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Here's a different kind of review. As I've been doing a lot of writing lately, I decided to step back and do a self-evaluation of my work thus far. The following is a mini-review of my first short story. Which happens to prove that (luckily) I can view my own work with an objective eye. (I hate to use the phrase: "my work", as it sounds pretentious, but it'd be redundant to use "writing" again). I suppose that posting this could be considered pointless, since only one mofo has actually read the story, but I thought it might be fun to see me tear myself apart.
The first is “There She Goes”. It’s an overlong overly sentimental piece of writing that takes a whole mess of voice and sticks it to nothing but a bunch of pop culture references and a plotline that is skeletal to the point of non-existence. It offers no unique perspective or clever witticisms along the way. None of the modern wisdom of Nick Hornby who its author so obviously admires. The main character’s thoughts are probed, and although he has good taste in music, he is ultimately as shallow as those that a stronger will would lead him to disdain. He does nothing to earn the interest and affection of Zooey, (his love interest). But rather simply plays out a nervous but sweet persona lacking the sweetness that makes it work ( when it does work) or the eagerness that makes it work for potentially weasel-like guys such as Woody Allen. I tried to discredit my detractors by saying that plot wasn’t important, only to hide the fact that I didn’t have one. I wrote twelve pages of nothing. None of the characters behave realistically, making the strings in their back show as I manipulate them to play out my pathetic fantasies (they’re puppets not people). Note to self: scrap this s**t and take away from it the fact that you seem to have some proficiency when it comes to narrative voice. Take that and apply it to something more solid and real.
The first is “There She Goes”. It’s an overlong overly sentimental piece of writing that takes a whole mess of voice and sticks it to nothing but a bunch of pop culture references and a plotline that is skeletal to the point of non-existence. It offers no unique perspective or clever witticisms along the way. None of the modern wisdom of Nick Hornby who its author so obviously admires. The main character’s thoughts are probed, and although he has good taste in music, he is ultimately as shallow as those that a stronger will would lead him to disdain. He does nothing to earn the interest and affection of Zooey, (his love interest). But rather simply plays out a nervous but sweet persona lacking the sweetness that makes it work ( when it does work) or the eagerness that makes it work for potentially weasel-like guys such as Woody Allen. I tried to discredit my detractors by saying that plot wasn’t important, only to hide the fact that I didn’t have one. I wrote twelve pages of nothing. None of the characters behave realistically, making the strings in their back show as I manipulate them to play out my pathetic fantasies (they’re puppets not people). Note to self: scrap this s**t and take away from it the fact that you seem to have some proficiency when it comes to narrative voice. Take that and apply it to something more solid and real.
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"Like all dreamers, Steven mistook disenchantment for truth."
"Like all dreamers, Steven mistook disenchantment for truth."
