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> things from creative writing class!
post Feb 13 2006, 08:01 AM
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From: denver
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i don't know how well-appreciated prose is here, because it is sort of hard to read, but i'll put some here in hopes SOMEONE will read it. i wrote it for my Creative Writing class, but didn't get the opportunity to have it critiqued by my teacher so i want to know if it's any good.

GHD stands for Gradual Human Combustion.

The car stank of rust, pot, and hopelessness. The ceiling sagged in like old person skin, making the tiny cab even tinier than it already was. The seats were from all sorts of different cars, nailed down, welded down with crazy nineteen-year-old expertise and in total disregard of placement of seatbelts, or existence of seatbelts at all. The floor was covered in cigarette butts and McDonald’s trash, the occasional Carl’s Junior smiling star or the imposing catchphrases of Burger King poking through the yellow paper. I’d been in this car for days, squished between two people that I’d met hours before we’d left, going down a desert road that led into some Midwestern state that there was no need to name.

It was always so hot in the car. People were constantly arguing to themselves of whether they should endure the heat of clothing or take it off and endure the sticky air and others’ clinging skin to couple the heat on the inside of them. The air-conditioning, all natural, was not sufficient. But we weren’t about to cool down any time soon.

We were all going to die. We knew it. Everybody dies from GHC.

Slumped down in my seat, I looked up at the girl next to me. She must have only been fourteen, but her eyes, which were flitting about the car like an angry bee, seemed crazed with years of torture. She’d stopped talking yesterday. She kept her knees tucked tight to her chest, as if giving the fire more space to spread than making one hard, sharp pain. Her hair was wild, her jeans ripped, her flannel shirt drawn past her hands and bundled up in fists. We’d figured she’d stopped trying to cool down and was now trying to keep it all inside.

None of us were exactly well off, though. She was just smaller, just about to die before all of us. Her day was coming soon, her blood boiling, driving her raving mad.

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post Feb 22 2006, 07:12 AM
Post #2

Super Cool

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Overall, you have a pretty nice style with all the metaphor you use, and some of the descriptions are nice. On the downside, it all seems very cliche, like the girl with wild hair and eyes, as well as a few phrases such as "blood boiling", "crazed with years of torture", etc.
Another thing that needs a bit of work is the sentnce structure. The sentences are of varying lengths, which is good, and are not run-on, but a lot of times i had to read them several times to understand them. An easy way t fix this would be to just read them from the point of view of an outsider, making sure that it reads smoothly.
Other than that you have a very original style, and it is a very nice piece. Hopefully this has helped you a bit. Keep writing. smile.gif

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