Young Writers Society

My first thought was that this was going to be an angst story, but you put enough realism into it that it wasn't. There was less bitching than actual action going on, which makes this much better.

I'm unsure what audience would be attracted to this. Sure, you have us at YWS, but we're not the typical reader. There was enough drive to pull me through it, but overall I found myself going back and re-reading things. Snoink is right, you can't just skim over this and know what is going on.

I also found that the dialogue (plus the sex scene ) was the major force in that drive to continue reading. The dialogue seemed real enough, sometimes a little awkward, but I didn't find the cursing at all obstructive. Some of the inner-dialogue and observations of the narrator were a bit tedious though.

Some of the scenes I thought were rather random (ie. when he met the other kid in his program in the hall) but I'm sure those will pan out. At least they better!

Chapter Two next, be there shortly!

Yay! I didn't skim it this time!

It's not one of those things that you can skim, understand.

I think it's weird, but in a cool way. I also think that it's ironic that Donny is introduced, first as Jesus (that's what Janet opens up with) and then Stalin. Was that intentional, or am I just reading into things too deeply?

"sulfuric acid " eh? I'm partial to NH3, myself

This morning was particularly stifling: the kind of morning with crisp oxygen (once you purged yourself of the sulfur) that fluttered into your lungs, that kind of haunting, romantic sensation of being alive.

"Psh. You're nuts."

"My nuts what?"

"Huh? Oh my God, I cannot believe you just said that!"

“You know you’re just jealous.”

“Class, I want to thank you all for your participation.” We squeaked our chairs back, all of us preparing for our dart into the hall.

“Fine, let’s go.”

“Yes!” I kissed her on the forehead.

“God, boy. You don’t see me for three days and you’re already horny.”

“Huh? Oh psh, I thought we could discuss the intricacies of Hawthorne…”

“Oh fuck you too.”

I think this was well-written, and it had an interesting storyline. I don’t really think you need so much swearing though, and there was a lot of slang. That doesn’t matter too much though, so don’t worry – after all, you’ve written it in a way which shows how people talk. That’s a good thing.

Another thing is that it is sometimes hard to tell who’s speaking. You may want to go through the parts with large pieces of dialogue; it won’t take long to correct. Basically, you just need to make it obvious who’s speaking. That doesn’t necessarily mean you need to put ‘said [name]’ after every piece of dialogue – you just need a bit more in places.

“Hey, tiger!”

“Donny! Donny!”

“Aw, it’s just Thermo. The professor’s a nut anyway.”

“What? I am!”

“Yeah…right.”

“Do you really want to go to Thermo today?”

She stopped, turned to face me and took a deep breath. “Hmmm…”

I ran my hand through my hair and bit my bottom lip.

“We really probably should, Donny.”

“Aw, it’s just Thermo. The professor’s a nut anyway.”

“Yeah, and it’s probably just that TA again.”

“Probably.”

“Lazy fuckers.”

“C’mon, what do you say we go back to my room?”

By this time Janet had already removed my clothes. I let out a soft moan.

The faded, pink vinyl siding across the walls mixed with the brown-gray cement on the floor and ceiling (I had a first-story room, thank goodness) to form an almost-gloomy aura of erudition.

As I got near the science building, the temperature seemed to drop dramatically. I looked around to see if anyone else had noticed this awkward depression in temperature, but, alas, I was the only one suddenly shivering with my teeth chattering. I thought I must be catching a cold of some sort, but I wasn’t so sure colds came on to their victims so unexpectedly. I opened the large, industrial-grade glass door and lurched into the bathroom. I was overcome with nausea and vomited into the closest sink. A professor-type, washing his hands at the same time I was blowing chunks, scowled and quickly dismissed himself from the restroom. Prick.

sitting on one of the decrepit picnic benches.