The Coffee House

[PandaEnlightenment]

Here's a roleplay that has nothing to do with coffee or real estate, and all to do with writing! Discuss all things literary here, but in roleplaying form. So maybe you want to speak as the main character in that novel or short story you're working on? Who knows. c; Use this to free your muses, yes?

 

[Rad Disease]

Dogma walked into the coffee house and sat at a table, waiting for more people to help him find any glitches in his story.  

[PandaEnlightenment]

Eliot walked out from behind the counter to the man sitting alone at the table. She took off her apron and sat down across from him. "Howdy," she said, smiling. "Open mic tonight, in case you didn't know." She leaned back in her chair. "And if that's not what you're looking for, every day is Critique Swap," she said, pointing to the logo on her apron, crumpled up on the wooden tabletop. She handed him a piece of paper with scrawled words written in pen on both sides. "What do you think? Honestly?" Eliot asked hopefully. "A very rough draft, keep in mind. It seems to me like the beginning is kinda rough, but I don't know how to make it more smooth. And while I'm at it, do you need any help to work out some kinks?"

They walked together everyday, and the two of them watched it all happen- history, weather, the so-called advancements that time brought about. They walked, and occasionally drove, sometimes over mountains, sometimes state borders, but mostly they walked and worked simultaneously. Professional photographers, both of them, and they loved what they did. Wife with her husband, husband with wife, till death do us part, and they were always together.

As they walked down a city street, snapping photo after photo of sewage drains and street lamps and manholes and shiny, seamless factories, one pointed to the smoggy sky and shook her head. “The modern world’s decay is all up there,” she said grimly as her husband took a picture, his face upturned.
“Its true, but love, that’s where we are. A gray sky, lots of lung cancer, and no way out.” He bit into an apple and put his camera’s strap over his shoulder.
“But there are loads of scientists working on that stuff, still, in labs, right?”
“Studying it, really, and how much waste do you think that lab puts into the sky while doing so?”
The woman nodded and turned to look at her husband. “Huh. Never thought about that.”
“Cold turkey, I say. It’s the best way out.”
“Cold turkey? You can’t be serious. You know the world won’t just drop the cars and computers and for god sakes, the mass-production. We’re talking about millions, billions of people.”
“Perhaps, but for us, I mean. Cold turkey,” he stated firmly, biting deeply into his apple. She let the matter drop, and they continued to walk, silent but for their footsteps on the concrete. They stopped to sit on a bench after five more city blocks, and to review the day’s pictures.
“Today was a good day,” the man said as he watched metallic images flutter past one by one on his camera.
“Yes, a good day,” his wife said dismissively, doing the same. “But something troubles me about these pictures.”
“And what would that be?”
“Not a single shot of vegetation. Not a single one.” She sounded dismayed, anxiety growing with each new image viewed.
“Ah. Its true, now that you mention it,” he replied, raising his eyebrows. “I wonder why that is.”
The woman narrowed her eyes. “Trees would seem welcoming to pedestrians, to people in general. Something like that, I bet… You know, there used to be a time,” she began, her voice heavy with nostalgia.
“Oh, dear, don’t start on the ‘olden days’ nonsense. Its better to focus on now.” He was silenced by her glaring eyes.
“There used to be a time,” she continued, “where there was a law that made sure of trees on streets like this. Did you know that they’re good for the environment? Trees, that is. I read in a book, I’m pretty sure, when I was in school, that they take in the poison in the air and give off the good stuff. What’s it called again?”
“Oxygen, I think it was.”
“Yes, oxygen. That’s the stuff. Isn’t that interesting, though? Like they can breath like us. Like plants are alive, somehow,” she said thoughtfully.
“Yes, that is interesting, but I don’t think its possible, dear. Maybe the plants used to be alive,” he said, indulging her the tiniest bit.
“But now, we’ve taken the living part and left them like they were stumps.”
“Exactly,” he replied after swallowing another chunk of fruit.
The wife leaned against her husband and rested her head on his shoulder, looking straight forward with a distant expression. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we had been there when the trees were alive?”
“Yes, it would be. It would be amazing really, remarkable.”
“Do you think they could speak?”
“I don’t know, love, I don’t know, he said as he bent over to kiss the top of her head.
With that, they slowly continued down the street, hand in hand, cameras slung over their shoulders, content on staying the same, yet in the cracked sidewalk beside the bench, a raw apple seed lay dormant, and as their backs faded into the concrete, it began to rain.


[[yeah. an extremely rough copy. >< Its about 700 words, which feels too short. I want to add onto it, though. suggestions? -oh, and i just realized that once again Eliot is a waitress. xD ]]
 

[Rad Disease]

Dogma remained silent as he read the short story. "Its good. I like it. Especially the end." He said with a smile as he looked up at her. "I haven't started writeing mine yet. I got the basic story. I call it RUN." He said as he handed her her story back, and the scrap paper he wrote his on.


R-Remember
U-Understand
N-Never look back

Four kids receive mystery packages in the mail stamped with a single word. RUN. These kids have no connection with each other, but in the packages are pictures, a journal, and other odds and ends that tell of a life they never lived. Or never remembered. Now they've each discovered extordinary powers within themselves, and with the people that made them this way on their tail, the only choice they have is to run.  

[PandaEnlightenment]

"Thanks. Can you give me any advice on things I might want to change?" Eliot asked before quickly reading over the short description and nodding. "Sounds pretty good. Seems kind of like a suspense sci-fi kind of thing, right? Well, I'd suggest holding back on the main characters' powers until you work out the big details, like whose life the journal is about and who sent the package, and why the four kids recieved the packages in the first place. Not that you asked," she said, handing back the man's slip of paper and holding her hand out to shake. "Eliot."  

[Rad Disease]

Dogma smiled and took her hand. "Dogma. And I've got most of that taken care of." He said. "That and I'm sorry to say that I don't have any way that I can think of to change yours. I'm not a very good critic."  

[PandaEnlightenment]

She gave a thumbs up. "Mind giving me a preview?" she joked, returning his smile. "Aww, shucks. Do you think its long enough, though?"

 

[Rad Disease]

Dogma laughed. "Sorry, but I haven't actually started yet. I'm still looking for any potential flaws in the story. So I don't have a preview ready. And I would say if your going for a short story, its definetly long enough. Short stories don't have much of guidelines for how long they need to be." He smiled as he took a sip of the coffee that magically appeared out of nowhere.  

[PandaEnlightenment]

[[ xD ]]
"Yeah, I suppose that's true, huh? I'm just afraid to try and publish it because it seems so short compared to other short stories that I've read," she explained. She looked at his coffee cup for a moment. "I think I'll have one of those, too," Eliot said finally before another mug instantly appeared in her hands. "So what kinds of flaws are you looking for, then?"  

[Rad Disease]

"Anything that could potential throw off my story so that I'd have to start over. Any little tiny glitches." He said as he took another sip of the magical coffee. It was FANTASTIC!  

[PandaEnlightenment]

"Interesting. See, I usually just jump into writing and don't think about plot or anything until I've gotten at least 200 words out of my system. What can I say? Bradbury swears by it," Eliot said, winking. She set her cup down on the table to cool.

[[ -continues to idolize- ]]  

[Rad Disease]

Dogma smiled. "I've never read anything by Bradbury. So I wouldn't know what he swears by." He said as he leaned back in his chair. "I would just jump in, but then I hit a small block, and to fix it, I'd have to start over, and it just gets annoying. So I've started to try and fix it up before I put it down."  

[PandaEnlightenment]

"If you ever feel like reading him, I'd definitely suggest starting with One More for the Road. Its fantastic, and the best part is that it's completely short stories. He always says that the quicker you write, the more honest your work will be because you aren't thinking about plot or the writing process or anything of that sort. Beautiful, don't you think?" she said, smiling with admiration at the words. "I can see how that could be a problem," Eliot said, fiddling around with her flip flops underneath the table.  

[Rad Disease]

"It sounds beautiful, but I disagree with it. The best books take time to write. One book I read that was absolutely fantastic took the author seven years to write." He said with a thoughtful look on his face. "So have you written anything else?"  

[PandaEnlightenment]

"Very true, but I think Bradbury is referring to the first draft, and once you've done that, go back and edit and think it out. That's also what Garry Disher says as well, in so many words," she replied. "Well, mostly poetry. Fiction is kind of a new thing for me, so what you just read is actually the only one of my stories with an ending. Other than that, I've written two others that don't have endings, or else I don't like the ending. What about you? Can't you show me anything you've written?" Eliot asked, putting her palms together and smiling.