This a complete spur of the moment thing. I'm posting a very short writing Sample for a novel I'm working on. It's the beginning to a old idea I had for a story that I always put off typing but decided to just write a hour ago. MC is pretty much an author self insert (bad form I know).
I just want some honest criticism about it and be a brutal as possible. Its the opening monologue so it's short. Thanks.
I don't know how to exist. It's not something that comes naturally to me. I see people do it. So effortlessly but I can never copy them. People around me walk and talk to each other, have relationships and families, tell secrets and life stories to one another. I can barely withstand existing in the same room as somebody and yet people around me actually aren't functional human beings.
I think a big disconnect from me is my form. The very skin that I inhabit. It makes the most sense because that's the first thing people notice about me. We all have corporeal forms that interact with each other through our reality, so if someone looks different. Obviously people are going to respond in time. I wouldn't say I look like Quasimodo, but I'm definitely not Brad Pitt either. My ugliness is still within the realms of social acceptability. I'm not malformed/deformed enough for people to gravitate towards me out of pity. My hideousness is of the boring variety. Fat nose, bad skin, fat, and awkward.
My genes are going to die with me. That's a pretty big inevitability that I have to now accept at this point. I think it's been a thing that I've always known would be a possibility ( more likely a probability) but I've chosen to ignore it. It's sad to think that my parents won't be grandparents but with my years of unsuccessfully searching for a mate I think it's a foregone conclusion
.
I just want some honest criticism about it and be a brutal as possible. Its the opening monologue so it's short. Thanks.
I don't know how to exist. It's not something that comes naturally to me. I see people do it. So effortlessly but I can never copy them. People around me walk and talk to each other, have relationships and families, tell secrets and life stories to one another. I can barely withstand existing in the same room as somebody and yet people around me actually aren't functional human beings.
I think a big disconnect from me is my form. The very skin that I inhabit. It makes the most sense because that's the first thing people notice about me. We all have corporeal forms that interact with each other through our reality, so if someone looks different. Obviously people are going to respond in time. I wouldn't say I look like Quasimodo, but I'm definitely not Brad Pitt either. My ugliness is still within the realms of social acceptability. I'm not malformed/deformed enough for people to gravitate towards me out of pity. My hideousness is of the boring variety. Fat nose, bad skin, fat, and awkward.
My genes are going to die with me. That's a pretty big inevitability that I have to now accept at this point. I think it's been a thing that I've always known would be a possibility ( more likely a probability) but I've chosen to ignore it. It's sad to think that my parents won't be grandparents but with my years of unsuccessfully searching for a mate I think it's a foregone conclusion
.
