8 January 2012, 5:46 pm
I posted this sample a bit ago on here, got some tips on how to improve it, and tried to follow them. So, this is the edited sample. Any more tips on how to improve it further? What you liked/disliked? constructive criticism is welcomed :) A little background, this story takes place in 1998, Daniel, a smart but shy new student who's been sheltered his whole life, is moved to the small pacific northwest logging town of Aberdeen. There, he meets Rory and Lizzy, two grunge-fanatic, non-conformist best friends. He knows little about the early 90's grunge movement, while it was pretty much their childhood. Enjoy :) Rory looked at me from over the picnic table outside ---the girls told me they hated eating lunch in the cafeteria and only did so when it was exceptionally cold, and bit another stubby black nail. Lizzy fiddled with the small silver hoop in her nose, looked around nervously and lit another cigarette. Where were school officials when you needed them? “You really think there’s anything fun to do around here?” Rory asked in her gritty, raspy voice, cracking her pink bubblegum. “Forget about it!” Lizzy chimed in. “You’re in Aberdeen, Washington. You just so happened to move to the most ugly, boring town in the entire country. Maybe the entire world!” “Yup.” Rory agreed, bobbing her head dejectedly. “Aberdeen has one of the highest unemployment rates in the country. Unemployment rate, alcoholism rate, and suicide rate.” “Rory can attest to the last one!” Lizzy guffawed, nudging Rory in the ribs. “What?” I asked, confused. “Nothing.” Rory snapped, and shot Lizzy a stare that I could tell meant SHUT UP. “So… there’s nothing…to…do here?” Lizzy rolled her eyes. “Nothing to do ’cept get high…well, not Rory. She‘s too much of a little angel to do anything.” Lizzy folded her hands in prayer mockingly. “You better shut up if you know what’s good for you, Elizabeth Kathleen Corcoran.” Rory laughed, making as if she was going to hit Lizzy. “Why don’t you guys go somewhere more fun, like Seattle or Olympia?” I stammered nervously. I was still absorbing all this knowledge about the town I’d be spending the next year in at least. Lizzy shrugged. “A full tank a’ gas for Rory here--she’s the one who drives us--costs more n’ what she makes in a week.” Rory nodded in agreement. “Liz n‘ I‘ve never been any farther than Montesano.” Rory leaned in towards me. “Daniel, do you think anyone who lives in Aberdeen really wants to be here?” she paused. “Always live in this depressing little town where the sun never shines and spend the rest of our lives toiling away at a sawmill or at Wal-Mart or as a waitress in some little restaurant? No way! Anyone--any adult that is--living in Aberdeen just couldn’t get out.” “Why’d your parents move you here anyway?” Lizzy asked suspiciously. The bell sounded. “Frick.” Lizzy muttered, and mashed the cigarette under her shoe. The two slung their backpacks over their shoulders and showed me to my next class. For the next school week at Aberdeen High I’d learned more about Lizzy Corcoran than I would have liked to. I learned her favorite song was “Gallons of Rubbing Alcohol Flow Through The Strip” by Nirvana, she was a raw vegan and only used Revlon lipstick in True Red and their eyeliner in Black Velvet because Revlon didn’t test on animals. I learned her tattoos had been given to her on the sly by her dad (Mr. Corcoran was a tattoo artist) because she was a minor. Her first one was on her hip, which scrawled out in jagged letters: “punk rock is freedom.” Her next one was on her left shoulder blade, which she’d flaunted several times with her signature spaghetti-strap tops, reading “Riot Grrrl.” Whatever that meant. She’d assured me that the Kurt Cobain portrait on her right wrist was a henna, but she’d be getting a real version of it for her eighteenth birthday in December. Rory was easier to hang out with; she tended to be the quieter one, but she’d told me that wasn’t always the case. She read a lot of books, which gave us something to talk about. Though a lot of the time she wanted to talk about music- why the album In Utero subtly but surely changed the world, why pop music was bland, corporate, and focused on little other than how many teenyboppers they could sell to, why Alan Menken was the best composer who ever lived. I caught myself staring at her once in math, and saw she had large brown eyes, and how they looked nice fringed with dark lashes. “Daniel! What’s the answer to number six?” “Uh… twenty-seven times ‘A’ equals 46 to the power of 7.” I stuttered, glad I’d done the work ahead. Mr. Haglanson grunted and moved on. I shook my head. Why was I staring at Rory anyway? I looked at her again and noticed her greasy, wild brown hair, her acne scars from years of pimple-popping, plus the fact that she was taller than me. Which was odd, since I had always been one of the tallest boys in my old school. Rory definitely was not very pre... Read More »
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