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I worked for 40 years. 40 years of hard graft to earn my part of this building. They’ve never worked a day in their lethargic lives and yet rent the larger half for a pittance.
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I tried to write, but just got really stuck. Then I read back what I’d written, and that just made me want to hit myself repeatedly.
While it’s true that I’ve only ever written one serious piece, I thought I was better then that. Can’t be assed to continue it. I may try again.
I’d have thought the domestic violence would have just flowed out of my hands…let me rephrase that. Actually, I can’t be assed. I suck.
English_Bloke wrote:
> Actually, I can’t be assed. I suck.
Interesting. I may just keep your number for myself :D
> I thought perhaps
> the story could have been told from both sides, one on one side of
> the house, one on the other. With tales that possibly intertwine to
> some extent.
I was going down that route.
The old guy was complaining about the family, and then the adult male from the family was going to complain about the old guy.
I also thought about then ending involving one final argument that the old guy hears, and then he hears nothing. So he wonders just what has happened.
I thought about the old guy becoming the bad guy by doing little things to wind the family up.
Then I thought. I suck.
"I worked for 40 years. 40 years of hard graft to earn my part of this building. They’ve never worked a day in their lethargic lives and yet
rent the larger half for a pittance."
This part, for me, was brilliant. Really involves the reader, makes them feel sympathy towards this hard-working guy. I thought perhaps the story could have been told from both sides, one on one side of the house, one on the other. With tales that possibly intertwine to some extent.
I suggest, if you want to get back into the habit or creatively writing, to read around a couple of the other stories, then go back to the drawing board. Things may seem a lot easier from there.
I worked for 40 years. 40 years of hard graft to earn my part of this building. They’ve never worked a day in their lethargic lives and yet rent the larger half for a pittance.
**********************************
I tried to write, but just got really stuck. Then I read back what I’d written, and that just made me want to hit myself repeatedly.
While it’s true that I’ve only ever written one serious piece, I thought I was better then that. Can’t be assed to continue it. I may try again.
I’d have thought the domestic violence would have just flowed out of my hands…let me rephrase that. Actually, I can’t be assed. I suck.