Another critique request and call for input...

[jpatrick]

Okay. What follows is the beginning of a short, short story I plan to submit to the Writer's Digest Short, Short Story competition in December. I've already written one entry that I'm happy with. This one - well, I'm excited by the premise, but I'm struggling with the actual writing. What I'm sharing here is all I have and it's ROUGH. The basic idea is that it's the story of a man who awakens in a wrecked car after a massive accident that will (by story's end) take his life. The twist is that he has no memory of who he is. So the story, beginning to end, is the story of this NEW persona and his birth and death all in the wreckage of that car - that life is precious no matter how short - thus the title "Life At Any Length."

I want critique on what I have so far, but also input on how you think I should proceed. I'm having trouble getting over the hump. Any and all help is appreciated.

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LIFE AT ANY LENGTH
By J. Patrick Lemarr

   I was born at the age of thirty-three on a day that was not my birthday – on the very day that I died. I entered the world with a shudder and a scream, my legs bleeding – bitten by the steel frame of what I can only assume was my car. I was upside down, held fast by my seatbelt and the maw of wreckage. My head was throbbing, pounding out SOS on tympanis. My neck was bent at an odd angle, pressed firmly to the glass-littered roof of the sedan. I was dying.

   I wish that I could explain to you the confusion of that moment. I didn’t know myself, you see, neither who I was nor what I was about. I surmised that the crash had stolen my previous identity, bled it from me the way it was bleeding the life’s blood from my ruined legs. Mixed with the confusion over my own identity was the certainty of my death, the unflinching truth of it racing through my every cell. I would like to think that I had been a man of hope, perhaps even peace, but no hope could be found in that moment, only cruel fact.

   My body, broken as it was, seemed to be on autopilot, for I cannot recall whether I slipped my wallet from my pocket or simply picked it up from the debris near my head. I only remember seeing the unassuming face on the driver’s license that must have been me, though I had no mirror in which to confirm it, and the name:  Anthony Gutierrez. I did not recognize either. Whoever Anthony Gutierrez was, whatever he hoped to be, it was lost in the overturned Suburban littering I-75.

[dimples]

Have you done any research on amnesia?  It might help you flesh out some details and give you insight as to how your character would be feeling (besides confused) and what exactly he would remember, if anything.  If he doesn't remember his identity or past experiences in life, I wonder if he remembers what a car is?  If he doesn't know what a car is, you can have him exploring his surroundings as with a baby's eyes in the sense that everything is new.  I'm not sure how this can further your plot, but it's just a thought.

From what I've read so far, I'm asking myself, "Is this guy in heaven remembering this particular moment in the overturned Suburban?  But why would he remember this moment, yet nothing before it?"  It's not working somehow.  Maybe it would be better for you to write in the present tense.

If you're focused on showing that life is precious no matter how short, you could write about his dreams or hope for the future.  Maybe he doesn't realize he's dying.  All he knows is that he's in pain.  Maybe he's making plans to make the world a better place.  Maybe he accomplishes something grand, even though he's trapped in his car.  He could call people on his cell phone.

You could elaborate on the birth metaphor in your story.  Maybe Anthony grows in some way, just as a baby grows.  After all, growth is part of what makes life precious, right?

I hope this gets some ideas flowing for you.