Hi:

This was a very touching and honest read for me.  I could immediately feel the pain and even the panic of our narrator.  It is apparent that he is confused, hurt, scared, panicked and doesn't know what to do about any of it.

This read quite "real" in that many breakups are done in public places because the person doing the breaking up can't bear to do it in private and get the real reaction of the other person.  A chicken's way out, if you will.  But this also rang true to life for me.

Although I liked the vulnerability of the male character, I did find that his reactions seemed more like what I would relate to a woman.  I realize he is fighting to keep his masculinity in tact and that probably a lot of guys fall really hard when a woman they love dumps them.  But I just think any guys reading this wouldn't relate to the somewhat feminine reactions that occur in places.  See below...

Now, as I look around the crowded restaurant and try to absorb what you’re telling me, I have to bite down on the inside of my cheek until I taste pennies so as not to cry in front of all these strangers.

What’s worse than all the questions I have in my head, is that I know I don’t have the composure to ask any of them without my voice cracking

 

But you do also include examples that are more of a man's reaction...see below....

I feel the bad part of wine drunk, where the room spins and you can’t stop it.  Where you’re stomach threatens to turn inside out, but I haven’t had a drink yet. 

 

I'm not sure the baby asprins and slit wrists would be what a man would do if he were so devastated that he couldn't live without her.  I'm picturing either shooting himself, hanging himself, or taking a ton of pills - but not baby aspirins. But more likely I picture him tying one on for maybe even a couple of days - completely, slobbering drunk.

Your POV was good - it always stayed true to the narrator and your 1st person

Your conflict and resolution were tied up nicely by the end of the story.

I sure hope this didn't actually happen to you personally but whether it did or not, the emotion you bring throughout is great.

 I was so impressed by this story I went back and read everything else you've published on this site.  Now I'm even more impressed.  Your descriptions are so good they take my breath away.  You seem so comfortable inside your words -- I lived in Eugene/Springfield for 7 years long ago, and you took me back there again before I could defend myself.

Your piece on writer's block was also good, and this one was incredible.

Please keep writing.

 it was a very good work and very good story it was a little choppy so maybe that could be worked on but the over all story and the theme was good. Kinda hard to read choppy things but dont worry it's easily fixed and trust me i had to work on that too haha KEEP WRITING MORE!

 wow! joshua! you're kicking my ass, breaking my heart. i loved this. you bring the universal experience of heartbreak and rejection to a very real, specific place. your images are amazing, and i was right there with this character in his sense of humiliation and disillusionment. really well written.

My eyes quickly scan the room, searching for something solid, some immovable object I can anchor myself to so as not to be pulled out to the open sea with your words.  I can’t find anything, so my eyes return to your face.

Your look makes my lungs feel like they’re filled with helium.  I reach down and grip the sides of the table to keep myself from floating away; I slide my feet across the floor just to remind myself they’re there, and to clear my head a little.

a great opening, your description of this man's shock vivid, true to life. his world is turned upside down, his understanding of his place in this woman's life, and his reaction is REAL. i bolded my favorite parts, the ones that hit me especially hard. you use a lot of similes throughout this story, which is difficult to pull off without resulting in a list of cliches--you do a great job. each image you evoke adds another think layer of grief onto this character's pain and loss. wonderful!

I can’t figure why you needed to do this here.  I can’t figure why you needed to do this at all.

this repeated sentence works well. this guy's disconnect with his understanding of how his life would be is embodied in this thought. he can't accept what's happening, and while he's still in shock, he begins second-guessing the entire relationship. was it all a lie? who is this woman? again, wonderful.

seriously, i'm trying to find something to critique, here. not having much success, yet. this is too good.

Now, as I look around the crowded restaurant and try to absorb what you’re telling me, I have to bite down on the inside of my cheek until I taste pennies so as not to cry in front of all these strangers.

i like that you find different ways to describe sensory experiences in this piece. i'm not sure the underlined spot above works completely. i appreciate that you're sidestepping the commonly used blood-tasting-of- copper idea (which i've used plenty of times ) by phrasing it a bit differently, but the resulting metaphor is a bit awkward. the immediate image is actually one of a mouth full of pennies, which is goofy and probably not the tone you were aiming for. i have faith you can find another way to do this and keep it consistent for this character.

Your eyes have that same resolute look they’ve had for the last few months.  You always look like you’re bearing down, like you’re enduring when you talk to me, any more that is.  You used to look like tasting candy when we talked; like new balloons or a giant ball of cotton candy in your hand on the first day of the fair with a pocket full of tickets.  That’s how you use to look at me.

Now it’s like parking tickets or stubbing your bare pinky-toe on a concrete step.

And I don’t even know what happened.  I thought you were as happy as I am…or was.  I thought you loved me.  You told me you did.

insightful is what you are. i'm not prying here, just admiring. the voice of experience, seeing that shift in a doomed relationship, the subtle changes between the players as one of them backs away while the other doesn't want to realize what's happening. oh, this is both awful and wonderful.

i underlined the one spot above because while i like the effect you're going for, using these images in more of an artistic effect rather than a strictly grammatical (formal) one, this first simile is a little jolting. perhaps it's the "tasting"--the word comes across as more of an adjective than a verb here, which is fine. i love word play, finding new ways to use words we're familiar with so they feel different, evoke different images. i don't think you should change the structure of the sequence, but maybe play a bit with finding different words for "tasting". if your intention for "tasting" was for it to be a verb, then i guess you might need to succumb to a more standard grammatical structure here for it to make sense. (add a "you were" before "tasting").

I think all these things, but can’t open my mouth to say anything.  My lungs feel light and it’s hard to breathe.  My head floats.  I feel the bad part of wine drunk, where the room spins and you can’t stop it.  Where you’re stomach threatens to turn inside out, but I haven’t had a drink yet.  I see myself having several later tonight, maybe several to wash down a handful of baby aspirin, maybe a few more as I slip into a hot bath with my razor and try to shave my wrists.

I want to ask you if there’s someone else.  I want to ask if that’s why you’ve grown tired of me.

I want to ask, but I’m afraid of your answer.

I want the problem to be me and not that you’ve found another.  I can fix me.  I can’t fix your desire for someone else.

so much truth in here. love it! love your writing! i chuckled at the dark, desperate turn of this man's thoughts in his shock. sometimes we can't imagine how we'll go on after this kind of heartbreak, and those initial moments, when we first realize what's happening can be the worst. we hit that wall and can't conceive of existing after it. i liked too that he describes his half-thought idea of slitting his wrists in euphemistic terms: "shaving" rather than something more visceral. he has the momentary nudge in his head, but he's not really going this direction. his mind won't really wrap around it. but that feeling of existential OH MY GOD is there. i really like that.

again, more fabulous writing in bold. i love that when following the character's direct thoughts of the experience, your prose is direct and simple (yet insightful and devastating). when describing his emotional reaction, your writing is poetic and evocative, mirroring the different aspects of how we experience. i don't know if that was intentional, but the effect is wonderful.

Does he think I beat you?  Does he want to rescue you the way I did?

i love this, that he's questioning everything about their relationship now. even this woman. she's a stranger to him now, a foreign body he can't understand.

I smile and nod to let her know everything’s okay here.  There’s nothing she can help us with, no more condiments or napkins can fix this relationship.  A refill of my drink isn’t going to make her love me again, thank you though.

ha! don't know if you intended this to be funny, but i love these moments of wry inside our horrible experiences.

The strangest things come to mind now: your sneeze.  Every other sneeze I’ve ever heard has made me cringe.  The expulsion of particulate matter from someone’s sinuses, all the germs, all the microscopic phlegm; it made me cringe. The sound made me think of four hundred pound men in dirty white T-shirts with yellow pit stains.

Every time. 

When I first heard you sneeze it told me what a girl you were.  It was like birds chirping, or a baby’s yawn.  You always could make the basest human function beautiful.  You could make anything seem beautiful.

That’s one of the many things you’re taking away from me.

And all you’re giving me is this overwhelming pain.  And all you’re giving me is soul-crushing grief, an all encompassing, smothering sorrow.  Somehow it doesn’t seem like a fair trade.

If I’d been asked, I wouldn’t have agreed.

again, bolded spots are mordant and funny and true. i underlined the first spot because it may be a tense inconsistency. "bird's chirping" is a bit cliche. a nice image, but very familiar. i think the last underlined sentence above is losing some of its power in its overstatement. i have no doubt this man is feeling every one of these adjectives, but it's a general way of describing the level of his pain. you've written so many wonderful descriptions in this piece, and they bring the acute grief and shock to the surface--they make it real for us. i know you shifted the scale of the description to match the statement you were making, but i'm not sure it hits as hard as you might want it to.

I wish I could open my mouth to say something.  I wish I wasn’t forced by my uncontrollable emotions to sit as a bystander as my life crumbles like a thousand year-old clay pot.  I wish I had more courage.   I wish I was what you wanted.   I wish you didn’t need him, but me.  Us.

If I asked you to give this another chance, would it work?  Would you be willing to give up any of the plans you’ve made without me, any of the people you’ve met without me, any of the loves you’ve cultivated outside me?  Or would you stay just as resolute as the look that’s on your face right now?  Would you be the same obstinate woman I’ve known for the last five years?  The same stubborn person who insisted we come to dinner tonight.

I’ll never know, because I don’t have the strength to tell you how I feel right now. I can’t tell you how my heart’s a thin glass shell which you’ve just struck with a hammer.  I can’t tell you that I’m so empty that if you held me in front of a light I’d be transparent like a jellyfish.

The real question is this, and only this: would my confession mean anything?

I don’t think it will.

And now that you’ve said what you came to say, now that your conscience is clear, now that the relationship is over for you, you stand, lay your napkin neatly on the table next to your plate, and walk away.

more original, vivid descriptions which just blow me away. my favorites in this entire piece are here, particularly the thin glass shell. wonderful! i like also that we learn through this story who this man is, in a way. when it starts, we don't know if he's well-adjusted, if maybe this woman is right to leave him. we don't know anything to guide us beyond his emotional reaction and wayward thoughts during his shock of the moment. as the story progresses, though, we get a better idea of how he sees things, his understanding of himself and how people work. he knows all his wanting isn't going to make her change her mind, that even asking would only diminish him. that even though he berates himself for not having the courage to speak up, he knows it wouldn't make any difference if he did. this story has no happy ending, no sudden reawakening of this couple's love, and that's how it should be. this story is about real love and loss, and real life. i love it. a great scene. if you could write a book with this much truth and insight, you'd have accomplished greatness.

thanks so much for this read, joshua--i love great description and insight, and you've given me both in this short, brutal piece. rock on.

This is really perfect!  I wish I could add suggestions beyond "You should lengthen this to show us what happened before and after this event."  I honestly think you have it perfect as is.  The intensity was spot on, and it gripped my heart the entire way.

It's interesting, but I never imagine guys getting this worked up over breakups.  This story has officially redefined my thinking, which is always a compliment to a writer.  You show us the powerful meaning of a breakup from a man's point of view.

Your flow and word choice was amazing.  I never once thought that a sentence or paragraph could have read better.  You are a very talented writer.  I really enjoyed this story, even though it made me uncomfortable, like I shouldn't be witnessing this poor guy getting his heart broken. 

Great job!  I'll definitely have to read more or your writing. 

Hey, this was a great piece! Thank you so much for posting it. Your despcriptions are fantastic!  I don't have much to nit pick about, but I will talk about a few things.

My eyes quickly scan the room, searching for something solid, some immovable object I can anchor myself to so as not to be pulled out to the open sea with your words.  I can’t find anything, so my eyes return to your face.

This paragraph seems a little strange to me. Kind of like you are forcing the language and the immagry. I like it, it just doesn't flow right to me. You talk about not being able to find anything  solid in the room to hold on to, but right away in the next paragraph you talk about grabbing onto the table. This actually confused me a little bit about the setting.

Now, as I look around the crowded restaurant and try to absorb what you’re telling me, I have to bite down on the inside of my cheek until I taste pennies so as not to cry in front of all these strangers.

you have established a feeling and the setting at this point and the tasting pennies took me out of it.  I don't think its a realistic thing for your character to say.  I would concentrate more on the actual blood in his mouth instead of the penny or metallic taste of it.

You used to look like tasting candy when we talked; like new balloons or a giant ball of cotton candy in your hand on the first day of the fair with a pocket full of tickets

So i like this description, but once again it doesn't flow right to me. Would a guy say something like this? Just not sure if it suits your character. I can definitely see the love she once had for him and how that was shown throw her eyes. You could talk about how her eyes never left his ... how there was a twinkle like a gem when ever she noticed him..something like that. 

The strangest things come to mind now: your sneeze.  Every other sneeze I’ve ever heard has made me cringe.  The expulsion of particulate matter from someone’s sinuses, all the germs, all the microscopic phlegm; it made me cringe.

I love that despcription! It made me smile, because that is what love really is. Turns something that you usually don't like about people into something you can't live without.

Great work with this! I can't wait to read more. Thanks again for posting.

The good news is your use of langage is commanding. The bad news is, you've got no plot.

Of course I'm assuming you were telling a story and not merely writing a love letter.

The other good news is, plot is the easy part. All you have to do is take the romance this "letter"  is based on and distill it to its key events. Then forget about all this "I...I...I" jazz and connect the key events so that this connection of key events (the plot) tells the story -- more compellingly! -- then your streams of conciousness.

And you don't have much of a choice. There's no way you could sustain a 75,000 manuscript writing what you've posted here. You'd go nuts trying to do it.

So, you're going to have to start thinking about plot -- how to design it, how to build it, how to build a house on it.  You'll have to learn how to tell a story.

Basic stories have a beginning, middle and end -- Boy meets girl. Boy loses girl. Boy gets girl back.

That's your structure 99% of the time.

And I know it sounds corny and cliched -- but it works!

ricland

 This poor guy!  I've definitely been in this situation of going through a nasty breakup, and yeah, it kills.  I haven't been on the receiving end like he was, but I can respect the heartache and suffering he endures.  You really played up the fear of the breakup and being alone, and even of looking weak in front of all those people of our main character very well.  

I might suggest you man this up a bit.  I don't like reading romance stories too much, but I stumbled upon this and found the writing quite good.  I guess I just get uncomfortable seeing this guy tormented so severely by being dumped.  It's a difficult thing to watch.  But then, I'm an unromantic sod.  To each their own.    

Most of the nitpicks have been pointed out by other critiques, so I won't belabor that.  All in all though, this was very good.  It held my attention well, and I found the emotions to be quite powerful.  Well written, Joshua!

Good work. Very descriptive. You can feel the characters pain on so many levels.

I'd recommend changing the beginning slightly. The most important and catastrophic thing that happens is those words that tear his life to pieces, but we never quite hear them said. You are depriving the reader and your own creative imagination. One suggestion would be to start with those words. Could be as simple as "It's over."

If that doesn't work for you then reword the first sentence so it starts with 'the words' 

My eyes quickly scan the room, searching for something solid, some immovable object I can anchor myself to so as not to be pulled out to the open sea with your words.

The words caused my eyes to quickly scan the room, searching for something solid, some immovable object I could anchor myself to so as not to be pulled out to the open sea.

The words I never fathomed I'd hear caught me broadside causing my eyes to go out of focus before returning in self-preservation to scan the room for an immovable anchor to keep from being swept out to sea.

It instantly puts the focus on that which is most important.

Your look makes my lungs feel like they’re filled with helium.

Change look to something more descriptive. Look just does not quite fit.

That's about it, except you may consider where to go from here. Are you thinking of playing with this adding a plot, structure and a storyline. If you are I imagine anger might be one of the next feelings to explore, but of course throw in some action. Keep slugging.

Somewhere, I read that you had a long, crippling writers block, and since I am just now healing my year or so of confusion, I wanted to read one of your stories. Although I have never had someone break up with me in a public place, I did have them come over with a chaperone once and read me a break-up letter... I've known the feeling expressed by this narrator too many times. And I highlighted a lot of your lines that just hit so strongly (I'll put them up in a moment). You write with such empathy, I can only imagine you write from experience, and if that is the case, I'm sorry. Either I'm not as crazy as I thought I was for the ways I've reacted over lost loves, or you're as crazy as I am, and if that is the case, I'm even more sorry. Either way, here's to more strength in the future (or to more realistic pain in our stories).

You always look like you’re bearing down, like you’re enduring when you talk to me, any more that is.

First I thought that the "any more that is" was awkward and could be replaced with a single adverb or adjective elsewhere in the sentence, and then I noticed the "always" earlier on and saw a contradiction. She "always" looked that way, but then only "lately".

You used to look like tasting candy when we talked

This is so weird, and I can't tell if I don't like it or if I love it. After I let my mind work around it, I think I'm leaning towards loving that description.

Where you’re stomach threatens to turn inside out, but I haven’t had a drink yet.

That should be "your", but then you'd also have to match the first part of the metaphor to the last. You say "your" in the first, but "I" in the last. It should only happen to either "you" or "me".

try to shave my wrists.

This may be an expression I'm just not used to, but I'd just go out and replace that phrase with "slit my wrists", ignoring the trying. But of course that's obvious, and you're more of a poet. That much I understand.

And all you’re giving me is this overwhelming pain. And all you’re giving me is soul-crushing grief,

This almost seems like a mistake, but I don't know. I would just cut the first sentence altogether.

If I’d been asked, I wouldn’t have agreed.

This is also redundant and could be cut.

Now it’s like parking tickets or stubbing your bare pinky-toe on a concrete step.

You always could make the basest human function beautiful.

to sit as a bystander as my life crumbles like a thousand year-old clay pot.

I thought the above 3 lines were very beautifully written.

And I don’t even know what happened.

Does he think I beat you? Does he want to rescue you the way I did?

heaving, whole-body sobs

no more condiments or napkins can fix this relationship. A refill of my drink isn’t going to make her love me again, thank you though.

That’s one of the many things you’re taking away from me.

These were all lines that struck me for some reason. I thought the sneeze part was sweet, the waitress part was funny, and the rest I just related to.