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To comment on your novel Alch parents who are not artistic themselves have trouble understanding and knowing how to foster their child's creativity. I should know firsthand, and many of my artist friends have the same experience, where they find their talent and develop by a teacher/older friend.
It's honestly one of those things parents that aren't artistic won't understand. Very few know how to approach a piece of art critically and offer support. So they won't always read every novel, see every show, or recital.
ElCheeso gives good advice. To expand on it, I would like to say, no offense intended, that you should really try analyzing your behavior from an objective point of view. Try seeing through your parent's eyes and putting yourself in their shoes. Remember that they have lived their lives just as you are living yours and that they spent 9 grueling months layered upon each other like a wedding cake topped with a horribly painful cherry and remember that they will never forget it (your mom wont forget the pain of childbirth and the dad wont forget the pain of living with ahormonal pregnant wife). It is very selfish to think that your parents are out to get you when you consider that their entire lives are based on keeping you alive and making you successful. I'm not saying you are the only selfish one here - every teenager is hugely selfish at your age especially. It is all a part of the emotional metamorphosis that all people go through where they are forced to establish an independence from their parents by their hypersensitivity to their flaws. However, some teenagers do manage to muster a bit of empathy once and a while.
None of us can really give any sort of feedback on it without reading it, but I will say that if you write novels like you wrote that original post... I would find it incredibly difficult to get through.
"When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years."
I'd like to chip in that the way I write creatively is a lot different to an unplanned, angered wall of angst.
E: I will now attempt to justify that with a section from the novel. This section is from the second chapter ("Rain[othologists], Birdieverse Logic, and Stupidity"). There's a lot of analepsy so unfortunately taking snippets doesn't quite work :<
[HIDE='Pithy' observations]Now here was the dilemma, and it certainly was a dilemma. Yes, that may sound rather redundant, but in this case it may need to be emphasised for those who enjoy lounging around in their homes, wearing a knitted sweater and watching Birdienation Street. Doverilo Sinprip, sometimes affectionately (though most often with acidic sarcasm) known as “General”, was deciding whether he should wear a hooded cloak, or take an umbrella.
It was a rainy night in Birdiejevo, the furthest city of the empire, though “rainy” does not suit the torrential downpour that was currently being inflicted upon the city. Great bombs fell incessantly from the dark, gloomy sky, soaking all those who foolishly decided against taking precautions for the unforgiving weather, and still soaking those who did, but did not choose correctly. Actually, it still left those who had chosen the correct precautions at least mildly damp. It was the rarely seen variant of sideways rain – as any rainothologist would gladly impart to you (these poor rainothologists don’t get out very often, and when they do, it is usually when sane people are inside, staying out of the – at the very least – tropical storm heading their way), this was “179.9° Class: Old man most definitely snoring. Subclass: Most certainly waking up the neighbours.” mixed with the rather exotic “90° Class: Alien Invasion. Subclass: Oh wait, it’s only the rain.” This, as they would say in a rather chirpy voice (the chirpy voice that anyone assumes if there are finally permitted to talk about their hobby, though to rainothologists it’s an obsession) that this mix of the two rains provides the perfect conditions for soaking to the skin, as whatever method you employ, you will be unable to avoid both the almost completely horizontal and utterly vertical streaks of rain at the same time. Rainothologists supposedly travel from all over the world to witness, and be soaked to the skin by, these types of rains combined. Admittedly, most rainothologists live in Birdain for obvious reasons, but you shouldn’t be surprised if you find foreign birds standing on top of a hill somewhere attempting to make notes on laminated paper. If you value your sanity, you will not engage in conversation with these rainothlogists, as they tend to latch onto those who are brave enough to talk to them in the first place. Just be polite before skidaddling out of there, otherwise you’ll find a middle-aged bird in a raincoat standing on the opposite side of the street from your house for at least the next three months, or until the sun comes out.
In Doverilo’s case, the umbrella was definitely the correct option. However, that would only be taking the rain into account. Contrary to the belief of many birds of his calibre (or somewhat lack thereof), practicality was most certainly not his primary concern. To the leader of a famous, Birdnian terrorism group, good fashion sense is key. As has been proved countless times before by stupid thugs (sorry for my redundancy there) in the past, no civilian will take you seriously if you resort to the clichéd robber look, though nor will they take you seriously if you announce a hold-up in normal clothing. In the case of the former, most will think you are dressing up as the mascot of a company trying to sell them dodgy home insurance (if you are named Bob or Bill, then your fate is irreversibly sealed). In the case of the latter, some will appreciate that you’ve gone to the effort of avoiding the aforementioned clichéd burglar style, though others will assume that you have gone to absolutely no effort at all when preparing and planning the robbery, or whatever other heinous criminal act you are committing. If a civilian thinks that you have gone to no effort at all, they are much more likely to call the authorities and / or not give you any money (or whatever colloquialism you prefer to use instead). This fact is statistically proven (though those carrying out the research skipped the actual polling, because they did not have much time or money, and would rather have curled up in front of the television with a cup of tea than be out in the rain polling strangers about their preferences for criminals. Not to mention that, because it was raining at the time of the investigation, most of the people that they would have polled would have been middle-aged birds in raincoats, who are generally accepted not to provide an accurate view of society).[/HIDE]
And some dialogue from the third chapter, "Revolution and other fancies".
“Hark! Listen to me!”
They paused, glanced at Doverilo, and continued their conversations. Doverilo, not a stranger to cliché, felt as deflated as a deflated balloon which had previously been inflated (this is the same as a deflated balloon which has not previously been inflated, but with more depression and sagging). Clearly gaining their concentration required much more vicious tactics.
“I’ve given you your chance – anyone who speaks hereafter will be shot dead without a second thought.”
Worked like a charm. Now was a good point for Doverilo’s amateur dramatics to come into play – remember, he thought, a mix of anger and poignancy is key. He cleared his throat to fill the void of silence.
“Now, I have called you all here tonight for a very specific reason.”
“Yeah, you called us here and you were at least an hour late.”
There were a few sniggers from the back of the room, quickly silenced by a crippling glare from Doverilo – nothing can promote silence more than a madman in a pink hat and mask.
“I was not late in the slightest; I was merely testing your patience. Patience will be an exceedingly important skill in the plans that I have recently drafted, redrafted and completely and utterly edited to make, hm, sort of perfect.”
“General, knowing you, you would have spent hours deciding on whether to bring an umbrella or weather the storm, and you obviously made the incorrect choice. We’ve been telling you for weeks now that an umbrella would be much more practical.”
Doverilo took a [hardly noticeable] step back. This was, by far, the most intelligent comment that had ever been made by a member of the Black Talon gang – except for himself, of course, whose comments were always intelligent, or at least they were most of the time. For some reason, Doverilo began to find himself holding back tears. Oh, he thought in between mental sniffs, they all grow up so fast! Well, apart from Clive, who will likely forever remain in his current mental state – that is, in a real state.
“Yes, well- I mean, no! Anyway…”
“And then you would have been harassed by that guy you met at that weekly weather convention you go to on Sundays (and don’t deny that you go there, we’ve all seen you).”
Well, that didn’t quite happen, but it most definitely almost happened.
“Then you would have gotten lost in your own city…”
“I most certainly did not!”
“…and then you would have eventually found the alleyway, but safely assumed that it was short, which made it long, which made you exceptionally late.”
While he couldn’t see the speaker, a slight rustling sound in the otherwise completely silent room indicated a smug folding of arms, him having presented his case. This was certainly very odd – this bird knew everything that had happened to Doverilo in the last few hours, and had almost perfectly recited the chronology of his tainted trip to the super-secret hideout. Was he being followed? Did this speaker shrouded by darkness keep a diary of his movements?
“How do you know what didn’t happen to me?”
“My dear General, it is because…”
Well, whoever it could be was certainly a master of dramatic pauses.
“…I am you, but from the future!”
“Really?”
“No. The reason that I know this is because it happens whenever you schedule a meeting – I am the only one who can remember, and indeed wants to remember, anything you say.”
“I suppose that makes sense. The problem is that I don’t remember any of this happening to me in previous weeks.”
“My dear General, that is because…”
Another dramatic pause, timed with perfection, executed with skill.
“…well, I don’t actually know. What do you think I am, a doctor? Tch!”
“Oh, how unfortunate. I must have that thing which involves forgetting things regularly – the name eludes me.”
Doverilo suddenly noticed that the rest of the gang members in the room were staring intently at him. Not so much because of what he was saying, but more that he was talking to the plant in the corner, which had long since died in its pot due to lack of watering, light and pretty much everything else a plant needs (that is, apart from Carbon Dioxide – the candles assured that there was an abundance of that. In fact, it is quite possible that the Carbon Dioxide overload had killed the plant, not the general malnutrition of the poor thing). They all knew that Doverilo was rather mad, but he had never done this before. Noticing their shocked expressions, Doverilo responded immediately – truly a master of his craft (that is, deceit).
“So, I see you have now noticed that I am talking to a plant pot. That was a working example of a key skill that you should all employ when out on missions – liaising with the locals. When working in the field (no Clive, I mean outside of this room in general), local people can often hold valuable information that they will gladly divulge to those who ask politely.”
I would love to include more but I don't want to clog up this thread with something which isn't even wholly relevant. I just felt the need to 'defend myself' for want of a better phrase.
Further edit: Having had some people read these extracts and disliking them, I'm now quite disillusioned.
reading this whole thread I am starting to realize the true reason they used to marry kids off at 13: not because they needed to breed like rabbits, the trillion children were a side effect of loving sex and having no birth control. It's so the parents can kick them out before they really hit teenage years.
heres the thing:
Your ideas are very cute and witty and i actually loved your sketch of the setting, however, in all honesty, I found the convoluted syntax and meaningless banter very annoying to read. It just sounds self indulgent and its a shame too because, if it were written more down-to-earth i would have loved it. But I didn't get the setting and you kind of rambled a bit. Also:
Your dialogue is lacking. I honestly could not discern what character was what during it. It lacks tone and it's overexaggerated. And even through this, it still seened robotic. This is especially a problem because the characters are so dynamic. You need to improve your diction. I'm sorry if I seemed harsh
Disclaimer: I only read OP; I am not scrolling through the replies on my phone.
Your unfortunate predicament is as much your own doing as it is your parents'. Quite simply, you are less mature than you believe yourself to be (just like the rest of us). However, finding fault is much less important than how you can reconcile your relationship with your parents.
Currently, they do not know how to talk to you, but clearly they have tried. Realise that your mother's homework question was an attempt at conversation. She was merely shooting the breeze to try and connect with you, but your response shot her down. Understand that your parents are anxious and frustrated at the breakdown of your relationship and your apparent introversion.
The solution is simple, though it may prove a chore at first. Talk to your mother, talk to your father, hell, talk to your sister. It does not have to be important or interesting or about anything in particular, but communication forms the foundations of any relationship. If you do not fancy talking, just spend time in each others' company. Is the silence comfortable? No? Try harder.
Life is too short to resent one's parents. They have good intentions, but they are imperfect. Good decisions come from experience, but experience comes from bad decisions. Learn from their mistakes.
I think the events of this thread have comprehensively shattered me self-confidence, and have proven that anything I write is definitely not comprehensive.
