Thread 24620661

I'm doing a War and Peace/Don Quixote epic about a guy who packs milk for a living. Could that work well? This is it so far.

Brian Hennessy dragged the overstocked milk cage from the Chills fridge to the dairy aisle which was on the extreme east of the store and about as far away as you could get from the Chills fridge, the Chills fridge being located on the extreme west of the store, just to the left as you entered the double doors and packed daily, except on Sundays, by delivery from a curmudgeon who doubted Brian Hennessy's intelligence just as every other person on the payroll did, but Brian Hennessy had the stamina of a racehorse and as the sweat made his blue Tesco short sleeve shirt stick to his broad back, a bead of sweat or two on his simian forehead, Brian was a milk packing machine and management was happy to pay a dullard so long as his brute strength continued to keep the milk fridges stocked and the product perfectly rotated, which it inevitably was during Brian's shifts.

So you're rejecting excellence? Will I only be recognised posthumously?

>>24620661 (OP)
>packs milk
yeah nope

>packing heat
this is the way

>>24621573
useful acronym to avoid jail time

>>24621574
and training material

>>24620661 (OP)
If you promise to revise and rewrite it for 10k hours then I'll read it.

>>24621564
Yes, what an excellent example of a boring, run on sentence.

>>24620661 (OP)
BAVI

I like the theoretical potency of a massive sentence but respectfully your execution is flawed and the reader loses his momentum somewhere around the chill's fridge.

Here's the opening line from The Melancholy of Resistance — do you find this easier to read?

"Since the passenger train train connecting the icebound estates of the southern lowlands, which extend from the banks of the Tisza almost as far as the foot of the Carpathians, had, despite the garbled explanations of a haplessly stumbling guard and the promises of the stationmaster rushing nervously on and off the platform, failed to arrive ('Well, squire, it seems to have disappeared into thin air again...' the guard shrugged, pulling a sour face), the only two serviceable old wooden-seated coaches maintained for such an 'emergency' were coupled to an obsolete and unreliable 424, used only as a last resort, and put to work, albeit a good hour and a half late, according to a time-table to which they were not bound and which was only an approximation anyway, so that the locals who were waiting in vain for the eastbound service, and had accepted its delay with what appeared to be a combination of indifference and helpless resignation, might eventually arrive at their destination some fifty kilometres further along the branch line."