(Edits - Formatting issues)
This is from an overall work, however I was just looking for some feedback on certain aspects of my writing. I was hoping to query whether this small piece communicates a dark humour effectively. One obviously finds it difficult to really get a sense of how their work comes across. So, yes! Just looking for opinions, positive or negative, really! Thank you!
As Dan gets up and walks back to the bar, I take the opportunity to text Pauline- an ex-friend from a former college in a prior year. I ask if she has any coke. We became close after Caesar fucked her sister while they were still going out, I'd throw some valium her way to get through their subsequent chance encounters. But then her dad died and she went totally off the rails; alcohol-free clubbing, drugless house parties, McDonalds every other day. Those were very sans le love times, she ballooned to size 10.
We met again last summer after an apparent amphetamine binge (she was back to size 0), and went clubbing in Elektronique. She’s fucked half of the bouncers in this city, so VIP treatment was easier than usual to attain.
I got just a little too drunk that night and lost my diamond incrusted Gucci watch, while I was ejecting the alcohol-induced calories in the toilet. It was at this point that the night went from teen drama to psychological horror. Pauline staggered back to the dance floor and left me reapplying my lip-gloss. Next to me stood this thin, blonde girl who was fairly tanned, with a short but elegant Armani dress; white with black midline belt. And just as I was about to strike up a conversation with her, she pivoted little by little on the spot, falling head first into the mirror, breaking one of her heels in the process. Slowly, her face, well I say face, really it was more of a birth defect; acne riddled and literally crusting with foundation, became visible, lit by the not-so-flattering cabinet lights, shining on her face from underneath like a torch. The bags under her eyes thick, the eye shadow applied like she was painting a wall. She began to waddle towards me, muttering something indecipherable. The fright flung me back against the wall-mounted hand dryer, which provided an almost demonic soundtrack as she staggered toward me like some sort of disco zombie. I learned that night never speak to anyone unless you’ve seen their face. It’s why I don’t use the Internet.
The glass landing on the table brings me back to Dan. Dan, who’s looking more than just a little flushed.
“Did that bitch at the bar say anything about me?” I ask, paying him little attention.
“Who?” He asks.
Edited by Chriss_m at 31/12/1899 05:05:00 on 23 October 2013
Edited by Chriss_m at 31/12/1899 05:20:00 on 23 October 2013
Edited by Chriss_m at 31/12/1899 05:58:00 on 23 October 2013
Hi Chriss_m, and welcome to WW. Hope you're finding your way round - do post a question if you're stumped about anything.
You're right that with humour of any kind it's really difficult to judge whether it works on readers. On WriteWords the critiquing mostly goes on in the groups, where you can get to know others' work and they get to know yours. That way you've got the best opportunity to develop your writing.
As a part member you can join a group and upload a piece of work, so have a look here: http://www.writewords.org.uk/groups/
for one that looks nice and busy, and would suit the kind of thing you're writing, and you should get a good and helpful response to your query.Edited by EmmaD at 10:29:00 on 24 October 2013
Thanks, Emma! Grateful for the tip!