Thread: Dear Little Contender (500 words) (Swearing)

Hey non-fiction! Taking a new class this quarter, and guess what it's called? Creative nonfiction. I've never written anything nonfiction... so I'm unsure as to the quality of this. Please look it over, offer constructive criticism, advice, etc. This will be turned in as a "memoir".

Honesty is appreciated, but not BLUNT honesty. I prefer to be encouraged in my work, not chewed on.

Thank you for taking the time!

NF
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Dear little contender,

When I said I was afraid of death, I wasn’t looking for a challenge.

Tonight I walk home with a five hundred dollar bill pinched in between two fingers and your empty little box. We left you with your blanket; comfort comes to everybody in different ways. Maybe yours comes through the pungent aroma of cooked rice and Ax deodorant.

One hundred and sixty-eight hours of you. Approximately a hundred of those dwelt in bliss. Sixty, in worry. Eight, in despaired expectation. Most a mix of those.

Though the blurred landscape is an empty living room, my squinting eyes deceive me—a smudge of charcoal black with an accent white as snow. A flash in the pan reality, you are. Calm as the sea. Busy as the sea. You are the sea.

Yin and Yang.

Yin; peace. A little fur scarf. I try to read, but it isn’t alive like the huddled mass around my neck. Breathing. Sleeping. Loving, though we just met.

Yang; this. This fear. This fruitless expectation. This pacing back and forth. This desperation. This ache within my chest. This thump thump weight inside of me. What is this horrible thing? Oh, it’s my heart.

“It’s just a goddamn cat! And we haven’t even had the thing for long. A week!”

Ah, but seven days is all you need to heal me. An ounce of loneliness that was bound to be discovered. By you. And you did, you found me, hiding. And your little face and rumbling body coaxed me out, though I was the one saying “here, kitty kitty!” with a feather teaser.

Fifty percent chance, he says. No! He doesn’t know the fighter inside that two pound mass of fluff. I saw a glimpse of her when it took two men to take her temperature. Back reared. “Try me” eyes. Suddenly two pounds was a boxing champion. A force to be reckoned with.

No, it’s just a little liquid in the way. You can breathe around it, tiny one. “But she’s so little, it might kill her.” For a moment, I believe them.

It’s no longer fear living inside of me. Because I suppose I would live on if you ceased to. Now I’m propelled into another chapter of life called “Bibi”, and all the hope that name implies.

I hope you know safety. I hope you forget that alleyway. I hope you remember me later this afternoon. We’ll scoop your brittle, baby bold body into the embrace of your new forever. I hope you know you’re size is small but your heart is a mammoth. I hope, because if I don’t, I have nothing.

I love you, my little fighter. Don’t you give up on me.

Love, the next twenty years of your life.

Yes, good. A bit cheesy, which is very difficult to avoid in 'heart' writing.

I didn't understand the 500 dollar bill or, 'Though the blurred landscape is an empty living room...' But good, you score on many levels. Despite the short sentences you manage to carry the thought and the reader through to the next one.

Yes, obsession, I get it. Nice job.

As a cat-owner and definite cat-lover (of Riley, anyway, for four years, ever since he was 6 weeks old) I think maybe, just maybe, I get the general idea. But I had to read it three times, maybe four, and even then there were numerous bits that confused me. Maybe that’s just me. Someone else might see symbolism in it and find it perfectly acceptable as is. But if you obtain more comments similar to mine, you might want to consider general clarification.

Confusion the whole way, with me. The cat wasn't obvious to me until halfway through. Is the cat dead or alive? What's with the 500 dollars? What's going on?

Part of my problem is pure bias. At my feet are two pit bulls. They are not mine, but I am theirs. They belong to a neighbour and they have adopted me. This happens when I'm around pit bulls, Rottweilers, Alsatians, any breed of heavy or large dog. (There are those who say that should tell me something.) Cats instinctively hiss at me, arch their backs, and I instinctively back away. So write off part of my reaction to the story as reaction to the discovery that it's about a cat.

You will do better, I believe, if you begin by writing a straightforward account of what is happening. Use the inverted pyramid style. That means you put who, what, when, where in the first sentence or two. This brings the reader instantly up to speedl Continue by adding details along with some how and why.

Now do a rewrite in the style you have used here, but keeping in mind that the reader cannot join you in your emotional ties to the cat unless the reader understands what is going on. The factual structure must be there, else the result is, as described by qwertyman, 'a bit cheesy'.

Truth to tell, the greatest emotional impact can be had with a straightforward relating of circumstance, painting a clear picture in sharp focus for the reader.

Torn, please excuse me, but I could not make sense of your piece. Please try again.

However, I now know as a result of your composition that Garza attracts the love of two pit bulls - indeed he is a man to be envied.
You must have done something right.

PS My logo picture is entitled 'Yellow snow'

Tornskate,

I only write non-fiction, so I can appreciate the passion that you are trying to bring to the table. However, I have to agree that it was difficult to follow. Personally I believe that it is better to keep it simple. I think people, when reading a story, want it to come across like a person talking to them. The colorful, descriptive way you told it is okay as long as it is only added in small bits and pieces. Most of it should be in normal everyday language.

I hope this is not too blunt. I would never want to discourage anyone, and you obviously have some talent.

This really didn't do it for me. The $500 bill part, I found it a bit unbelievable and it sort of snapped a trap in my brain and it was tough getting past that.

I think it might do well with the abstract crowd, but that's not my forté.

Good luck, my friend.