No matter what I do, I can't find a way around "the" when it comes to writing stories or making a story that feels like it's repeating. Here's an example of what I've gotten so far with a rewrite I started last week. Keep in mind that I don't have much because I've been busy. The story is about breaking the fourth wall and the main character and the author/narrator coexist in the same universe, sort of like "Stranger Than Fiction" if anyone reading this has seen it.
“You writing a new story soon?”
“Just started. Well, I mean the draft.”
“What happened to taking a break?”
“I can't just sit there and do nothing.”
“You’re not not doing nothing; you’re taking time to be with a friend.”
“Well, what happened to ‘you writing a new story soon?’”
“******* hell. Can't catch a break now, can I?”
“Not when you keep running your mouth without thinking, and you already agreed to pay for the drinks and the next prescription for my glasses.”
“Look at my luck. My best friend is a book writer and an ***.”
“I'm going home.”
“Bye.”
Arriving home, he puts his things away and prepares to type.
Structural Relation
Jack. A highly intelligent young man, only 19 years and fresh into college. New York is no place for the witty, it’s a city that never sleeps, after all. A haiku freshly spray painted under a bridge on a walk to a certain building, which appeared hidden away from the rest of the world.
“All in the night lights
The city bustles with life
Yet but not without...”
Life. It’s an awkward thing to cope with, to coexist with seven billion others who will never know your story, then there are the others that know you personally and still know nothing about you truly. There will never be anyone who will understand you to the fullest. An old man by the name of Adam declares he’s been everywhere. Such intriguing stories but seemed just as tall at that. A favorite of Jack’s, he visits at noon on the first of every month and enjoys these stories, filled with much detail to a length with the genesis of his life up to retirement and the last journey. Jack’s phone dings violently with messages. 24+ Unread Messages. Scrolling, looking for someone, Noah. 3 Unread Messages.
“Well, looks like I'm popular for once.” he said aloud.
“Jack!”
“Where u at?”
“I’m boreed and need entertainment.”
“I’m about to head to my car”
“Just took a minute to read msgs.”
“I’ll be waiting for u”
“yk I gotta work on my math stuff”
“But youre welcome to come over and make food for me”
“Fine but you’re going to talk to me right?”
“Sure why not”
“Bye”
“Bye ”
Walking back past the mural under the bridge, to an old parking garage, hidden under a tarp and trash bags, A car is dug out. A clever camouflage for a few hours to keep from getting thieved. He packs the tarp in the trunk and clears out. The drive is approximately 12 minutes and the walk from, 10 minutes. Upon arrival, beams of light from the vehicle shine on the corner of the house and Noah walks to the driver's window. The engine cuts off and Noah starts yelling while Jack exits the vehicle.
“Where the hell’ve you been? It’s been like thirty minutes.”
“Traffic, a long walk to my car, and was doing something.”
“I’m sorry I trust you, just couldn’t find the key so I'm just a little pissed.”
“It’s okay, I know how you are, dummy. The key’s in the same place I put it since the house was built, (even though it sucks that it got damaged in the first place) it’s in the broken part of the siding on the wall. Remember, I put it on the block in the wall where the frame of the door is.”
“I don’t think I'd be able to remember that if my life depended on it”
“I’m not moving it.”
“Whatever”
He rolls his eyes and Jack grabs the key to show him,
