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/lit/ - Literature

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1076089 No.1076089 [Reply] [Original]

I'm writing a short story, and the main thing driving the plot is a girl coming back to the apartment where she lives with her brother, to find him overdosed on drugs. The rest of it deals with her trying to get him help.

Is it too cliche? It feels like the sort of thing that's probably been done a lot before, somehow.

>> No.1076098

Even if you do something that has been "done before", if you put your heart into it and use your brain, it will become original and it will have value in itself. A man falling in love with a 12-year-old had probably "been done before", so did Nabokov's effort go to waste when he wrote Lolita? We all would probably agree they didn't.

Your idea doesn't have to be the most original one ever for your story to be special and worth reading.

>> No.1076105

>>1076098

This is correct. However, OP, I would say that as a reader, it would interest me more if you wrote a story where the sister doesn't bother seeking help. Maybe she masturbates looking at his unconscious form, or maybe she goes into the shower, but something like that would be more interesting to me than what you describe.

>> No.1076126
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1076126

>>1076105
>Maybe she masturbates looking at his unconscious form

>> No.1076143

>>1076105
Otherwise a fine idea, but the masturbation idea sounds forced. At least, it couldn't be made plausible in the span of a short story length piece (where the maximum word count is 7-9k words).

>> No.1076156
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1076156

Nah, it's not cliche.

You just have to be careful not to make the entire story a passive flashback thing where nothing really happens

>> No.1076261

Thanks for the input, people.

I may as well post the beginning here, so /lit/ can call me a faggot and tell me that it sucks. But if you were able to say why, I guess that would be helpful.

---
Ann tried to ignore the steady pain in her shin as she limped back to the hab-block. Having queued for three hours outside Derek's shack, only to be bitten by his pet pygmy grox after paying three times the going rate for a pair of woven protein bars, she was convinced the day could only improve. Surely her brother would be pleased that she'd managed to find some edible food, at least.

She left the main pedestrian walkway, and the floor of perforated steel plates transitioned to bare, slimy mud. She trod cautiously, unused to the new route she had had to find after her regular tunnel had flooded with chlorinated waste. Her brother had always insisted that she make the food-runs on account of her smaller size - his reasoning being that she was better suited to slip through small gaps in the heaps of wreckage that bordered their slum. She didn't mind. He found it difficult leaving the hab-block these days.

>> No.1076262

>>1076261

Her new route took her past a heap of fractured transport containers: a thicket of jagged, green plastic edges. Amidst the split containers were a few bundles of clothes, consumer goods that had, for some reason, never found their way to their outlet. She clambered down to have a root around. Clean clothes were the next best thing to a shower.

She spent a few minutes picking through utilitarian garments, some of them still shrink-wrapped. Then she laughed in delight as she reached the bottom of her crate, and found a few girls' garments, pretty clothes probably intended for noble rich bitches up in the spire. She looked around to make sure nobody was skulking in the shadows, before slipping out of her grubby jeans and t-shirt. She unwrapped the plastic from around the new garment and unrolled it: a light summer dress with a floral pattern. She wriggled into it, a grin appearing on her face as she felt the smooth, clean fabric against her skin. She struck a pose like she'd seen girls doing in the tattered pages of magazines that sometimes turned up on the ground. She looked at her reflection in the glossy surface of a plastic shard hanging off a crate. The dress went well with her steel toecapped boots, she thought.

Ann always tried not to look at the corpse at the bottom of the hab-block's stairwell when she passed it. It had turned up ten days ago, a dark shape half-concealed underneath a pile of refuse. Today, she noticed, it was missing its leg. Cursing her inability to ignore both the sight and the stench of the carcass, she began the climb up to the apartment she and her brother had claimed, on the sixth floor.

>> No.1076266

>>1076262

As she approached their module, she could her the dissonant chords of the thrash-jazz ensemble "The Noise Marines" emanating from the other side of the door. She wasn't sure what appealed to her brother about the music, but she had learned to put up with it. Entering the apartment and carefully stepping over the pile of gas cylinders that her brother had insisted 'might come in handy some day', she raised her voice over the din.
"Hey big brother! I'm back! I found protein bars!"
There was no reply. Perhaps he was still asleep.
"You want them raw? Or should I cook them with that purple stuff from the dumpster?"
Still nothing.

>> No.1076269

>>1076266

She walked into the lounge and turned off the oppressively loud sound system as the opening bars of "You Captured my Heart (for Chaos)" started to play. Her brother lay on the floor, an idiot grin spread across his face. A pair of syringes were scattered nearby. She jabbed him in the ribs.
"Breakfast time, bro."
He remained unmoving. Ann jabbed him harder, and lightly slapped him on the cheek.
"Hey!," she said, "snap out of it!"
He belched, before heaving a stream of watery brown vomit onto the floor next to him. His eyes rolled back into his head.
"Brother?"

Ann had seen him dosed up dozens of times before, but normally he was lucid enough to speak to her, or at the very least rant about how the walls had teeth and his legs had turned into snakes. She pressed her finger under his jaw, and found his pulse. It was erratic, coming in quick bursts, multiple beats between long pauses.
"Brother...?"

He was totally unresponsive. This was bad. She took a few deep breaths, calming herself whilst she tried to recall the diagrams from a first-aid pamphlet she had once seen. She rolled him over onto his side, arranging his limbs and head in the recovery position. His skin was cold and clammy. She chewed on the knuckle of her index finger, wondering what she should do next.
---

First draft.

>> No.1076273

>>1076126
Now ripping off OP's and other guy's idea and doing this.

>> No.1076278

Do people still refer to their siblings as "Brother" and "Sister"

>> No.1076289

>>1076278
Or address I should say

>> No.1076291

>>1076278
No. This is not Grimm's Fairy Tales.

>> No.1076404

>>1076273
>implying neon genesis evangelon
really not that loldeep, bro

>> No.1076408

>>1076143
Of course it could. Short stories are about economy of information. A good short story writer could do it easily.

>> No.1076409

>>1076278

OP here, now that you mention it I don't know what I was thinking. Guess I'll have to give him a name.

>> No.1076512

>>1076291
black people do. or rather, black muslims, i should say.

>> No.1076730

OP here. I wonder if, given the lack of posts referring to the bit of story I posted, that I can assume there aren't any huge problems with it? Might I dare to venture that it's... adequate?

>> No.1076985

>>1076730

'sall right

I agree though, nobody actually calls their brother "brother".

>> No.1077135

i would suggest:

find some good short stories about dramatic moments
read some raymond chandler (who writes about the everyday)
think about where the really important parts of your story are - do you need to follow the whole arc to convey whatever it is you're trying to convey? (in my mind, i'm imagining a story about a girl who knows that her brother is home doing drugs, and she's off of work and buying groceries; or it follows the brother and his thought process waiting for her to return, wanting to be high but not wanting to disappoint her)
contradiction and tension bring surprise, which in turn makes writing interesting - plot is important but tension and surprise make a story good

>> No.1077155

here's the rule about these stories

does it have wincest?
if yes, more wincest
if no, more wincest

>> No.1077173

>>1077155
This. Get your shit of /lit/ if its not filled with wincest.

>> No.1077622

>>1076261
>>1076262
>>1076266

This didn't give me what I was looking for as a reader, to be honest. It's too formal, if you don't mind me saying so. Too much is explained.

>> No.1077643

you might actually want to do some research about drugs.

for one, what drug does he usually do. what effect does it have on the psyche, the body. what is its desired effect.

>> No.1078061

>>1076269
it's innovative and there's some potentially ground-breaking stuff there but I don't think it will fit

>> No.1078066

>>1077643

Drugs are like sex, when it comes to fiction - you have to experience them firsthand to know exactly what they feel like, or else you'll disconnect from those of your readers who have had sex or taken mind-altering substances.

>> No.1078080

research this - I'm 42 with a serious heart condition (2 heart attacks - 4 stents). I did LSD and mushrooms in my teens and 20s and loved it. I want to do it again - maybe even some DMT or more exotic hallucinogens. What's the worst thing that could happen? Talk me in to or out of this idea.

>> No.1078095

>>1078080
Hallucinogens are generally pretty harmless, I think. Could a bad trip give you a heart attack though? Like, from the elevated heart rate?

>> No.1078104

>>1078080
Psychedelics (DMT, LSD, peyote, shrooms) have stimulant properties and might negatively affect your heart. Typically, their stimulant effects would be too mild to be of any concern, but with a serious heart condition, I'd probably err on the side of caution.

>> No.1078130

>>1078080

Well no one has ever died from the physical effects of LSD (sometimes people flip out and do stupid shit so hide your weapons if you have some and keep a close friend nearby) and it is impossible to fatally overdose.

I say go for it. I've done acid a couple of times, it's fun. Mushrooms on the other hand I can do without. They're sort of like acid with a much more intense high for the first 3 hours or so. I didn't like mushrooms either because I had a pair of bad trips back-to-back but I did enjoy them initially and had some good times using them with friends. A lethal dosage of mushrooms is over 2,000 times the typical (about two grams) amount to achieve the desired effect. It's pretty hard to OD on either of these.

However, both will alter your brain chemistry in unforeseen ways. Whether you're 18 or 81, it could result in permanent loss of motor functions, impaired thinking, increased likelihood of strokes, and the rare possibility that you don't come down. Furthermore, these two drugs in particular store chemicals in the fatty folds of your brain which can result in late onset effects (as in you'll trip randomly years later). There are always risks that you should be aware of and that you need to acknowledge if you're serious about trying these hallucinogens. Look up more information online but don't be too timid. If you're going to do it, commit a weekend, grab someone you trust and enjoy the trip.

And yet they're both safer to use than meth...

>> No.1078144

>>1078080

oh shit. I didn't read that you had a serious heart condition, my bad.

DO NOT DO THESE DRUGS. They will increase your heartrate and while under the influence you may have trouble regulating your body's rhythm, being that you're not in the right state of mind.

AGAIN, I take back what I just wrote and advise against using them if you have serious health concerns.

>> No.1078171

>>1078080

>42
>two heart attacks

Holy Jesus, how did that happen? Are you obese?

>> No.1078201

>>1078171
hard drinking, heavy smoking writer (currently drunk). overweight but not obese. blame a lot on trans fats (BBQ pork) and a period of time when I consumed 100% lab grade ethanol mixed with OJ. that shit is definitely not ok. im a little concerned because i recall getting really, really excited when on acid.

>> No.1078659

Oh, hey, thread still alive, with more criticism? Awesome. Thanks, anons.

>>1077643

It's not going to be the main focus, and I admit I'm not all that experienced with drugs myself. But I'm pretty sure that some compound can cause these generic symptoms. Hell, it's probably already obvious that the story is in a sci-fi setting (don't hate on me, /lit/!) so it can be explained with some futuristic space-heroin or whatever.

>>1078061
Don't think what will fit?
>>1077622
Maybe I went too far in trying to describe how Ann lives. Just trying to avoid reader confusion due to lack of information.

Seeing as this thread's still here, I'll post some of the dialoge I wrote for it yesterday:

>> No.1078665

>>1078659

Still a bit rough around the edges.
---
The basement went completely silent at the sight of the sixteen year-old girl standing in the doorway, nervously brushing her hair from across her face. A cigarette rolled across the floor, fallen from the slack mouth of a musclebound youth with bright green hair and facial tattoos.

"Um... do any of you know Jack?" she asked.

Slowly, the hubbub of noise returned. Surly men raised tankards to their lips and resumed card-games, or picked up the next part of a stripped gun to clean and inspect. Seated at a table made from a board laid across two burned-out electronics stacks, a man gestured to Ann with a tilt of his chin. She walked over and pulled up a crate to sit down, trying to stifle her reaction to the smell of beer and tobacco. He had been playing some intricate game with the other man opposite him; cards and dice were laid out on the table's surface.

>> No.1078666

>>1078665

"What do you know about Jack?" he asked.
"He's my brother."
"Well then, isn't that interesting?", he said, raising his arms and lacing his fingers behind his head. Ann wished very much that he hadn't exposed his armpits like that. The stench was practically visible in the air.
"I think he needs help. Like, medical help," she said.
"Do I look like a doctor?"
"I thought... he comes down here so often, I couldn't think of anywhere else to go."
The man laughed to himself. "Clueless little bitch, aren't ya?"
"But, I thought-"
"Piss off," he snapped. He lifted a can to his lips.
The second man spoke for the first time. His voice was an octave lower than any human's had the right to be. "Wait, Saul," he said.

As the second man turned to Ann, she got the first clear look at his face. The side that had been turned away from her came into view, and she involuntarily put her hand to her mouth when she saw the warty growths that covered the man's skin - the left side of his face was fully covered in scaly knobs of flesh. Where it met the fringe of his black hair, some yellow secretion had dried out onto his skin in a thick crust. He regarded her with his single eye.

>> No.1078667

>>1078666

"We might be able to get him help," he said. "How badly does he need it?"
"He's lying in our apartment. I think he overdosed on something. There were syringes."
Across the table, the first man paused mid-sip.
"And how badly do you want him to get help?" he continued.
She was slightly taken aback. "I- of course I want him to get help. He needs a doctor, or something."
The man leaned back and crossed his arms. Ann saw that more of the warty skin covered his hands, making his fingers thick and clumsy.
"What's in it for us, if we help you?"
"I thought... aren't you his friends? Like, a gang or something?"
The man burst into crude laughter.
"Your brother isn't worth the shit on my boot heel," he said. "So if you want us to help, you'll need to do something for us in return."
"What do you mean?"
"There are certain things a young lady like you can provide," he said. He ran the tip of his tongue across his scabrous lips, reaching a hand towards Ann's chest.

>> No.1078668

>>1078667

"For fuck's sake, Chad!" the first man grabbed him by the wrist, halting the advance of his hand inches away from Ann. "She's a fucking kid!"
"Nah, man. Look at them titties. She's blossming into womanhood, for sure."
He made another attempt to paw at her, and then there was a crumpling sound as Saul crushed his beer can against the man's head.
"Ow, what the fuck?" he exclaimed.
"You're a freak, Chad."
Saul let out a sigh, and turned to Ann, who was trembling slightly. The colour had drained from her face.
"You said there were syringes?"
"Yeah. Two of them. They had this sort of purple label."
"So he used both of them?"
"I guess."
He slammed his palm down on the table. "I told that stupid fuck to only use ONE goddamned shot at a time! Fuck!"
He took a moment to compose himself.
"You're lucky that your brother's such a good customer of mine, and that I'm feeling particularly benevolent today," he said. "Is he far from here?"
"In our room, on floor six."
"Okay." He slapped Chad on the shoulder. "We'll take him to see Darzen. Chad doesn't mind helping out, do you buddy?"
He grunted in response, still rubbing his forehead.
"Show us where he is, then."

>> No.1079136

ITT: We do not know shit about writing dialogue