So, to make a long story short, I've always been a writer. I've written several short stories, over 100 poems (I will start a thread and share those pretty soon if anyone is interested) and I've, well, attempted to write three novels.
This is my fourth attempt, and I intend to finish it this time. I suddenly got the urge to try again earlier tonight, and made a rough draft of the very beginning. My issue is, I generally get 10 or 12 chapters into a novel, and get stuck on where to go from there. I don't like having an ending pre-planned, I feel like it limits the places my story can go, but many tell me that's my main problem. But I simply can't do it, I wouldn't feel like I did the best I could do if I had.
In any case, I'd like to share this very small part I've completed. I haven't even started the first chapter yet, and to be completely honest, I only have a very, very incomplete idea of the outline and basic story.
But I'd like to see if I've done OK so far, see if it's needs more detail, or less, and what have you. Criticism greatly appreciated! Thanks for your time.
EDIT: Forgive the spacing and paragraph issues, my text doesn't quite copy over correctly from my document to this post for some reason.
Spoiler
Sometimes I wonder if I was meant for this life. I suppose everyone does, from time to time. We feel out of place, misguided or just plain odd. We focus on our differences, and only compare them to everyone else’s similarities. We have our own unique way of looking at things, and fail to understand why no one else can see the world through our eyes. I think this is why so many feel alone and depressed, why they feel the world is against them and they haven’t a hope to cling to.
But there is one thing that keeps many of us going. One person, perhaps a special friend who knows us better than we know ourselves. They know how we’re feeling without us even telling them. They provide support like no one else in the world can. That one person that you can talk to about anything, pour your heart out and not feel the slightest tinge of embarrassment kind of person. They keep us sane, and we wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves if they weren’t there for us.
I guess I should feel lucky, because there’s many out there who can’t say they have someone like this to help them out in their lives.
But have you ever wondered if such a blessing could actually be a curse?
Prologue
A hot summer morning, not unlike any of the other we’d had this season. I awoke to what should have been my alarm clock going off, but instead, a massive clap of thunder that must have shook the entire apartment complex. I jolted upright in bed with a small shriek, my heart pounding and my ear drums noticeably ringing. I took a quick look around out of instinct, found nothing of course, and sighed loudly after realizing the reason for the disturbance of my slumber. “Great,” I thought to myself after flopping back onto my bed, “Sweltering heat and more rain. Just what we need.” I don’t know what’s wrong with the rain lovers out there, but I can’t stand it. The humidity jumps through the roof, making a miserable summer even more so. The walk to work is simply dreadful; umbrellas may protect you from vertical rain, but nothing will prevent the splashing from puddles in the streets of passing traffic. I came to the realization that I probably should be getting back to sleep instead of complaining to myself about the impending storm. I really do need to stop talking to myself so much,, that can’t be healthy. I know everyone does it to an extent. Some won’t admit it, but I can’t understand why they’re embarrassed by it. It’s only natural, right? Keeping yourself company? I remember reading somewhere that it can help to visualize ideas and solve problems by saying your thoughts to yourself out loud. But I can’t imagine making yourself a replacement for real human interaction could do you any good- “Ugh, here I go again.” I forced myself to find a comfortable position, and cover myself in a light sheet in the extremely unlikely event I got cold. I gently shut my eyes, and drifted off to dreamland just after the first few raindrops hit the window pane situated just above and behind my bed. It’s funny, rain is my sworn enemy, but nothing helps me sleep like the sound of a light drizzle against a window, with the soft white light from the streetlamp a few yards away flowing through and bathing me in its warmth.
This would give a good book. I'd like to read more from you. That is good reading right there. This got me interested about more of this new novel from you :0
This is a good character you have so far. Even though it's only the prologue, I feel like I know quite a bit about your narrator: depressed and lonely (but desperately wants companionship) and a bit quirky (though, yes, I agree - everyone talks to themselves!). In short, just the kind of character I like the read about! I'd like the see where this goes.
