# Just something I'm working on. *Explicit Language, Sensitive Issues*



## Glyph (Jul 31, 2013)

Hi, amateur writer here. This is a very basic story I've started to work on recently. Critiques would be great, and I hope it's somewhat appealing. _

***

You idiot, you idiot, you idiot, you idiot, you idiot, you idiot!_
The words repeated in my head. I was supposed to wake up four fucking hours ago. I watched the digital clock above our stove as I opened the second drawer. The knife wasn't in the first. 
I was worried now. It was 6:09 and my parents were going to wake up any minute. And if the shuffling of kitchen utensils didn’t wake them up, my heavy breathing definitely would. 
_I told you to fucking use your phone, not the alarm clock you dumbass. But you didn’t listen, and now look. Mom and dad are going to wake up any minute and they are going to catch you up and ask you a bunch of stupid questions and then tell you to make breakfast for them. Goddamnit, where is that knife?!_
I could feel sweat drip from my forehead now. I was about to give up when I thought I heard the bed in my parents’ room move its springs, but then I found it. The sharp thin bladed knife my dad always asked me to use in hopes of cutting my hands (Nah, but I always thought of him thinking that). 
I looked at the clock again. 6:12. I had 18 minutes. Maybe I’d be able to pull it off. 
I held the blade towards my stomach and the grip, I held like a murderer. I did a lot of research on this. Okay, no, but you know,  movies and such taught me enough. 
6:13. 
This was it. There was a weird _shlick _sound when I plunged the sharp thing into my abdomen. I oddly didn’t feel anything the first few seconds, but then, I stupidly left the knife in there, and it started. _Great_. Fortunately, after a while, I did manage to go unconscious, but unfortunately I’m pretty sure I heard someone come down and scream. _Even greater._

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Like in every hospital drama, I heard beeping while I slowly opened my eyes. The first thing I saw – thankfully – wasn’t my mom. Or my dad. It was the painting on the wall. A bird playing the flute. It was really cute. A bunch of bunnies and deer and other woodland animals circled around the bird, smiling and enjoying themselves. Wait. Was I in a hospital? 
“Crap! Am I at a fucking hospital?!” I loudly remarked, noticing my wires, and tubes. I lifted the blanket that was on top of me and also noticed a bandage covering the area I stabbed myself. _Shit. I’m not dead._ 
I was contemplating my failed attempt at death when I heard my mom yelling out the door,
 “Doctor! Doctor! She’s awake! She got up!” She then hurried over to me, “The doctor will be here soon. Don’t worry.” 
On the other side of the room, my dad was just getting up. He stayed in the corner he slept in as the doctor walked in, “Fischer comma Kimberly?” he asked, looking at his clipboard. 
I opened my mouth to answer, but my mom beat me to it, “Yes, yes! That’s her! Doctor, can we take her home?” 
The doctor looked at her as if she was an idiot. To which she replied, 
“Well, I mean, her wound is all covered up now.” Which got her nothing but an even more puzzled look from the doctor. 
He turned to me instead of answering her, and introduced himself, “Hi Kim, my name is Dr. Richard Striesand and it’s great to see that you’re alright. It’s a good thing your parents brought you in when they did.” 
“And when was that?” 
“Well, they called the EMS at around 6:25, and you were brought in at about 6:27. Perhaps, 10 minutes or so after your attempt.” 
I landed my head back on the pillow and replied unenthusiastically, “Great.” 
“Well, you are all patched up, luckily, you only grazed your mucosa lining covering your stomach, and the knife went through fatty tissue between your pancreas and stomach. So we were able to fix that up. But we’re going to have to keep you here for observation for a while and make sure the antibiotics work well.” 
“Awesome.”
My dad asked, “Well, I’m going to go home and grab some things. Blankets, food.  You okay here Jen?”
My mom nodded and my dad put on his coat, “I’ll see you.” And left. 
The doctor watched as my dad walked out, and my mom watched me, “Um. Mrs. Fischer, can I speak to Kimberly alone for a few minutes?” 
“Oh okay. I will get some coffee.” 
Dr. Striesand scribbled something on his clipboard while my mom held her gaze on me until she left the small room. After he finished whatever he was writing, he took a seat next to me and rubbed his temples, “Kim, I know this must be very frustrating for you. You - trying to kill yourself, and ending up at a hospital – alive.” 
I didn’t really know what to say, because I was half expecting him to ask me why I would do something so stupid, that I had my whole life to live and shouldn’t end it so abruptly because of a few bad decisions. 
He looked at me from above the rim of his glasses, waiting for a response. When he didn’t get one, he continued, 
“And since I am a doctor who works with anatomy and not the mind, I’m going to have to recommend you to a psychiatrist. She can help you with any mental roadblocks you are facing at home, or at school, or anywhere else and perhaps get to the root of your issues.” 
My eyes followed his hand as he ripped the paper from his small memo book and placed it on the table beside me,
“Um, okay. Thanks…?” I wasn’t sure exactly how to feel. Irritated that I now have to see a doctor every week to talk about problems I’ve always repressed? Happy that someone would finally care enough to listen to me? Angry that this person who supposedly “cares” only does so because she’s being paid to by my parents’ insurance company? 
I took the paper from the night table and was about to read it when Dr. Striesand called out to me from the doorway, “You know Kimberly, I can never understand why adolescents like you decide that suicide is the universal answer to every single small problem. I don’t see how you can choose to throw away a whole life just because of a few bad decisions or unpleasant experiences. People in worse scenarios have struggled and survived. So why can’t you?” 
He shook his head as he exited and walked down the hallway, stuffing my hospital file under his right armpit. I leaned back against my upright pillow and my head hit the wall just above the bed’s headboard. 
_Whoop, there it is. _


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## Huginn Blue (Jul 31, 2013)

Well, this is quite well written. Congratz.
Good grammar and punctuation.

The story itself is not very appealing. Maybe it is too soon to judge, and it is good enough to keep me reading it.
But so far, we could not connect to the MC, since we don´t know why she tryed suicide. So far she is just a silly, weak teenager.


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## TheYellowMustang (Aug 1, 2013)

Hm... I like the way this is written - your character's "voice" - it's right up my alley. Sarcastic. Dark humor. Thumbs up.

I think one problem I had with this, which is very easy to fix, is that it took me a while to realize she was a girl. Either I missed a detail or you should edit this and make it clear earlier in the story. I didn't realize she was a girl until her mom yelled "She's awake!". I think this is a very easy mistake to make, and one I've made myself, because your own image of the narrator is so clear that you forget that the reader knows absolutely nothing about her. 

When the doctor asked the mother to talk to her one-on-one, I actually thought it was the mother who asked the doctor to leave the first time I read it. Again, this could either be my fault (still just a few sips through my coffee), or maybe you weren't entirely clear about which name belonged to who. 

Although her sarcasm is entertaining, I think maybe it's a bit inappropriate when she wakes up at the hospital and thinks "Shit, I'm not dead". It's funny, sure, but it's not relatable. I woke up in the hospital once - not after a suicide attempt, but after a near-death experience - and I too heard the beeping first, then I head the sound of my mother knitting next to me etc., so I was with you for a while... but then her head clears and she doesn't seem very affected at all. I think she should be overwhelmed with emotions because of the fact that she survived, either because she realizes that she's relieved or because she's devastatingly disappointed. That's not really the moment to be funny, I think. She seemed almost indifferent, and it's not really all that relatable to read about someone who doesn't care about her life. Even truly WANTING to die with all your heart is more relatable than indifference. 

Her father seemed a bit unaffected, which is fine as long as you make a point of him having trouble showing his emotions later.

I hope I didn't seem too negative. I think this has a lot of potential, so just keep writing and writing. I'd definitely want to read a story with this narrator, I already like her.


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## tony0310 (Aug 1, 2013)

I agree with Huggin Blue.  It is very well written but there is no character exploration here so it is difficult to feel empathy for the girl. I was also a little puzzled byt the father's reaction - he had sat there all night and when she wakes up he goes home without saying a word to his daughter.


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## Glyph (Aug 1, 2013)

Wow, thanks for the replies everyone. I remember when I started writing this, I was really pissed off at my cousins or something, so it was sort of in spite. But, now that I read through it again, it does seem a little of in places. 

1. I understand the main character is very lifeless. I will be sure to add more emotion concurrently with her sarcasm. 
2. In terms of the father, I was planning on making him somewhat misogynistic, and this would be one of the reasons Kim attempted suicide (sorry if that gave away a lot). 
3. I will reread thoroughly and edit as much as possible, and maybe I'll post up an updated version. 

Thanks everyone, again for your input, and I'll do my best to fix it up!


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## WechtleinUns (Aug 1, 2013)

Hi, Glyph, and welcome to the forums. I'm glad I get to read something from you, and you didn't dissappoint. (^.^)

Now then, about this short piece. You say that you wrote it while you were angry at your cousins, and I believe you. The pacing of this story is very quick. Action is followed by reaction in short succession, which moves things along at a frantic pace. This kind of style will serve you well later on, so it's definitely an advantage in your court.

There are also advantages to slower, more descriptive passages. Because you were angry when writing this, it is difficult to judge how well you would do with a more languid piece of prose, although I feel that you would do well.

For now, I would recommend having fun with your writing. Whenever you have some free time, try putting on some relaxing music and sitting down to write about something serene. An environment perhaps, or an description. You'll find that the mood will help you write the way that you wish, even when the environment isn't perfect.

Keep writing, and don't worry about all the technical details at the moment. With time, your prose will become nice and polished. Thanks for posting this. (^.^)


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## popsprocket (Aug 1, 2013)

I would withhold judgement until I see where this story was going.

It's well written and I didn't have any trouble following who was saying what.

I'm also going to be a rebel and disagree and say that I like the character's voice. The fact that it's entirely inappropriate for the situation is probably what I like most. Of course, that's subject to what this story is actually about. If it's a drama about her overcoming her problems then yeah, it's probably not the right kind of voice. But if it's a story about an immortal girl who can't seem to die then it works perfectly well!


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## Glyph (Aug 1, 2013)

Wow thanks for the sweet responses *WechtleinUns* and *popsprocket*! 

I really appreciate it all! As for the story, I will polish it, and yes I will slow it down a little and add a few more details that make the story appealing. For popsprocket - the story or me is intended to be somewhat of the latter. However, it's not really a supernatural fiction, it's just going to be about her trying to die, and the readers figuring out one piece at a time why. I still have some kinks to work out in the storyline. I don't want to make it cliché wherein a guy comes along and changes her life, or she meets this old woman at a senior home and that woman inspires her enough to stop herself from hating life. So I'll figure it out... after I make the intro better.


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## popsprocket (Aug 1, 2013)

In that case my advice is to be careful. You're likely to offend a few people by "cheapening" suicide.


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## Glyph (Aug 7, 2013)

here are some more additions to the story, as well as edits on the original: 

***

_You idiot, you idiot, you idiot, you idiot, you idiot, you idiot!
_
The words repeated in my head. I was supposed to wake up four fucking hours ago. I watched the digital clock above our stove as I opened the second drawer. The knife wasn’t in the first. 

I was worried now. It was 6:09 and my parents were going to wake up any minute. And if the shuffling of kitchen utensils didn’t wake them up, my heavy breathing definitely would. 

_I told you to fucking use your phone, not the alarm clock you dumbass. But you didn’t listen, and now look. Mom and dad are going to wake up any minute and they are going to catch you up and ask you a bunch of stupid questions and then tell you to make breakfast for them. Goddamnit, where is that knife?!
_
I could feel sweat drip from my forehead now. I was about to give up when I thought I heard the bed in my parents’ room move its springs, but then I found it. The sharp thin bladed knife my dad always asked me to use in hopes of cutting my hands. Nah, but I always thought of him thinking that. 

I looked at the clock again. 6:12. I had 18 minutes. Maybe I’d be able to pull it off. 

I held the blade towards my stomach and the grip, I held like a murderer. I did a lot of research on this. Okay, no, but you know –  movies and such taught me enough. 

6:13. 

This was it. I oddly didn’t feel anything the first few seconds, but then I stupidly left the knife in there, and it started. _Great_. Fortunately, after a while, I did manage to go unconscious, but unfortunately I’m pretty sure I heard someone come down and scream. _Even greater._


----

Like in the movies, I heard beeping while I slowly opened my eyes. The first thing I saw – thankfully – wasn’t my mom. Or my dad. It was the painting on the wall. A bird playing the flute. It was really cute. A bunch of bunnies and deer and other woodland animals circled around the bird, smiling and enjoying themselves. Wait. Was I in a hospital? 

“Hmm? Am I at a fucking hospital?” I groggily remarked, noticing my wires, and tubes. I weakly lifted the blanket that was on top of me and also noticed a bandage covering the area I stabbed myself. _Well. I’m certainly not dead._ 

I was contemplating my failed attempt at death when I heard my mom yelling out the door,

“Doctor! Doctor! She’s awake! She got up!” She then hurried over to me, “The doctor will be here soon. Don’t worry.” 

On the other side of the room, my dad was just getting up. He stood in the corner he slept in as the doctor walked in, “Fischer comma Kimberly?” he asked, looking at his clipboard. 

I opened my mouth to answer, but my mom beat me to it, “Yes, yes! That’s her! Doctor, can we take her home?” 

The doctor looked at her as if she was crazy. To which she replied, 

“Well, I mean, her wound is all covered up now.” Which got her nothing but an even more puzzled look from the doctor. 

He turned to me instead of answering her, and introduced himself, “Hi Kim, my name is Dr. Richard Striesand and it’s great to see that you’re alright. It’s a good thing your parents brought you in when they did.” 

“And when was that?” I slowly started propping myself up as my mother fluffed my pillow and placed it in an upright position, “Thanks mom.” She nodded.

“Well, they called the EMS at around 6:25, and you were brought in at about 6:27. Perhaps, 10 minutes after your attempt.” 

I landed my head back on the pillow and replied unenthusiastically, “Great.” 

“Well, you are all patched up, but we’re going to have to keep you here for observation for a while and make sure the antibiotics work well.” 

“Awesome.”

My dad slowly took a few steps towards me from his corner of the room. His eyes were red, I could tell despite being a few good feet away from him. I wondered why. I’ve never seen my father cry. Could I possibly be the reason for his first sob session? _Wow. Conscious for a mere _– I looked at the clock – _7 minutes, and I’m already feeling regretful. _My dad’s clearing of throat snapped me out of my thoughts. His voice sounded off, it cracked in places like a pre-pubescent boy. It almost sounded like he didn’t want to talk, “Kim, I think what’s best now is, ahem, leaving you in private. Ahem, well… so, I’m going to go home and grab some things. Blankets, food. Are you okay here Jen?”

My mom nodded and my dad put on his coat, “Get well, Kim. We will talk when I get back” And left. 

The doctor watched as my dad walked out, and my mom watched me, “Um. Mrs. Fischer, can I speak to Kimberly alone for a few minutes?” 

“Oh okay. I will get some coffee.” My mom slid her hand across my forehead before she stepped back.  

Dr. Striesand scribbled something on his clipboard while my mom held her gaze on me until she left the small room. After he finished whatever he was writing, he took a seat next to me and rubbed his temples, “Kim, I know this must be very frustrating for you. You trying to kill yourself, and ending up at a hospital – alive.” 

I didn’t really know what to say, because I was half expecting him to ask me why I would do something so stupid, that I had my whole life to live and shouldn’t end it so abruptly because of a few bad decisions. 

He looked at me from above the rim of his glasses, waiting for a response. When he didn’t get one, he continued, 

“And since I am a doctor who works with anatomy and not the mind, I’m going to have to recommend you to a psychiatrist. She can help you with any mental roadblocks you are facing at home, or at school, or anywhere else and perhaps get to the root of your issues.” 

My eyes followed his hand as he ripped the paper from his small memo book and placed it on the table beside me, 

“Um, okay. Thanks…?” I wasn’t sure exactly how to feel. Irritated that I now have to see a doctor every week to talk about problems I’ve always repressed? Happy that someone would finally care enough to listen to me? Angry that this person who supposedly “cares” only does so because she’s being paid to by my parents’ insurance company? 

I took the paper from the night table and was about to read it when Dr. Striesand called out to me from the doorway, “You now Kimberly, I can never understand why adolescents like you decide that suicide is the universal answer to every single small problem. I don’t see how you can choose to throw away a whole life just because of a few bad decisions or unpleasant experiences. People in worse scenarios have struggled and survived. So why can’t you?” 

He shook his head as he exited and walked down the hallway. I even think I heard him sigh as he stuffed my hospital file under his armpit. I leaned back against my upright pillow and my head lightly hit the wall just above the bed’s headboard. 
_
Whoop, there it is_. 

I lifted my sheets again, realizing that I never actually got a good look at what I’d done to myself. 
_Damn. _I felt my hospital robe rub against the parts of my abdomen that I hadn’t affected with my stab. _Dried blood, seriously? They could’ve cleaned me up a little better. But I guess I deserved it. What? No. No. I didn’t deserve this. I deserved to die. I wa–_

I was interrupted by my mom who, for some reason, thought that opening the door faster would also meant that I heal faster. 

“Kimmy! I have some English toffee for you! Your favourite!” 

I tried smiling, my mom was always the gentle kind. She was an optimist, an acceptor of all things well and good. And the bad things? Well, she thought those were just the storms before the calm. Eventually, every serial killer, bandit, pervert and Hitler-esque person would learn their lesson and indulge themselves in a life devoted to reverting all the bad they’ve done by reaching this ‘equilibrium’. That – or they’d throw themselves at a higher power, seeing a shortcut to a better place. This was my mom’s philosophy. And I couldn’t be angry at her. Never. Even if I thought she deserved a better job than the one she had at her accounting firm. Even if I hated seeing her let other people walk all over her, because to them, being a good person wasn’t good, it was a disadvantage. Even if I thought she didn’t deserve me and that she shouldn’t be this worried about me, because I didn’t deserve her. 

“Mom, thank you. I really appreciate it, but are you sure I can have this? I mean, shouldn’t we ask the doctor first?” 

She slowly placed the tray with the paper coffee cups on the round table near where my dad was sitting. She made a face, and clicked her tongue. She took out the cup that read ‘black tea’ and plopped on the small couch to my right, 

“I didn’t think of that at all. I’m so sorry.” She had an apologetic look on her face as she sighed, “Kimmy. I want you to know that I love you.” 

Here it was. In the back of my mind, there was a very small – puny, actually – thought of what the consequences would be if I failed at attempting to kill myself. Mind you, it was small. But I guess I got cocky, because that small thought ended up being the reality, “I know you do mom. I love you too.” 

“I don’t mean that the same way I say it on the phone when you’re at camp or something, okay? I mean – I love you every day, and I mean it when I say it whenever I do, but…” Her fast moving lips stopped and formed into a sweet smile – the sweetest I’ve ever seen, “I want you to know, that I’d put you over anything. You are my only daughter. And I’m so proud of you. Everything you’ve done. I know I’m not around to say it a lot, but I really, really do love you.” 

I watched as she scrambled across the room to grab the complimentary napkins from the coffee shop tray. She began dabbing her eyes and sniffling. I hated seeing her cry. It was like getting caught stealing. Like you knew you did something bad, but it was too late to change things now. I hated that feeling. What do they call it? Oh yeah, guilt. 

“Mom,” I started, “Mom, I’m sorry.” 

She laughed a little, “Why are you sorry, my darling?” 

“Because I didn’t know I was capable of causing you this much pain.” 

“Neither did I.” 
_
Wow. That hurt way more than I thought it would. 


***
_Sorry about the spacing and highlighting, I'm too lazy to format it, and I copied and pasted some of the story from this site, and I thought I rewrote everything to get rid of the blue highlighting (honestly, I'm not sure if you can see it, but if you can, then yeah), but anyway, I seemed to have missed something and now half of it is blue.

EDIT: I fixed the spacing just for you bookmasta. I hope it's to your liking.    

:|


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## Glyph (Aug 7, 2013)

popsprocket: I actually wanted to respond to your last comment. I took it very much to heart. The last thing I want is to make suicide seem less intense than it is. I would hate that. I decided to take my story in another direction. 

Also: I apologize if you still can't see a lot of Kim's true character in the piece. I seem to be having trouble describing her without an omnipresent voice. 

Also: I was wondering if anyone understood the ending. The part where Kim's mom says "neither did i", I was meaning for it to refer to Kim's mom. It's like her mom never knew she could cause enough pain to the extent that her daughter felt suicide was the only answer to it. 

:|


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## bookmasta (Aug 7, 2013)

Not enough spacing between paragraphs, too hard to read.


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## emilie (Aug 11, 2013)

The doctor wouldn't say "Fisher, comma..."  Just Fisher or Kimberly.  How did it not hurt?  Was she high?


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## Glyph (Aug 12, 2013)

Hi Emilie, thanks for the input! I guess it wasn't clear enough that it was only painless for a few seconds, I suppose because her body would've been in shock, and wouldn't have realized it. The knife wasn't inserted as quickly as a bullet would be. I guess I'll do some research on it. I think I read some where that it actually doesn't hurt until your body has adjusted to it. But I will research............................... gggggggaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh school hasn't even started and I already have to research. 

In terms of the doctor, that was just the doctor. He just said something randomly and that was that. 

Thanks again ~


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## Micholeon (Aug 30, 2013)

So far so good, I look forward to seeing where it's going. I especially look forward to finding out why she wanted to kill herself. And the last line shows us some family drama. You got some unanswered questions building up, which is great for the start of a story.


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## BobtailCon (Aug 31, 2013)

I like the story, detailed and well written. One thing, it seems I keep mentioning this in every post on this forum. You should probably tab in the paragraphs, or put 5 spaces at the beginning. It helps the story from becoming a giant wall of text.


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## sageburgamot (Sep 17, 2013)

Nice Job!


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## Sapphire (Oct 3, 2013)

Wow.  I see a big improvement in your two drafts.  

The dialog seems much more natural in the second and the pace seems less rushed (like the other poster commented on). 

I know you said that school is starting but I hope that you have continued to write this story!

Good Luck!


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## ViKtoricus (Oct 4, 2013)

Hi Glyph. This is my critique for your original post.

I just thought the dialogue are not believable. To me, they don't sound like something a normal person would say in that situation.


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## john123 (Oct 13, 2013)

Sometimes it becomes hard to follow, but overall good work. i particularly like the harsh internal monologue of the character, it really captures the emotion.


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## hemingway102 (Jan 21, 2014)

Well done. Nice story line, but the cause of her suicide should definitely be established early on. Nice sarcasm and likable character (at least to me). More character clarity, it was hard for me to figure out if the doctor was male or female for a bit.


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## allenasm (Jan 22, 2014)

pretty raw emotion and a tough read but well thought out.  I suspect you wrote this more for you than for others.


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## Crossfire (Jan 26, 2014)

Hi there.  New here, but I figured I might offer some feedback.  It is very well written.  You've already been told that, I see, so on to the critique.

What I like:

Great attitude for a teen.  She's irreverent, sarcastic, and funny.

It's very brave of you to tackle something this dark.  A lot of writers would be afraid to even try. 

The family dynamic you're portraying is classic.  You've got the kind, but oblivious mother, a colder father figure and a tormented teen.  Good fuel for a plot.

 Opportunities to (possibly) improve:

What really strikes me is the sole, very fleeting mention of pain. Okay, this girl just stabbed herself in the abdomen.  That is going to hurt like crazy and constantly, even while on drugs in the hospital.  Were peeking inside this girl's mind thanks to your POV and yet I don't see the pain here, when it ought to be AT LEAST a nuisance.  Abdomen injuries are bound to make even breathing painful. They're agony. 

This one is purely my opinion, take it or not-don't be offended: The misogynist father would be unlikely to even stay at the hospital with the mother overnight, if we're talking a real misogynist.  A dad not crazy about his girl is likely to make a short visit only, maybe even marginalize the attempt as "trying to get attention" or the like.  A misogynist would tend to be angry or dismissive in this case (just a dramatic female, look at all the trouble you've caused, etc.).  It doesn't ring true to me that he'd go running out to get provisions for them, either. 

I really echo the idea in another critique about the doctor not saying "Kimberly comma...".  This is more a matter of realism than anything else.  Doctors don't read punctuations aloud, they are educated professionals.  Also, this would reek of horrid bedside manner in general. He'd have to be trying to come off as a jerk to do this.

Further, the doctor would be discussing the medical status with the parents more fully, maybe out of the child's presence.  The mother might be dim, but there'd be better communication than this, especially if the mother asked to take her home immediately.  That sort of thing would warrant a very detailed discussion of the severity of her condition.  He would not ignore that.  He would be very alarmed that a parent would even think of bringing home a child this injured.      

Hospital beds don't tend to have headboards, just rails that I've seen.  

The doctor wouldn't just refer her to a psychiatrist in this case, a hospital psychiatrist on staff would very quickly be up to the room to interview the child.  Trust me, this is personal experience.  Attempted suicides are treated as an emergency with a capital E.  

There would have to be far more than two minutes (6:25 to 6:27) between an EMS call and arriving at a hospital, unless the hospital is right next door.       

Also, where's the misery?  Where's the anguish just before the act?  I see frustration and there are some self-deprecating thoughts, but I feel like we'd be seeing true misery, some fear, hopelessness, being trapped like it's the only choice left, maybe even a twinge of regret.    A teen about to end their life would really just be mad about being late for an attempt?  Doesn't sound right to me.


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## khanover (Jan 27, 2014)

First off let me start out by saying, great start. It grabbed my attention from the very beginning and continued to hold it through out the excerpt. 



TheYellowMustang said:


> I think one problem I had with this, which is very easy to fix, is that it took me a while to realize she was a girl. Either I missed a detail or you should edit this and make it clear earlier in the story. I didn't realize she was a girl until her mom yelled "She's awake!". I



I would have to agree as well. I was picturing that the main character was an adolescent male instead of female. 

Also, as far as waking up and becoming so alert so quickly--I don't feel that is extremely believable. Her body just went through a major trauma, a person isn't just going to pop awake in their right mind, they will be confused trying to figure out where they are and what happened. 

Don't stop, this is great foundation!!! Keep going!


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