I am writing a short novella about a guy who, on his last day of living in the Unites States before he moves back to Australia, is ditched by his friends. He makes a deal with the sociopathic lesbian sister of one of the traitor friends by pretending to be her boyfriend for the day in exchange for one day of companionship and they have these wild adventures in downtown San Francisco.
This is the begining paragraphs of my novella. What do you think? Would it encourage readers to read more or should I change it?
My name is Cedric Fowler, and I come from a long line of guys with funny names who in some way had a really fucked up day. Well, I would think it’s a long line, but the only members of that exclusive club I can think of are Arthur Dent and that Dante guy from Clerks. Oh, and my great uncle, whom I was named after. He was a corporal in the Australian Army during World War II and was stationed in the Pacific. The beginning of the two hundred and twenty five worst days of his life ever began on August 7, 1943, when his platoon was captured by the Japanese military and shipped off to a prison camp somewhere in the Philippines, where he died of malaria. And despite that, my dad still thought it was a good idea for me to be named after that unlucky guy.
The reason why I’m starting this off is because my best friend and landlord, who also has a funny name, Bruno Antwiler, is planning on taking his life in two hours. We made a deal that if I write a story with an uplifting ending in the end, then he won’t kill himself. To tell you the truth, there’s only been one time in my life where I thought the worst day of my life actually turned out to be a pretty damn good one. So, here I am, typing it on my computer, hoping that it will save Bruno's life.
The worst day of my life happened on my second to last day of living in the United States of America, which was about three months ago this Wednesday.
This is the begining paragraphs of my novella. What do you think? Would it encourage readers to read more or should I change it?
My name is Cedric Fowler, and I come from a long line of guys with funny names who in some way had a really fucked up day. Well, I would think it’s a long line, but the only members of that exclusive club I can think of are Arthur Dent and that Dante guy from Clerks. Oh, and my great uncle, whom I was named after. He was a corporal in the Australian Army during World War II and was stationed in the Pacific. The beginning of the two hundred and twenty five worst days of his life ever began on August 7, 1943, when his platoon was captured by the Japanese military and shipped off to a prison camp somewhere in the Philippines, where he died of malaria. And despite that, my dad still thought it was a good idea for me to be named after that unlucky guy.
The reason why I’m starting this off is because my best friend and landlord, who also has a funny name, Bruno Antwiler, is planning on taking his life in two hours. We made a deal that if I write a story with an uplifting ending in the end, then he won’t kill himself. To tell you the truth, there’s only been one time in my life where I thought the worst day of my life actually turned out to be a pretty damn good one. So, here I am, typing it on my computer, hoping that it will save Bruno's life.
The worst day of my life happened on my second to last day of living in the United States of America, which was about three months ago this Wednesday.