Well, I’ve been creating a plot for a story that’s good 4 either a book or movie because it’s summer and I needed some leisure time. I would just want to know what do you think?

Here’s the story:

It’s about a guy named Sean who has been getting bad luck after quitting his job as a literacy critic for a magazine to pursue his dream as a novelist. His girlfriend left him for a rich man, his landlord’s chasing him for rent money, and he’s suffering from writer’s block. He has since drown into depression, and had several suicide attempts.

His seventh attempt was the last straw as he was kicked out of his apartment and was living on the streets. His older brother Roger finds him on the street and took him to his loft. Sean learns that Roger’s gay, as Roger’s been hiding it from the family ever since, and mentions Roger about his status in high school as being popular and dating many girls (he learns they used him for fashion advice and he only had an eye for the captain of the soccer team).

After passing out at a bar, Sean was taken back to the loft, as a flower plant suddenly drops from the upper level and breaks a priceless antique, or in Roger’s case, a chair once sat by Gianni Versace. Sean then encounters the neighbour, Eileen, for the first time, as she complains with Roger and his lover, Jamie, over the hole she created.

He would meet her again the next day, during her day job as a dog walker. Eileen is a free-spirit whose family knows every Hollywood legend from the classic era, dresses oddly, is very klutzy, has a child-like behavior, likes to talk about mindless things, always breaks the rules, loves to watch strangers and dub over their conversations with music or with her imagination and loves to have fun. Sean also learns of her night job as a singer at a cabaret, and her long-going feud with Roger and Jamie over Eileen killing their dog (The dog was chased by one of Eileen’s dogs and was ran over by a taxi).

Sean begins to hang out with Eileen more, even when they fix the hole in the apartment. Eileen’s bohemian personality was a sudden change to Sean’s organized and depressed life, as he is becoming more outgoing and getting luck with a new book deal. He suddenly begins to fall in love with Eileen. He confesses it to her, but it was too late as Eileen leaves her apartment and Sean behind to further her music career.

When they reunite, Sean has become a best-selling author for his book about his relationship with Eileen and Eileen is touring with her Vegas-performing brother. Sean learns that this will be his last chance to win Eileen back, and he is willing to take risks to win back the girl.

Well, the title I chose is "A Girl Like You" and if the plot sounds familar to you, let me know cause it’s just a draft and I’ve been getting a feeling it was done before. As well, I’m also in high school.
- about Sean’s book, it’s actually based on his relationship with Eileen, not his autobiography.

I am entering this into a short story contest. Please if you guys could tell me what you think of it it would be greatly appreciated! Im still working on coming up with a title so sorry its nameless right now anyways here it goes.

The chill of winter was set deep into my bones in this strange town of dark. Far longer than a fortnight I spent asleep beneath a large oak and still the medieval and ancient feel of the town had not diminished. From this feel, the queasiness in my stomach left me grappling for peace and of course a drink. I entered a lonesome bar and seated myself by a man, a black cat moping by his boots. The cat twitched its ears, and its yellow eyes were set on me and me only.
From the barman I requested a large glass of brandy, eagerly awaiting the familiar sting to comfort me. Warmed to my toes and closing my eyes, I inhaled the smell of straw and pine and gulped down the last of my drink.
“This contact is illusory. The cat and I are separated as though by a pane of glass, because man lives in time, in successiveness, while the magical animal lives in the present, in the eternity of the instant.”
The words of Jorge Luis Borges in his story The South, this book and its words had been imprinted in my mind since first sight. To hear a reference to the “outside world” had been just as strage as the reference itself.
My attention returned again to the present I was in, to my harsh neighbour by my side, and his cat by his boots. Hidden in shadows his eyes were, but I realized his motive and measured my answer carefully.
“The pane of glass is only the separation of reality.” I responded. “The cat may live in the instant but it is only so, for they can afford to make mistakes. Nine chances they have to make their choices and for their eternity they shall live, while we must measure and estimate the consequence of action. One chance we have and one chance only. If we are totally immersed in the moment, we cannot survive for the future.”
He stroked his dimpled chin and eyed me up and down, “then you’re time has come, make use of your one chance.” He arose from the bar stool and limped out the door leaving his pet behind. The cat leaped up onto the stool and flicked its tail in the direction of his master. Its expectant eyes bore into me and I knew I was meant to follow.
And follow I did through bush and grime, and stream and rock. Over and under the trees of a forest we climbed, rising and falling under the night sky until finally the cat stopped beneath an arc of trees. The cats fur stood erect in the coolness of the shade but its face was as calm as ever. As if putting himself to sleep he prodded the ground and traveled round and round his own sleek body picking up speed and agility as the moments wore on. He waltzed as he willed around the forest clearing a purr issuing deep in his throat.
Prancing and whirling around the edges of the clearing the cat captivated every attention it could. The trees bowed to his powerful dance, and every insect writhed and wriggled beneath the ground as if joining in. From side to side the cat enchanted me in its movements and ensnared me in its spell of natures cage. I stared in awe at the power of nature, of the beauty of movement and the magic in this forest, of the happiness I felt as I began to whirl around with him. Mimicking his movements I danced to the tune the crickets played for us. The owls’ calls were our metronome, our measurement of time and our only attachment to reality. I slowed my dance and fell backwards into the brush laughing. My friend, Cat, perched upon my knee and called out to me and sang with his meows.
‘Make use of your one chance. Make use of the time you have. Right your wrongs, correct your mistakes. Learn from the past, then forget. Forget all you’ve done wrong. All your wrongs will be made right, so forget. Correct and forget then continue on. Make use of your one chance; your only chance.’
I sat confused my mind in a daze. The cat’s behind was all I could see of my new friend as he forced himself out of the clearing and disappeared into the dark. I screamed after him “My friend, return to me my friend! Do not leave me!” But return he did not. I was abandoned. I was alone. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I tried to arise. My cloak snagged on a branch that threw my body forward and buried my face into the dirt. I wanted to cry and scream, and cry I did but still ti would not satisfy my wanting to fade, to fade into the night like my friend until finally my vision faded, faded into darkness.
Moments later I awoke, car horns blaring, the smell of smoke filling my nose and water dripping from an overhead bridge. My tattered cloak stank of dirt and grime, my arms and body marked with scars. Needles lay spread around me, one still piercing my skin. I wanted to revisit the fantasy I had left. Where had it gone? Why had it left me so suddenly? Why had it come in the first place? Above all I longed for my friend, Cat.
Richard : Actually i dont im thinking more of opinions not rewriting the story and changing the entire feel and meaning to the choppy disorganized writing. I wrote everything the way i did for a reason . if you dont like it then say that. you dont have to rewrite it. Anyways its your time to waste not mine thanks for the anwer anyways
EDIT :OMG EMBARASSING, THANKS ERICA YOUR ANSWER MADE ME REALIZE THE REST OF MY STORY DIDNT PASTE!

HERES THE ENDING

My only possession lay opened upon my lap, my oldest friend and companion, the last link to my past and the separation to my future: The South by Jorge Louis Borges. My outdoor home was not what I wanted. My cloak of poverty I wanted to rip off. My identity of addiction I wanted to burn away and rid myself of, rid myself of it and forget. Forget and continue on. A cat moped by my boots, a black cat. Its intelligent yellow eyes bore into me and I knew I was meant to follow. ‘Make use of your one chance.’
And follow I did through brush and grime and stream and rock until finally I was able to forget. Forget and continue on.