T
Thomas T
Guest
i took a scene from a book and attempted to re-write it in first person, but I'm not sure if i was successful, can someone tell me if i properly wrote this in first person?
here's the piece
January 6, 1965 (8:00am)
The smell of blueberry pie filled the air. As I breathed the warm air I got up and sauntered over to the kitchen, stopping at the door way I stood and watched as my wife quickly wiped the counter top, moving with caution as she avoided bumping her overgrown belly on the pointed edge of the counter. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, allowing the smell of the pies to entrance my mind. I reopened my eyes slowly to see that my wife’s movements had froze, I stood in the doorway, also frozen. I could barely detect the smell of fresh pies while I stared at Agnes. I could only see the left side of her face but her expression seemed pained. A cloud of fear and excitement formed over my head and in a shaky voice I quietly asked, “Has it started?” “Yes!” her sharp, quick response turned my fear into a storm of worry “we have to go to the hospital!” I half shouted. “No, no I have enough time to finish these pies then teach my English lesson”. I struggled for words, but had no luck in my panicky state, because every sentence I tried to construct did not seem strong enough to break her stubbornness. Well…. Trying is better than giving up I suppose… “Honey! We have to get you to the hospital now! The pies can wait” my futile effort went unnoticed, Agnes got out some cards and began writing pie notes “honey?....” “I’m fine, really I can wait, but these pies can’t” she gave me a justified look and continued with her pie notes. I felt there was nothing more I could say so I walked back to the sofa. Quite frustrated, I tried to construct possible sentences that may convince Agnes to abandon her pies. As I sat my anger slowly washed away and I was left only with thoughts of the future, I could feel myself getting anxious as I stared at the clock, it’s blank face staring back at me, “tick tick tick” with each tick I grew more anxious and even excited, because my first son was hours from being born.
here's the piece
January 6, 1965 (8:00am)
The smell of blueberry pie filled the air. As I breathed the warm air I got up and sauntered over to the kitchen, stopping at the door way I stood and watched as my wife quickly wiped the counter top, moving with caution as she avoided bumping her overgrown belly on the pointed edge of the counter. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, allowing the smell of the pies to entrance my mind. I reopened my eyes slowly to see that my wife’s movements had froze, I stood in the doorway, also frozen. I could barely detect the smell of fresh pies while I stared at Agnes. I could only see the left side of her face but her expression seemed pained. A cloud of fear and excitement formed over my head and in a shaky voice I quietly asked, “Has it started?” “Yes!” her sharp, quick response turned my fear into a storm of worry “we have to go to the hospital!” I half shouted. “No, no I have enough time to finish these pies then teach my English lesson”. I struggled for words, but had no luck in my panicky state, because every sentence I tried to construct did not seem strong enough to break her stubbornness. Well…. Trying is better than giving up I suppose… “Honey! We have to get you to the hospital now! The pies can wait” my futile effort went unnoticed, Agnes got out some cards and began writing pie notes “honey?....” “I’m fine, really I can wait, but these pies can’t” she gave me a justified look and continued with her pie notes. I felt there was nothing more I could say so I walked back to the sofa. Quite frustrated, I tried to construct possible sentences that may convince Agnes to abandon her pies. As I sat my anger slowly washed away and I was left only with thoughts of the future, I could feel myself getting anxious as I stared at the clock, it’s blank face staring back at me, “tick tick tick” with each tick I grew more anxious and even excited, because my first son was hours from being born.