders everything with a big smile and a nod, occasionally adding a ma’am here and there. For that, I like the kid. I call him ‘glasses’.
The next, and probably my favorite just based on the fact that she’s a she, is this cat who sits across the counter from me. On the days she does come in she’s always wearing something real classy. Tonight, it’s a really simple, yet elegant evening gown. I figure she comes to this place whenever she needs to let off some steam from being at a party or something. I figure she likes riding the contrast between rich, suave galas and retro diners like this. She always comes in, sits down, sometimes glances at me and forces a little smile. I gladly give one back, always. She then orders a glass of warm milk and a cup of water. She takes a napkin, dips a little corner into the water, and then proceeds to dab at her make-up. She must feel safe in this place to do something like that, to make herself so vulnerable. After she finishes with that she finishes her milk, leaves her money on the counter, and walks out, giving me one last smile if I’m lucky.
This late at night there’s also an old janitor that mops the floors up. Looks like he takes pride in his job, he takes his time with the mop and likes to boast that you could eat off his floors. We’ve exchanged hello’s and goodbye’s every once in a while. I’ve never got his name though, nor has he ever gotten mine, but he’s a nice old man. I just call him Janitor since he doesn’t wear a nametag, but I feel like it’s a pretty endearing term since I respect him and the way he carries himself.
The only real new person in this joint is the guy behind the counter. A ginger, kind of thin and lanky, looks like he’s in college. He’s a pretty nice kid, but nothing compared to Tommie. These past few days I’ve been wondering where Tommie went, and why ginger took his place. Ginger isn’t talkative at all. He takes orders, makes drinks and pretty much sits around at a register doing homework or something. My guess is that Tommie retired, or died, I wonder. He couldn’t be Tommie’s son, seeing as how Tommie wasn’t a ginger… or married for that matter so he must have been his nephew or something.
There’s something about this night though, something wrong. Something off.
I can’t put my finger on it. Maybe it’s the fact that glasses is using a pen instead of a pencil tonight, or the fact that trench-coat ordered two strips of bacon instead of just one. Or maybe even the lighting’s off. Or maybe… wait. Where’d the girl go? I could have sworn I just saw Ginger bring around her milk. Wait why’s Ginger putting that milk beside me-…
“Evening” [/quote]
There is a lot more in the link [url=https://docs.google.com/document/d/1AK_UbIiMNQd4SXL5DfpIWy3WKAfPmcLmgQQduMx5vEo/edit?hl=en&authkey=CN_Fxe8J#] Tommie's Diner [/url]
I would really appreciate some words of wisdom as I am very (read=very) self conscious about my writing.
[quote]She was even more beautiful than the last time I saw her. She walked with the grace and movement of a gazelle, but with the power and force of a lion. Her white cocktail dress fit snugly around her body and her hair floated on her shoulders like clouds. But there was something on her face, something wrong, as if she was distressed. She gave me a sad smile and came and sat next on the stool next to me. I’ve been preparing for this moment. The pitter patter of rain outside and the soft piano music only helped to accentuate the kind of atmosphere and mood I wanted to achieve. I spoke as coolly and classy as I could.
“Amata?” I said, calmly
“What’s Amata?” She said with a low voice
“Nuttin’, What’s Amata wit’ you?” I’m a mastermind. [/quote]
:saddowns:
Your dialog is very strong, and you seem quite comfortable with It's smooth, clever, and fun. There are some odd syntactic and stylistic choices in your writing, such as italicized thoughts and nicknames (pretty common tactic) or actions and descriptions (not so common, often was unsure of [i]why[/i] they needed to be italicized), but the overall effect is very pleasant, if a bit awkward at times.
If I had to suggest work on any one area for improvement, it would be in your description of settings and characters. You do a good job in isolating the unique aspects of characters, painting a picture just vague enough for the reader to fill in the blanks himself (which is exactly what you should aim to do), but you spend a bit too much time focusing on the details. So, while you understand the premise of what you should be doing, you're stretching your descriptions over too many words.
Remember Stephen King's formula, even though he seems to have forgotten it himself: "2nd draft = 1st draft - 10%"
That said, I love the feel and pace of this story, and hope you keep going so I can see what comes next. I love diner stories. Diners just conjure up images of familiar strangers sharing one big, weird vibe to me. It's a cool vibe to tap into, and it can take you to a lot of strange places and ideas. I'm diggin' it.
Not going to lie. A bit of this was influenced by Jack's Diner.
Thanks too, half of what I was worried about was the amount of detail.
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