I tried to write as the opposite sex without being too stereotypical coming from a male, however I think some areas were a failure on that objective. Also it is free flow writing so it is a bit jumpy unfortunately, but I am hoping to get time on writing something more structured, as I did mention I had a real short story idea in an earlier post.
Please comment below any tips you have for beginning a more structured story, in terms of the planning stage, or any other general tips.
Write about the people who will live in your house after you move out.
There are many positives to graduating from university. I’ll never have to write another test or essay. I can finally begin working at my new job. I hear men are more mature, better looking and even know how to cook. And maybe, just maybe my parents will stop treating me like a child. Maybe.
There is a downside however – packing up my apartment. Few bookcases in and I already want to call it quits. To be honest, if I have to move again I may just have to buy an e-book reader and become a used bookstores best friend with boxes of donations. And I don’t even want to begin thinking about my movie collection quite yet either.
It would be nice if my roommate helped out. He just sits there though. Watching me. Pretty sure he is judging me. Yawning as if my packing is not much entertainment. He was thrilled for about an hour with the boxes and bubble wrap, but now, nothing. Nothing, but licking his fur. Steven is lazy enough to convert me to be a dog person, not that they’d be much help packing either.
I wish I had more time in this place. My three senior years of university in this place. It was finally feeling like home. But Mrs. Melatonin wants to move in by the end of the week. Grey hair. Wrinkly. Gives me a dirty look all, I assume because of my piercings. You know, the typical elderly woman. I only met her once, but I am sure her pantsuit and goddy jewelry belong to a closet of many similar articles. She does not deserve this apartment. My apartment.
We talked for a bit when she first came to check out the place, so I understand the rigidness. Claimed to of nearly become a nun if she didn’t get a “tingle” for her husband Albert when she met him. I hope she did not mean that how it sounded though. Regardless, I could not contain the smirk that came with the thought… then the near vomit that came with the image. Apparently the husband passed away though. Big sob story. Some long disease to which she had to sit by his bedside and watch him die. She couldn’t of been more theatrical with the telling of it. She has the production well crafted. She must tell it every chance she gets, as she steered the conversation to her life story from asking how the water pressure was here. It’s low.
Steven is in the box again with my books. Joy.
Thoughtless Writing 