The Start Of My Book

This is the introduction to a story i started writing. It's basically introducing them when they're teens, and then most of the story will be them being adults. Sometimes i think it's too informal but then to be honest thats the way i really like to write. but let me know if you think it would be annoying to read. if it's not too annoying then i'll probably make my writing even more so in the future. The first paragraph is a bit lame because for some reason i find beginnings of stuff really hard, but please bare with me i think it improves.

Angela took her pens and big notepad out of her bag, and set up her battered music player with her favourite library play list. Instrumentals and songs she liked but had never bothered to learn the words to. She had settled herself on her usual table in the music section, even though she was working on her chemistry assignment. Examining the untidy stack of books she had selected trying to decide which would be the most useful to start with. It was hard to comprehend how they actually made science so uninspiring. Most of the books she had found on the relevant subjects were at least a decade old, and it annoyed her that the school system was so rigid that they only taught things that were relatively unarguable. Facts. The science that she encountered in her daily life; things she saw on the news, what she ate and how her body worked, was actually interesting to her, because it was constantly changing and it was never black and white, there was debate.
Heaving the biggest book out of the middle of the pile she started scanning the contents page, the index pages, and the folding down the corners of the ones she thought might be useful. Tucked inside she found a love letter to a girl. It was timeless, no pop culture references, and given the age of the book she realised the girl could now be grown, married, divorced, maybe dead but probably not. She tucked the note back where it belonged, trapped in the moment where the romance had probably started. The note made Angela a bit annoyed, but only at the lack of love letters in her books.
No one else she knew was in the library so the procrastination had to all come from her head. That was until Isaac walked in. He appeared to be breezing in to return a couple of books at the front desk, but Angela was hoping to catch his attention somehow. Her brain didn’t come up with a single idea that wouldn’t involve her getting up, but luckily once his books had been beeped back in he walked over to the newspapers section instead of the door.
She immediately put her music on pause but left the headphones in, so that she looked like she was still concentrating but could still be aware of what was happening around her. Making as much noise as she could to draw his attention without looking a bit odd, she appeared to get back to her work.
Isaac looked over instinctively to see the cause of a loud noise that had startled him, and gave Angela an acknowledging smile and nod, and she picked up a heavy textbook off the floor. After he had photocopied a couple of things from January’s tabloids, he tucked them in to a purple folder in his bag and walked over to speak to her. She kept her head down even though she could feel him standing over her. Pretending not to notice because of the music in her ears she waited for him to touch her gently on the forearm, then looked up and smiled in mock surprise and took her earphones out, her whole body still tingling from the contact.
“Hey,” she whispered in an appropriate library tone, “How’s things?”
“Good thanks. And you?” was the automatic small talk reply.
“Yeah, fine. What have you been up to?”
“Nothing much, just working.” The answers were so innate it was impossible to stop.
Angela nodded, “Ditto.”
He leaned on the table and she smelled him; a weird mix of ice cream and spray-on glue. The silence was neither comfortable nor awkward, it was silence. Maybe it was just the atmosphere you expected from a library. Isaac seemed to just pull an invitation out of the air.
“Have you had lunch yet?”
Angela’s pale green eyes were wide, and her eyebrows were raised, but her mouth gave away no secrets. She merely shook her head, encouragingly.
“I was just going to get a bagel if you want to join me, or I can just get you one and bring it back?”
“No, I’ll come. I’m not busy.” Lie! But potentially worth it.
She hastily packed up her belongings and put them in her rucksack. Was is still uncool to have a rucksack, or had they passed that fickle age? Smiling regularly at each other but saying very little, they walked down a dozen flights of stairs, a few empty corridors and then out of the wooden doors. Small talk transformed naturally in to engaging conversation when Angela asked what he had been photocopying from the papers. It was a few adverts to use as research for his new sustainable design project in Graphics. He talked fluently and passionately about his ideas although in Angela’s opinion they were all over the place. Not one to judge too quickly, and knowing full well that innovative design was not her forte, she listened without questioning and assumed that the ideas would take shape as the creative process went on.
Angela took the time to examine Isaac closely, while he was lost in explanation. His skin was almost scarily flawless, and the pale colour highlighted it more so. It looked like he had been made from an ivory coloured, matte wedding balloon. His dark hair made up for it though, making him look much healthier because it was so thick and shiny. Ditto for his eyes. Well, they weren’t thick, they were very sharp, but they were certainly dark and shiny. His pale hand shot out in front of her, gesturing in to the bagel shop where they had arrived outside, startling her. They stepped in and stood side-by-side, scrutinising the board of potential lunches.
The décor of the place seemed to be based on a chip shop from the eighties; mostly chipboard but with a little bit of marble-effect sticky vinyl. The frames on the wall were foe gold but, to be fair, the art work inside them was quite modern. Whether they had left the decoration because they couldn’t afford to change it or because they liked it was hard to tell, but it was certainly unkempt, although clean at least.
Isaac stepped forward and addressed the younger-than-she-appears sandwich maker, “I’ll have salmon and cream cheese on whole wheat, and toasted”.
Oh God. He’s gay. Angela’s stomach dropped and she felt her whole, new positive outlook on life escape out of her mouth in a little understated sigh.
She leaned on the counter and smiled weakly, “Spinach and cheese, please”.

I like the quick narrative of it, Carrie. There's no point in trying to get the round shape to fit in the square shapes box. If that's the way you should like to write, then you should stick with it. No point in trying to change yourself.

It actually reminds me of the way Stephen King writes as well. He has a book out called "on writing" which he wrote after nearly dying. He wanted to share his secrets with the world. I'm not a fan of his, but this book is brilliant.

Not only is your writing similar, the ethic is the same. In that book he says that it's important to not over describe etc. Just get to the point.

Something doesnt sit right with me here, though:

Ditto for his eyes. Well, they weren’t thick, they were very sharp, but they were certainly dark and shiny.

I dont know why, exactly. could be the use of the word "ditto". I've never been a fan!

Apart from that, i think you're on the right track. You should definatly stick with it, and carry on.

weirdly enough that's the exact line that i was talking about when i said if it's annoyingly informal let me know. i knew there were something quite right about it.

i'm sure there's probably alot of general flaws with it, things like saying the names too many times, but it's really hard to hear myself think in the flat i live in this year. roll on september

Yea, I need absolute silence when I'm writing...Kinda picky about that.

I'm heavily back into it. I like it.