Depression?

Hemmingway, Woolf, Tolstoy, Dickens, Poe, Vonnegut.

Now, what do all of these people have in common?

“Well they’re all authors, right?” You’re probably going to answer. Well, you are wrong.

Your next guess would probably sound something like, “They’re all very good authors?” Wrong again.

The answer I was looking for was something like: “They were all very depressed people who just happened to be novelists who wrote their best pieces of literature when they were most depressed/distraught, right?”

In response to your answer, I would probably say something like, “Right… How did you know that? You cheated. I know you did. You looked at my notes to see what I’d be saying today. You’re the kind of person who kind of person who kills babies and shit for fun. You’re an effin’ cheater, seriously what’s your problem?” Needless to say I’m not a very trusting person.

So this is where I come in. I found the ad in the classifieds of the Thrifty Nickel under the heading of HELP WANTED. Okay maybe I didn’t find it, my mom did. I was still living at home at the time. B. A.’s in literature really aren’t all that hot on the job market.

The ad read,
“LITERARY ‘SPECIAL’ AGENT
Qualified staff only, $12 an hour starting off
Benefits available.
Call Gregg, 870-262-3635”

By that time I’d been living with my parents for three months and they were setting up interviews for me weekly. I wasn’t really in their retirement plans.

So, I called.

Gregg on the phone sounded like a radio personality, little too overzealous for my liking. My parents really wanted me out of the house, and I didn’t really have much of a choice… I started work on Monday.

I pretty much got the job right after I said I had a B. A. He said he was looking for somebody just like me.

I wasn’t really all that sure of what I was actually going to do as a LITERARY ‘SPECIAL’ AGENT. When I asked Gregg, all I heard was a mumbled response of “… Encouragement for clients… hard to explain over phone… Helping… You get full benefits!” It was enough for me. I was tired of listening to my dad lecture me every day about how he was kicked out of the house when he turned eighteen and how he had to rent a bed at the YMCA for three months.

The address he gave me was on the other side of town, way into the land where only industrial shops existed. Off-white metal siding and monolithic rotating wrenches that held signs that had something like “Paul Blanchet’s Collision Repair Specialists” printed on them, filled the area.

I parked my car on the curb. The address Gregg gave me was no exception to the building dress code of the area. It was shaped like a barn; its metal siding was painted a dirty crème color. It had no windows, only a plain white door with a door mat that didn’t even say welcome. It was just brown.

I knocked on the door. I really wasn’t sure what else to do. No one answered it after a minute of waiting so I just let myself in.

I walked in very carefully... a man not more than twenty five, sat staring into his laptop bobbing his head while he listened to his iPod. From the frequency of his head bobs, I think he was listening to something with a samba tempo… I’m probably wrong though.

He lifted his head and popped out one of the ear-buds lodged in his ear. “Hey… you must be the new guy…” His eye’s had a glazed over look to them; he’d probably toked up not but a half an hour earlier... Wake ‘n’ Baker.

“Yeah… Ummm… I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be doing here. Is Gregg around?”

“I think he’s in his office…” The stoner shook his head to get his long black hair from his eyes. He extended his hand from where he was sitting. A waft of dank smelling marijuana B.O. caught my nose. “I’m Truman, by the way…”

I shook his hand, “Jeremy.”

Truman said, “So yeah, just walk strait down the hall, and there’ll be a door that says Gregg Clark.” He popped the ear-bud back into his ear, ending any further conversation.

The walls of the hall were white. Sanitarium white. The door had a black label with white lettering that read… Gregg Clark.

I knocked on the door three times. The door was cheaply made from some sort of particle board. It sounded hollow when I knocked.

I heard a crescendoing, “Come Innn.”, from behind the door.

His office smelt like potpourri and incense. It was a weird combination. A cross between good housekeeping and hippy. I laughed under my breath.

He was sitting at his desk, reading from a pile of densely written pieces of paper. He looked up. “Mr. Brescia… I’m glad to see that you’re on time to your first day of work. You’ve already surpassed Truman in that area. On his first day he came to work three hours late wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and Birkenstocks.” He laughed. I tried to.

The man’s voice was not anything like the radio personality one I heard over the phone. Gregg’s Voice was deep and true with only a little rasp of cigarette damage. “You’ve met Truman, right?”

“Yeah, he greeted me in.” I said. Gregg was about thirty-seven or so I’d say. His hair was a light brown due to exposure to the sun. It was receding.

“Good, good… usually he doesn’t come in this early…” He smiles. “So you’re probably wondering what you’re doing here. I definitely haven’t given you a very clear job description.”

I didn’t know what to say. I just smiled.

“Hemmingway, King, Dumas, Fitzgerald, Poe, Tolstoy, Vonnegut, Dickens.” He lists off many others that I can’t remember.

“What do all of these people have in common?” He asks. He smiles. His teeth are white.

“Umm….Well they’re all famous writers?” I said scared.

“Right… right… right you are…” His shook his head and blinked his eyes like something were in them. “I’m so sorry. I’m so rude, please, please sit down.”

I took a seat in one of the two chairs that were opposite of his desk. It was fake leather. A rush of air pulsed through the seams of the cushion when I let my weight down. It smelt like plastic.

“Wonderful… I hate to see when my new friends are uncomfortable… Now, what were we talking about again?”

Before I could answer, he answered the question himself.

“Yes, you are right. But think, why were they all great writers?” He waited for a response. I had none.

My shoulders and my eyebrows went up simultaneously. My college education really wasn’t helping me here.

“They were all feeding off the same inspiration. They were all terribly depressed.” He continued. “And that’s where we come in.”

I looked down at me feet. I was wearing sandals. Why was I wearing sandals? I was supposed to be making a good impression my first day of work…

“What we do inspires writers. What we do creates masterpieces. What we do creates money.” Gregg pauses saying nothing. He was waiting for me to say something. I had no idea what to say.

Finally, I ask, “So, what exactly do we do?”

“We cause depression.” He sighs.

Yes, I liked it. Yes, I am surprised. Yes, I want to read more.

I only found two mistakes...

I heard a crescendoing, “Come Innn.”, from behind the door.

It should be, '"Come innnn," from behind the door."

“Yeah, he greeted me in.” I said.

I think you meant to say, 'He greeted me on the way in.' I could be wrong.

I liked the character, and even though he doesn't really stand out in any way I feel like you left plenty of room for questions and for more development of his character. It was good.

I also liked the plot. Not only did it make me laugh but it was entirely original and well set-up. You did quite a good job on keeping the reader interested and your writing, overall, was very pleasing.

I definitely want to read more. PM me when you post the next chapter.

Hey wwjnd! Welcome!
anyways here is my review key:
Red = comments
bold = words/phrases/lines I think would work better!
Let's get this started!

wwjnd wrote:Hemmingway, Woolf, Tolstoy, Dickens, Poe, Vonnegut.

Now, what do all of these people have in common?

“Well they’re all authors, right?” You’re probably [s]going to answer[/s] saying to yourself. Well, you are wrong.

Your next guess would [s]probably [/s]sound something like, “They’re all very good authors?” Wrong again.

[s]The answer I was looking for was something like: “They were all very depressed people who just happened to be novelists who wrote their best pieces of literature when they were most depressed/distraught, right?”

In response to your answer, I would probably say something like, “Right… How did you know that? You cheated. I know you did. You looked at my notes to see what I’d be saying today. You’re the kind of person who kind of person who kills babies and shit for fun. You’re an effin’ cheater, seriously what’s your problem?” Needless to say I’m not a very trusting person. [/s] I already skimmed your story and frankly, I would rather you answer the question at the end of this story because it adds an element of surprise, so my recommendation is you scratch the stuff I scratched above and then after you say wrong again then say that's where I come in...

So this is where I come in. I found an ad in the classifieds of the Thrifty Nickel under the heading of HELP WANTED. Okay maybe I didn’t find it, my mom did. I was still living at home at the time. B. A.’s in literature really aren’t all that hot on the job market.

The ad read,
“LITERARY ‘SPECIAL’ AGENT
Qualified staff only, $12 an hour starting off
Benefits available.
Call Gregg, 870-262-3635”

By that time I’d been living with my parents for three months and they were setting up interviews for me weekly. I wasn’t really in their retirement plans. HaHa!

So, I called my new buddy Gregg.

[s]Gregg on the phone [/s] Unfortunatley, he sounded like a radio personality, little too overzealous for my liking. My parents really wanted me out of the house, and I didn’t really have much of a choice so I decided to start working with him on Monday.

I pretty much got the job right after I said I had a B. A. He said he was looking for somebody just like me. This should come after the part where you say he sounded like a radio personality. You get the job and then you say I had to take it. Flows more logically

I wasn’t really all that sure of what I was actually going to do as a LITERARY ‘SPECIAL’ AGENT. When I asked Gregg, all I heard was a mumbled response of “… Encouragement for clients… hard to explain over phone… Helping… You get full benefits!” It was enough for me. I was tired of listening to my dad lecture me every day about how he was kicked out of the house when he turned eighteen and how he had to rent a bed at the YMCA for three months. You repeat the whole living with my parents, need to get out of the house thing, a little too much. Just be careful because I found myself rolling my eyes a little at this one

The address he gave me was on the other side of town, way into the land where only industrial shops existed. Off-white metal siding and monolithic rotating wrenches that held signs that had something like “Paul Blanchet’s Collision Repair Specialists” printed on them, filled the area.

I parked my car on the curb. The address Gregg gave me was no exception to the [s]building[/s] area dress code [s]of the area[/s]. It was shaped like a barn; its metal siding was painted a dirty crème color. It had no windows, only a plain white door with a door mat that didn’t even say welcome. It was just brown.

I knocked on the door. I really wasn’t sure what else to do. No one answered it so after [s]a minute of waiting [/s] waiting a minute [s]so[/s] I just let myself in.

I walked in very carefully... a man not more than twenty five, sat staring into his laptop bobbing his head while he listened to his iPod. From the frequency of his head bobs, I think he was listening to something with a samba tempo… I’m probably wrong though.

He lifted his head and popped out one his of the ear-buds [s]lodged in his ear[/s]. “Hey… you must be the new guy…” His eye’s had a glazed over look to them; he’d probably toked up not but a half an hour earlier... Wake ‘n’ Bake[s]r[/s].

“Yeah… Ummm… I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be doing here. Is Gregg around?”

“I think he’s in his office…” The stoner shook his head to get his long black hair from his eyes. He extended his hand from where he was sitting. A waft of dank-smelling marijuana [s]B.O.[/s] caught my nose. “I’m Truman, by the way…”

I shook his hand, “Jeremy.”

Truman said, “So yeah, just walk strait down the hall, and there’ll be a door that says Gregg Clark.” He popped the ear-bud back into his ear, ending any further conversation.

The walls of the hall were white. Sanitarium white. The door had a black label with white lettering that read… Gregg Clark. I think you put in the ... thing a little too much. It's as if you run out of something to say and I don't like them that much. Instead put a colon or more words.

I knocked on the door three times. The door was cheaply made from some sort of particle board. It sounded hollow when I knocked.

I heard a crescendoing, “Come Innn.”, from behind the door.

His office smelt like potpourri and incense. It was a weird combination. A cross between good housekeeping and hippy. I laughed under my breath.

He was sitting at his desk, reading from a dense pile of [s]densely written pieces of [/s]paper. He looked up. “Mr. Brescia… I’m glad to see that you’re on time to your first day of work. You’ve already surpassed Truman in that area. On his first day he came to work three hours late wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and Birkenstocks.” He laughed. I tried to.

The man’s voice was not anything like the radio personality one I heard over the phone. Gregg’s voice was deep and true with only a little rasp of cigarette damage. “You’ve met Truman, right?”

“Yeah, he greeted me in.” I said. Gregg was about thirty-seven or so I’d say Very specific guesstimate. Instead say he was nearing forty . His hair was a light brown due to exposure to the sun. I couldn't help but notice the receding hair line[s]It was receding[/s].

“Good, good… usually he doesn’t come in this early…” He smiled. “So you’re probably wondering what you’re doing here. I definitely haven’t given you a very clear job description.” You switched from past back to present. Make sure you write the entire piece in the past or the present.

I didn’t know what to say. I just smiled.

“Hemmingway, King, Dumas, Fitzgerald, Poe, Tolstoy, Vonnegut, Dickens.” He lists off many others that I can’t remember.

“What do all of these people have in common?” He asks. He smiles. His teeth are white. Again, with the tenses make sure you stay in past or present

“Umm….Well they’re all famous writers?” I said scared.

“Right… right… right you are…” His shook his head and blinked his eyes like something were in them. “I’m so sorry. I’m so rude, please, please sit down.”

I took a seat in one of the two chairs that were opposite of his desk. It was fake leather. A rush of air pulsed through the seams of the cushion when I let my weight down. It smelt like plastic.

“Wonderful… I hate to see when my new friends are uncomfortable… Now, what were we talking about again?”

Before I could answer, he answered the question himself.

“Yes, you are right. But think, why were they all great writers?” He waited for a response. I had none.

My shoulders and my eyebrows went up simultaneously. My college education really wasn’t helping me here.

“They were all feeding off the same inspiration. They were all terribly depressed.” He continued. “And that’s where we come in.”

I looked down at me feet. I was wearing sandals. Why was I wearing sandals? I was supposed to be making a good impression my first day of work…

“What we do inspires writers. What we do creates masterpieces. What we do creates money.” Gregg pauses saying nothing. He was waiting for me to say something. I had no idea what to say.

Finally, I ask, “So, what exactly do we do?”

“We cause depression.” He sighs.

Yay! I loved it. Additional General Suggestions

Plot: Definitley scratch that section that I scratched. Element of surprise at the end is key to this piece. Overall the plot was great!

Format: Watch out for your tenses. You have the word said (which is past) and then you have a verb like sighs (which is present). I recommend using the past tense but you can use the present if you want. It's just harder to tell a story that way. I would right the beginning in the present when you ask the readers those two questions and then when you get into telling your story switch the entire thing back to past.

If you have any questions about my critique, feel free to PM me!

I liked it. I can't really say any more than the other two have said. Are you going to write more? I think you should. I want to hear more about Gregg, Jeremy and Truman. You didn't really expand on the main character, even though its from his point of view. Expand on the main character.

Hello! First I would like to welcome you to the YWS, because I haven't seen you around much and I'm not sure we've met! In any case, I am Suzanne. ^_^ If you have any questions, or need help finding something on the site, feel free to PM me! On to the critique! I hope It doesn't bother you too much - I'm going to be tough!

WHERE TO BEGIN?

Hemmingway, Woolf, Tolstoy, Dickens, Poe, Vonnegut.

Now, what do all of these people have in common?

“Well they’re all authors, right?” You’re probably going to answer. Well, you are wrong.

Your next guess would probably sound something like, “They’re all very good authors?” Wrong again.

The answer I was looking for was something like: “They were all very depressed people who just happened to be novelists who wrote their best pieces of literature when they were most depressed/distraught, right?”

In response to your answer, I would probably say something like, “Right… How did you know that? You cheated. I know you did. You looked at my notes to see what I’d be saying today. You’re the kind of person who kind of person who kills babies and shit for fun. You’re an effin’ cheater, seriously what’s your problem?” Needless to say I’m not a very trusting person.

Cut this out entirely. Hack it out, with a knife, and a backspace bar. Not only is it a really poor way to begin, but you bring it up later in the story. Don't be redundant! Redundancy is more boring than a beginning without a hook.

Speaking of which! Your beginning need a hook. Beginning are so hard. They have to hook the reader, introduce your character, and explain the central conflict in about three paragraphs. Not cool. I hate beginning just as much as the next writer, but the more I work the better I get at it. And you'll find it the same way. I'm not sure how you could begin this to make it more interesting [I'll explain why later] but where you have it - though interesting - isn't the best. For one thing, you speak directly to the reader. This is a complete turn off, considering the story is in first person, not in second. (Second person: You walked into the store. You bought stuff. First person: I walked into the store. I bought stuff. What you're doing: So you see, reader, I walked into the store, and then, just like you think I would, I bought stuff!) It's just a big turn off. Writing something in the first person as though the narrator is telling the story to someone else is good, but just avoid directly addressing the reader.

The other problem is that you talk about it later in the story, so really, you plain don't need it at the beginning. At first I wasn't sure if this was none fiction or... what. It seemed so out of place.

OH NOES, CONFLICT!

Here is what I said I would explain later. Stories are always about conflict. I mean it. Think about your favorite book. Is it about someone who spends their life uneventfully without anything keeping them from what they want? If so, you're reading a boring book! No, seriously, haha, it probably isn't! All stories need conflict. Why? Because otherwise it's boring. If there is no conflict your character has no reason to do anything, and so they just sit there, and it's really boring to read. You have some conflict here, but no central conflict. For example, your small conflict would be that the narrator needs to get a job. The point of conflict is that it isn't quickly resolved, and the whole story shows how this conflict is resolved. (Think: Crazy guy is trying to kill me. So, I run. Story!) Because your narrator finds a job so quickly, this conflict almost doesn't count, because it's easily resolved. A lot of conflict comes from the characters - even the external conflict. So, I'll move on to my next point, character development.

IT'S ALIVE! - NOT?

Characters are so important. Some people argue about it: plot, or characters? characters or plot? But I believe they're the same thing. In this story, you don't have any conflict, so it is boring. I'm going to explain how character development leads to conflict, and to a story. Yay, story!

What your character needs first, is a goal. Because your character is looking for a job, I'll pick that one.

GOAL: Jeremy wants a job.

Now your character has a goal. But that isn't enough, right? He needs some conflict. This conflict can be an outside source, or an internal source. I'll give both examples. Either way, it has to be something that keeps your character from reaching their goal.

CONFLICT: His parents won't buy him a car (Outside - he can't control it.) OR Jeremy is too scared to drive (Internal - it goes on his brain.)

So! Now he has conflict. It may/may not be the most interesting conflict in the world, but we'll go with it. What happens now? Now Jeremy needs to find some way to get out of this conflict so he can meet his goal, getting a job. You don't want to make this too easy because then the story won't be interesting, so you usually want to pick something that completely screws up the characters life. (Well, not completely!) What is the result from the goal and the conflict? (Forget in the internal conflict, I'm sticking to the outside conflict: his parents won't by him a car, for this example.)

RESULT: Jeremy steals a car.

This leads to other results. He gets arrested, his parents kick him out, and in the end no one will hire him because he was arrested and smells like a bum. It's not an amazing story, but there you have it.

That's just how Character Development affects plot. Character Development is actually a big thing, ranging from how your character talks, looks, eats, walks, to why he does things, and why he wants what he does. Instead of babbling more, I'm going to link you to the Character Development User Group. I basically summarized some of the stuff that is there. It's not only awesome for developing a plot, but for figuring out who your characters are.

IT'S ALIVE! - BUT IT DOESN'T TALK?

This one is kind of about characterization, but a little bit more about writing in general. Because you're writing in the first person, you're inside of Jeremy's voice. I will admit, first person is one of the hardest things to write. Everyone I know either hates it, or agrees that it is difficult to write. And yet we do anyway? We're silly. But! What I am talking about is Jeremy's voice. You need to filter everything through his head. And you need to make him sound like himself, not just anyone. This is a bit hard to explain. It's like how Southern people have Southern accents, and cats meow. Everyone sounds a certain way, and if you think about it, the way they sound will show up on paper too.

An amazing example of this is Sam's The Parking Lot Sparrows. It's written in multiple first person point of view, and she does a stellar job of making each voice unique. It's also a great example of characterization. Reading is a great way to learn, so try to read this and see if what I was talking about made more sense.

YAY, REDEMPTION!


You must think I hated this, right? No! I didn't. You're actually pretty funny. You have a voice, a humorous one, that is trying to come out. You just don't know how to use it, I think. For example:

Off-white metal siding and monolithic rotating wrenches that held signs that had something like “Paul Blanchet’s Collision Repair Specialists” printed on them, filled the area.

You have a bizarre sarcastic ring to your writing that I really like. Sometimes it's funny, sometimes it isn't, but it could be really hilarious. Your descriptions are unique, and you don't describe them blandly, but not fantastically either.

The idea behind the story is great, the people who cause depression, I just think it become more of a sketch-sans-plot rather than a story. It's interesting, but it doesn't make a good story for all of the things I mentioned above. It's a great idea, so perhaps you can find some other way to arrange it, and make it even more funny/dark. I definitely think this has a lot of potential, sometimes it's just hard to find which direction the potential is going, or how to get there.

If you have questions about anything I suggested or tried to explain (sometimes I'm really confusing) feel free to pm me and ask questions!! I hope this helped, rather than hurt! I'm only cruel because I care. ^_^ Happy writing!

Hey thanks everyone, I really appreciate the feed back, I will definitely take it into account if I re-write this.

To scasha: As much as it may not make sense to you (or even me) I switched tenses on purpose, I don't really know why but it just felt right to me... call it intuition...

To Suzanne: Thanks for the monolith of a review. Um yeah I should of designated that this really isn't supposed to be a 'story' but more of a vignette... anyways thanks I'll definitly change some of the aspects of this story in accordance with your suggestions.

Jonathan

Hi. I like it, I think it's a 'nifty' idea. The tone, too, was realistic and was effective in giving the character a so-called air.
There was one typo I saw that I don't think has been picked up (apologies if it has):

You’re the kind of person who kind of person

Well, that's self-explanatory.

Anyway, well done, you did good.


L