Thursday

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The sun sweeps onto the porch where I sit and the wind blows gently, mixing the smell of outside with the smell of baking cookies. I sigh with contentment. My girl sits right beside me, fanning herself with an old Chinese fan she had picked up on one of her adventures. Molly’s been everywhere. All seven continents, at least, and any other place you’ve never even dreamed about, she’s been there. She turns and smiles at me. We’ve been together for almost 7 months now and life has never been better. I don’t know what it is but I know that everything turned around for the better when Molly came into my life. I adjust my jacket, knowing she thinks I’m crazy for wearing a jacket in this weather.

I glance over at Molly again and enjoy the sight of her. Her burnished brown hair falling in gentle cascades over the hard white wood of her chair, while her eyelashes flutter gently as she naps in the contentment of the summer afternoon. Her cut off shorts show her smooth legs to perfection and her chest rises and falls softly with the movement of her breathing. The smell of cookies wafts again from the background and her eyes pops open at once.

“Cookies are done,” she exclaims.

She always knows. Racing back into the kitchen, she opens the oven door and grabs the hot pan—why didn’t she use the oven mitt?—the scent of the chocolate chips becoming even more apparent. Let me tell you, if there’s anything that comes close to Molly, in my mind, it’s chocolate chip cookies. And they can’t be the crunchy kind, oh no sir; they have to be extra gooey on the inside with chocolate chips that stretch into long ropes of heaven when you pull the cookie apart. My mouth waters at the sight of them. Laughing, Molly pushes me away from the cookie sheet—hadn’t she just grabbed it with her bare hands?—knowing full well that I will eat every single last one of those delectable bites she’s created. I wrestle her gently into an embrace and kiss the tip of her nose, loving the sense of her in my arms, feeling like my arms would be content to stay like this forever. I pull her back out to the porch as we let the cookies cool a little bit, to be eaten with relish later.

We continue basking in the sun, I in my jacket, she in her frame. Leaning against the padded wall, I think to myself that this is what Thursday is all about. That one last day before the weekend, with only a bit of work standing between me and the fantastic weekend that lies ahead—oh wait, I don’t have work tomorrow.

That’s right I got laid off after the accident; well I guess that just means more time for other stuff that Molly and I planned for the weekend. So let’s see, there was…no can’t do that…well maybe…nope…eh…mm…huh?

Yep, it sounds like cookies and staying in are the plan for the rest of this weekend as well. That’s okay, spending time with Molly is always the first priority for me and we love baking cookies. We do it every weekend. I could do without the jacket though.
Be wary of all general advice. Discard everything...[if] it gets in the way of writing good stories. -Richard Bausch

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jpen510 wrote:The sun sweeps onto the porch where I sit and the wind blows gently, mixing the smell of outside with the smell of baking cookies. I sigh with contentment.
Love this opening.
jpen510 wrote: My girl sits right beside me, fanning herself with an old Chinese fan she had picked up on one of her adventures.
Also love this introduction to Molly's background.
jpen510 wrote:Molly’s been everywhere. All seven continents, at least, and any other place you’ve never even dreamed about, she’s been there.
This last sentence is awkward...I'd suggest taking out the final phrase.
jpen510 wrote: She turns and smiles at me. We’ve been together for almost 7 months now and life has never been better. I don’t know what it is but I know that everything turned around for the better when Molly came into my life. I adjust my jacket, knowing she thinks I’m crazy for wearing a jacket in this weather.

I glance over at Molly again and enjoy the sight of her. Her burnished brown hair falling in gentle cascades over the hard white wood of her chair, while her eyelashes flutter gently as she naps in the contentment of the summer afternoon. Her cut off shorts show her smooth legs to perfection and her chest rises and falls softly with the movement of her breathing. The smell of cookies wafts again from the background and her eyes pops open at once.

“Cookies are done,” she exclaims.

She always knows.
Really love this statement-- it conveys intimacy and the narrator's familiarity with her and is also a great personality trait to reveal.
jpen510 wrote:Racing back into the kitchen, she opens the oven door and grabs the hot pan—why didn’t she use the oven mitt?—the scent of the chocolate chips becoming even more apparent. Let me tell you, if there’s anything that comes close to Molly, in my mind, it’s chocolate chip cookies. And they can’t be the crunchy kind, oh no sir; they have to be extra gooey on the inside with chocolate chips that stretch into long ropes of heaven when you pull the cookie apart.
I know exactly what you're talking about here...great description.
jpen510 wrote: My mouth waters at the sight of them. Laughing, Molly pushes me away from the cookie sheet—hadn’t she just grabbed it with her bare hands?—knowing full well that I will eat every single last one of those delectable bites she’s created. I wrestle her gently into an embrace and kiss the tip of her nose, loving the sense of her in my arms, feeling like my arms would be content to stay like this forever. I pull her back out to the porch as we let the cookies cool a little bit, to be eaten with relish later.

We continue basking in the sun, I in my jacket, she in her frame. Leaning against the padded wall, I think to myself that this is what Thursday is all about. That one last day before the weekend, with only a bit of work standing between me and the fantastic weekend that lies ahead—oh wait, I don’t have work tomorrow.
The repetition of the word "weekend" caught at me...it interfered with the general elegance of the narrative.
jpen510 wrote:That’s right I got laid off after the accident; well I guess that just means more time for other stuff that Molly and I planned for the weekend. So let’s see, there was…no can’t do that…well maybe…nope…eh…mm…huh?

I'm not sure if I like this trailing off. It reads a lot like dialogue rather than interior monologue.

Yep, it sounds like cookies and staying in are the plan for the rest of this weekend as well. That’s okay, spending time with Molly is always the first priority for me and we love baking cookies. We do it every weekend. I could do without the jacket though.[/quote]


Really interesting capturing of a moment. It surprised me, because I kept trying to decide whether you were going for a short emotional study or just hovering on the brink of introducing a twist in the plot. I feel as if you were almost there when you mentioned the character being laid off, but the piece ended so quickly after that...I can't think of it as an intended climax or twist. I was immediately endeared to your narrator, and I did love the insertion of the quirks-- the cookie preferences, the fact that he's wearing a jacket, and the total absorption with Molly. It was really sweet.

But back to the mentioning of being laid off: the more I think about it, the more I decide that that was the point which threw the piece into a different gear for me. Up until that point you had been clearly defining the emotional and mental state of "Thursday"; the fact that the character doesn't have to work the next day altered my perspective on the entire story. If one doesn't have to work, then everyday both carries and doesn't carry the connotation of a Thursday. Kind of odd. Though I can only tell you what I got out of it: if that resolution was what we were meant to get out of the piece, then your work is done, in a good way!

I have to say, though, that I'm kind of into the idea of definitively defining Thursday and leaving the piece on the note of a traditional study rather than changing it into something a little more vague. But that's just me.

In terms of technical writing and such...I nitpicked in the quotations, but my one other general point is that I really could not believe Molly picked up a cookie sheet out of the oven without a mitt. Ouch. That was hard to swallow. Then again, it was difficult for the narrator to believe, too.

Thanks for the read!

Dissolved
"We'd live under the sun and talk so fast."




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Hey jpen510

I'm using strikeout on parts I suggest you remove, blue on stuff to change, [brackets] on stuff that confused me, #FF0000 ">red on stuff that confused me and <inequality signs> for in-text notes.

jpen510 wrote:The sun sweeps onto the porch where I sit and the wind blows gently, mixing the smell of outside <Use something specific about the outdoors: The grass, the water etc.> with the smell of baking cookies.I sigh with contentment. My girl sits right beside me, fanning herself with an old Chinese fan she had picked up on one of her adventures. Molly’s been everywhere. All seven continents, at least, and any other place you’ve never even dreamed about, she’s been there. <Where exactly has she been? What countries, cities etc.> She turns and smiles at me. We’ve been together for almost 7 months now and life has never been better. I don’t know what it is but I know that everything turned around [changed] for the better when Molly came into my life. I adjust my jacket, knowing she thinks I’m crazy for wearing a jacket in this weather.

This first paragraph is descriptive, but it lacks conflict and tension. You want the conflict of the story to be present from the very first sentence to the final punctuation, keep the reader interested from the very beginning.

I glance over at Molly again and enjoy [enjoying] the sight of her. Her burnished brown hair falling in gentle cascades over the hard white wood of her chair, while her eyelashes flutter[ing] gently as she naps in the contentment of the summer afternoon. Her cut off shorts show her smooth legs to perfection and her chest rises and falls softly with the movement of her breathing. The smell of cookies wafts again from the background and her eyes pops open at once.

Same problem with this paragraph. Yeah the girlfriend looks nice, but so what? Where's the conflict? What's at stake here?

“Cookies are done,” she exclaims.

#FF0000 ">She always knows. Racing back into the kitchen, she opens the oven door and grabs the hot pan—why didn’t she use the oven mitt?—the scent of the chocolate chips becoming even more apparent. Let me tell you, if there’s anything that comes close to Molly, in my mind, it’s chocolate chip cookies. And they can’t be the crunchy kind, oh no sir; they have to be extra gooey on the inside with chocolate chips that stretch into long ropes of heaven when you pull the cookie apart. My mouth waters at the sight of them. Laughing, Molly pushes me away from the cookie sheet—hadn’t she just grabbed it with her bare hands?—knowing full well that I will eat every single last one of those delectable bites she’s created. I wrestle her gently into an embrace and kiss the tip of her nose, loving the sense of her in my arms, feeling like my arms would be content to stay like this forever. I pull her back out to the porch as we let the cookies cool a little bit, to be eaten with relish later.

As a reader, I've pretty much lost all interest in the story by this point.

We continue basking in the sun, I in my jacket, she in her #FF0000 ">frame. Leaning against the padded wall, I think to myself that this is what Thursday is all about. That one last day before the weekend, with only a bit of work standing between me and the fantastic weekend that lies ahead—oh wait, I don’t have work tomorrow.

That’s right I got laid off after the accident; well I guess that just means more time for other stuff that Molly and I planned for the weekend. So let’s see, there was…no can’t do that…well maybe…nope…eh…mm…huh?

Oh, there's the conflict, I guess. I knew it was in there somewhere.

Yep, it sounds like cookies and staying in are the plan for the rest of this weekend as well. That’s okay, spending time with Molly is always the first priority for me and we love baking cookies. We do it every weekend. I could do without the jacket though.


Look:

You use description very well, but the problem is that there's no conflict. Or at least, I think there isn't any. Whether or not your protagonist being unemployed is important isn't clear. Without conflict this doesn't really function as a story at all. There's no motivation behind either character's action. There's no loss, no action. If you decide to revise this story I suggest you ask yourself what both of these characters want and what they stand to lose if they don't get it.

I hope this has been helpful to you. Leave me a pm or a profile post if you have any questions.
First you will awake in disbelief, then
in sadness and grief and when you wake
the last time, the forest you've been
looking for will turn out to be
right in the middle of your chest.



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