I have a habit of over promising and never delivering on my work; so judge this alone. I will not promise to update this story, because even if I have the intent to do so, doesn't mean I actually will.
That said, this is the work I've made it furthest in. As a goal, I'm going to keep going with it, because I feel it has the most potential for an interesting story. For Christmas, I got some writing guides, which I think helped my craft a bit and this semester I'm taking a fiction writing class to further push myself. So please, leave any feedback or comments. I'm constantly trying to improve my skill and I know some of my weak points already (I have a poor eye for visual detail. I feel like I have to force myself to describe things because it doesn't come naturally).[B]
Chapter 1: Same Old, Same Old[/B]
October 2013
Gabe Smith was a young man who felt aged beyond his years. He began and ended each day the same way. A bitter fight to wake up and then a losing battle to fall asleep at night. If you asked him if he was happy, he would have said 'no'.
It was eight o’clock in the morning when he first opened his eyes. Considering he didn't get to bed last night until three o'clock; he was still exhausted. He felt compelled to get up though. He knew that if he fell asleep again, he would waste his entire day.
[I]Come on, get up![/I]
He thought to himself. He desperately wanted too but found his body was unwilling to respond to this desire. It was too comfortable lying down under his nice blue cover; the pillow too soft and enveloping his head.
[I]Okay, I'll just rest for another five minutes, but then I'm getting up.[/I]
Gabe closed his eyes and in less then a minute, he passed out again.
Around eleven thirty in the morning, Gabe woke up again. He still felt tired but successfully managed to fight off his instinct to lay down. He rose up from his bed with an audible groan, sitting cross legged in his bed. He still wasn't in the clear yet. Until he got off the bed, anything was game. His legs felt like they were jelly and seeping into the mattress; if he didn't move now, he wasn't going anywhere for awhile.
Finally, summoning all of his will power, he moved off the bed. His legs hit the floor and it took him a moment to gain his balance. Officially, the day had begun.
He grabbed his pair of jeans off the floor, which looked clean enough to wear another day, and grabbed a shirt randomly out of the closet. Clothing in hand, he proceeded to the bathroom to change.
He switched on the bathroom lights and they briefly blinded him. Two overhanging lights lit up the green and white tiles room. A large mirror stretched from one end of the room to the other. Gabriel looked in the mirror and sighed. His same old fat, disgusting, worthless body stared back at him. Each morning he started off feeling ashamed. He had been trying to lose weight, with some success, but he had hit a road block recently. He couldn't push past the two-twenty mark.
[I]Okay, I'll try not to eat anything at all today.[/I]
Gabe then put on his jeans, fumbling a bit in the process. He pulled his belt through each hoop of his jeans. Doing so, he noticed the red indentations the belt left behind on his stomach.
[I]Absolutely beautiful. Everyone knows the ladies LOVE the look you have going for yourself.[/I]
As for the shirt, Gabe always preferred darker colors, typically black. Black was a magic color that made overweight people look a bit more presentable. It's antithesis of course was the dreaded white. While wearing black he felt disguised and a bit more comfortable with himself. While wearing white Gabe felt like he had forgotten to wear a shirt and his social anxiety would shoot to preposterous levels. Today he chose to wear a dark blue shirt.
He left the bathroom and passed through the connecting hallway. On his way back to his room he passed by the open doorway to the living room. He noted that everyone in the household appeared to be up; he had missed his chance to wake up early before anyone else.
[I]Damn it.[/I]
The Smith household was small and cramped with seven occupants.
There were Gabe's grandparents, Katie and Max. They were the owners of the home and had more or less raised Gabe through his childhood years. They were well-meaning people but they had made mistakes just like everyone else in that house. Gabe didn't hate them; rather disappointed with them.
Then there was Gabe's aunt, Katherine. He knew it wasn't entirely her fault but she was the one who set the entire train wreck in motion. He found himself thinking at times that all of this could have played out differently if only she hadn't have done what she did. She had suffered as much as the rest of the family but it made little difference to Gabe. His life was ruined and she held some of the responsibility for that.
Gabe's father, Jack, also lived there. Gabe hated his father more then anything in the world. He was like a monster intent on making everyone miserable. All day, he sat in the basement, getting wasted on Vodka and doing God only knows what. Jack had been unemployed for many years now, and was leeching off anything that had money. That included what little money Gabe made at his job at the call center. Gabe felt that as long as his father remained in his life, he'd never experience true happiness.
Then there were Gabe's two brothers, Peter and Luke. Peter, his older brother by two years, was the type of guy Gabe wanted to be. He was thin, popular, and knew how to have a fun time. Gabe was worried that his Peter was overdoing it on the partying but he couldn't find himself able to express those feelings. If that's what made him happy, why should Gabe judge him?
Luke was Gabe's younger brother by three years. In truth, Gabe felt both extremely jealous and proud of his younger brother. They had both set out to lose weight at the beginning of the year. Luke had successfully managed to lose over one hundred pounds while Gabe had been stopped at about thirty pounds. Gabe couldn't help but notice how his younger brother, once larger then himself, looks had improved.
[I]If only I could look like that.[/I]
Gabe passed by the living room not quite ready to converse with his family. Gabe always felt exhausted talking to them, especially when they were all gathered together. It always seemed to follow the same pattern. Someone would ask Gabe a question, which he would then have to answer multiple times because it seemed like everyone would re-question his response. It was infuriating and often left him in a bad mood.
Since there were so many occupants, Gabe shared a room with his brother. Their beds were located on opposite sides of the room. There was no place in the house where anyone could be alone or find some privacy. It felt like he was under constant surveillance, never really free to do anything without someone butting into his life. Gabe sat back on the bed,and merely sat there. He found himself unable to decide on what to do today. This was another trap that Gabe fell into frequently. He would spend hours trying to think of something to do and ultimately end up doing nothing.
Gabe felt someone push his shoulder.
“Gabe, they want to talk to you out there.” Luke spoke up.
“God damnit.” Gabe growled from under his breath.
Luke, having shared his room with Gabe for awhile now, was perhaps the only person who knew about Gabe's disillusionment.
“I think they're going to ask if you want to eat.” Luke said quietly.
“What the fuck for! They know I don't like breakfast.”
“I think they were going to make you something else to eat.”
“That's the last fucking thing I want to do and they keep pressuring me into eating!” Frustration was seeping with every word Gabe spoke. His grandparents knew he was trying to lose weight, so Gabe could not understand why they seemed to constantly prepare food and guilt him into eating something.
“Well go out there and tell them that.” Luke said.
“I'm not ready to speak to them yet.”
Luke nodded his head in understanding.
A few minutes later, there was a knock on their door.
“Gabe, it's me.”
It was his Grandmother's voice. Gabe started to curse in his head.
[I]Why, why can't you leave me alone![/I]
“Yes, come in.” Gabe mumbled in the lowest voice he could. Apparently it was too low for his Grandmother to hear.
“Gabe! Are you in there!”
“YES!” He lost his temper for a moment and raised his voice. Gabe liked to keep his conversations short and hated repeating himself. Unfortunately, that seemed to be the norm when speaking with anyone in that house.
The bedroom door opened, and his Grandmother stepped into the room. She was an older lady with curled white hair. She looked pretty good for her age (seventy one), but Gabe knew that she was getting tired. He wanted to help her in anyway he could, truly he did, but right now he was barely able to help himself.
“Gabe, do you want me to fry you up a grilled cheese sandwich?”
“No, Grandma, thank you.”
His grandmother frowned. This was clearly not the answer she wanted to hear.
“Are you SURE you don't want one. I'm going to fry a few up right now.”
Gabe raised his hands to his head in frustration.
“No. I'm fine. Really, I am.”
[I]Please, learn to take no for an answer.[/I]
Gabe could tell she wasn't going to give up.
“Gabe, I really think you should eat something. It's not healthy.”
The blood was boiling underneath his skin. Gabe felt his head throb lightly. His voice started to snarl.
“NO!”
His Grandmother was finally picking up the bad vibes that Gabe was purposely emitting and realized she was treading on dangerous ground.
“Okay, I just thought I would ask. No need to get so flustered, dear.”
Finally, she left the room and closed the door behind her.
…
Gabe looked at the clock again. It was two in the afternoon. Time to get ready and go to work. He had spent the last three hours doing nothing and he felt he had wasted his entire day. Oh well, at least during the winter holidays, it would get slow at work. Then he'd have more time to figure out what to do.
In a black duffel bag, he started to gather everything he needed. A pair of gym clothes for after work. He tossed all of his pens and pencils into his bag as well. He couldn't help but feel like he was missing something. He usually forgot something at home, but today he was determined to remember everything.
[I]Oh right, my water bottle. Can't forget that.[/I]
He looked around the room. He wasn't seeing it anywhere. He rushed around the small room looking in ever nook and cranny. He could tell he was getting upset again, and tried to calm himself down.
“Luke, could you help me find my water bottle?”
Luke didn't respond and Gabe didn't wait for a response. He opened the door and left in a flash. He stormed past his family without saying as much of a word, and ran down the stairs.
[I]Where the fuck did I put that thing?[/I]
He reached the bottom of the stairs. He hated it down here because his father lived down here, comparable to a troll living under a bridge and just as unpleasant. Gabe's desk was located in the basement due to lack of space. He spent little time down here voluntarily, mostly for completing school work.
Gabe's desk was a mess of papers that he had long given up on sorting. A good majority didn't belong to him anyway. They belonged mostly to his father. It was assumed by everyone that Jack was either incapable of managing his own paper work or that he was too lazy; so anything potentially important got thrown on Gabe's desk. Gabe didn't know if they expected him to actually do anything with the papers. If they did, Gabe would have called them insane. He would not raise a single finger to help his father. As the stacks of paper grew, Gabe would just move them anywhere else. His father was not ever going to look through any of it, so what was the point in saving it?
Gabe searched around his desk.
[I]Why can't I ever find my shit![/I]
The door to Jack's room opened, and the lumbering giant walked out. He was actually fully clothed today. Usually, Jack's attire consisted solely of a pair of white briefs; usually with a few holes in the elastic band for good measure.
“What are you trying to find there?”
“Oh, nothing, I mean, don't worry about it.”
Gabe tried to deflect his father's question. He neither wanted nor needed his father's 'help' or 'concern'. That might lead to conversation, and his father's conversations were always the same. Hate filled rants about how much he did for his kids; how much he loved his second ex-wife (but never about how terrible he treated her); how everyone but himself was responsible for his situation. Gabe had heard it all, repeated day after day after day.
“Hey, I was going to ask you. I'm out of cigarettes, could I borrow a few bucks to buy some more.”
Besides complaining about how under appreciated he was, Jack's favorite thing to do was “borrow” money from everyone. Saying no would result in being verbally abused for the rest of the night until someone caved and gave him some cash. His frequent purchases included cigarettes and vodka, though not necessarily in that order. Jack was a master manipulator, often borrowing money from multiple people, lying about how much he received, and pocketing some extra cash for himself. For a stuttering baboon, Gabe would have to admit he was a crafty stuttering baboon.
Gabe, already frustrated at being unable to find his water bottle, exploded upon hearing his father's request. In a verbal breakdown, he uttered a series of unintelligible curses, growling, and snorting. For a moment, he felt a slight pain in his chest.
[I]I'm going to die one day, and it'll be his fault.[/I]
Jack frowned and looked at his son with an expression of disbelief.
“You need psychiatric help. Why are you so mad all of the time?” His father sounded genuinely confused, “I ask you for one favor, and then you explode on me. You know what,” His father turned around and threw his hands up, “Forget it, I don't even know why I ask you anymore. Don't ever come to me for help anymore!”
It was Gabe's turn to be shocked. Gabe made it a point to completely ignore his father. He couldn't even recall the last time he had turned to him for help. If he was on the brink of death and only his father was around; he would consider death rather then turning to his father for help.
[I]How can someone be so fucking clueless?[/I]
Shaking his head, Gabe gave up the search. He wasn't going to find it and he was just wasting his time looking for it. The situation now was reversed. Gabe didn't want to go upstairs because that's where his father was. Having no choice, he begrudgingly climbed the staircase. Near the top of the stair case, he heard his grandmother talking about him.
“I'm really worried about Gabe,” He heard her speaking to someone on the phone, “I really think he should attend Al-Anon meetings. My friend Stacy attends and she says that they really helped her.”
[I]Of course, they're worried about me and not him. Typical. Oh yeah, and thanks Grandma for telling the whole world how fucked I am. I really appreciate it.[/I]
No one had the courage to do what actually needed to be done. No, it was more important to worry about everyone else except for the drunkard who lived downstairs. Just ignore the man who terrorized everyone during his alcohol fueled verbal rampages. Just keep indulging him so he'll never change. Out of sight, out of mind. It's easier this way. He walked past the living room silent as a ghost, avoiding all possible contact. If they weren't going to admit they were avoiding the problem, he saw very little reason to speak to them. One day, maybe they'd be ready to really talk.
Gabe entered the small bedroom and opened his duffel bag. Packed near the top of the bag, practically laughing at him, was the water bottle he was looking for.
[I]Oh, great, I am losing my mind. That's a relief.[/I]
Exasperated by his own incompetence, Gabe zipped the duffel bag back up.
“So long.”
Gabe left the room; Luke merely nodded his head in response.
[B]Chapter 2: Work[/B]
Gabe worked for a market research company as a telephone recruiter. Gabe hated the work. It was easy but mind numbingly boring. It didn't help that most of the time the interviewees failed the qualification process. For Gabe it felt like he spent all his time fruitlessly screening people and having to constantly deliver bad news. The only positive was the scenario where a respondent did qualify. Nothing felt better then getting some poor schmo more money.
It wasn't the only positive to his job. Gabe had spent the years after graduating high school alone. His friends had left him behind to pursue their dreams while he stagnated. Working here allowed him to try and reconnect to people his age.
Doing so often easier said then done. Gabe felt completely disconnected from what was popular. He felt that there was a gap between him and other people. He desperately wanted to be like Peter. Instead, he found himself sitting quietly as others talked. He was a passive observer; a leech living vicariously through the lives of others with nothing to contribute on his own.
Gabe stepped out of the elevator on the top floor of the building. He often wondered how expensive it was to have an office on the top floor. He assumed expensive but that seemed contradictory to the cheapness displayed in other aspects of the office, especially the call center.
[I]Who really needs light anyway? We can work in the dark.[/I]
Gabe open the door and entered the call center. Two large desks were set up in the center of the room with cubicles lined up against the three surrounding walls. The carpet was a grayish color and dirty. It was covered with coffee stains and dirt. Since only recruiters used this area there was less importance on appearances.
Gabe noticed the night time supervisor was sitting at her desk. Gabe secretly admired her. For a year and a half he worked here even though he didn't care for it. She was one of the reasons why he stayed. She was a fun person to be around but what Gave liked about her was she was independent. Living under the thumb of his family, he wanted to achieve the same level of self-reliance she possessed. One day he would tell her how he felt but not now. He was worthless. Revealing his true feelings would just embarrass her.
“Hey Gabe, how's it going?”
Amanda noticed that Gabe had walked into the office and looked in his direction. She was wearing a formal black dress top which Gabe thought looked very nice. He wanted to compliment her, but couldn't force himself to say so.
[I]I don't want to make things weird.[/I]
“Oh, okay. I guess.”
He appreciated her kindness but he was still upset about the altercation at home. He felt he had to show appreciation though, so he attempted to smile. He wasn't sure if he was successful.
He sat down at his cubicle, number 210, and took a moment to collect himself.
[I]Only six hours. I can do[/I] [I]this.[/I]
He rolled up his sleeve and noticed the empty space on his wrist.
[I]Yep, I forgot my watch. Never fails.[/I]
Forgetting the watch did have its perks. Being unable to tell the time easily meant Gabe couldn't watch the clock. Work seemed to go by faster when he was unaware of the time. Gabe picked up the corded phone, and made the first call of the day.
…
The woman did not qualify for participation. The clients running the study wanted to speak to people who drank five cans of Diet Pepsi a week and absolutely no Pepsi. The woman Gabe had just finished screening drunk both.
“I never seem to qualify for these things. I think you people are just recording my answers!”
The old lady was upset.
“I'm sorry, but these things tend to be difficult to qualify for. The clients usually want to speak to someone very specific. If you don't mind, we'll keep you in mind for any future ones, “ there was an audible click on the phone line, “Hello?”
The line was silent.
The old lady had hung up. Gabe picked up a red pen and wrote 'rude' on her profile. He thought about it for a second, then revised it, 'kind of rude'. He was about to move onto the next call but his conscious got the better of him. He went back and scratched out what he had written, and replaced it with 'never mind'. The page was now covered in red ink.
[I]That ought to confuse whomever updates these things.[/I]
Gabe looked at his wrist and remembered he didn't have his watch. He suspected it was late and near time to go on break. He turned around in his chair. He looked at the clock.
It was past eight o'clock.
“You haven't gone on break yet, have you?”
Amanda asked him.
“Nah, I got caught up in this phone call. It's okay, I'll just keep working.”
Amanda looked at Gabe with an expression of disbelief on her face.
“What?”
“I mean, it's already so late, by the time I get back we'll almost be leaving,” Gabe tried to explain, “we only have another forty minutes or so anyway.”
Amanda shook her head.
“Gabe, just go on break.”
“Is that an order?”
Amanda laughed a bit, then raised her voice.
“Yes, get out of here! Are you crazy?”
“Probably. Yes.”
Gabe got up from his chair and went to clock out on break.
“I'll probably be back.”
“What do you mean, probably?”
“You never know, something might happen. I could get kidnapped.”
John, another recruiter in the office, uttered a small laugh. Amanda just smiled and shook her head.
“Enjoy your break Gabe.”
Gabe liked to make people laugh when he could. He wished he was consistent at it. He left the call center and took the elevator to the break area.
…
“Okay everyone, you can leave.” Amanda told everyone at ten before nine. In a flurry of movement everyone stood up. Every night was the same rush to leave the call center. With some exceptions. Amanda stayed because she had to write up reports. Melisa, a younger woman, worked on the computer stayed to finish inputting data. Two other recruiters, John and Robert stuck around as well. Gabe stayed behind as well. It was easily the best part of Gabe's day; a time where he wasn't home and not working. For this short period of time Gabe was able to relax and attempt to talk with his friends.
“So Gabe,” John walked over to where he was sitting, “you going to come and hang out with us?”
The question blindsided Gabe. He felt like everyone was just being kind to him and he didn't want to take advantage of their hospitality.
“I don't know. You guys wouldn't want me to hang around anyway, I'm a downer.”
Amanda, who was busy with her reports and updates, spoke up.
“Why do you say that?”
Gabe shrugged.
“I don't know.”
Gabe didn't know. It was just how he felt. He couldn't comprehend why anyone would want to be around him. Everyone else was far more interesting and fun to be around.
“You don't have to smoke or drink anything Gabe!”
Melisa spoke up, sounding cheerful as ever.
They knew Gabe had issues with smoking and drinking. They didn't necessarily know why, but they knew he was reluctant. Gabe rarely spoke about his drunk substance abusing father. He never wanted to inconvenience anyone in that way. Especially not people he cared about.
“Sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
Amanda asked.
“I don't know, it's just, you know...” Gabe started to squirm in his seat and panic. In his mind he tried to resolve this conflict of interest and fear.
[I]Don't say yes, it'll backfire horribly.[/I]
“No, I don't know. You're thinking too much.”
Amanda said.
“I can't help it. I'm always thinking.”
Sorry, a bit too mundane to keep me interested. I'm being rather nitpicky but "guy who is tired and unsatisfied with life" isn't really captivating me.
Your writing technique is very good besides an occasional typo and facepunch messing with the paragraph format, but the story itself doesn't do anything for me.
I'm going to take a look at your first 250 words, about a page.
[quote]Gabe Smith was a young man who felt aged beyond his years.[/quote]
Your first sentence is decent, but it's not unrealistic to expect you to spend a couple of [i]days[/i] mulling it over to make sure it's a polished gem. While not exactly exciting it does give the reader a character and a conflict. The main problem- that conflict is a bit shit. No offense. I read through the first 500 or so words before I resorted to skimming, and the entire plot seems to revolve around "life sucks, I'm tired" etc etc. Who would choose to read that?
[quote] He began and ended each day the same way. A bitter fight to wake up and then a losing battle to fall asleep at night. If you asked him if he was happy, he would have said 'no'.[/quote]
Issue two- Everyone will tell you that starting a story with a character waking up is a blatant, terrible cliche. While it works nicely into your lackluster narrative, starting out with waking up is dull and kills any momentum your story might have.
Grammatically speaking, sentence one and two should be connected as "A bitter fight to wake up..." isn't a complete sentence by itself.
"If you asked him if he was happy, he would have said 'no'." -Remember the golden rule is show not tell. If you put in the work to smoothly show the readers this by describing specific detail in his life, you might build enough empathy to compel readers to continue.
[quote]It was eight o’clock in the morning when he first opened his eyes. Considering he didn't get to bed last night until three o'clock; he was still exhausted. He felt compelled to get up though. He knew that if he fell asleep again, he would waste his entire day.[/quote]
Again, show, don't tell. If a professional editor was looking at this, I'd chance they'd be telling you to lop off entire sentences, if not paragraphs, from your story. I don't really need to know exactly what time it is nor what time he went to sleep to know he's tired, again you could just concoct an elegant description that would say it all for you.
The last bit "he would waste his entire day" has some potential among the wreckage. More conflict- good. Just being tired doesn't quite cut it if there's no reason to be awake.
[quote]Come on, get up!
He thought to himself. He desperately wanted too but found his body was unwilling to respond to this desire. It was too comfortable lying down under his nice blue cover; the pillow too soft and enveloping his head.
Okay, I'll just rest for another five minutes, but then I'm getting up.[/quote]
First, your sentence structure and grammar are a bit flimsy here. "He desperately wanted [i]to[/i]", but as a whole "his body was unwilling to respond to this desire" is also just messy. "the pillow too soft and eveloping his head" is a bit of a wreck as well.
Again, the conflict is apparent and it's not terribly exciting. You really need to cut the fluff "oh he was reaaaally tired guys, I swear" and add more detail to make your story come to life. Your attempts to describe the bed are a step in the right direction, but they're clumsy and pale. Do some research, find some words to describe the bed besides "blue" and "soft". Don't overdo it, but you're welcome to name specific materials, or try [i]something[/i] to make this bed seem real and unique.
[quote]Gabe closed his eyes and in less then a minute, he passed out again.
Around eleven thirty in the morning, Gabe woke up again. He still felt tired but successfully managed to fight off his instinct to lay down. He rose up from his bed with an audible groan, sitting cross legged in his bed. He still wasn't in the clear yet. Until he got off the bed, anything was game. His legs felt like they were jelly and seeping into the mattress; if he didn't move now, he wasn't going anywhere for awhile.[/quote]
Again, it's just feeding the audience line after line of boring description of him trying to wake up. This whole sequence could be two paragraphs and have far more impact. I appreciate you've again tried to up the stakes, but you've probably lost any and all potential readers at this point. You need to come on strong out of the gate.
Your first solid bit of description "His legs felt like they were jelly and..." is something you should keep, pending revision. As is true with the entire passage, you have a ton of fluff. Not just with description, but also with grammar. You can go from "His legs felt like they were jelly and seeping into the mattress." to "His legs felt like jelly, seeping into the mattress." And you've already shaved a couple words off. Do this to every sentence and your story might be able to look at itself in the mirror without getting depressed.
In summary, your story is beyond drab. I see some potential for an interesting plot emerging in chapter two, if handled tactfully, but right now it feels a bit like polishing a turd. It's evident you've put in the work, but you need to have strong direction and plot to keep the story going. Why should I be interested, what does your story have to offer? What does your story present that I couldn't have just pulled from the story of my everyday life?
Lastly I want to make sure it's clear that what you're doing is the right thing. Writing something terrible is infinitely better than doing nothing, as you'll find it hard to improve without practice. Just make sure you're exerting your effort the right way.
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