Hi all,
This piece felt like a significant jump from my first attempt. I feel like I molded Colin into a character genuinely striving for personal growth. I used bits of dialogue to one, force Colin into choice making circumstances. I also lined up the dialogue to help Colin reflect on his deep personal emotions.
I really thrived in this writing by utilizing the useful object concept. The slice of pecan pie plays a very important role in the story, using this element helped me a long with plot development.
My weak points are the age old battle between showing and telling. I feel I can give great descriptions of scene, but I am sort of telling and not subtly showing character actions. Advice in this area would be greatly appreciated.
Lastly, I was curious to know if I am making the outcome of plot to predictable. I'm really striving for "third column" content. I think it would help to hear an honest opinion on how certain people reached third column thoughts with their own pieces. Should I have included situations like dealings with family or ex-girlfriend to highlight his pain & anxieties more? Is the plot too muddled?
All constructive criticism and helpful hints would be greatly appreciated.
Story is below!
A Sunday Slice of Confidence
His bright I-phone calendar read the 2nd of June. A constant click clack along of sneakers echoed throughout lush Regents Park. Colin’s stomach roared and legs twitched. His morning stroll had just begun but something was not in step with his mood. A ding reverberated in his pocket and Colin’s face grew quite red. “I’m better off without you, loser, trumpeted the black characters of text.”
“Her again, why do I continue to deal with her abuse,” Colin wondered. He calmly slipped the phone back into its denim kingdom. The sound of click clack continued around the park, as did the annoying growl of his stomach. Suddenly, two gentlemen appeared in Colin’s path. One had white skin and was wearing a tweede suit; his speech was matter of fact dealing with a foreigner. He had darker skin with a tattered Sex Pistols shirt. Large Rastafarian style concealed his heavy drug strained eyes. Colin’s White Sneakers gravitated toward the conversation.
“Excuse me, muttered Colin, do you know a good local cafe,” “ Yeah, Where can I find Wi-Fi,” the foreigner chirped over traffic, “Go to Café Nero, they have a free online plan, you can create your own Wi-Fi plan,” said the businessman man confidently.
Colin immediately envisioned Thanksgiving at his home in Georgia. Colin’s mom would concoct the tastiest of treats, including one hot and sweet classic, Pecan Pie! His nose absorbed the distant smell, his taste buds acted like a film projector, cycling back to the comfort of tasting a mix of pecan, sugar, butter, and the thick flaky crust. The roars of his stomach boomed, “Café Nero is exactly where I will head too, he excitedly thought, not even her texts of hate can get me down.”
Priorities in line, he sauntered down Baker Street, past the rustic green Sherlock Holmes Statue where his ears picked up a yelp of confusion. A blue action figure sat lonely on the pavement. Awkwardly clearing his throat, Colin chimed in, “Ma’am, your son uh, dropped his toy, I used to love Iron Man buddy,” “ Would you like to put it somewhere, said the young mother? Nope, I like my toy, but would you like to put it in your bag,” Exclaimed the radiant brunette! She was balancing a small cup of cappuccino, while conversing with her small child who proudly gripped his iron man doll.
A tear formed in Colin’s right eyelid, streaming down his cheek. The days of super hero’s, and too infinity and beyond had long since passed. No more could he feel the joy of dawning a cape, feeling the wind flow through his hair, while running through his front yard on a brisk fall day. The days of adulthood had masked childhood memories like ominous storm clouds wiping out a beautiful spring day.
The time to act like in a mature manner had arrived. Colin had two distinct choices, one was to hold on to past innocence and hide from reality with his superhero costume. Conversely, Colin could embrace reality with the new cement paths that lay in front of him.
“ I’ll have one pecan slice and a small cappuccino for uhh, take away stuttered Colin.” The old cash registered clanged and two gold coins were plopped in his hand. Colin delicately forked away at his bounty; each sweet bite brought a much-needed inner peace.
As the dark haired American trudged back out on to Baker Street, he observed a market that was selling certain paintings. A crowd of white haired men wearing nametags emblazoned with Fellow, Dr. and PHD gathered around the commotion. The work belonged to one man by the name of Thomas Gainsborough.
“Reminds me of family board game nights,” chuckled Colin. “Why are the family gathered together at night,” inquired one. “They are all working in the daytime, family gatherings were lit by the moon, a lunar society of sorts,” said the Dr.
Colin’s soul was calm; his full stomach and careful listening help charged his depressed soul back to health. Transition has been popping up all throughout his life like a bad case of acne. The breakup with his ex girlfriend, a new environment of study, Colin had to embrace his change, before a black hole of low self-esteem and indecision came to rip away his destiny. “ I’ll keep exploring, that’s what Pops, Mom, and good old Rufus the dog would want me too.”
He couldn’t worry about other’s judgment, living confidently, walking with a full stomach, and loud but measured steps was his new course of action. He confidently laced up his shoes, stood upright, as his feet carried him all the way back to his dormitory.
