Here is my new super shit book, its only the first few pages and its my first effort at writing fiction, if anyone can review and give constructive criticism \ general insults Id appreciate it.

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Insomniac
By: Lan Rogers

The trees, The trees are awfully green today. This was the thought of Shawn Kelvin during third period math on a Tuesday. Shawn was partially prone to day dreaming during math class on account of his determination not to learn what he thought was completely irrelevant. Determined probably isn?t the right word, He didn?t care about it or care what pathetic punishment they could make for him. This was the nature of Shawn?s feelings for most things since his incident (as his mother loved to call it). A month previous Shawn had been an ace student, raised his hand in class, told when he saw a violation of school rules and arrived ten minutes before every class. Then one day in the science lab clothium-bicarbonate had been splashed into his eyes, the doctor said if he took a prescription pills 3 times a day he would retain his sight. An unfortunate side effect was insomnia. Since then he needed only a ? to ? an hours night sleep each night, during which he would have a brilliantly lucid dream. Each night he would return to that beautiful night-land where he was god and everything was bright and wonderful. In contrast everything in this ?Real World? seems dull and muted, similar to the dull noise a solider hears when a mortar shell hits the fox-hole next to him. ?Mr. Kelvin!? that was Miss Shellman, with her ruler in one hand at her waist in a forced down position, as if she was trying to reach the ground but refused to bend down. Shawn waited a few seconds before painfully returning his attention to the harsh world that he now occupied. ?Where you listening to me?? she asked as if she might kill a small animal if she got anything else than what she was expecting. Shawn took the chance, ?No Miss.? He stated in a matter-of-factual way. The entire class laughed and Miss Shellman grabbed him by the collar and attempted to drag him, only to find that he would not leave his seat. ?Oh, you want me to move?? he asked. This only created more giggling and infuriated his teacher more. Shawn finally caught on and followed his teacher to the principal?s office. The halls are awfully different this time of day he thought idly as he walked the corridors. Then after a time they reached the principal?s office. Miss Shellman told Shawn to wait outside and think about what he did and then she entered the office. Shawn tried to think about what he did but focus on things so minor and imperfect didn?t come to Shawn anymore, instead he sat and did his mental exercises to stay awake and maintain his louse grip on reality. After a few minutes the principal stepped out of his office and stood in front of Shawn. Shawn honestly didn?t see the him there but he took it as a challenge and so he stood there for a whole three minutes. Finally Shawn saw him standing there and said ?Oh, Sorry I didn?t see you there.? The principal was a tall and thin man, Too thin. He had white hair with a bald spot about ? of his head. No one short of his wife had ever seen him in anything other than a suit; Shawn wasn?t sure if he was wearing a suit or if that was just the natural state of his skin. The principal grabbed him by the shoulder and tried to pull him up. This was one of the few thing that Shawn was not mellow about, He grabbed the principal?s hand in a death-grip, Ripped the it from his arm and shoved the principal back into the wall. ?Sorry mister but I?m very sensitive about that kind of thing.? He stated as if nothing had happened. The principal raised his fist in rage but it was doubtful that he could throw a punch more than sixty pounds. Shawn just sat there and looked at him waiting for whatever would come next, This had become Shawn?s default form of operation in the last few weeks. ?Stop it Bill!? Shouted Miss Shellman. The principal (who was apparently named bill) lowered his fist and shook his suit jacket. ?For assaulting staff you are suspended for two weeks.? Declared ?Bill?. Shawn sat there for a few seconds and then said ?Is that all?? The principal looked ready to strike him again so Shawn, Exercising all the tact he had left in him stood up and left. On his way home he didn?t think about what happened and instead ate beef with sugar and rice. Ever since he stopped sleeping so much Shawn had to eat much more, This was quite a problem since he no longer could taste food of any sort nor did he feel any sort of hunger. As I said before sound is the best analogy, If you listen to extremely loud music you will no longer be able to hear softer tones but loud music will still sound good. There where few things that Shawn could still feel but unfortunately dread was one of them. As he approached his house he could hear his mom on the phone with his dad, no doubt reciting that exact details of his altercation with ?Bill?. Shawn opened the door to his one story house and stepped inside, Immediately he was assaulted with his mother?s ranting about how he wouldn?t get accepted to collages now and how it was so embarrassing that he had had a spine and stood up for himself, He didn?t care. Without a word he walked to his and slammed his door in his mom?s face. Shawn didn?t hate his mom, She just worried too much, Maybe she should have acid splashed in her face. Of course he was never free of a prying eye, His mom was so concerned about drugs, girls, alcohol and anything else that might be enjoyed by teenaged boys that she had a camera installed in his room to watch him. His room was simple, Three wall to ceiling book cases, A bed and a closet where he kept his drug paraphernalia. Shawn had never taken anything but in order to buy the books he loved so much he had bought a book or two on chemistry and began manufacture and dealership of methamphetamines from the medications for the allergies he pretended to have. He was suddenly reminded of 1984 by Gorge Orwell, The main character hiding in a crevice to write his journals away from the dreaded ?telescreen?. He looked over his large cases of books and found the one he was looking for, Gorge Harris?s commentaries on ?Plato?s Republic?. Shawn read his book for several hours and around 8 p.m. his mom poked her head in his room, pretending not to have been watching him for the past couple of hours. ?Bed time Shawnny? she chirped, ?We?ll talk about this incident with your principal in the morning.? She added as if she wasn?t furious at Shawn. ?No.? was his reply; Then He closed his door in his mom?s face for the second time and returned to his book. Around 12:00 he finished his book. He always was a fast reader, At first after his accident his mom had tried to keep up with him in all the books he read in order to monitor and control his perception of reality. She had no chance. He then took a large stack of papers from his bag and set them on his lap, In addition to his dealing Shawn also did several grades homework a night in exchange for a two dollars a piece, at the rate of a book and a half a day he needed quite a bit of money to satisfy his thirst for decent litature. After a few hours of writing in thirty different styles and fonts Shawn was finally ready to descend to the night land. He put his papers into his bag and sat on the floor (His bed was only to fool his mom into thinking that he actually slept a few hours) with his back to a wall and closed his eyes. After a few seconds the world went white. Shawn opened his eyes and smiled. He stood in a white endless plain. The only other thing that existed was Katie, Standing two paced behind him and one to the left. ?I missed you? said Katie as she moved forward to embrace him. ?I missed you too? Shawn spoke over his shoulder. There had never been anything romantic between him and Katie, there where only the closest of friends, they where the same person after all. It would probably be a good idea to describe Katie but that proves very difficult, You see Katie was a concept, a fragment of Shawn and so has no shape, the best way to describe her is a figure in a glow of light. ?So what do you want to do today?? asked Katie. ?I was thinking of a visit to our vacation house in Hawaii.? Proposed Shawn. ?Great!? Exclaimed Katie. Shawn knelt to the floor and began to draw a runic pattern on the ground. Suddenly the ground began to darken, the sky began to split from the land, trees and bushes began to pop up. Then Him and Katie where standing atop a huge mountain making an island. You could see every inch of beach from the summit. ?Shall we proceed?? he asked. ?Lets.? Katie said walking in to the sub-terainian structure made of adobe clay. When both of them where inside Shawn clapped his hands and illumination that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time began to glow, it was a soft light. He walked over to the cage where he kept his pair of rabbits and placed some food (that he conjured from nowhere) into the dish so his rabbits could eat. It?s a strange thing to think about, feeding rabbits that are in reality jest a figment of ones self. Then he and Katie sat on the couch and he put his arm around her shoulders. They just sat there for about half an hour, The happiest persons or person in the world depending at how you look at it. At the end of the thirty minutes Shawn stood and said farewell to Katie. ?Do you have to go?? Asked Katie with the most soulful expression on her face. ?You know that if I over sleep even once I won?t ever be able to come back here.? He said with a stern look at Katie. Then the dream came to an end. Shawn awoke, He was tired, Exhausted and yet the most rested he was going to be for a while. He stood up and strode over to his closet and bent inside as if looking for something. He quickly worked his apparatus to produce crystal meth. All together it only took a few minutes to complete the whole operation. As in traditional fashion thoughts just floated through Shawn?s mind. Suddenly he walked to the book case and dug out all the books he had that where written by Gorge Orwell. He pulled out a piece of paper and began to jot down all the info he could gather on the author himself. Occasionally Shawn would have an urge to do something, not often mind you, but sometimes. Today he wanted to learn about Gorge Orwell?s early life, before he became spiteful of any socialist system, while he sided with the Russian Revolution. Shawn thought this was his sub-conscious mind giving him some meager purpose in order to prevent the surprisingly uncommon thoughts of suicide. One might expect Shawn to be severely depressed but in-fact he was just numb, not sad. What is a human without a purpose? He asked himself, ?A human in search of religion,? said the pessimistic phantom of himself. In any occasion now was not the time for deep monolog.

Give me paragraphs or give me death.

Just by reading the first few lines I'd say it's errr... not that great to be honest. Unoriginal comes to mind. Not to shit on your parade or anything, but it's cliche the way it starts out. It's the typical... "the leaves rustled. Mark's mind was blank. He was contemplating the dick he sucked last night and if liked it or not." The words just don't jump off the page, at all.

Writers aren't made overnight. Keep writing. That's the only way to progress.

*runs into thread* *slams into the wall of text* *gets up and brushes self off* *walks away*

tl;dr.

Ah, im sorry that probably took a lot of work. I'll take a crack at it, I just have a hard time reading large blocks of text on my computer.

Sorry to be mean, but I could not make it past the first six sentences. It's way to declarative for me. "Shawn did this. He thought this." There is no room for me to think on my own.

idk what to say, except, paragraphs!

I would have to agree as well sir, the opening is too declaritive for me. I as well would like my mind to wander and to make assumptions about the protagonist and turn out to be mistaken.

That..and of course the massive wall of text. I understand, I had to ditch the MS Word program on my laptop years ago.

But keep at it, the fact that you are open-minded and willing to recieve comments such as these is a step in the right direction. ThatCoolKid is right, no one is born a writer overnight, it takes practice. I am an example of that concept.

I lol'd at the first sentence

Ya just trying to help.. it's extremely hard (if not impossible) to critique you're own work in an unbiased manner. I started a creative writing assignment once w/ the typical "The cold breeze rustled the leaves around jon's sneakers as he sat on the rotting picnic table.." and my teacher almost beat me.

Show us the character through words, actions, events. Don't tell us about him.