Not Quite Perfect
Ruby constructs her own perfect ending.
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This is it.
Ruby stands on top of the world on a Sunday. Beads of sweat are gathered at the nape of her neck and the unrelenting stage lights are blinding.
This is it.
The crowd below is cheering for her, screaming for her. Everything is in place. The stage lights are on her, the crowd is cheering, screams rising into an ear shattering crescendo as the finale approaches, as she curves her arm and arches her foot. She is a star-
But wait. The end is coming too quickly. There is no orientation, no complication; the reader is not sympathetic enough towards the protagonist in order for this moment to be fully appreciated. Rewind and rehash. This story is imperfect
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Ruby was an impatient child.
She was also average. Average grades, average friends, average family.
Humid summer days were spent with her peering through classroom windows and imagining cool winds buffeting at her face and a sensation of falling. The sensation of twisting her hips, flicking her wrists and reaching out; a formless dance laced with desperation and freedom, everything and nothing at once.
As a child, Ruby dreamt she was a dancer.
No, stop. Too far back. Discard all irrelevant information; make your point and move on. Do not derail the story in order to entertain unnecessary moments of whimsy.
As a child, Ruby dreamt she was a dancer.
Better.
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She’s twenty-four when she’s out of university, complete with a bachelor degree in the arts.
There is a period of two months where she remains jobless, mooching off friends and family until she’s found stable footing in the world and decides what she wants to do with her life. She comes around eventually, earning herself prizes and titles from obscure talent competitions, rediscovering her love for dance and clawing her way up until she has some resemblance of a reputation.
It takes two months for her to pick up from where she’d originally left off. It takes another six for her to stabilize herself in the world of adults through a part-time job at the local convenience store and revived passion for the performing arts.
But that’s not it. A story needs more than one character. It’s arrogant to assume that the protagonist can accomplish all this by themself; character development is stunted in the absence of proper settings and supporting cast. Replay in slow motion. Don’t be too hasty.
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Renee is a coward in concerns to her own matters. With others’, not so much.
Ruby meets her in her final year of university. The other woman is initially closed off, with smiles that don’t quite reach her eyes sliding effortlessly over her face and dismissive gestures when she thinks they’re too close. Ruby eventually learns to read the distrust written along the lines of her face in order to slip through the cracks and establish something solid.
What Ruby experiences with Renee is complicated and she desperately searches for a way to put it into words. The closest she ever gets to personifying their relationship is Life.
And this is how it happens: Ruby embraces Life for two months after graduation before Life slaps her in the face, tells her to pay rent and advises her to do something with herself.
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Dialogue is essential to establishing character. Speech is the fastest and most effective way to establish character. The protagonist is still two dimensional to the reader. Not quite perfect.
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You’re not a very honest person, Ruby.
“And you’re horrible.”
I don’t think you want this.
“I like to think I do.”
Stop running. Stop lying.
“I can’t.”
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Character has been established, the supporting cast have been revealed and a bond between the reader and the protagonist has been formed. This is the part where events leading up to Ruby’s success are revealed. This is the part where the reader cheers on the protagonist and watches as her dreams unfold like a flower in bloom.
But there is a catch. There is always a catch.
This is the reveal: everything up to this point has been a lie. A big, bold-faced lie.
Every good story needs a twist. This is the twist. This is it.
Ruby grew up in an extremely wealthy family. Her grades were exceptional and her friends came from various families of high social classes. Hot summer days were spent listening diligently to the teacher and imagining herself falling from impossible heights and into oblivion.
She had no motivation. No dreams. Dance was only a passing fancy; a purpose she desperately clung onto before letting it slip through her fingers.
Ruby graduated from business school as valedictorian at the age of twenty-four, ready to take over her father’s empire of droning office workers. There is no Renee, no Life, no one else. Only shadows born out of her loneliness and need for something solid and real.
This is the truth. The anti-climax.
Ruby stands on top of a twenty-three floor apartment complex on a Sunday. The sun is blinding but the wind buffeting against her face is cool. The road below her is almost empty, stray cars puttering across her line of vision like ants.
There is no crowd. No one to witness the silhouetted figure against the backdrop of the never-ending blue sky.
This is her ending. There is no orientation, no complication. The reader cannot sympathise with this protagonist - they cannot sympathise with these pointless last moments as she falls off the building and into oblivion. Rewind, rehash and repeat. This story is imperfect.
Fin.
[Word Count: 939]
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Notes: This was originally written as an English assignment under a 700-1000 word limit. Hopefully I am able to get my point across in spite of said limit.
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Points: 1424
Reviews: 6