she said in the last conversation I had with her before she passed. She didn’t tell me whether or not I should filter the truth. Should I fictionize it completely to protect my ass? Obviously I need to change names but also the workplace? But he never made us sign a form stating we can’t share information about what goes on nor our experiences. Even if he did, do you know how many malls there are in the world? You can’t prove it’s yours.
Of course I wrote a 50 page draft in a fictional restaurant and characters that didn’t feel real. I lost interest in it and haven’t seen it in about 2 years now. The only writing I’ve done has been on my blog. For a while I thought it was to get revenge on an ex supervisor that treated us like shit or to expose how fucked I am — but it wasn’t. It was to expose what really happened behind the scenes. Something anyone can relate too whether they work some shitty minimum wage job, decent, or fancy one.
Sex in the workplace, workers that go off for hours during their shift no one notices, drug dealing, smoking marijuana or doing other drugs at work, drinking, etc.
So what happened to that story? It didn’t have a plot. People kept doing shit for no reason at all. How many times can you watch a character fuck up and get annoyed over the same repetive shit? Probably until the end he finally gets arrested for a DWI. Then it gets boring and life goes on. His love interest ends up pregnant by her husband. It sounds more like some lifetime shit and less like the interesting SCI FI stories I had old men operating on someone’s brain.
So I’m left with the question, what is a story worth telling?