[September Contest] People Watching

Spoiler

The theme I got from the random theme generator was: Your story is about an artist in New York City falling down the stairs.
Word count: 999

Simon awoke to the sound of taxis honking like excited yellow birds, and sirens wailing like a distorted alarm. He disentangled himself from the mass of pillows and doonas which smothered the hotel bed, and went to the window.

Simon gazed leisurely down into the street, watching the crowds of people hurry by. Every one of them thinking something, going somewhere, late for a meeting, needing a coffee, missing someone, looking forward to a day of work, looking forward to the weekend...

Simon grinned. People fascinated him; they were incredible, intricate things, and he wanted to discover every detail about every one of them. That was why he’d come, after all, to study people.

He dressed quickly, filled his pocket with pencils and grabbed his sketch book, then made his way down to the street and wandered towards Central Park. On the way he bought a pretzel from a street-vendor, trying to catch the man’s expression as he pushed the change across the counter. But the man didn’t meet his eyes; he was already looking at the next customer.

Finding that he had taken a wrong turn – distracted by the design on a dollar coin, Simon took out his map, smiling at the grid pattern made by the streets – so different to the haphazard mess of roads in Sydney. Unable to orientate himself he tried to catch someone’s eye to ask directions. They all walked by, heads down, collars turned up against the wind, all in a hurry to be somewhere else, apparently. Eventually Simon managed to stop a man in a long black coat. The man pointed him in the right direction, then hurried on.

Simon settled himself down on a bench when he reached Central Park. He was distracted by squirrels – a novelty to him - for a moment before he remembered what he was there for. He turned his attention to the people. There were families, and tourists like him, joggers who, despite the cold, were wearing shorts and singlets, and couples wandering aimlessly along. Simon sketched a tourist, photographing the round-about. Then a woman in a business suit, talking quickly into a mobile phone. A family heading to the ice-rink. A couple walking slowly, arms entwined, voices low.

After a few hours he stopped, and flicked disconsolately through his sketches. These people didn’t mean anything to him; he knew nothing about them and his drawings hardly scratched the surface. Collecting his things with a sigh, he started heading back.

Wanting to get back to his room quickly, Simon headed to a sub-way station. As he stepped onto the stairs he was overwhelmed by a flood of people surging upwards. Remembering too late to walk on the right, not the left, in America, Simon was pushed sideways, backwards, and finally tripped, tumbling helplessly down the stairs and landing sprawled on the floor below.

Simon remained lying where he had landed, his head spinning and one arm throbbing. He watched, in a daze, as what seemed like hundreds of shoes stepped past, and even over him. He saw a pair of bright green converse-all-stars running towards him. A girl’s face, framed with dark curls with a striped beanie jammed on top suddenly filled his vision.

“Are you alright? I saw you fall, it looked really bad.” Her green eyes opened wide as she spoke and her whole face expressed concern.

“I think I’m okay. Thanks.” He tried to sit up, but as he leaned on his right arm a sharp pain shot through his wrist. He gasped and sank back to the floor.

“Here. Lean on me.” She pulled his left arm over her shoulders and pulled him to his feet. She had to bend slightly, as she was a little taller than him. Her hair tickled his face, and smelled of flowers.

“What hurts? Your arm?” She asked as she found a bench and sat him down.

Despite the pain, Simon found himself smiling at her concise way of asking questions. “It’s my wrist.” He pointed and tried to move it, grimacing as it jolted with pain again.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know anything about this stuff. Could be a sprain or a break or whatever. Can you get yourself to a doctor to get it checked out?”

Simon shook his head. He looked down and saw his pocket full of now broken pencils. His head snapped up and he looked around, almost desperately, “Did you see a book anywhere?”

“No. Did you drop one?”

“I had my sketch-book, but I can’t see it.” The truth suddenly dawned on him and he groaned. “And this is my right wrist; I won’t be able to draw for ages now.” He began to get up, to look for his book but she stopped him, saying she would look, he should sit.

She returned in a few minutes, empty handed and looking downcast. “I’m sorry. There’s no book here or anywhere on the stairs.”

Simon sighed and leaned back against the wall.

She looked at him sadly. “I hope you’re not hurt too bad, so you can draw again soon. Now, come on, I’ll take you to a doctor.” Simon began to mumble something about not wanting to cause trouble, but she overcame is objections and half guided, half dragged him out of the station. As she started the car she looked across at him, a smile playing on her lips, “My name’s Katy, by the way. What’s yours?”

“Simon.”

Katy grinned. “I like your accent Simon.”



It was late when Katy dropped Simon off at the hotel; there had been a long wait for the doctor. He eased himself carefully into the bed, sinking gratefully into the mountain of pillows. A gentle smile lit his face as he glanced at his cast, with Katy’s phone number scrawled across it. He closed his eyes, picturing the first person he would draw when the cast came off, and let the drone of traffic lull him to sleep.


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I live in Australia, so I drew on my memories of visiting New York for a few days while we were travelling. Basically what I remember is that there were a lot of people everywhere, and they were all in a hurry, everyone liked our accents and we spent half our time running around central park shouting "squirrel!" (we don't have squirrels here).
Oh, and can someone confirm for me that there is sub-way trains in NYC. I remember catching them somewhere, but my whole time in America has sort of blurred together in my head
Anyway, any advice you have would be much appreciated!

-pigeon

I love the spirit of the story. The cheeriness of the character and his optimism at the experience is vivid in your writing. Your flow was good too. It never felt like you were droning on one aspect of the story too long, which I usually find in writing to some degree.
Suggestions: Give a bit more background on this lead character and just a sentence or two on what he's doing in New York. Also, you put such a heavy emphasis on the emotionless, hurrying people that it seemed like the theme of the story, or some viewpoint on society as a whole. I thought it was interesting but it seemed a little heavy on description in relation to the rest of the simple story.
In conclusion, loved the light tone, loved the vividness of first hand experience, and liked it as a whole quite a bit.

I really like the idea of the story. I love to people watch too, so reading how Simon perceived people was interesting. He really is an interesting character. You also had a nice, happy style, which is refreshing. Grammar wise, it was fine too.

However, there's a big problem in this story. There's no conflict. And without conflict, you don't have a story.

The main conflict from your prompt would be him falling down stairs. However, this happens half-way through the story, and is really of little consequence. So, he can't draw for a while. You didn't tell us how this would change his life, ruin his career, really, do anything.

He dressed quickly, filled his pocket with pencils and grabbed his sketch book, then made his way down to the street and wandered towards Central Park. On the way he bought a pretzel from a street-vendor, trying to catch the man’s expression as he pushed the change across the counter. But the man didn’t meet his eyes; he was already looking at the next customer.

Finding that he had taken a wrong turn – distracted by the design on a dollar coin, Simon took out his map, smiling at the grid pattern made by the streets – so different to the haphazard mess of roads in Sydney. Unable to orientate himself he tried to catch someone’s eye to ask directions. They all walked by, heads down, collars turned up against the wind, all in a hurry to be somewhere else, apparently. Eventually Simon managed to stop a man in a long black coat. The man pointed him in the right direction, then hurried on.

Simon settled himself down on a bench when he reached Central Park. He was distracted by squirrels – a novelty to him - for a moment before he remembered what he was there for. He turned his attention to the people. There were families, and tourists like him, joggers who, despite the cold, were wearing shorts and singlets, and couples wandering aimlessly along. Simon sketched a tourist, photographing the round-about. Then a woman in a business suit, talking quickly into a mobile phone. A family heading to the ice-rink. A couple walking slowly, arms entwined, voices low.

All these paragraphs really don't advance the plot any, give your character fascinating of back story, or interest the reader terribly. It's just an average day from an pretty average person.

The piece is just too happy for its own good. The first part really just tells us about how Simon sees the world, which could be fine if he had a problem with it. He instantly gets saved after he falls, from a perfect nice girl, who proceeds to give him her number. Find out how to make Simon's life harder, to make the story more interesting.

Hope this helps, and if you have any questions, just PM me.

And yes, there are definitely sub-way systems in New York. They are pretty smelly, but also kind of homey.

Hey Pigeon, Jai here to review.

He dressed quickly, filled his pocket with pencils and grabbed his sketch book, then made his way down to the street and wandered towards Central Park.

A serious artist would have some sort of briefcase/carry case for their equipment. Generally they use expensive supplies.

Finding that he had taken a wrong turn – distracted by the design on a dollar coin, Simon took out his map, smiling at the grid pattern made by the streets – so different to the haphazard mess of roads in Sydney.

When you write sentences - like the one you wrote above - and you use dashes to interject a piece of information, you should be able to remove the content in the middle of the dashes and read the sentence without confusion. Let's try that with your sentence. "Finding that he had taken a wrong turn so different to the haphazard mess of roads in Sydney." Does that make sense? All that you need to do is some quick rearranging of your ideas to make it work

Unable to orientate himself he tried to catch someone’s eye to ask directions.

Be careful of repetition. You've already mentioned that Simon tried to catch the vendor's expression.

There were families, and tourists like him, joggers who, despite the cold, were wearing shorts and singlets, and couples wandering aimlessly along.

This is a run-on sentence. It can easily be broken up into two sentences.

Remembering too late to walk on the right, not the left, in America, Simon was pushed sideways, backwards, and finally tripped, tumbling helplessly down the stairs and landing sprawled on the floor below.

Another run on sentence. Do you need to mention the direction he was supposed to walk? Walking is not like driving I'm sure that people just walk on whatever side they like, and the people behind them follow their example.

Simon sighed and leaned back against the wall.

lol, I would be raging. Hours of work, lost.

Simon began to mumble something about not wanting to cause trouble, but she overcame his objections and half guided, half dragged him out of the station.

As she started the car she looked across at him, a smile playing on her lips, “My name’s Katy, by the way. What’s yours?”

Woah, time/space warp?

It was a sweet story, but I wish there had been more conflict. But I imagine that wasn't the aim you had I think that Katy should be described a bit differently because I initially thought that she was a young girl, not within dating age

Hope this helped some,
Jai

I thought this was a great piece- it was very simple, but flowed nicely, and started and stopped at good points.
A couple things-

I would recommend not starting so many paragraphs with "Simon". Don't be afraid to use pronouns. They're your friend.

Second thing- There was an abundance of description in the first bits. It got a bit long winded for me, and I almost stopped reading (which I'm really glad I didn't!).

Last thing: I would watch sentence length. You don't want ones that are all the same length, but you do want to continue them and close them off at the appropriate times. If you're having trouble finding when that is, I would recommend reading it out loud. Take breaths at commas and dashes. If you run out of breath at any time (unless you're a serious smoke) that means the sentence needs to edited down.


Overall, like I said, I thought this was great.
Not every story needs to have a ton of action, or or even serious conflict. Other peoples' lives are fascinating to read about for everyone. This was nicely balanced.

Great write!

-Coral-