A Good Day

Just wanted to stop by and see how your short story was coming along. I must say you've done a good job strenthening you story with this last edit.

[quote="NumberSeven
Taking a drag from my cigarette, I leaned back from the edge of the roof. A nice breeze was blowing and, above me, an expanse of blue with a blinding yellow dot made up the sky. The regular sounds of light traffic could be heard far below me. It was a good day. Still love the first paragraph!

I heard footsteps behind me and the ruffling of clothing in the breeze. A young teenager wearing baggy clothes approached the edge of the roof a little ways down from me. He rubbed his short cropped blonde hair and leaned over the ledge, his expression blank. How did he get up here? I wondered, only employees can use the stairs leading to the roof. I took the cigarette out of my mouth.

“Hey,” I called out. I started walking towards him.

He looked at me, surprised, his dark eyes wide open. He then proceeded to climb onto the ledge. What is he doing? Is he planning on jumping? I thought.

“Hey!” I called out more fiercely. I dropped the cigarette and started running.

The boy gave me a bewildered look. I couldn’t tell if he was crazy or scared or angry. He looked back at the ground far beneath him and shuffled a foot forward. I didn't notice this in my last review, but when you say 'shuffled a foot forward' do you mean he moved one of his feet forward? Or are you saying he shuffled forward the distance of a foot?

“What are you doing?!” I yelled, just a few feet away. It was difficult to run on the roof; my shoes kept slipping on the gravel. I love the way you changed this around, it really does make a difference

He stepped forward and fell out of view. I lunged over the ledge, nearly falling off myself. I got a hold of his sweater sleeve, but my grip was slipping. The boy looked up at me, the same disturbing expression on his face.

“Hang on! I’ll pull you up,” I shouted.

I was about to grab his hand when it disappeared into his sleeve. The boy wiggled and then his head dropped into the neck hole. All I had in my hand was his sweater. I watched as he fell, shrinking to the size of the other people below until he stopped. A dark splatter outlined his body. I stayed hanging over the ledge for who knows how long, staring, but not really seeing anything at all. I was in shock – I could hardly breathe with what I had just witnessed; with what I had just failed to do.I enjoy the added details in this section. Well done!

He was in my hands. I had him – he should be alive right now. I dropped back onto my feet and sat down, leaning against the ledge. I looked at the sweater clutched in my hand. It was still warm. Proof that he was living only seconds before. I couldn’t understand it. How could I have let him fall? He was right there. He was in my hands and yet…

I held my head in my hands, the sweater in my lap; I was terribly distraught. I was so close to saving him. He could have been anything he wanted: a scientist, an astronaut, a firefighter. But, no – instead, he’s dead on the street.

I should have run faster, I should have grabbed his hand sooner, I should have pulled him up right away…

I angrily punched the ledge behind me and then rubbed my face.

He was in my hands. Oh, my! The ending has so much more strength, you did a good job editing this

THE END

Thanks for reading! [/quote]

Was this for a school project? If so, I hope your teacher enjoys it as much as I have.

I have a story much in need of reviews. If your interested follow the link in my signature!

-Carly

Hey there.

You did a pretty good job from the guy's perspective I think, me being the tomboyish type who is constantly around guys and all. So, yeah, no real complaints as to your POV. The only thing I'd really say is that you do a lot of telling about what's going on. "He did this," or "he did that." But you didn't really give us much insight as to the details of everything, and really given us much view into his thoughts. The last paragraph didn't quite work for me...Overall, though, I thought this was pretty cool.

Thank you all for the advice ^.^ It was very helpful. I've made a few changes (not that many and, in fact, it's shorter cause I can't go over 1 1/2 pages), so you can re-review if you want. It'll be open for male advice until tomorrow, and then I'll take that bit out so people can just enjoy it Thank you all again

Hi!
So...writing from a guys perspective. I guess I could say that I have some experience with that . First off, I like what you are doing. I think that the concept is good and is certainly an intriguing topic. My one concern is pretty similar to yours: that the character doesn't seem to really express many qualities that would be particularly masculine or feminine. I guess one suggestion that I have is for the thoughts of the boy to be more fragmented. I generally feel that in writing from a guys perspective, thoughts aren't generally quite as cohesive, if that makes any sense. I guess what I am saying is that maybe you should try to write in a slightly more Stream of Consciousness-like fashion. Anyway, what you have so far is good. Just maybe edit it a little and it'll be great.

Also, I have to say that I disagree with etinarcadiaego as far as relating to the suicidal kid. I think that it is great to have him completely removed from the narrator, and therefore the reader. But then again, thats just my opinion.

Okay, I like the idea behind this. As for writing from a male POV, it's not too difficult - I mean, there are masculine women and feminine men. I find it easier to write from a gay male POV (because, honestly, probably the hardest part of male POV is trying to describe an attraction to a person you wouldn't be attracted to), but overall, don't say he wears dresses (unless he's a transvestite), and ease up on purple prose and you're doing pretty well.

As for the story, I like the concept behind it, but again, you need to make it clearer what's happening. The last line is wonderful, but I agree with the person above me. Repeat a few key phrases a few times to show his madness, but perhaps having a longer conversation with the boy and making us attach to him will make us care more. We need to know him, at least a little bit, to really care, so please, make us. Just tell us more about him, and then it'll be much darker. And also, as RedSmiles said, men don't tend to ramble as much as women, so something as direct as a simple phrase with anger turned against themselves will probably do.

overall, amp up our connection to the suicidal boy (give him a name, for one), and lessen our grief, and you'll have a great story. The more you react for the reader, the less they do, remember

I'm not a guy but I have read your story, and didn't want to move on before letting you know what I think. I don't think you did a bad job portraying a male figure, and I like the depth of the story you have here. It's also well written in my opinion.

NumberSeven wrote:Taking a drag from my cigarette, I leaned back from the edge of the roof. A nice breeze was blowing and, above me, an expanse of blue with a blinding yellow dot made up the sky. The regular sounds of light traffic could be heard far below me. It was a good day. I love this! The only thing I would add is why he's on the roof. Is he taking a break from work? Maybe you could have him tell the reader how nice it is to have a break, or perhaps we just don't see where he came from because this is merely a piece of the story.

I heard footsteps behind me and the ruffling of clothing in the breeze. A young teenager wearing baggy clothes approached the edge of the roof a little ways down from me. He rubbed his short cropped blonde hair and leaned over the ledge, his expression blank. How did he get up here? I wondered, only employees can use the stairs leading to the roof. I took the cigarette out of my mouth.

“Hey,” I called out. I started walking towards him.
He looked at me, surprised, his dark eyes wide open. He then proceeded to climb onto the ledge. What is he doing? Is he planning on jumping? I thought.When I read this I feel like he's relaxed, but from what happens afterward maybe you mean for him to seem more frantic?

“Hey!” I called out more fiercely. I dropped the cigarette and started running.

The boy gave me a bewildered look. I couldn’t tell if he was crazy or scared or angry. He looked back at the ground far, far beneath him and shuffled a foot forward.

“What are you doing?!” I yelled, just a few feet away. The gravel on the roof was making running difficult. I would enjoy it if you described his difficulty rather than merely stating that running is difficult. Something like "The gravel slid under me feet." or "I nearly fell as my left foot slid on the gravel."

He stepped forward and fell out of view. I lunged over the ledge, nearly falling off myself. I got a hold of his sweater sleeve, but my grip was slipping. The boy looked up at me, the same disturbing expression on his face.

“Hang on! I’ll pull you up,” I shouted.

I was about to grab his hand when it disappeared into his sleeve. The boy wiggled and then his head dropped out of sight. All I had in my hand was his sweater. I watched as he fell, shrinking to the size of the other miniature people below until he stopped. A dark splatter outlined his body. Did he hear anything? do the other people scatter, or run toward the body to help?I stayed hanging over the ledge for who knows how long, just staring, but not really seeing anything at all. I was in shock – I was hardly in the mood to even breathe with what I had just witnessed; with what I had just failed to do.I feel like this bit about not being in the mood to breath reads awkwardly. Maybe you could rearrange it to something like "I couldn't even breath through the shock of what I had just witnessed;after what I had just failed to do." or "The shock of what I had just witnessed stopped my breathing."

He was in my hands. I had him – he should be alive right now. I dropped back onto my feet and sat down, leaning against the ledge. I looked at the sweater clutched in my hand. It was still warm. Proof that he was living only seconds before. My mind was reeling. I couldn’t understand it. How could I have let him fall? He was right there. He was in my hands and yet…

I held my head in my hands, the sweater in my lap. I was terribly distraught, I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t make him jump, but I could have saved him. I was so close to saving him. Everyone deserves to live – no one should take their own life. He could have been successful. He could have become some famous scientist or something. He could have been anything he wanted. I could have given him that opportunity. But, no - instead, he’s bleeding all over the concrete. He’s dead. That boy is dead. A second’s difference and he could be alive. I should have run faster, I should have grabbed his hand sooner, I should have pulled him up right away. I feel like these last two paragraphs are extremely repetitive, and I believe it actually dilutes his emotions rather than amplifying them. I think something as simple as "The boy is dead. He was in my hands and I could have saved him, but instead he's dead on the street." would have more impact and be more masculine as well.
I angrily punched the ledge behind me and then rubbed my face.

He was in my hands.