so we're doing a creative non-fiction unit in my creative writing class...this is one of my pieces (a memoir) so far. i'm looking for some critiques, suggestions, possible title ideas? feel free to tear it apart...i can take it. anyway, here we go...
My suitcase felt as if it was harboring two small French children rather than clothes as I stared up the staircase that never seemed to end. The only thing standing between me and home was this staircase. And the metro. And the Paris airport. And the Atlantic Ocean.
"America...AMERica...AMERICA!" My voice screamed inside my head with each concrete step my suitcase lumbered over. I was sweating by the time I met Whitney at the top, my best friend who had come to Paris just for the weekend and therefore only had a simple backpack (French children not included). She had happily pranced up the stairs, stopping only to laugh and take pictures of my epic battle.
After surrendering my dignity to the staircase, my next point of combat became the urine-scented metro station. Dodging the accordionists and the homeless became the least of my worries as soon as I head the announcement-a strike. Whitney looked expectantly at me, oblivious. She didn't speak French. She didn't understand the newly developed complication. Finding a train running to the Paris airport suddenly became the quest for the Holy Grail. I searched the maps, my brain crying, "America...AMERica...AMERICA!" as my panicked eyes jumped from possible route to route.
"We're going to have to go up some more stairs," I said. We climbed, we ran, we panted, and we made friends with an Asian business man who valiantly joined our quest for the Holy Train. He spoke broken English, I spoke broken French, and Whitney smiled happily at the passing crowd of stone-faced Parisians until we finally ran onto the last train leaving for the airport, sighing onto the worn leather seats in a jumbled heap.
I exploded from the train at the airport station, Whitney and I clawing our way through the throng towards check-in. No I am not carrying a firearm, no I have not made purchases amounting to over $15,000 American dollars, and no I am not harboring French children in my suitcase. I passed with flying colors and handed over my luggage with relief. The gate and airplane were just ahead of me- I staggered towards them like a war veteran.
Take-off was bliss. I pressed my head onto the cool glass of the airplane window, seeing only the ocean beneath me. I imagined waves far below whispering, "America...Americaaa...Aaaamericaaaaa...."
ready....CRITIQUE!
2 comments:
I like it a lot, very funny. So here's my "critiquing"....
Urine scented... go off on a tangent and really decribe the smell.
Asian Business man... now that is funny, but I am partial, add some asian humor, like how you can always rely on the Asian b/c their everywhere you want to be.
Through the throng towards... that's a lot of t-words, maybe you should break it up a bit. Say it 10 times fast and you might just sound like that Asian business man.
It is a great story!
Great, entertaining writing! Just a couple of sp./grammatical corrections: 3rd paragraph I believe you meant 'heard' instead of 'head' the announcement. You might want to chg. 'sighing onto the worn...' to say 'collapsing onto the worn...' or 'sighing as we collapsed onto the worn...' Just makes more sense. 5th paragraph has lots of no's which should be followed by a comma and each fragment probably needs a semi-colon. Don't have alot of brilliant ideas for a title...I'll think on it!
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