(July Challenge) The End of the End 1,785 wds - First attempt
Decaying Atheist
was set. I edited and revised it twice. It still doesn't feel quite
right. I just don't know what to do with it from here.
The End of the End
The rain left a swampy mess in her garden. The last few flowers
looked like they had attempted to crawl to higher ground to avoid the
invading water. They violet ones had no luck and were quickly
consumed. She looked outside the window and frown again. Her frown,
her five hundredth that day, reflected back from the window.
"Oh, I hate when I look like that." She pushed the hair away from her
eyes and went back to the task at hand. She lit the candle in the
center of the table. Next, she placed the plates, one on each side of
the table.
Emily checked the oven; the roast was coming along well. It was his
favorite. She wanted to make this reunion somewhat pleasant. Roger had
been gone for a long time.
Each day she would get a letter, a letter that she never read. She
saved the letters because she was too scared to throw them away. She
never opened them because she feared what awaited her inside, the love
of a man she couldn't stand even thinking about.
Roger was returning from overseas duty. A full year alone and the two
declared their relationship to be strong enough to survive a year
apart. She went along to smooth the waves. She saw no choice. He had
promised to go and she couldn't stop him.
The phone exploded into a ring that drove Emily's hand to her heart.
It was a heart attack moment if ever she had had one.. The caller ID
displayed an unknown name. She stopped, her hand trembling over the
phone. She was waiting for it to stop. The phone just needed to stop
ringing; it was the only thing that would allow her to keep her
sanity. After six rings, the phone settled back. Emily went back to
the dinner preparation.
Five minutes later, the phone rang again. Her heart jumped, and she
almost went hand first into the hot gravy. Another unknown name on the
caller ID. Finally, she worked up the nerve and picked up the phone.
"Hello"
The voice on the other side was familiar but strained. Obvious pent up
emotions lingered in the air. All of it made her feel like she was
wearing a wet woolen sweater on a hundred degree day.
"Hello, Emily. I'm back. Are we still on for dinner tonight?" She had
to answer at least one of his letters, to let him know that it was
over. That she didn't need him anymore. She didn't want him anymore.
There was no use for him and no feelings remained, that could even be
called anything more than pity.
"Yes, it is almost ready. Another half hour or so and everything will
be good. Why don't you check into a hotel and come on by when you are
done."
"A hotel? Why check into a hotel?"
She could almost feel his hot breath against her ear, the anger
boiling up from his skin and burning everything that it touched.
"Well, it has been a long time and I'm not so comfortable with the
idea of sharing a bed." I'd rather swallow razor blades, she thought.
"That's fine I can sleep on the couch." The anger was gone, replaced
with a near silent pleading. Roger was grasping at anything he could
get.
"No, I don't think that's a good idea." Emily moved with the phone,
turning down burners and stirring things so they wouldn't burn.
"Why all of the sudden, is it not a good idea for me to sleep at your
place? Before I left we did it all the time. We practically shared a
house."
"I know but things changed."
"Fine, I'll be over shortly." Roger didn't wait for anything more. He
slammed the phone down.
Emily felt the tears coming. They fell in time with the rain outside.
She blotted at her eyes, and took a deep breath. It was only one
dinner, one dinner and everything was over. The two would probably
chat a little about what was going on, but Emily would insist on
getting to the point. It was better that way. That way nobody's
feeling got more hurt than they needed to.
The knock on her door was just as startling as the phone calls had
been. Emily had grown accustom to the silence of her place, a silence
that was about to be shattered by Roger's reappearance.
She moved toward the door and stopped before the handle. Best to get
it over quickly, she reminded herself. Pull quickly like a Band-Aid to
leave no trace of the pain except the memory of it all.
Roger looked only slighty different. He wore a beard although it wasn't
impressive. His suit was a bit too large for his small frame to
handle. And his clothing was nearly soaked to the bone. "Come in,
Roger."
"I didn't have an umbrella, and I had to walk."
Emily felt the blood rush from her head to her stomach. She vomited on
Roger's shoes. Only a small amount, but enough to make matter worse,
he would want to know what was going on. Perhaps he would want to
stick around and take care of her as she was obviously sick. People
just don't vomit for fun. At least rational people don't.
"You look like you've seen a ghost Emily. I bet you are burning up.
Come in let me in and we can see you get into bed. I'll leave after
that if that's what you want."
"I'm not sick Roger. I'm shocked. I'm surprised that nothing has
changed with you aside from a little facial hair and a cheap suit!"
Roger took a step back to avoid the talon like words.
"What's going on, Emily? What's your problem?"
"What's my problem? He wants to know what my problem is. You never
asked before and now suddenly I'm supposed to spill my guts and let
you in. Roger you had your chance. Your broke your promise and I'm
beginning to think I'd rather have you leave now."
"Leave, but I just got her. What is all this about. Come on, Emily, I
thought we were a couple. I'm not mad that you never wrote back to me.
That you never returned my calls, and that you refused my request for
you to come for Christmas. I'm not mad that I lived a year away from
you with no word of how you were doing. You know I had to call your
parents just to find out if you were still living here."
"You talked to my parents. They never mentioned that. They never said
you called at all." Now her face was warming up, gone was the dread of
seeing Roger again. Instead all she felt was simmering anger. It
bubbled up through her fears and was beginning to settle at the top.
"Yes I talked to them." Roger took a step forward and shut the door.
"The meal looks good Emily. Can't we just sit and talk this out. Have
a little dinner and figure out what is bothering you so much."
Emily turned toward the oven. She pulled the roast from it. Everything
was cooked properly. She placed the portions on the plates at the
table. The candle stilled burned, leaving trails of wax down its once
smooth sides. Roger pulled the chair out, and sat down as Emily
finished serving.
They both began to eat in silence.
"This is good," Roger said. He hoped any little bit of conversation
would spark a return to what was really wrong.
"Go fuck yourself Roger."
"Woah, what's going on? Come on, Emily."
"Well, where could we start? Well we could start at day one. The day
you told me you were going. We had one day to talk about all of this.
One day, Roger! After that you packed up and left. You promised me you'd
write every day. You did. I got every single letter. I didn't read
them. I couldn't after what happened. You promised you'd protect me
and make things better. You couldn't do that, but yet you want to come
back here and lay claim to me. I'm not a trophy. And frankly I think
it is bullshit for you to think that I'm only here for you."
"I said I would and I did. I went to make things better for us both. I
went because it would help us."
"No, Roger. No, no, no! You went because you wanted to go. You thought
only about yourself and didn't care what others thought about it. Do
you know you left and the very next day . . . The very next day . . .
The very next . . .?"
Emily turned away, her eyes were burning.
"Why don't you leave! Just leave and think about yourself some more."
Emily swung back around knocking the candle down. It settled in Roger's
food, mash potatoes snuffing the flame.
She went from fear to rage and finally it was clear.
"Get out. We are done. Leave me alone, leave my parents alone. Don't
come back."
Roger stood up and placed a wall behind his back. "Can I at least
call a taxi?"
Emily grabbed her plate and tossed it at him. Food went flying and
the plate caught Roger square in the chest before it fell to the
ground and shattered.
Roger moved toward the door, opened it and walked out into the rain.
Emily rushed over and locked the door. She stared at the carnage of
the meal.
At least it went well enough and nobody was seriously hurt.
From outside she heard the screeching tires, and the sickening thud.
It reminded her of a stack of wet meat striking the floor. She never
bothered to look outside, not even when the police came. Nobody
knocked on her door and nobody came to question her.
The next morning she read the paper. The headline for the day made
her nerves seize up. In this moment of silence, the fabric of the
world unraveled into three neat strings. The first a string of pain,
second a string of anger, and thirdly the most important string of
all, the string of universal justice.
Emily was hanging by the third string reaching for the first and
second but knowing there was no possibility for happiness. Roger died
the night before just outside her house. The driver claimed the man
just walked out in front of the car.
The candle goes out and we are reminded that we often get exactly
what we ask for, even though we never really want what we ask for.
Wind River
> This is the first attempt. I wrote it a day or two after the challenge
> was set. I edited and revised it twice. It still doesn't feel quite
> right. I just don't know what to do with it from here.
Yay -- a July challenge! I'll read it tonight, Derrick. Thanks!
Sue
Alexandra
I realize that you've only edited this story a few times, so I've taken
that into consideration. A few things:
1) Why does Emily get crazy? If you mean to show she's a superficial
bitch, that's fine, but don't be superficial yourself. WHY is she
crazy? There isn't enough here, other than that she complained that
Roger left her for a year. That simply isn't enough. Be very specific.
2) Setting. I don't know where this story takes place. I think it's
important, as she'd been at home and he'd been away. Plus, where did he
go?
3) The ending. A death late at night might not be in the next morning's
paper. Probably would be there the following day. You could increase
the tension of the story by letting time go by, her showing some
regret, calling him, finding he's been missing, etc. There are some
lines you don't need. A sophisticated reader would pick up on them.
I'll show you below.
Decaying Atheist wrote:
> This is the first attempt. I wrote it a day or two after the challenge
> was set. I edited and revised it twice. It still doesn't feel quite
> right. I just don't know what to do with it from here.
>
> The End of the End
>
> The rain left a swampy mess in her garden. The last few flowers
> looked like they had attempted to crawl to higher ground to avoid the
> invading water.
Not crazy about invading water. It's okay. Try for a stronger phrase.
>They
The
violet ones had no luck and were quickly
> consumed. She looked outside the window and frown again. Her frown,
> her five hundredth that day, reflected back from the window.
>
> "Oh, I hate when I look like that." She pushed the hair away from her
> eyes and went back to the task at hand. She lit the candle in the
> center of the table. Next, she placed the plates, one on each side of
Placed the plates is awkward on the ear.
> the table.
>
> Emily checked the oven; the roast was coming along well. It was his
> favorite. She wanted to make this reunion somewhat pleasant. Roger had
> been gone for a long time.
>
> Each day she would get a letter, a letter that she never read. She
> saved the letters because she was too scared to throw them away. She
> never opened them because she feared what awaited her inside, the love
> of a man she couldn't stand even thinking about.
>
> Roger was returning from overseas duty. A full year alone and the two
> declared their relationship to be strong enough to survive a year
> apart. She went along to smooth the waves. She saw no choice. He had
> promised to go and she couldn't stop him.
>
> The phone exploded into a ring that drove Emily's hand to her heart.
> It was a heart attack moment if ever she had had one.. The caller ID
> displayed an unknown name. She stopped, her hand trembling over the
> phone. She was waiting for it to stop. The phone just needed to stop
> ringing; it was the only thing that would allow her to keep her
> sanity.
Keep her sanity is prosaic. Try for another phrase.
After six rings, the phone settled back. Emily went back to
> the dinner preparation.
>
> Five minutes later, the phone rang again. Her heart jumped, and she
> almost went hand first into the hot gravy. Another unknown name on the
> caller ID. Finally, she worked up the nerve and picked up the phone.
>
> "Hello"
>
> The voice on the other side was familiar but strained. Obvious pent up
> emotions lingered in the air. All of it made her feel like she was
> wearing a wet woolen sweater on a hundred degree day.
Wet woolen sweater is good. But instead of hundred degree day, come up
with a phrase that describes extreme heat.
A car accident wouldn't make front page news the following day, maybe
not even two days later, unless we're in a small town. Again, setting
is important.
In this moment of silence, the fabric of the
> world unraveled into three neat strings. The first a string of pain,
> second a string of anger, and thirdly the most important string of
> all, the string of universal justice.
This paragraph borders on trite. Plus, it's condescending to the
reader. Try to think of ways to describe her world coming down in
fresher terms.
> Emily was hanging by the third string reaching for the first and
> second but knowing there was no possibility for happiness. Roger died
> the night before just outside her house. The driver claimed the man
> just walked out in front of the car.
>
> The candle goes out and we are reminded that we often get exactly
> what we ask for, even though we never really want what we ask for.
I don't like the last line. It's too distant. Bring in Emily's voice.
What would she think?
Overall, the concept's good, but it needs a lot of work.
Cheers,
Alex
Wind River
> This is the first attempt. I wrote it a day or two after the challenge
> was set. I edited and revised it twice. It still doesn't feel quite
> right. I just don't know what to do with it from here.
I like it, Derrick. I like the sketchiness of it, but I'm a "Twilight
Zone" fan.
It needs more editing, and some more details might strengthen it. I
don't think you need to explain everything rationally, though, because
this is from Emily's POV, and she's a bit different. It doesn't matter
where Roger has been or what their relationship was beforehand, because
this is about Emily's descent into her own emotional hell after the
object that protected her was taken away. Roger gets the full force of
her anger/sadness/fear, since he was the object and the one who took it
away from her by leaving (even if it was duty).
> The End of the End
>
> The rain left a swampy mess in her garden. The last few flowers
> looked like they had attempted to crawl to higher ground to avoid the
> invading water. They violet ones had no luck and were quickly
> consumed. She looked outside the window and frown again. Her frown,
> her five hundredth that day, reflected back from the window.
I like invading water, since it reflects how she feels about Roger's return.
frownED again
> The phone exploded into a ring that drove Emily's hand to her heart.
Like "invaded", "exploded" fits her state of mind.
You might consider deleting the line below (It was a heart ...), because
her actions show us what's she's thinking, and I think less coherent
thoughts strengthen her character.
> It was a heart attack moment if ever she had had one.. The caller ID
> displayed an unknown name. She stopped, her hand trembling over the
> phone. She was waiting for it to stop. The phone just needed to stop
> ringing; it was the only thing that would allow her to keep her
> sanity. After six rings, the phone settled back. Emily went back to
> the dinner preparation.
>
> Five minutes later, the phone rang again. Her heart jumped, and she
> almost went hand first into the hot gravy. Another unknown name on the
> caller ID. Finally, she worked up the nerve and picked up the phone.
She needs an answering machine. :)
<Snipped>
> She could almost feel his hot breath against her ear, the anger
> boiling up from his skin and burning everything that it touched.
Nice line. Also, the razor blades one.
> "Well, it has been a long time and I'm not so comfortable with the
> idea of sharing a bed." I'd rather swallow razor blades, she thought.
>
<snipped>
> The knock on her door was just as startling as the phone calls had
> been. Emily had grown accustom to the silence of her place, a silence
accustomED
> that was about to be shattered by Roger's reappearance.
> She moved toward the door and stopped before the handle. Best to get
> it over quickly, she reminded herself. Pull quickly like a Band-Aid to
> leave no trace of the pain except the memory of it all.
Ouch! I hate pulling off a Band-Aid quickly. I'd rather gently pry the
skin away from the adhesive.
<snipped>
> "Leave, but I just got her. What is all this about. Come on, Emily, I
HerE
> thought we were a couple. I'm not mad that you never wrote back to me.
> That you never returned my calls, and that you refused my request for
> you to come for Christmas. I'm not mad that I lived a year away from
> you with no word of how you were doing. You know I had to call your
> parents just to find out if you were still living here."
>
> "You talked to my parents. They never mentioned that. They never said
> you called at all." Now her face was warming up, gone was the dread of
> seeing Roger again. Instead all she felt was simmering anger. It
> bubbled up through her fears and was beginning to settle at the top.
this is good -- her anger about him calling her parents -- nice and
irrational
> "Yes I talked to them." Roger took a step forward and shut the door.
> "The meal looks good Emily. Can't we just sit and talk this out. Have
> a little dinner and figure out what is bothering you so much."
Maybe here Roger could mention that her parents are as worried about her
as much as he is. That would give us sympathy for him, so the ending has
more affect.
> Emily turned toward the oven. She pulled the roast from it. Everything
> was cooked properly. She placed the portions on the plates at the
> table. The candle stilled burned, leaving trails of wax down its once
> smooth sides. Roger pulled the chair out, and sat down as Emily
> finished serving.
>
<snipped>
>
> "Well, where could we start? Well we could start at day one. The day
> you told me you were going. We had one day to talk about all of this.
> One day, Roger! After that you packed up and left. You promised me you'd
> write every day. You did. I got every single letter. I didn't read
> them. I couldn't after what happened. You promised you'd protect me
> and make things better. You couldn't do that, but yet you want to come
> back here and lay claim to me. I'm not a trophy. And frankly I think
> it is bullshit for you to think that I'm only here for you."
>
> "I said I would and I did. I went to make things better for us both. I
> went because it would help us."
I think here, it might work better to reiterate that he had to go,
because it was active duty or a promise made before meeting Emily. Then,
you could show how off the deep end Emily is by stating that she (and
her protection or whatever) should have taken precedence over his
promise or duty.
> "No, Roger. No, no, no! You went because you wanted to go. You thought
> only about yourself and didn't care what others thought about it. Do
> you know you left and the very next day . . . The very next day . . .
> The very next . . .?"
Right here is an opportunity to show her state of mind better. Roger
could try to soothe her and ask what happened. She could repeat that he
promised to protect her, and give us a clue. I'm thinking there's
something she's imagining, some fear. (Of course, my first thought is a
swamp monster that's lurking in the flooded backyard, but that might not
fit the story.)
> Emily turned away, her eyes were burning.
>
> "Why don't you leave! Just leave and think about yourself some more."
>
> Emily swung back around knocking the candle down. It settled in Roger's
> food, mash potatoes snuffing the flame.
> She went from fear to rage and finally it was clear.
>
> "Get out. We are done. Leave me alone, leave my parents alone. Don't
> come back."
>
> Roger stood up and placed a wall behind his back. "Can I at least
> call a taxi?"
Maybe just "Roger leaned against a wall" ?
> Emily grabbed her plate and tossed it at him. Food went flying and
> the plate caught Roger square in the chest before it fell to the
> ground and shattered.
>
> Emily was hanging by the third string reaching for the first and
> second but knowing there was no possibility for happiness. Roger died
> the night before just outside her house. The driver claimed the man
> just walked out in front of the car.
>
> The candle goes out and we are reminded that we often get exactly
> what we ask for, even though we never really want what we ask for.
The last two lines sound a little too moralizing, imo. Maybe Emily could
pick up the snuffed candle from Roger's mashed potatoes that she had
left out all night and clean it or do something with it?
Just thoughts. I like this story and think it could be strengthened with
a little more insight into Emily. I wouldn't expand it much, though,
because then it would lose Emily's way of looking at the world. Keep
working with it.
Sue
longho...@gmail.com
Decaying Atheist wrote:
> This is the first attempt. I wrote it a day or two after the challenge
> was set. I edited and revised it twice. It still doesn't feel quite
> right. I just don't know what to do with it from here.
>
> The End of the End
>
> The rain left a swampy mess in her garden.
A "swamp" then.
Always take the simpler option. You will be astonished at how much you
improve as a writer if you follow that advice. When your writing is
absolutely as simple as you can make it, *then* you can flower it up.
> The last few flowers
> looked like
as though
>they had attempted to crawl to higher ground to avoid the
> invading water. They
Read your work back to avoid mistakes like this.
>violet ones
The violet ones are called "violets".
>had no luck and were quickly
> consumed.
This would have had a lot more impact had you began "The rain consumed
the flowers..."
Why?
Telling us what the rain *did* creates a dynamic first up. Telling us
what it *left* makes your piece immediately static.
Think in terms of motion, dynamics. Think in terms of how you drag the
reader along with you.
> She looked outside the window and frown again.
Frowned. You'll avoid these lazy, careless errors if you read your work
back before posting it.
> Her frown,
> her five hundredth that day, reflected back from the window.
>
As they do.
But why tell us that? Obviously she's going to be pissed off that her
garden is ruined.
Only show the reader what they don't know. It's an important principle
that will tighten up your writing. No good writer wastes much time on
painting those parts of the picture you already see.
> "Oh, I hate when I look like that." She pushed the hair away from her
> eyes and went back to the task at hand. She lit the candle in the
> center of the table. Next, she placed the plates, one on each side of
> the table.
A common problem for writers in this group is that they do not
understand that "scene-setting" is boring.
Nothing has happened in this story. You have posed the reader very few
questions and you have not created a dynamic. Questions create a
potential, like coiling a spring, which you can allow to unravel
through the story. Action is an alternative, creating situations for
the protagonists that create the same potential in a different way.
>
> Emily checked the oven; the roast was coming along well. It was his
> favorite. She wanted to make this reunion somewhat pleasant. Roger had
> been gone for a long time.
>
Okay, finally we have something. A woman we do not care about is
reuniting with a man we don't know. So at least we are asking who Roger
is to her.
> Each day she would get a letter, a letter that she never read. She
> saved the letters because she was too scared to throw them away.
Hmmm. Scared of what though? Take care to make characters' motivations
reasonable.
Read the first chapter of the Corrections. There a woman keeps
letters. Contrast that with your scene here.
> She
> never opened them because she feared what awaited her inside, the love
> of a man she couldn't stand even thinking about.
>
> Roger was returning from overseas duty. A full year alone and the two
> declared their relationship to be strong enough to survive a year
> apart. She went along to smooth the waves. She saw no choice. He had
> promised to go and she couldn't stop him.
>
> The phone exploded into a ring that drove Emily's hand to her heart.
> It was a heart attack moment if ever she had had one.. The caller ID
> displayed an unknown name. She stopped, her hand trembling over the
> phone. She was waiting for it to stop. The phone just needed to stop
> ringing; it was the only thing that would allow her to keep her
> sanity. After six rings, the phone settled back. Emily went back to
> the dinner preparation.
This is too overwritten. Making too much of too little is the same
failing as not creating a dynamic. It makes the story flow like toffee.
Try to get at least to treacle.
>
> Five minutes later, the phone rang again. Her heart jumped, and she
> almost went hand first into the hot gravy. Another unknown name on the
> caller ID. Finally, she worked up the nerve and picked up the phone.
>
> "Hello"
>
> The voice on the other side
end
>was familiar but strained. Obvious pent up
> emotions lingered in the air.
That's enough for me. You're right the emotions are "obvious". You've
laid them on thick in the preceding. But this is shit, straight out of
a Cartland. Actually, I think even she would consider having emotions'
lingering in the air!
Here's a tip for you. Always be asking why you expect the reader to go
on to the next paragraph. What reward have you promised? If you cannot
answer the question enthusiastically, you need to rewrite. I think at
this point I'm looking at a nervy woman who is reuniting with some
geezer. I don't care about her and I know you're going to throw in a
twist.
Here's a tip for the whole group. Give up the twists. It's like you're
telling really boring jokes just to get to punchlines that a small
child could have invented. Look outside that idiom of storytelling.
Consider leaving a few loose ends, so that your reader is left thinking
about what they've read.
Z.
Jeff Jewett
Well DA.,
Read your story. Needs work, but I'll agree with Alex that it's a
good story. But I entered the challenge and my story kills your
story. As a matter of fact, you might as well remove your submission.
If we're the only two that took the challenge, you ain't gotta
cockroaches chance in a chicken coop. My story made your story look
like used toilet paper. Anyone compares my story with yours makes me
look like Stephen King, fuckin Dan Brown over here compare to your
shit. Matter of fact, I beat you so bad I wouldn't even post in here
anymore. If I we're you I'd go take a 4th English class or
something. I killed you, you hear me, I killed you! My shit had an
opening that draws the reader in, and it had characters that we're
excellent! It also had a plot and my scenery descriptions rocked!!!!
And don't forget my satisfying ending. Get the fuck outta here with
you're stupid shit. You had nothing, nothing!!!!!!
And your mothers a whore.
Decaying Atheist
"Jeff Jewett" <jeffre...@hotmail.com> wrote in message
news:1154117395.2...@b28g2000cwb.googlegroups.com...
I agree the story needs work. I posted it too soon but I did so
because I was
concerned about at least showing that I had made an attempt at the
challenge.
Yes, an attempt isn't as good as a polished piece may be, I know that.
I still have three days in which I could improve my story. Will I do
it?
Well that is something that just isn't known.
Now none of what you said beyond the first point was constructive in
any way.
Take your victory lap, you deserve it.
Now just what are you trying to say about my mother. That's right just
more empty
Usenet words.
Congratulations on your "win." I hope the gold star looks very nice
next to the picture of my mother.
Decaying Atheist
"Alexandra" <ajd74...@yahoo.com> wrote in message
news:1153956840.8...@p79g2000cwp.googlegroups.com...
> Hi Derrick,
> I realize that you've only edited this story a few times, so I've
> taken
> that into consideration. A few things:
>
> 1) Why does Emily get crazy? If you mean to show she's a superficial
> bitch, that's fine, but don't be superficial yourself. WHY is she
> crazy? There isn't enough here, other than that she complained that
> Roger left her for a year. That simply isn't enough. Be very
> specific.
>
> 2) Setting. I don't know where this story takes place. I think it's
> important, as she'd been at home and he'd been away. Plus, where did
> he
> go?
>
> 3) The ending. A death late at night might not be in the next
> morning's
> paper. Probably would be there the following day. You could increase
> the tension of the story by letting time go by, her showing some
> regret, calling him, finding he's been missing, etc. There are some
> lines you don't need. A sophisticated reader would pick up on them.
> I'll show you below.
Thank you for your thoughts and I'll keep them in mind while I look
this over again.
To me it didn't matter where he went, it was just that he was gone
that mattered to the story.
That's all that mattered to Emily. So I felt somewhat confident in not
going into too much detail
about this trip away.
I don't disagree with the things you've said. I think you were pretty
spot on with a lot of it.
Once again thanks for taking the time to look it over
DA
Decaying Atheist
"Wind River" <wind_...@bellsouth.net> wrote in message
news:4isoq2F...@individual.net...
> It needs more editing, and some more details might strengthen it. I
> don't think you need to explain everything rationally, though,
> because this is from Emily's POV, and she's a bit different. It
> doesn't matter where Roger has been or what their relationship was
> beforehand, because this is about Emily's descent into her own
> emotional hell after the object that protected her was taken away.
> Roger gets the full force of her anger/sadness/fear, since he was
> the object and the one who took it away from her by leaving (even if
> it was duty).
Yeah, that is the general idea. My execution was fucked to say the
least.
I looked it over again and all these things that have been pointed out
are pretty clear.
I don't think anything short of a complete rewrite from top to bottom
will fix this one.
>> "No, Roger. No, no, no! You went because you wanted to go. You
>> thought only about yourself and didn't care what others thought
>> about it. Do you know you left and the very next day . . . The very
>> next day . . . The very next . . .?"
>
> Right here is an opportunity to show her state of mind better. Roger
> could try to soothe her and ask what happened. She could repeat that
> he promised to protect her, and give us a clue. I'm thinking there's
> something she's imagining, some fear. (Of course, my first thought
> is a swamp monster that's lurking in the flooded backyard, but that
> might not fit the story.)
Well it wouldn't be a DA story without a little monster somewhere.
> Sue
Thanks for sharing your thoughts. I'm going to try to take this and
rewrite it
before the end of the month.
DA
Decaying Atheist
<longho...@gmail.com> wrote in message
news:1154043943....@p79g2000cwp.googlegroups.com...
>
Thanks Zen for the thoughts.
DA
Jeff Jewett
Te-hee. I was just joking. This place is boring lately. Anyway, I'd
work on your story. It's worth it. People agree the story is good,
and it is. You don't have to worry about the deadline, that's not what
this place is about. You gotta keeper. Stay with it.
PS
Your supposed to say something about my mother. Sheesh. She's so fat
or ugly ....
Jeff Jewett
Decaying Atheist
>I know huh, I am acting like him But I meant to. Where is he lately?
Who your mother?
DA
Jeff Jewett
I'm sorry, you say something about my mama?
Decaying Atheist
No, but I did say something about your mother. I don't know your mama.
DA
Jeff Jewett
Decaying Atheist wrote:
> "Jeff Jewett" <jeffre...@hotmail.com> wrote in message
> news:1154122951....@i42g2000cwa.googlegroups.com...
> >
> > Decaying Atheist wrote:
> >> "Jeff Jewett" <jeffre...@hotmail.com> wrote in message
> >> news:1154121006.5...@i42g2000cwa.googlegroups.com...
> >> >I know huh, I am acting like him But I meant to. Where is he
> >> >lately?
> >>
> >> Who your mother?
> >
> >
> > I'm sorry, you say something about my mama?
>
> No, but I did say something about your mother. I don't know your mama.
>
Decaying Atheist
Honestly i can't quite remember. It was so long ago.
DA
Decaying Atheist
Honestly i can't quite remember. It was so long ago.
DA
Alexandra
Thank you for your thoughts and I'll keep them in mind while I look
> this over again.
>
> To me it didn't matter where he went, it was just that he was gone
> that mattered to the story.
> That's all that mattered to Emily. So I felt somewhat confident in not
> going into too much detail
> about this trip away.
Let me clarify. I don't think it was necessary to write several
paragraphs about Roger's tour of duty and Emily's time without him. A
few tight, dense sentences would have sufficed. Without them, the story
feels generic, as though it could have been written by anyone. I agree
that one shouldn't overkill his work with tangential material, but
leaving too much out, you run the risk of writing a cold, bland story.
Make it yours. I think this bit of detail would enable the reader to
see your voice, which frankly, seems absent. I also don't get the
feeling that you cared that deeply about the story and your characters.
Again, giving this story more depth would show you care.
Best,
Alex
eve
I liked much of this; the stuff you don't explain is what caught my
attention.
not sure if emily is just emotionally bent as part of her nature, or
driven to that state, or what the deal is with "the very next day"
line to him -- did he promise to protect her, then run off do his
duty (war, i'm assuming) and she was left "unprotected", with
some violence committed against her (the very next day) or is her
angry state (and that "next day" line) an "unreasonable" reason
within her own mind? is it a small grudge built large (and fed by a
previously unacknowledged lack in the relationship) or a genuinely
traumatic event that has twisted her perspective on him & his
sudden departure (with the added bitterness of no discussion
between them as to him leaving), all of that permanently tainting
their relationship for her, etc?
i like the sense in this of not trusting her, and think that might
be the way to build this story further -- less "backstory" filled
in by him (him leaving her to make it better for them, contacting
her parents, etc) and more letting us in through their dialogue
& interaction.
imo, don't think this is about an end game involving his literal
death, but more about him being dead to *her*, and you showing
us that through their moments together; i think you might be
hampering yourself & the story by weighing yourself
down with needing to build & justify to such a "dramatic"
ending -- perhaps play around with showing us the death
of roger to emily, in a less literal way.
i loved the ongoing thread in the story about her working
on the roast/meal -- it's not quite there yet (imo), but
it has hints of being a "marker" for how she's going
about ending this relationship, in that she's making
the favored meal of, and for, a man she no longer wants
in her life (something very chilling about that: an act most
people do for those they love -- preparing food -- tied with
a woman determined to forever erase the man she's
cooking for -- it's like she's preparing his "last meal",
but with a permanently scorched heart; he's already
dead to her, and this is just the food she's serving at the
wake she's staged for his homecoming).
and -- again, imo -- this is a better opening para for the story:
"Each day she would get a letter, a letter that she never read. She
saved the letters because she was too scared to throw them away. She
never opened them because she feared what awaited her inside, the love
of a man she couldn't stand even thinking about."
...for me, that sets up a "hooky" thing right off the bat;
there's a juicy conflict in this para, succintly stated (she's
not only afraid to read his letters, she's also afraid to
throw them away) so i'm going to read on, to find out who
the letter writer is, and why she's caught in no man's land.
(btw, i'd lose that "even" in the last line; imo, it's stronger
leaving it as "the love of a man she couldn't stand thinking
about").
lots of interesting questions presented in that opening, with
far more juice than in her looking at her garden washed away --
it's a more "active" opening, one that gives us something to
chew over, right at the top: it presents her as a character-in-flux,
rather than somewhat passive; instead of sorrowing over
her garden & her frowning reflection in the window, she's
presenting us with an emotional dilemma -- one that the rest
of the story hinges on -- imo, that lets me know from the start
that there's a compelling dynamic in play.
eve