Writing an Urban Fiction Drama…..tell me what u think?

hey everyone!

im writing an urban fiction drama which is about an young girl around 19, 20 who lives in horrible conditions with her drug addicted mother. who steals from her and about her friends who keep her goin, the people she encounter and the new love blossoming from an childhood friend. but still in the beginning discovering her mother dead in there house, covered in blood, she finds out she has aids from the blood around her mothers murder scene. struggling with the resentment of her mother, her new found ending with hiv, possible new love, friends and making it day by day in the a cold world.

i’m including a couple of samples to read below. let me know what u think ot anything 2 nmake the storyline better, etc. thanks so much.

"Angela, have you seen my gold earrings?" no answer. "Angela." "ANGELA," still no answer. "Doped bitch," I spat. I immediately slammed the door. I felt so helpless, and angry. For the 6th time this week my own mother had stolen from me. And every time I asked her about it, she refuse to admit it. Instead she just laid in another world the drug had given her. Continuing to constantly steal from her only daughter to support her out of control drug addiction that reign on her life. After staring at the paint chipped door for minutes at a time, I turned around and faced the hallway. I quickly became nauseated, because I lived in a potential crack house. Trash was far and wide. Dozens of Segrems Gin bottles hanging around, rotten food in the corners, cigarette butts thrown here, paper and used condoms thrown there. Worst of all my mothers crack needles were just scattered around like they were mothballs. A single, salty tear escaped my right eye as I crossed through piles of trash. I was startled when I almost stepped on a huge but skinny, frail roach. Crawling cautiously over piles of junk, that it most likely thought was the typical Brooklyn alley way. Though the traditional way would have been to thrash on it, I couldn’t step on the roach because it was just another creature, trying to survive in a world that didn’t care about it or needed it. Like me. ……

"Thank God," I lightly spoke under my breath, locking the four Master Locks that shielded me from a place I didn’t want to be in. A world that didn’t give a damn about my statistic ass. A so-called mother, who didn’t take the time to realize and wonder wether I was alive or dead. Me and my locks had a history together, we shared the worst the times and more worst of times. But that was another series of stories that weren’t ready to be told yet. 10:00a.m. sunlight was forcing its way through my cotton bed sheets I used as curtains. Amateurs at protecting my eyes from the harsher than harsh reality. Crack heads feigning, young black men pulling triggers, bullets cruising and piercing there way through closed windows, sirens pitching that noise. And, OH GOD THAT NOISE! Babies screaming for their spoiled milk, gun shots ringing out like they were the telephone, babies mamas yelling at they ill-mannered kids and Mr. Jenkins in 4A. Yelling and complaining about his underpaid welfare check. Which was well deserved since he spent all of it on the cheap, local prostitutes around the corner. "WHAT! ONLY TWO HUNDRED AND EIGHTY THREE DOLLARS. THAT DAMN REDNECK, COCK BLOCKING ASS BUSCH!" Apartment life was oh too quiet. My thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on my door. I opened the door to see a skinny, wrinkle faced Angela. "Have you seen my lighter?," Angela spoke lightly as if she was almost scared. "Isn’t it’s a little to early in the morning to be getting high?" " Storm don’t patronize me, I…." I didn’t even want to hear her pathetic voice, so I slammed the paint-chipped door in her face. I exhaled deeply relieving myself of the pain that I felt for my so-called mother…..

Yo what’s good Storm, you early today." "Well you know what the home life is like" "Yeah, Yo you wouldn’t believe the most crazy shit that’s got the hood buzzing." "Damn Trisha, you gossiping already? It ain’t even 12:00 yet." Everyday, at the same time on time, my best friend Trisha was the first to tell me the who, what, when, where and why around the hood. She was like my personal CNN reporter. Sporting gigantic doorknocker earrings that complemented her thick New York accent. "Yo, Storm you know its my 1 out of three jobs." "Except your not getting paid for the hours you run your mouth," I spoke like a true smart ass. " Thanks for letting me know," Trisha said sarcastically. "Its my 1 out of three jobs you know?" I replied sarcastically laughing. "Whatever, but Tony is in Trisha’s local hot seat this morning," she was just glowing with eagerness to tell me. "Really, what happened I was just with him yesterday at McDonald’s." Trisha’s right eye brow lifted with curiosity and I knew it was only a matter of time before she grilled me with questions about a romance that me nor Tony never shared, but she continued with her breaking new

sorry this is not well written and not a good story – i couldn’t even finish the first paragraph of the story

this extract wouldn’t encourage many people to read more