Hello wandering fanfic reader. : )
This is my first story that I intended for real critique and analysis. I took a stab in the dark at how to do it and I discover that I have written a reasonably clichéd albeit truthful story. I think my characterisation is accurate but in the end, it all comes down to love. Right now, that's all I'm thinking about and I apologise in advance for the angsty and reasonably typical nature of this story.
It was my intent to develop my dialogue and descriptions and I believe I've done that. Therefore, my errors in plot and emotional realism are made up for with unconventional descriptions (OK, description singular, only in chapter eight) and dialogue that reflects how the characters were originally written. As I say, it's a first attempt and should be treated as such. Please please please tell me what doesn't work, be as hard on me as you possibly can. Otherwise I'll keep writing stuff like this, something I want to avoid if possible.
---
She screwed up her lists and threw them in the bin. What struck her about this whole situation was that despite it being her fault, she still got to choose how it ended. After the pain she'd put both of them through after so much time, she still had the luxury of choice. What she really felt was disgust. Disgust with herself that she was here in the first place but more that she was "choosing" between people. Good people. And she really did love them both, or at least she had at one point. She swung her legs off her bed and went to pour herself some juice. The problem was that she was so confused. How was it possible for her to care so much for both of them, but then make pro and con lists? You can't just make lists for people, especially when these kinds of emotions are involved. All her logic and reason was getting her nowhere and she sighed inwardly at the hopelessness of the whole thing.
Dean had broken up with her. With all the restraint he could muster he had broken up with her. In front of Jess, no less. So really, she wasn't choosing between them. She stared at her glass and cursed herself yet again for being so transparent about Jess. God, did she have no tact? Why couldn't she see what she was doing to Dean? There were those that would say that she was blinded by infatuation, with love or obsession but she knew plainly that she had just been stupidly insensitive.
Still staring into her juice she felt oddly unemotional. From where she stood all she could see was the endless love, patience and faithfulness that Dean had provided without question. She had a thudding feeling in the pit of her stomach that there was nothing she could do to make Dean happy again and she'd begun to feel like the times she'd hurt him were too many to count. She owed him so much. There was only one thing that could prove how much he had meant to her and suddenly it felt like the only thing she was ever meant to do again.
She could finally see what it was she had to do, but she dreaded the thought of actually doing it. While she loved him, his obvious intelligence and insight, and his love of music and books akin to her own, she couldn't bring herself to hurt Dean any more. She stood up slowly, her mind still lingering on what might have been, and turned to the door. Leaving her juice on the bench she left the house.
This is my first story that I intended for real critique and analysis. I took a stab in the dark at how to do it and I discover that I have written a reasonably clichéd albeit truthful story. I think my characterisation is accurate but in the end, it all comes down to love. Right now, that's all I'm thinking about and I apologise in advance for the angsty and reasonably typical nature of this story.
It was my intent to develop my dialogue and descriptions and I believe I've done that. Therefore, my errors in plot and emotional realism are made up for with unconventional descriptions (OK, description singular, only in chapter eight) and dialogue that reflects how the characters were originally written. As I say, it's a first attempt and should be treated as such. Please please please tell me what doesn't work, be as hard on me as you possibly can. Otherwise I'll keep writing stuff like this, something I want to avoid if possible.
---
She screwed up her lists and threw them in the bin. What struck her about this whole situation was that despite it being her fault, she still got to choose how it ended. After the pain she'd put both of them through after so much time, she still had the luxury of choice. What she really felt was disgust. Disgust with herself that she was here in the first place but more that she was "choosing" between people. Good people. And she really did love them both, or at least she had at one point. She swung her legs off her bed and went to pour herself some juice. The problem was that she was so confused. How was it possible for her to care so much for both of them, but then make pro and con lists? You can't just make lists for people, especially when these kinds of emotions are involved. All her logic and reason was getting her nowhere and she sighed inwardly at the hopelessness of the whole thing.
Dean had broken up with her. With all the restraint he could muster he had broken up with her. In front of Jess, no less. So really, she wasn't choosing between them. She stared at her glass and cursed herself yet again for being so transparent about Jess. God, did she have no tact? Why couldn't she see what she was doing to Dean? There were those that would say that she was blinded by infatuation, with love or obsession but she knew plainly that she had just been stupidly insensitive.
Still staring into her juice she felt oddly unemotional. From where she stood all she could see was the endless love, patience and faithfulness that Dean had provided without question. She had a thudding feeling in the pit of her stomach that there was nothing she could do to make Dean happy again and she'd begun to feel like the times she'd hurt him were too many to count. She owed him so much. There was only one thing that could prove how much he had meant to her and suddenly it felt like the only thing she was ever meant to do again.
She could finally see what it was she had to do, but she dreaded the thought of actually doing it. While she loved him, his obvious intelligence and insight, and his love of music and books akin to her own, she couldn't bring herself to hurt Dean any more. She stood up slowly, her mind still lingering on what might have been, and turned to the door. Leaving her juice on the bench she left the house.