Hi Timeasis,
Not a bad start. The first thing that stuck out at me was the fact that you didn't have line breaks (spaces between all your paragraphs.) That is an absolute MUST. I know many others on this site will not even read a piece if it doesn't have line breaks; it's just too painful.
You have a good start with this! It is a bit mind-numbing (if that was the effect you were going for!) but I felt at times it was too much so. The thoughts were well written, but the hardest part of writing is taking out the well written stuff and putting in the stuff that makes sense. A lot of times I felt that some of his thoughts just didn't fit in with what was going on.
Please remember that these are just my suggestions! YOU ARE THE GOD OF THE PIECE! Take my suggestions or leave them! I'll bold my comments; things i don't like will be crossed out or in brackets [].
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The sidewalk was full of hurried pedestrians. Jack weaved in and out of oncoming traffic, Okay, I thought he was on the sidewalk. "Oncoming traffic" makes it sound like he's on the road. trying to take note of his current location from the street signs. He didn’t travel on foot that often, and was usually lost without the aid of public transportation. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a plain white business card and glanced down at it. He wasn’t very adept at doing two things at once and shortly thereafter bumped into a quick-stepping business man apparently on his way to work. Unnecessary adverb There was no verbal exchange, just an impatient sigh followed by a hateful glare. Jack didn’t like confrontation, and he was somewhat relieved that this man had been conversing on a his cellular phone and didn’t have time to scold him on how he should watch where he was walking.
“What the hell am I doing?” Jack mumbled under his breath as he weaved Okay, you've already used this word between pedestrians and motor vehicles. I'm very confused, now. Is he on the road or the sidewalk? I can't visualize this scene; I think you need to work on that a bit more. He grasped the card harder and looked down at it yet again. “This whole thing—is madness," he thought to himself ?
The previous day, Jack had had a strange encounter with one an interesting fellow in a bar not far from his current position. Leto’s Bar? Was that it? He couldn’t remember—probably because he was drunk out of his mind. For all he knew, he could have found this card under the influence, scribbled some words down, and then dreamt some reward-promising stranger gave it to him saying that this building was the end of his problems. Like some kind of alcoholic-induced hallucination. Jack shook his head. He really didn’t care at this point.
“Might as well start what I finish[.],” he said aloud. “Er…” He was still a little under the weather from last night[—]or, more blatantly, hung-over. Be careful with those em-dashes and the dialogue grammar.
He stepped quicker now, the sun casting shadows of huge buildings over the gritty pavement. It was a wonder that the sun shone at all. Okay, this is an interesting statement that immediately caught my interest. However, you don't go right into the meaning, which means by the time I get down to why you said that, I have lost direction and focus. I think you should play with the sentence order of the following paragraph to make it more clear.
Clouds and smog mixed in the atmosphere, and the two were almost indistinguishable from each other. The sky was pale with grayish clouds spread around the bright yellow orb. It wasn’t a very brilliant day, but then again, they days weren’t very brilliant anymore. Clouds and smog mixed in the atmosphere, and it was almost impossible to tell one from the other. The day was ominous in a way only the sky can depict it. Unfortunately for Jack, he did not get a chance to glance at the sky that day—he was in too much of a hurry. Why would he be in a hurry? Did he write down some time limit on the card or something? I would think a hung-over guy trying to find a mystical building he knows nothing about would be taking his time, wandering around leisurely...
Another three blocks down, he finally spotted a towering gray building, sparsely lit and with very few windows. It looked to be built entirely from cement or stone, and stood out like a sore thumb in this the steel jungle of the city ?. Jack glanced down at the card he was still gripping in his hand, scanned it for a brief second, then quickly looked back up and squinted at the engraving on the building. It seemed as though this was Jack’s destination, although he didn’t think the building was all that inviting.
Jack began to feel sick, largely uncomfortable, and considered a couple times of turning around. Show, don't tell. He felt sick? How? Did his stomach feel queasy? Did he feel a headache come on? He felt out of place. He had lived his life in such a way that he felt any and all people or organizations would have absolutely no use of his particularly un-honed Choose a word that exists. neglected? stunted? skills. He asked himself why it was him who had been “chosen” for this job, but then reasoned that that identification of what he had been was far too flattering. He attempted to shut off the logical hemisphere of his brain, which did a majority of the work, and tap into his childhood idealism. At this point, ignorance and naivety were Jack Dresden’s best friends.
Jack turned off his brain and walked forward.
In this day and age, if you were stupid and didn’t ask questions, you were better off than those clever ones who had to have “reasons” for things. Jack was, unfortunately enough, too clever. And the world, in response, told him to go f*** himself. Alright, you just used one of those naughty words.  That bumps the rating of this up to 18+, FYI.
As he approached he began to breathe heavily and then proceeded to clasp his hands to his face in an effort to warm them up. He reached for the door and stood still. At the same time? Now that's a miracle. I think you should have him reach for the door, and then pause, perhaps. The door seemed to suffer from the same imperfection that the building did, made from rusted steel with a large metal handle. Because you mentioned before this building was an anomaly from the steel jungle, saying that any part of the building is made of steel probably is contradictory. He wondered why a building of this size did not use a revolving or double door configuration, but then he realized that this invitation was given to him by a figure who was just as questionable as this building seemed to be. Jack wondered why he had took taken the man up on his offer and whether or not it would be alright if he just turned around and left.
He stood there for another three minutes. In the cold.
His common sense, however, got the best of him and convinced him that in light of his present financial situation, this “appointment” was not a decision but an obligation—one that apparently promised sound financial security. Pessimism quickly began to tear his common sense down with questions along the lines of why a complete stranger would randomly offer him financial security just by showing up at an appointment on a certain day, but he then determined that he had no other options at this point, and would regret not showing up if he decided against it. Okay, you've been referring to this lack of financial security. Specifics please! I think this would be stronger if you could say exactly what happened (e.g. he lost his job, he got kicked out of his apartment, etc)
“Stop thinking[.] ,” he told himself. “For god’s sake, just walk in.” Be very careful with the dialogue grammar. If you're ever in doubt, pick up any book. You'll see how the dialogue works. When you're cutting a thought in half like that, you need to use a comma.
So it could be a complete bluff, a total scam. It didn’t matter. Jack was in a slump, in every sense of the word. He needed every chance, every possibility, no matter how unlikely or illogical.
He clasped the cold metal handle, and, taking some of his strength and some backward leaning, slowly opened the door. The room he entered ? was just as frighteningly bland as the façade was—dimly lit, pale walls, a grimy white-tiled floor (which was not so white anymore) and a single block in the wall behind ? which an aged security guard sat watching a small television behind some glass. There were two chairs, and a small coffee table. He turned around and shut the door loudly so the guard might hear his entrance. Nothing.
The card was still held in his left hand and he glanced down at it yet again. Just the address, and penciled in on the bottom was the time—noon. Okay, so now we get to the time, and why he was rushed. Could that be mentioned before? He flipped it over. A single sentence. “Ask for Ian”.
Jack pocketed the card and looked back up at the security guard. He was wearing a dark blue uniform. He had a light brown coat lying on his desk very similar to the one Jack was currently wearing, although the guard’s looked much newer.
Jack wasn’t very good with people. As a matter of fact, Jack wasn’t very good at life itself. He was a pessimist, constantly analyzing the worst case scenario over and over until he convinced himself nothing good could come out of something and disbanded the notion altogether. But today, Jack didn’t have time for pessimism. He didn’t have time for worry. He didn’t have time for all this introverted, mind-numbing thought that made Jack who he was. He needed to step up and meet with the rest of civilization. Leave the remote island of his mind and join the rest of society. Why this sudden change of heart? This is nicely written, but without a reason, it doesn't mean much.
He began to walk over to the counter, hoping that the guard would take notice of him and direct him to his appointment, instead of having to approach the guard himself. The officer still stared blankly at the television, facing the opposite direction of Jack, and took no notice of him at all. Jack produced a fake cough to attempt to get his attention. Still no luck.
With a deep breath, he quickened his pace and finally came to the window. Looking in, he rapped on the clear plastic and the guard swiveled in his chair to face him. The guard spoke nothing but raised his eyebrows and tilted his head.
“I’m looking for…” he began quietly. His voice was soft but deep. “I’m looking for Ian.”
Okay, here are my thoughts right after reading:
What does Jack look like? There are no descriptions.
Plot-wise, I am slightly curious as to who this Ian might be, but this was a slow start for a first chapter. I think one specific, vivid memory of Jack's--instead of all this internal monologuing, would make me identify much more with him. He seems to be your protagonist. What makes him feel so isolated from the world? What makes him such a loner? Merely his personality traits? Is that it? Why does he feel that his personality traits are such a damper? Doesn't he feel the need FOR people? To fit in?
Whew! that was long! If this was your first, in-depth, critical review, then don't freak out. This definitely has potential. With a little work, I think this could be fantastic.
&&emerin |
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The green I can work with. The italics, I think, are overdoing it just a tad. I think if the last section (the letter) was the only part in italics, it would make that letter that much more powerful.