Angel in Darkness

[FallenMorgan]

Angel in Darkness Episode II

A lot of people seem to not like it. I think it's because of the writing style, but I dunno.

 

[tickledkitty]

We told you why we didn't like it.

 

[FallenMorgan]

Well how could I improve it if I rewrite it? There are a few things I want to keep:

-The Stream of consciousness style
-Paris as one of the main characters

In the original incarnations, my character was more deep and moody. I rewrote it a whole ton of times. Believe me though, this is better than my first version. Perhaps you'd have a suggestion for how I meet her that might make more sense. My character isn't into parties or anything, but in the version before this, the character Tanya drags me to a party.

 

[manyeyedhydra]

This:

-Paris as one of the main characters

and this:

My character isn't into parties or anything, but in the version before this, the character Tanya drags me to a party.

are very hard constraints to write a story to that will keep general readers interested.

It sounds like you're writing up a fantasy where you get to go on all kinds of adventures with Paris Hilton. It's probably a lot of fun for you to write, but you have to accept it's unlikely to engage many readers.

If you want to write something that will appeal to more people try loosening the constraints:

-A wealthy heiress with a knack for getting into trouble as a main character.

-My main character isn't into parties or anything, but in the version before this, the character Tanya drags him to a party.

 

[FallenMorgan]

I'm rewriting it now. I agree that Paris in Angel in Darkness is a bit too not-crazy when it's safe to admit she is a bit of a party girl.

What do you mean by loosening the constraints?

 

[manyeyedhydra]

What do you mean by loosening the constraints?

-The main character has to be Paris.

You also refer a lot to the main character as 'me' when you'd be better off thinking of them as 'my main character'.

At the moment that closes off your potential readership to a very small number because it's so specific.

You could use a character that is clearly identifiable as Paris without actually being Paris. There'd be plenty of readers who'd still go "I fancy her, she sounds exactly like Paris Hilton." But you'd also engage all the other readers who'd go "I fancy her, she sounds exactly like Britney Spears / Lindsay Lohan, etc"

That's broadening your potential readership.

But it depends on what you want though.

 

[FallenMorgan]

I'm rewriting it. The problem with that is that my main character is in a sense me but a lot prettier looking. This is the introduction, tell me how I could make my character more 'deep':

My life right now is great – it wasn't always like that though. Since I was fourteen I had an attraction to Paris Hilton – it wasn't like some silly crush, I cared about her, and I felt so dead on the inside when she got a new boyfriend. All my sorrow started to go away when I was 17 – March 17th, 2006. On that day I met her, and I accomplished my dreams of being more than just some fan.

It was an annoyingly sunny, warm day, and my mother and I were doing something we often did – that is, driving around Beverly Hills to see if we could find Paris. I often wondered if she really felt the same way she acted about my weird little obsession.

We stopped at a red light, and I said: “You think she'd even like to be bothered while eating lunch?” I was down on the whole idea of meeting her. I wanted to meet her, but there were two things that kept me from doing so: the fact that I'd have a heart attack, and the fact that I knew it was practically impossible.

“I dunno,” My mother said, “Just think positive, Morgan.” That's my name, Morgan. I knew that appearances weren't important to Paris – she's dated ugly bastards like Rick Salomon – but I just felt like she wouldn't find me attractive. You could call me 'emo' – I had, and still have, black, straight, ear length hair covering one eye, a thin build, and white pasty skin. I dressed in black army fatigues I bought at an army surplus store, and usually had a funny t-shirt that said things ranging from “I am Canadian” to “Sorry...about your face.” I also had some bodily hair back then, because my dad would get pissed off if I used 'veet' or something.

The light turned green, and we continued driving down the street. “Wanna get some lunch? ,” My mother asked. I called her Melanie often, since that was her name. I don't know why I call my parents by their first name – I started doing it when I was ten or so.

“Sure,” I said.

We parallel parked near a restaurant we usually went to when we went Paris hunting – it had places to sit outside and it had okay food. It wasn't as upscale as places such as The Ivy or something like that, but it was alright. We walked up, and saw someone sitting outside, eating lunch – it was a blonde woman. As we walked closer, I realized that it was Paris Hilton!

“Holy crap,” I whispered to my mother, “It's – Paris.”

“Go talk to 'er,” She said.

“Um – okay,” I said. My heart was racing, and I was incredibly nervous.

We walked up to the door that led into the restaurant, and Melanie sort of whispered: “I'll go inside – come in when you're done talking.”

“Okay,” I said.

She went inside, and I walked over to where Paris was sitting. “Hi,” I said, nervously, “I'm - Morgan. She looked absolutely lovely – her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she had a white t-shirt and jeans. I always remember how absolutely lovely she looked for some reason – she looked even more lovely in person than in pictures and whatnot. Honestly, just to note, I never saw that disgusting video, and never want to.

“Hi,” She said, “Nice to meet ya – I'm Paris.” She smiled and laughed slightly – everybody probably knew who she was.

“I know,” I said, nervously, “Mind if I sit down?”

“No,” She said, “I don't mind.”

I never had a girlfriend or anything – I homeschooled all the way through high school and middle school, and I don't mean my parents taught me irrelivant bullshit about the Earth being 6000 years old – I'm a liberal. In general I was a complete introvert.

I sat down in the chair across from her, and said: “Um – if you don't mind me saying – I've always wanted to um – meet you.”

She smiled, and said: “You want an autograph or somethin', Morgan?”

“Um – sure,” I said. I didn't want just an autograph or something from her – I wanted to be something like a friend.

She took a pen and a piece of paper out of her purse, and wrote her signature on it. She handed it to me, and I said: “Thanks.”

She smiled, and said: “You're welcome.”

“Just curious,” I said, “Do you have an email address?” I had the idea that she had an email address. Everyone always thought she didn't know how to turn on a computer or something. She's smarter than everyone thinks.

“Yeah,” She said, “Do you?”

“Yeah,” I said, “You wanna um – trade email addresses?” I couldn't believe that I was getting Paris's email address – I was so glad to be something more than a fan.

“Sure,” She said with a smile. Obviously she saw how nervous I was.

We both wrote down our email addresses, and handed them to eachother. “If I send you an email will you reply to it? ,” I asked.

“Yeah,” She said.

“Um – my mother is probably uh – waiting for me,” I said, “You promise to check your email when you get the chance?”

“Yes,” She said, “I've got a lot of free time.”

I got up, and after saying “Nice meeting you,” I went inside. I was very excited, and when I got home, I emailed her. She emailed back, and in the next couple days, we traded phone numbers. It may seem odd but in the first email, I explained how I wanted to be more than just a fan. We started going places – I didn't like parties and whatnot too much, but I went because I was going with her. I told her about how much I cared about her, but of course, we could only be friends, due to something called statutory rape, that is, until I turned 18, which most of this story is about.