Thanks for the thread.
Writing is a tough biz for shure.
Sux to put urself on the line.
So, in order to help u, the blossoming
writer, to take that next courageous towards ur own self fulfillment,I'll post my work....



I just had to do an essay for an English class.
Read it if u want, criticize me if u will. Honestly, it doesn't matter to me either way. The essay was for my last English class EVER, and I'm done with writing.

There are some very good writers here in this forum. There are many posts which are very well articulated and expressed. Maybe one of those well-versed in critical analysis of writing will help you, the OP, on your quest.

It seems, every time I write a thread, I get hacked on by someone who is some kind of self-proclaimed English master.

I do, however, enjoy the criticism. I appreciate the eloquence of their written expression.

I'm just hoping to give OP courage to put herself out there!!. FUK'N GIV'R!

PUT UR BALLS ON THE BLOCK!

Required Essay Topic: The best things in life are free.
- Must be under 1000 words, I think this is about 980.

Anyways,

The Best Things in Life Are Free.(Nov.2013)


The relentless clip-clopping of the nurse’s shoes echoed down the hallway. A noxious sanitary odour seemed to permeate every moment of his waning existence. Propped up by a few pillows, with the help of a tilt-a-bed, Carl sat, uncomfortable but not in pain, with the bedside lamp turned on low, listening to the rain outside the window. At arm’s reach lights on a heart monitor blinked at regular intervals: green, blue and sometimes red.

The latest issue of Business Insider lay on the night stand; he had his secretary -his right hand man- bring it to him yesterday afternoon. The magazine was doing a feature article on him, “Carl Sterling-Man of Action”. Carl had not bothered to read it yet; he was spending most of his time thinking of his daughter.

It was twenty-eight years ago tomorrow when his only child was born. Carl had proudly named her Eliza Anne Sterling. Eliza was short for Elizabeth, named after his wife who had succumbed to complications giving birth; Anne was out of respect for his mother. Carl didn’t know much about his daughter these days, as he tried not to be too intrusive since the day she had not-so-kindly requested his permanent absence from her life; he was still reeling from that wrenching moment when his reality came to a grinding halt. Carl thought he had given her everything: private riding lessons (including her own champion thoroughbred stallion), the best private school education, luxurious vacations and anything she ever wanted.

Carl held a birthday card in his soft, shaking hand. The card was seemingly the same as all of the cards from the last few years. Purchased and filled out by his secretary, Carl’s only method of contact awaited his usual signatures, one on the card and one on a cheque.

Carl figured Eliza could use the money, she had cashed all the previous cheques, although sometimes months would pass before the funds were withdrawn. Pictures from his private detective showed that she wasn’t exactly living up to his affluent standards. Eliza was not living in hardship, a fairly new, black Honda CRV was parked in the driveway and she lived in a respectable area of town. However, it wasn’t strictly for Eliza that Carl kept up with the yearly contribution. Carl had another motive for his gratuity; he wanted to help provide for his 4-year-old grandson, Evan.

The day Evan was born was a big day for Carl. He had been giving a speech at a Harvard University pay-per-plate charity event; the proceeds were intended to aid families of soldiers killed in the Gulf War. Eliza had been accompanied at the hospital by her trusted and loyal, life-long friend, Ms. Aversely. Ms. A., as Eliza affectionately called her, had raised Eliza from day one. Carl was usually away on business trips or engaged with “high-ups” in the energy sector. Carl could often be heard saying things like, “I do not have the time to be a family man; I am too busy with work, and I am securing our family’s future.” It was Ms. A. who had called and left a message about Evan’s birth on Carl’s voicemail. If Ms. A hadn’t maintained somewhat of a professional relationship with Carl, it may have been months before he knew the details of his legacy.

It wasn’t until recently Carl had realized how his actions, or more accurately, lack of action, had been responsible for Eliza developing such a bitter contempt for him. “You can’t buy me! It was never about that, the stuff, the money! I needed a father, not some...,” Eliza yelled as she furiously backed away from her father. Carl saw tears fill her eyes before she hastily walked away and left him standing alone. That was the last time they had looked eye to eye, 7 years ago. At the time Carl was confused, he had been doing all along what he thought was best for their future. Growing up with parents who had experienced the Depression had taught him to work hard and earn money. He had become very good at that, at earning money, maybe too good; it had consumed him.

Carl looked at the birthday card with solemn despair. He ran his fingers over the embossed, flowery surface as if he was brushing his little girl’s hair. “How could I let this happen? How could it go so far?” he thought to himself. The card fell from his trembling hands on to the floor. The old man wept as he pressed the button hanging from his neck.

A nurse came quickly into the room to find Carl sitting up in his bed, his sheets covered in tiny pieces of a torn up cheque and his eyes still swollen and weepy from his revelation. Carl asked the nurse for a blank piece of paper. He prepared himself to write to Eliza, for the first time in many years, a personal letter for her birthday.

I tried, for many years, to understand how I failed you. I know now it was my fault, I could not see past my own shallow obsession. I beg of you to forgive me, I am eternally regretful of how things have turned out between us. I am pleading to you and my grandson, to give me another chance.
In your own time, and in your own way, please come back to me.
Sincerely,
A lonely man trying to make amends.

Carl gently put the letter in an envelope and placed it on the bedside table, turned the light off, and fell asleep to the beeping of the monitor beside him.
A light knock came from the doorway, tap-tap-tap. “Who was this?” Carl wondered. It wasn’t one of the regular hospital staff, they were much more forceful. “Come in,” he said, “it’s open.” Light from the hallway pierced the darkness of the room through a small crack in the doorway. Carl could barely make out tiny fingers reaching cautiously around the edge of the door.

A small voice said, in an excited and inquisitive tone, “Grandpa?” The lonely old man felt a tear roll softly down his cheek.



___________________________________________________

Sincerely,

My best wishes to you on all of your future endeavors.

You won't gain anything unless you risk something.