I am writing a short novel, trying to get the style of the writing down before I go into writing more. The basic story is about a man who joins the military right before world war 3 and his company is thrown into the front lines of the beginning battle.
I am looking for anything that will help improve my writing before I dive into the real story. I am still a novice writer so this is more a learning process than anything so please criticize my work in any way, harsh or not I don't mind.
I was never really a fighting man, early in school I was the kid getting pushed around for no reason other than I allowed it. I wouldn't stand idlely by but I did not retailiate, it was more nerviousness than fear. It didn't take long for me to realize I could not let this happen and more then once the pent up anger and tugging urge for revenge got the best of me. By the time the freshman year came nobody really messed with me other than the odd senior who didn't know me. That was quickly snuffed out by my willingness to stand up and get in their face.
I think the loss of my father when I was a very young boy, maybe 4 or 5, had something to do with it. The lack of a father figure with only my mother raising me, it didn't help much. I lack the conviction a man must hold to succeed in life which only a man with his fathers wisdom passed on can give. I'm not saying in any way my mother did me wrong, she did wonderful and I would not expect nothing more, even much less. She was one of the main reasons I survived my early hardship in school and I loved her dearly.
The main things you learn in highschool are not academic but life lessons that for the most part hold true till your death bed. Little things about how people work and the way they generally react to certain situations. The way a girls eyes glance down and a certain seriousness washes over their face hinting for a kiss. The way the fast talkers are quick to back off when it comes down to it. The way confidence commands respect. The way good friends never end up being so.
Looking back and knowing what I know now, things just seem funny. I try not to think about it much due to the deep hatred I had of school. I hear alot of people wishing they were back in high school, with no worries or bills, always hanging out with friends, a never ending crop of girls. It sounds appealing but the truth of matter is a different story. School was the worst thing I ever experienced, pointless homework that practiced knowledge utterly useless in everyday life. The only valuble thing was the experience of dealing with people... and girls.
I'd rather work for what I have, have the freedom of a grown man. I can find my own friends and my own girls, I have no shortages in the outside world. Then I find my self in the same situation, a new envirenment, new rules, and new hardships, but the underlying issues errely similar. Dejivu in its true form will smack you in the face and blur your head. From the first moments on the bus to boot camp it was evident. You can see the cliques form almost immediately falling into place like a self solving puzzle.
I sat next to a rail of a man, with eyes sunken into his skull almost screaming with intensity. His hair was long and a pure black with a beard equally as long. He looks like a hippy fresh out of woodstock. His face grew narrow as it reached his chin and his teeth seems cartoonish large; his mouth almost couldn't contain them. He glanced over to me and muttered "Hi, I'm Shawn." Voice essentally a wishper as it cracked with nervousness. He held out a hand requesting mine and I delivered. His hand held weakly in mine and after a good two shakes I replied "The names Jake..."
There was a slight awkward pause as neither of us had anything else to say. Finally I broke the silence and asked "What made you sign up?" He glanced down and grimiced at the question I waited confused at his reaction "My father made me join, he said every one of our ancestors did the same... Said it would be good for me." He looked away for a second down the bus seats and looked back at me "How about you?" I found my self smiling at the question remembering all the times I longed for this moment. Playing war as a kid and even well into my teens I read war books about the brothership of war. It would always put a knot in my throat to think of how brave and selfless these warriors were. "I've always wanted to, and since my dad died in the Iraqi war when I was young I just wanted to honor him."
Shawns eyes looked out the window at a formation of planes passing by, they made a deep rumble in the air like an earthquake. It was muffled and overwhelmed by the sounds of the bus but I could still hear it. "Wont be much longer." I said to him, I could hear excitment in my voice as it rose higher than I expected. Little did I know the hell I was about to endure the next thirteen weeks. "Yeah.. can't ****ing wait." he replied under his breath sarcastically. I looked over at him as he glanced out the window, I felt my smile fade away mimicking the mood in his voice.
I thank anyone who reads this even if they do not reply.