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Date Posted: 19:03:17 06/24/10 Thu
Author: 
Page
Subject: Honest opinions needed
The "new" first chapter is in the first reply, and I'd love to know what y'all think. Soft or hard crits, overall impressions - just what you have time for.
It's a tad long (2,250 words) so whenever you have a few moments to sit back and read, please let me know how this works for you.
Thanks!
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In here >>>> -- Page, 19:11:39 06/24/10 Thu
Excerpt from Carey On
©2010 by Juli Page Morgan
Posted for purposes of critique only and does not constitute publication
CHAPTER ONE
JUST LIKE HAIGHT-ASHBURY, ONLY BETTER
London, England, August 1968
Jimi Hendrix had a lot of explaining to do. It seemed the flamboyant guitarist had neglected to mention certain things when he’d waxed poetic about his adopted neighborhood of Ladbroke Grove. Katie Scott knew for a fact he’d never uttered the words, “The rest of London hates the Grove.” If Jimi had only thought to pass along that bit of vital, need-to-know information, Katie might have been spared the indignity of sitting in a pub soaked to the skin with water dripping in a steady rhythm from the hem of her pants legs.
Like most eighteen-year-old Americans, Katie’s knowledge of England was limited to three facts: it had a Queen, the Beatles came from Liverpool, and everything was beautiful in Swinging London. While Hendrix hadn’t brought up the Queen or the Beatles, he’d raved about London, reinforcing images Katie had seen in magazines; the hip clothes, events like the 14-Hour Technicolor Dream and the Legalise Cannabis benefit, and bands like Tyrannosaurus Rex and the Pretty Things. How was she to know all that took place in a relatively small area and the rest of the city remained as conservative and staid as, say, Boston? Well, she knew it now, and her education had grown by leaps and bounds in the few short hours she’d been there.
Her reverie was broken when a thin woman with waist-length gray braids smiled at her from behind the bar, seeming not to notice the growing puddle under Katie’s barstool. “What’ll it be?”
“Coffee,” Katie requested, cheered by the smile. It was the first one she’d received since she’d landed at Heathrow that morning. “Just black, please.”
The woman nodded and turned to take a thick, white porcelain cup from a shelf. Katie dug into the front pocket of her jeans and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and an elastic hair band. She tossed the cigarettes onto the bar and used the elastic to secure her dark brown hair into a low ponytail that reached her waist. Giving it a slight tug to tighten the elastic, she glanced down at her duffel bag and guitar case. They were both as soaked as her jeans and boots, and Katie sighed. The sturdy case would protect her precious Gibson 12-string from the elements, but she had a sinking feeling the contents of the canvas duffel were well on their way to mildew city.
The sharp aroma of strong coffee struck Katie’s nose, and she turned with anticipation to the steaming mug placed before her. “There you are,” the barkeeper smiled. “Need anything else?”
Katie returned the smile, her spirits lifting further at the friendliness she saw on the woman’s face. “No, I’m cool. Thank you.” She raised the mug to her lips and sighed as the hot liquid traced a path down her throat. It wasn’t the best coffee she’d ever tasted, but it was hot and full of caffeine, and at that point taste was secondary. After another reviving sip, she turned to survey the pub she’d squelched into a few moments before, lured by the muffled sounds of rock and roll coming from behind the door.
With the windows covered by posters, the interior was dim, the main source of light coming from candles and the burning embers of cigarettes and joints. The flare of someone’s lighter igniting a cigarette illuminated the smoker’s face for a brief moment before shadows swallowed it again. A fug of smoke almost obscured the low ceiling and a quiet murmur of voices was audible under the music. Katie dimpled when the familiar opening strains of “Foxy Lady” came through the speakers; Hendrix again. There were some curious looks directed her way, but they were all friendly and served to help off-set the less than stellar start to Katie’s day.
Warmed by the coffee and the welcoming atmosphere, she turned back to the bar and pulled a battered cigarette from the pack. A quick search of her pockets came up empty, and she realized she’d left her lighter in the red vinyl jacket she’d hung near the door. Before she could decide whether or not it was worth the trouble to get up and retrieve it, a click came from her right accompanied by the faint smell of lighter fluid and a hand holding a Zippo. Katie murmured her thanks and leaned forward to light her cigarette from the flame. Blowing out smoke, she turned with a smile to the man who had materialized next to her.
Warm brown eyes smiled back at her from a lean, chiseled face, and every female hormone Katie possessed stood to attention. Well. It seemed Jimi had also neglected to mention that Adonis was alive and well and in Ladbroke Grove. Katie’s grateful smile, frozen in surprise, thawed and deepened. “Well, hi, there.”
“And hello to you, love. I’m Adam.” The husky, low voice went straight from Katie’s ears to her nerve endings, making them tingle in delight.
“I’m Katie. Thanks for the light.”
“My pleasure. You’re American, right?” Adam stowed his lighter in a pocket of his leather vest and settled onto the barstool next to her.
Katie nodded. “Mm-hm. San Francisco.”
“Ah, man! Really?” His expression was one of a little kid staring through a shop window at a toy he really wanted but couldn’t have. “It’s always been my dream to go there. Man! San Francisco!” As the barmaid hurried past, Adam rested his elbows on the bar and leaned forward over the scarred wooden surface of the counter, waving to get her attention.
Katie took the opportunity to observe him closely. Despite the low lighting, his brown hair shone as though lit by golden spotlights. It just brushed the shoulders of his blouse, one Katie swore was identical to what she’d seen Janis Joplin wear at the Monterey International Pop Festival. But instead of making Adam appear feminine, the garment accentuated his masculinity as the floral cotton hugged his arms and shoulders. Katie let her eyes sweep over his tight, faded jeans as he leaned forward, admiring the nicely rounded rear and lean thighs. She hid a smile in her coffee mug as Adam settled onto the stool again, having succeeded in capturing the attention of the woman behind the bar.
“Libby, could I get a cuppa?” His voice tickled Katie’s ears again, and she realized the huskiness was natural giving his voice a depth and resonance that demanded attention. As Libby moved off, presumably to get Adam’s cuppa, whatever the hell that was, he turned back to Katie. “So, if you’re from San Francisco why aren’t there flowers in your hair?”
Katie laughed at his teasing tone and was rewarded by the response in Adam’s eyes. They were still warm and friendly, but a spark of attraction kindled in the brown depths. Seeing it, Katie’s smile changed from laughter to invitation. “I never did the flower thing. I was probably the only chick in the Haight who didn’t wear them.”
Adam didn’t move, but all of a sudden it seemed he was sitting closer. “I’ve always wanted to see Haight-Ashbury. It seems like such a happening place.”
Katie raised the cup to her lips and took a small sip. “When I got there two years ago it was.” A wistful smile curved her lips. “I thought I’d landed in Nirvana.”
Adam nodded his thanks to Libby who set a cup of tea in front of him. Filing away in her mind the definition of “cuppa,” Katie watched as he added milk and sugar and gave the concoction a brisk stir. “So why’d you leave?” he asked.
“Things…changed. Monterey brought in a lot of people, and most of them never left. There were a lot less gentle people and a lot more hassle. All the really cool people split for L.A. I kept hoping things would get better, but those tour busses were the last straw.”
“I’m sorry, did you say tour busses?” Adam’s cup halted halfway to his lips.
“Oh, yeah. You can now get on a tour bus and see the sights; Fisherman’s Wharf, the Bay, the Golden Gate, and then go down to the Haight and check out all the freaks.” Katie laughed at his look of outrage. “You never knew when you’d look up to find a bus full of straight people leaning out the windows taking pictures of us with their little Instamatics. I knew right then it was time to split. Jimi Hendrix told me I should check out the scene in London, so here I am.”
“You know Hendrix?” Adam sat up straight, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
“A little.” Katie decided to omit the fact that Jimi had spent three days at her house, a large percentage of those days in her bed. “I met him at Monterey and he told me all about this groovy place called Ladbroke Grove. Said it was just like Haight-Ashbury, only better.” She grinned. “After the morning I’ve had, though, I was starting to think he was too baked to know what he was talking about.”
Adam added more cream to his tea, his eyebrows raised in inquiry. “What happened this morning?”
“Well, let’s see.” She felt her cheeks flame with color as she recalled her introduction to London. “The customs agent at Heathrow saw the San Francisco address on my passport and announced loudly there were enough American hippies infesting England and I should just go home.”
“What?” There was a rattle of porcelain as Adam thumped his cup down on the bar.
“Oh, it gets better,” Katie assured him. “The cabdrivers all took one look at my clothes and my guitar and ignored me, but I finally found one cat who said he’d drive me here. Then after he dropped me off he went out of his way to drive in the gutter and splash me from head to toe.” She held out a dripping leg in illustration. “I figure my boots are ruined; at least I was wearing a jacket or I’d have really been a mess.”
“That’s such a drag.” Adam scooted his barstool closer to hers. “I’m sorry you were treated that way.”
“No big deal.” Katie shrugged and let her arm brush his. “It happens everywhere. Besides, now that I’ve found the Grove, things are really looking up. Jimi was right; it is a groovy place.”
Adam swirled the tea in his cup, giving her an appraising look. “I really dig Hendrix. I hear he put on a hell of a show at Monterey. Did you play there, too?”
Katie choked on her coffee. “At Monterey?” she wheezed. “Me? No way.”
A blush stained Adam’s cheeks, visible even in the dim light. “I just thought…you know, your guitar…living in the Haight…”
Katie glanced down at her guitar case. “Oh, no; I’m not in a band or anything.” She smiled, hoping to lessen his embarrassment. “I’ve had offers, but performing just isn’t my bag.” She caught a twinkle of amusement in his eyes and gave him a closer look. “What?”
“I’m in a band,” he told her with a grin.
“Then I salute both your talent and your bravery. I admire anyone who can get up in front of people and perform.” The final swallow of bitter coffee made her grimace. “So, what do you play?”
“Nothing, actually. I’m a singer. So far, I’m just doing the underground circuit, but maybe one day I’ll break out and make it big.” Laughing, Adam reached into the front pocket of his blouse, pulled out a tightly rolled joint and held it up for her inspection. “Want to?”
For a moment she was tempted, then shook her head. “Thanks, but no. I’m feeling really spacey. I guess it’s jet-lag. A couple of tokes off that and I’m liable to climb up on the bar and pass out.”
“Jet-lag, huh?” He stowed the joint back in his pocket. “When did you get here?”
“A couple of hours ago.” With a sense of wonderment, she realized it was true; it seemed like she’d been in London for days. She really was spaced out.
“That’s right, you told you me about the customs agent.” Adam gave her a commiserating smile. “No wonder you’re jet-lagged. Do you have a place to crash?”
“Not yet.” Katie shrugged. “My main goal was to get here; I didn’t think too much beyond that.” She glanced at him. “Do you know where I could catch some sleep?”
Another faint blush suffused his cheeks. “You can crash with me for a bit, if you’d like. I’ve a bedsit not too far from here, and it’s on the top floor so it’s quiet.” He smiled. “Plus, I’m relatively harmless.”
“That’d be cool.” Katie hid her delight at the invitation. “I won’t be in the way?”
“Nah. I’m going to be out most of tonight anyway and I have to work tomorrow. You’ll be able to catch up on your sleep and then I can show you round.” At Katie’s nod of assent, he slid from his stool and picked up her duffel bag with a grunt. “What do you have in here, everything you own?”
Katie looked up from conferring with Libby about paying for her coffee. “Nope. Just everything I need. Except a nice, soft bed.”
“And I have one of those, so you’re set.” He held out his hand with a charming smile that made her blood race. “Come with me.”
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This way, Ms. Page ;-) -- debikm, 21:15:21 06/25/10 Fri
You know I love this story, but...
You knew there'd be one, right? The first paragraph is a bit of an encyclopedia entry/info dump. Didn't you have it before with Katie standing on the curb, dripping, the taxi just zipping away? That made it more immediate to me. The rest of the scene reads fine to me, but that first bit doesn't grab my attention the way it did (or am I imagining that first sentance from before? I AM getting old, you know...;-)
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Man, you have a good memory! >>>> -- Page, 20:11:58 07/09/10 Fri
I did have her standing on the sidewalk dripping! The only reason I changed it was to get her inside the pub without actually having to show her going inside. I just hate backstory. I mean, I love backstory, but I hate trying to work it in in a natural way. Lemme work on this first bit. I agree with you about the info dump. (I'm going to have a T-shirt made that reads, "Queen of the Info Dump," I swear.)
Thank you, ma'am!
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You're welcome! Can I have a Info Dump Sanitation Worker helmet? I'm so guilty of it myself. -- debikm, 11:44:27 07/10/10 Sat
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Got my attention, love the '60s details >>>> -- Fi, 09:37:18 06/28/10 Mon
Katie is a great character who I'd like to get to know better.
Nitpicky stuff below:
Katie sometimes refers to JH as "Jimi" and other times as "Hendrix". Wouldn't she be more consistent and think of him as "Jimi" (given their intimacy in the past)?
> with water dripping in a steady rhythm from the hem of her
>pants legs.
Like this line - very visual.
>How was she to know all that took
>place in a relatively small area and the rest of the
>city remained as conservative and staid as, say,
>Boston?
>The woman nodded and turned to take a thick, white
>porcelain cup from a shelf.
Porcelain is traditionally white (think "porcelain complexion"), so no need for the qualifier.
> had a sinking feeling the contents
>of the canvas duffel were well on their way to mildew city.
Another nice image.
>The sharp aroma of strong coffee struck Katie’s nose,
Seems overdone. Either The aroma of strong coffee or The sharp aroma of coffee.
>Katie returned the smile, her spirits lifting further
>at the friendliness she saw on the woman’s face.
>“No,I’m cool. Thank you.”
She seems an informal kind of girl, so wouldn't she say "thanks" rather than "thank you"?
>After another reviving sip, she
>turned to survey the pub she’d squelched into a few
>moments before, lured by the muffled sounds of rock
>and roll coming from behind the door.
Mildly confusing. Did she turn around to survey the pub because she was lured by the music? Or did she enter the pub in the first place because she was lured by the music?
>off-set
offset: No hyphen
>Before she could decide whether or not it was worth the trouble to get up and retrieve it,
>His expression was one of a little
>kid staring through a shop window at a toy he really
>wanted but couldn’t have.
>“It’s always been my dream
>to go there. Man! San Francisco!”
Typical that he sees SF as the pinacle of coolness, and Katie saw London as just that. It's easy to have a romanticized notion of somewhere you've never been.
>It just brushed the
>shoulders of his blouse, one Katie swore was identical
>to what she’d seen Janis Joplin wear Janis Joplin wore at the Monterey
>International Pop Festival.
>she realized the huskiness was
>natural, giving his voice a depth and resonance that
>demanded attention.
[comma]
>Katie raised the cup to her lips and took a small sip.
> “When I got there two years ago it was.” A wistful
>smile curved her lips. “I thought I’d landed in
>Nirvana.”
Ah, interesting. Katie is always seeking after the next happening place.
>busses
Spelling:buses
>“You know Hendrix?” Adam sat up straight, his eyes
>sparkling with excitement.
>Adam added more cream to his tea, his eyebrows raised
>in inquiry.
He added milk earlier, so he can't add "more" cream. Plus, cream in tea - not very English! (They do have "cream tea", but the cream goes on the scones not in the tea.)
>She felt her cheeks flame with color
>“A couple of hours ago.” With a sense of wonderment,
>she realized it was true; it seemed like she’d been in
>London for days. She really was spaced out.
That's jet travel for you - always does weird things to your perception of time and space.
>“That’d be cool.” Katie hid her delight at the
>invitation. “I won’t be in the way?”
Another interesting insight into Katie's personality. She meets a strange guy in a bar and is not the least bit suspicious of his motives in inviting her home.
>Katie looked up from conferring with Libby about
>paying for her coffee.
Another slightly confusing sentence. Why is she "conferring" with Libby, rather than just handing over money? Why is she "looking up" at Adam when she's sitting on a bar stool and he's on the floor?
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Ooh, I love the nitpicky stuff! >>>> -- Page, 20:20:06 07/09/10 Fri
And they're all super suggestions and things I hadn't noticed. For example, I didn't realize I'd used both Jimi and Hendrix. And mucho thanks for catching the cream thing. Dunno where that came from, but it's changed to milk now.
I'm tickled pink that the fact Katie's always on the lookout for the next happening thing resonated with you! I'd been a little apprehensive I wouldn't be able to get such unspoken parts of her personality in without a lot of superfluous words. You so totally made my day, Fi! Now I hope I can get across the point that she's finally found that elusive thing she's searched for in the same manner. We shall see!
Thank you so much for going over this for me. I appreciate and value your sharp eye and spot-on perceptions!
Hugs,
Page
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