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susiej, 14:19:49 03/21/10 Sun
Last edited by author: Sun March 21, 2010 14:28:44
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debikm, 14:54:07 03/21/10 Sun
Last edited by author: Sun March 21, 2010 14:55:35
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Arg! I even tried to work on that POV slippage. To show you how bad I am about it, I can't exactly tell where you mean except the bit about Rose would've thrown the hoe at her- I've been wondering how to change that. Where else? -- susiej, 17:33:25 03/21/10 Sun
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Re: Teacher! Teacher, look. I did my homework! >>>> -- Alex, 19:23:54 03/21/10 Sun
All right, I'm going to try and tackle the POV shifts.
>Rose leaned on her hoe [to watch] Eryna finish her row.
>The grain was in; they were planting the vegetable
>garden.
This sentence is R POV, but not very strong because of brackets.
>[Eryna didn’t have to glance up to know Rose’s
>expression was smug.] “Yes, you have the advantage of
>human practice and faerie power, but you don’t have to
>gloat about it. I am doing this as a favor to Edan,
>you know.”
This sentence is E's POV because of brackets. R wouldn't know this mental detail. It would have to be an observation on R's part to stay in her POV -- E didn't glance up because she knew I had a smug look on my face.
>Rose brushed at some dirt on her skirt. “He told me my
>faerie powers were strong…when I resisted his pulling
>charm.”
This could be either POV because of previous sentence.
>
>“Ah, in that situation, I’d say your head was strong
>and your blood was cold.”
>
>“Or that I’m simply much wiser than most young women
>for he also told me other mortal women have come to
>Faerie with him…”
>Eryna dropped in the turnip seed without saying a word
>although she did glance at [Rose].
Aha! Omnicient POV. It's not R's observation because of brackets. Insert 'me' and it becomes R's POV.
>
>Ignoring the look, Rose [went on still brushing] at the
>dirt on her clothes. “You told me Edan was the last
>baby born in Faerie, yet I know human-faerie couplings
>conceive readily. So I wonder, did he bring those
>women to Faerie out of deep …friendship?”
Wavering between O POV & R's POV. Brackets describing R's actions instead of making them R's actions.
>[As Eryna stayed silent], Rose found herself babbling.
>“Did they go out of simple curiosity to see Faerie? Or
>just to know him better? He’s lived a long life, in
>human years…has he never been married…fathered a
>child?”
Wavering between O & R POV again. Describing what's happening, instead of filtering it through R -- Eryna's silence made her nervous. She found herself babbling.
>Rose finally dropped in a seed and pounded the earth a
>little harder than necessary, but she managed to still
>her tongue. When done, she looked [at Eryna] with what
>she hoped was an innocently curious expression.
Conflict of actions. What seed? Where? Last physical action with a seed was E's. R was brushing dirt off clothes. Brackets push it to O POV again. 'Up' would seat it in R's POV.
>“My,” said the faerie straightening up and fixing her
>dark eyes on [Rose]. “How casual your manner for such a
>loaded question. One would think you were acting a
>part.”
O & R POV. Replace brackets with 'Me' and solidly in R's POV.
>
>“You’re always so suspicious. I don’t think I can
>trust you. You say you aren’t in love with Edan, but
>you seem to find it so difficult to believe anyone
>else isn’t.”
>
>“Whose the suspicious one, now? I’m a faerie. I cannot
>lie.”
>
>“No, but you can sure evade questions. Are you going
>to answer me or not?”
>
>Eryna turned back to her hoe. “And why is it you don’t
>ask Edan these questions?”
>
>“I don’t see him here, do you?”
>
>“And that bothers you?”
>
>[This time,] Rose bit her lip to keep from asking, from
>screaming, [the words]-is it even possible for you to
>answer a question without another question? Instead,
>she calmly stated, “He sent you, so you get to answer
>the questions.”
O & R POV. Cut brackets and it's all R POV.
>
>“But I just asked you one, and you didn’t answer me,
>so I don’t see that I have to answer yours.”
>
>“Arrrrgggh!” Rose spun around to start a new row. [It
>was a good thing too, for if she’d seen the look on
>the faerie’s face, Rose might've thrown the hoe at her.]
Brackets are O POV. Describing the scene from overhead instead of looking out R's eyes. Better to let R see the look and fight with the desire to throw the hoe at E. (Plus the reader gets to see the look on E's face.)
>[Instead], Rose vented her ire on the earth digging a
>hole much too deep for a turnip seed. “Fine." she
>said. "I give up. Keep your secrets, Eryna, but do not
>expect me to... to go anywhere with anyone with such a
>past to hide! Don’t call me cold or stubborn or--”
Brackets establish O POV, since R didn't see the look E gave her.
>“All right,” laughed Eryna. “I’ll answer you…somewhat,
>for much that you ask should, in truth, be answered by
>Edan.”
>
>Rose kept on furiously digging holes and dropping
>seeds. Once again, she’d let Eryna pushed her into
>revealing that she cared more for these answers than
>she wanted anyone, including herself, to know.
>
>Eryna began in a tone which sounded like a lecture,
>“First you need to understand that since faeries live
>limitless years yet rarely have children, we…aren’t
>bound by the same conventions humans have when it
>comes to affairs of the heart--”
>
>“Sounds like a ruddy excuse to me for doing whatever
>you bloody want, whenever you want.”
>
>“Possibly, but one shouldn’t judge until they’ve
>walked in the shoes of another, and I must say Edan
>has always stayed loyal to the woman he
>was…with…until…”
>
>“Until what?” Rose looked up into Eryna’s face.
>
>The faerie sighed, “Until the end, however it came…he
>should be the one to tell you this, but much of it
>causes him pain to speak of, not because he’s broken
>hearted,
>but because of remorse for his involvement…and the way
>things turned out.” For once, the glib faerie seemed
>to have troubling finding words. “Some left him, for
>various reasons…some died…”
>
>“They became old and died…or did they just fade?”
>
>[Before Eryna could answer, Rose frowned, her quick
>thoughts already working ahead], “But, both ways would
>take some time; yet, you seem to speak of several
>women. He hasn’t lived that long.”
Shifting into O POV. Telling the reader about R, instead of letting the reader gather that R is quick thinking by her dialog.
>
>“They didn’t die from old age. Faerie women do not die
>that way.”
>
>“Oh! I…I didn’t know there were faerie women too!”
>
>Eryna’s finely shaped nostrils flared. “He is a male.
>An extremely attractive one. And there are plenty of
>attractive faerie women. And, he has lived sixty
>years. Still, it’s not as if there are dozens of women
>in his past. Although, there could’ve been, if he had
>complied. Did you expect him to pine for you before
>you were even born? Or while you were slobbering over
>your own fist in attempt to cut a tooth?”
>
>Rose glared before looking away.
>
>[But Eryna was now in a full-fledged rant and no look,
>no matter how daunting, could stop that.] “For a
>faerie, he’s considered rather serious and soulful
>especially in affairs of the heart. And ever since a
>certain someone began to grow up-though she hasn’t
>gotten very far, Edan's not so much as looked at
>another woman, although there are plenty who do
>everything they can to catch his eye. Eyes which must
>be blind or he would see the baby you are!”
Put brackets with preceding sentence and it strengthens R's POV.
>
>Eryna dug furiously while still keeping her eyes on
>Rose’s face. It was a testament to her faerie skill
>that she didn’t chop off the end of her toe.
>
>Rose breathed steadily trying not to blush. She'd
>completed another row, in record time. As she tamped
>tilled earth over a turnip seed, she watched Eryna
>work, giving the faerie time to catch up and herself
>time to get her voice under control. And think of a
>way to turn the conversation. “You’ve already told me
>half the women in faerie dream of Edan. So, who do the
>other half dream of?”
>
>There was no smirk, no chuckle or lifting of a
>condescending brow. The answer came low and grim, “You
>will find out one day, and may the Stars help us when
>you do.”
>
>Eryna turned and walked to the jug of water kept in
>the shade of an elder tree. She took a long drink and
>went back to work, but her face stayed grimly
>thoughtful. Rose got no more out of her that day.
*phew* That was some hard work. *s*
It's up to you if you want the scene to be in R's POV, susiej, but I hope my comments are a help.
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Re: Teacher! Teacher, look. I did my homework! >>>> -- susiej, 19:56:08 03/21/10 Sun
Thanks, Alex! I agree it is hard to stay in Rose's POV since I don't want first person. I think I need to reread Rowlings, again. She manages to stay in Harry's POV and in third person.
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Re: Teacher! Teacher, look. I did my homework! >>>> -- Alex, 06:48:24 03/22/10 Mon
True! I wonder if the key to using Omnicient is the reader never gets any of the other character's perspectives except the MC's. That way O supports/enhances the MC. Author can get away with telling the reader things and they just attribute it to the MC. But with other characters POV's added in to a scene..then O becomes too diversified? Hmm. Reader can handle two perspectives, but a third makes it harder to focus?
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That's a very good point especially if the O is written with the MC's "voice." Thanks Alex, this has really helped me. >>>> -- susiej, 09:38:48 03/22/10 Mon
At 12, I read LOTR and fell hard for epic books and big casts. Tolkien slides in and out of POV through out and within a chapter- Sam's,Gollum's, Frodo's- all done for a reason and done really well- even so, his style is often too distant for modern readers. That's exactly what agents tell me- "I don't feel I know Rose well enough." "Too many older heads I don't care about"(that one really made me laugh and feel old!)
It's a problem for me because as a reader I tire of first person. I think it's why I love Voyager when so many DG fans don't- I'm so glad to get into Jamie's head for a change! And Lord John- I especially love his conflicted musings on Claire.
Anyway, it's hard for me to distance myself since I know exactly whose talking at every line-you've really helped- thanks!
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Re: That's a very good point especially if the O is written with the MC's "voice." Thanks Alex, this has really helped me. >>>> -- Alex, 12:43:37 03/22/10 Mon
>At 12, I read LOTR and fell hard for epic books and
>big casts. Tolkien slides in and out of POV through
>out and within a chapter- Sam's,Gollum's, Frodo's- all
>done for a reason and done really well- even so, his
>style is often too distant for modern readers. That's
>exactly what agents tell me- "I don't feel I know Rose
>well enough." "Too many older heads I don't care
>about"(that one really made me laugh and feel old!)
The nerve! They don't love all your characters? (I do. And they should too. :op)
I too fell hard for Tolkien in grade school. I can remember being torn, not wanting to take my nose out of the book I was re-reading for the umpteenth time, when my Dad prompted me to get in the car to take me to the school dance. (I should've stuck with my gut. I would've had a much better time.) Years later my husband bought me the set in a schmancy leather bound volume for my B-day. I was delighted...till I started reading it again. I remember being immersed. Gripped with tension. Fear. Oblivious to everything around me. Instead of experiencing the same thing, to my dismay I discovered I'd succumbed to what Steven King mentioned - the eventual ossification of the imaginary faculties, that is called adulthood. Waaah! I was slogging through my beloved story and *checking over shoulder, then whispering behind hand* being bored. :o| Felt like a traitor. But even though Tolkien shifts POV, it's not within the scene, is it? Back and forth? I remember it shifting and then staying there for a bit. I also remember being very frustrated when things were pretty dire in Helms Deep and the next page we're in the woods at the slow as molasses Ent council. *exasperated sigh* Now I'm like, whoa, Tolkien has a cliff hanger at the end of every chapter. Seriously predictable. How did I not realized this before? But getting back to the POV thing. I don't think he shifts from sentence to sentence between the characters POVs, does he?
>It's a problem for me because as a reader I tire of
>first person. I think it's why I love Voyager when so
>many DG fans don't- I'm so glad to get into Jamie's
>head for a change! And Lord John- I especially love
>his conflicted musings on Claire.
Agreed! But even though DG shifts, it's still just that character's POV through the scene, right?
>Anyway, it's hard for me to distance myself since I
>know exactly whose talking at every line-you've really
>helped- thanks!
A friend of mine told me once to prioritize what's important for the reader to know in the scene. Scale of 1-10. Anything below a 5 gets cut. I hated doing that. I wanted it all to be important to the reader. But gritting my teeth, I did what they asked and discovered the scene was a lot easier to read afterwards and there were less POV shifts. She kept after me to prioritize the top five now. Pretty soon I didn't hate the exercise so much when I realized by cutting the less than necessary the scene became more vivid. No confusion. No multiple ways to interpret actions and dialog. At the time it felt like I was killing my baby, but it was a huge help in getting me to see the scene on paper more clearly.
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Tolkien may not shift back and forth between sentences but he does shift inside scenes>>> -- susiej, 14:55:56 03/22/10 Mon
I just reread the Hobbit and he shifts, for example, into the Master of Lakewood's thoughts for a paragraph, and then back out to say, Brands or O. Though he's often in Bilbo's he doesn't stay there or stay very close.
And Juliet Marillier shifts from Bridei into Tuala during a scene but then stays with Tuala for a long time. I see this now when I wouldn't have before because I've become so sensitive about it.
The only time I rember it throwing me to where I went, huh? was in Ranger's Apprentice when the whole book is in Will's POV and then he slips once into Halt's toward the end. And again, if I'd read that years ago, don't know that I wouldn't have noticed it. But now, I'm ruined. (grin)
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Re: Tolkien may not shift back and forth between sentences but he does shift inside scenes>>> -- Alex, 16:46:15 03/22/10 Mon
So what's the secret to making shifting POV clear? If the O is really strong, then the reader unconsciously grasps they'll get little flits into the character's heads? O has them by the hand and tells them the lead in to who'd be talking? When I re-read Tolkien as an adult I found myself frustrated that he told the story, rather than showed it, something I never noticed as a child. Early on in FOTR there's a line like...if they only looked back they'd see the wraiths after them. Annoyed me to no end. *ggg* But I guess as a kid you're used to being told stuff and your imagination expands from there. As an adult I found the telling took away all the suspense.
I know the In Death books by J.D. Robb shifts POV, but there I think it's more each character's voice and observations is distinct to keep the reader on track. Roark and Eve don't talk or think the same way...does the O set up the shifts too?
I haven't read the other stories you mentioned. Sorry.
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Alex>> -- susiej, 18:05:20 03/22/10 Mon
I think Tolkien gets away with it because there really isn't one MC. It sort of centers on Frodo particularly in the beginning, but by the end even in the Frodo chapters, its more in Sam's POV. And the others all gain a voice as it goes on but still, yes, always, always the O is strong.
Do you read Dorohy Dunnett? She's hardly ever in the MC's head and many find her too hard to read, but I love it- the MCS are such enigmas and it makes for great discussion-and by the end you're just rooting for them and hating all the other characters who constantly misundertand/mistrust them, but many people can't get that far and dislike her books.
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Re: Alex>> -- Alex, 08:00:40 03/23/10 Tue
I haven't read any Dunnett, but I'm putting her on my TBR list! *s* Lately I've been on a faerie kick. Patricia A. McKillip. Melisa Marr. And I stumbled upon *be still my heart* Holly Black. I found myself so immersed and emotionally engaged in her stories that I never noticed style or the mechanics of how she writes. High praise from me! *s* I'm eagerly awaiting her latest, due out in May. She has multiple POV's throughout, but not within the same scene...but she just released an anthology of short stories The Poison Eaters and one vignette revisits the characters in her Tithe, Valiant, Ironside series. The POV does shift back and forth. Repeatedly. It reads clean though and it's very clear who's talking as it switches between the King of the Unseelie Court and a twenty something guy who are both suffering insecurities about their love lives. Suffering the same insecurities. *s* Which is fascinating since the guy it gay and the king is a faerie and both their thought processes and how they handle themselves are distinctly different, but driven by the same feelings. How does she manage to do that? No idea. *ggg* So I like reading a shifting POV, that gives me peeks into the different character's heads, but I don't enjoy a wavering POV at all. There the story feels muzzy and confusing and I spend a lot of time trying to figure out what's going on, till I'm eventually annoyed to the point I won't read it anymore.
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This is interesting, and answers a lot of questions >>> -- Page, 21:06:28 03/22/10 Mon
I've never been a fan of Tolkien's books, and thanks to Alex's comments, I think I now know why. I want to be shown the story, not told about it.
Even before I became aware of what a POV shift is, I never cared for them. I think because it tends to make the book more tell than show. To me, and remember this is JMHO, when the POV shifts from one character to another, and then back again, it's like being yanked out of the story to tell me what the other character is doing or thinking, and I'd much rather "see" the reaction through the MC's eyes. It may not be the correct deduction, but that can prove interesting later in the story when the MC finally realizes what the other person really thought.
I have a dear friend who's writing a book with compelling characters, great setting, and one terrific plot line; but I have a hard time reading it because she shifts POV constantly, sometimes four or five times in one chapter. And I'm not talking about neat, segmented shifts, but from paragraph to paragraph. It's like being in a crowded room with everyone talking at once.
And, to me, that's what POV shifts are - too many people talking at once. The din of voices make it impossible to hear what one person is saying, and dilutes the message for me. Again, that's just me. I know lots of readers don't mind POV shifts.
Thanks, ladies, for such an interesting discussion and great ideas!
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Re: This is interesting, and answers a lot of questions >>> -- Alex, 08:12:42 03/23/10 Tue
>I have a dear friend who's writing a book with
>compelling characters, great setting, and one terrific
>plot line; but I have a hard time reading it because
>she shifts POV constantly, sometimes four or five
>times in one chapter. And I'm not talking about neat,
>segmented shifts, but from paragraph to paragraph.
>It's like being in a crowded room with everyone
>talking at once.
>
>And, to me, that's what POV shifts are - too many
>people talking at once. The din of voices make it
>impossible to hear what one person is saying, and
>dilutes the message for me.
Exactly! Beautifully put! Like I mentioned to susiej, I reach my tolerance point and say forget it. *tossing book aside* Not worth the effort. Which is a sad thing if there's a cool story in there.
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POV- My Two Cents -- Larn, 00:54:01 03/23/10 Tue
POV is a tricky, tricky beast.
Right now, I'm reading Steven King's UNDER THE DOME, which is a real toe-breakingly heavy tome. He has many, many characters, most told in the third person limited. And he switches back and forth between them often, through the clever and judicious use of page breaks. He describes the first events of the novel through the eyes of a woman in an airplane, a vagrant on the road, a farmer on a tractor, a woman in her garden, a boy beating the shit out of a girl, even a fat old woodchuck. But he only writes about what that woodchuck or vagrant or farmer would know about, using the words and phrases those characters might say, switching his narrative voice slightly for each character. You feel like you're listening into their head, rather than hearing about them.
Think about the difference between DG's writing when she writes in the third person as Bree versus Roger. She uses a different vocabulary, almost writing as the character would in their diary. With Roger, the writing has a bit of a religious feel, a very base and elemental sort of religion, but with undertones and emotions tied in his box of personal beliefs. Bree, on the other hand, DG treats with logic. Bree's world is black and white, or at least she tries to make it be. Yes, Bree can be just as spiritual as Roger, just as Roger can be as logical as Bree, but they come at it from different places. The writing reflects it.
As for which character should be telling the story, well, that's personal choice. But I've always thought switching back and forth between characters was a cheap way to get emotional impact. (no disrespect to Mr. King, he's doing it for a reason) Do you ever doubt what's going through Jamie's mind when he and Claire run into Jack Randall in Paris? No, you don't know exactly the thoughts, but you know enough about him to have a really good idea. And it was because you didn't know exactly what was in his mind that made it all the more interesting.
The best writers don't have to spell out every single moment in a story. They lead the horse to water, but only after they've ridden it to kingdom come and back. If they've done their job right, and they've gotten the horse good and thirsty, the horse will drink every time. Don't use POV as a crutch. Use it as a tool.
And as for Tolkien....I could take him or leave him. Goldarnit, the man liked to make people sing.
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Re: POV- My Two Cents -- Alex, 09:08:38 03/23/10 Tue
So the clear and distinct voice of the characters is what helps multiple POV writing? Rather than a generalized voice of omnicient? Hmm. I just had a thought. If a story was read to me, I'd enjoy it if the reader just used their own voice, but it'd be a lot more engaging if the reader changed their tone and accent to suit the character's dialog. Like books on tape. I remember listening to one driving up the east coast from FL. The reader was a woman, but she managed to change her voice, 'thinning' her speech even for one of the characters, an FBI agent, so I heard and 'saw' the men talking. The reader disappeared and the story took over. After that I looked for the credentials of the reader on the BOT, selecting those with stage experience over others. Not that the other readers couldn't achieve the same thing, but the actor's versions were universally more vivid for me. So in writing, using Omnicient, if it's too neutral, or too distinctly O, it makes it harder to differentiate between the characters?
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Exactly! Especially if you are jumping around a lot. -- Larn, 14:22:51 03/23/10 Tue
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Yea, the songs go on way too long. I always skip those. -- susiej, 15:43:20 03/23/10 Tue
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Oh dear, I'm far behind once again, real life ist interfearing too much>>>> -- Lady Morilka, 09:35:10 04/29/10 Thu
>From The Seeker's Charm
>by S B James
>for critique only
>
>Rose leaned on her hoe to watch Eryna finish her row.
two times "her" in this short sentence, maybe you could change the first to "the" or something.
>The grain was in; they were planting the vegetable
>garden.
>
>Eryna didn’t have to glance up to know Rose’s
>expression was smug. “Yes, you have the advantage of
>human practice and faerie power, but you don’t have to
>gloat about it. I am doing this as a favor to Edan,
>you know.”
>
>Rose brushed at some dirt on her skirt. “He told me my
>faerie powers were strong…when I resisted his pulling
>charm.”
>
>“Ah, in that situation, I’d say your head was strong
>and your blood was cold.”
nice conter
>
>“Or that I’m simply much wiser than most young women
>for he also told me other mortal women have come to
>Faerie with him…”
>
>Eryna dropped in the turnip seed without saying a word
>although she did glance at Rose.
>
>Ignoring the look, Rose went on still brushing at the
>dirt on her clothes. “You told me Edan was the last
>baby born in Faerie, yet I know human-faerie couplings
>conceive readily. So I wonder, did he bring those
>women to Faerie out of deep …friendship?”
>
>As Eryna stayed silent, Rose found herself babbling.
>“Did they go out of simple curiosity to see Faerie? Or
>just to know him better? He’s lived a long life, in
>human years…has he never been married…fathered a
>child?” just one little thing here, when you use ... you sometimes have a blanc before and sometimes you don't, you should go with just one version throughout the story
>
>Rose finally dropped in a seed and pounded the earth a
>little harder than necessary, but she managed to still
>her tongue. When did rose start working again? I had the impression before that her row was done so when did she star again? Or was my impression wrong? because the next thing she does is start a new row. this just doesn't add up here.
When done, she looked at Eryna with what
>she hoped was an innocently curious expression.
>
>“My,” said the faerie straightening up and fixing her
>dark eyes on Rose. “How casual your manner for such a
>loaded question. One would think you were acting a
>part.”
>
>“You’re always so suspicious. I don’t think I can
>trust you. You say you aren’t in love with Edan, but
>you seem to find it so difficult to believe anyone
>else isn’t.”
>
>“Whose the suspicious one, now? I’m a faerie. I cannot
>lie.”
>
>“No, but you can sure evade questions. Are you going
>to answer me or not?”
>
>Eryna turned back to her hoe. “And why is it you don’t
>ask Edan these questions?”
>
>“I don’t see him here, do you?”
>
>“And that bothers you?”
>
>This time, Rose bit her lip to keep from asking, from
>screaming, the words-is it even possible for you to
>answer a question without another question? Instead,
>she calmly stated, “He sent you, so you get to answer
>the questions.”
>
>“But I just asked you one, and you didn’t answer me,
>so I don’t see that I have to answer yours.”
>
>“Arrrrgggh!” Rose spun around to start a new row. It
>was a good thing too, for if she’d seen the look on
>the faerie’s face, Rose might've thrown the hoe at her.
>
>Instead, Rose vented her ire on the earth digging a
>hole much too deep for a turnip seed. “Fine." she
>said. "I give up. Keep your secrets, Eryna, but do not
>expect me to... to go anywhere with anyone with such a
>past to hide! Don’t call me cold or stubborn or--”
>
>“All right,” laughed Eryna. “I’ll answer you…somewhat,
>for much that you ask should, in truth, be answered by
>Edan.”
interesting mix of emotions here between Rose and Eryna. I like it, gives me a bit the feeling of teasing (in different degrees for the two of them)
>
>Rose kept on furiously digging holes and dropping
>seeds. Once again, she’d let Eryna pushed push?!
her into
>revealing that she cared more for these answers than
>she wanted anyone, including herself, to know. She seems to know (even if hidden) how much she cares, maybe "see" would be a better verb
>
>Eryna began in a tone which sounded like a lecture,
>“First you need to understand that since faeries live
>limitless years yet rarely have children, we…aren’t
>bound by the same conventions humans have when it
>comes to affairs of the heart--”
>
>“Sounds like a ruddy excuse to me for doing whatever
>you bloody want, whenever you want.”
>
>“Possibly, but one shouldn’t judge until they’ve
>walked in the shoes of another, and I must say Edan
>has always stayed loyal to the woman he
>was…with…until…” Why is she already stopping at the "with"?
>
>“Until what?” Rose looked up into Eryna’s face.
I would like to know here what kind of look this is.
>
>The faerie sighed, “Until the end, however it came…he
>should be the one to tell you this, but much of it
>causes him pain to speak of, not because he’s broken
>hearted,
>but because of remorse for his involvement…and the way
>things turned out.” For once, the glib faerie seemed
>to have troubling trouble
finding words. “Some left him, for
>various reasons…some died…”
>
>“They became old and died…or did they just fade?”
>
>Before Eryna could answer, Rose frowned, her quick
>thoughts already working ahead, “But, both ways would
>take some time; yet, you seem to speak of several
>women. He hasn’t lived that long.”
>
>“They didn’t die from old age. Faerie women do not die
>that way.”
>
>“Oh! I…I didn’t know there were faerie women too!”
I havent heard for a while now how the gardening is getting alon, maybe here would be a goot place to strew something in again. Maybe rose hiding embarressmanent by checking a root, or taking away a pebble that is in the way. And by the Way isn't Eryna a fearie woman (this is the first thin I read of this story so maybe this is a silly question)?
>
>Eryna’s finely shaped nostrils flared. “He is a male.
>An extremely attractive one. And there are plenty of
>attractive faerie women. And, he has lived sixty
>years. Still, it’s not as if there are dozens of women
>in his past. Although, there could’ve been, if he had
>complied. Did you expect him to pine for you before
>you were even born? Or while you were slobbering over
>your own fist in attempt to cut a tooth?”
>
>Rose glared before looking away.
>
>But Eryna was now in a full-fledged rant and no look,
>no matter how daunting, could stop that. “For a
>faerie, he’s considered rather serious and soulful
>especially in affairs of the heart. And ever since a
>certain someone began to grow up-though she hasn’t
>gotten very far, Edan's not so much as looked at
>another woman, although there are plenty who do
>everything they can to catch his eye. Eyes which must
>be blind or he would see the baby you are!”
>
>Eryna dug furiously while still keeping her eyes on
>Rose’s face. It was a testament to her faerie skill
>that she didn’t chop off the end of her toe.
>
>Rose breathed steadily trying not to blush. She'd
>completed another row, in record time. As she tamped
>tilled earth over a turnip seed, she watched Eryna
>work, giving the faerie time to catch up and herself
>time to get her voice under control. And think of a
>way to turn the conversation. I would make a break here, just to make it clear that she did take the time and that there was a moment of silence between. “You’ve already told me
>half the women in faerie dream of Edan. So, who do the
>other half dream of?”
>
>There was no smirk, no chuckle or lifting of a
>condescending brow. The answer came low and grim, “You
>will find out one day, and may the Stars help us when
>you do.”
>
>Eryna turned and walked to the jug of water kept in
>the shade of an elder tree. She took a long drink and
>went back to work, but her face stayed grimly
>thoughtful. Rose got no more out of her that day.
I figured I don'tgo into the POV discussion, it has all been said, but just give a crit on the chapter. I really like the chemistry between the two of them, like I said at some points it feels like teasing at some it feels tense, but there is allways somethin getween the two. Although I very much doubt it is ease or even friendship any time soon. I also like how you worked in the gardening, although at times the dialogue passages got a bit long for me and I had to go back at a few points to get what they were doing during that dialogues. I wonder where the storie will go from here ;)
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Page, 22:49:16 03/22/10 Mon
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[> [> [>
Especially in the French Quarter! -- Page, 21:08:08 03/23/10 Tue
>
>>This scene is set at Pat O'Brien's, a French Quarter
>>bar. For those of you who aren't familiar with it,
>>the patio area has a fountain that's set on fire every
>>evening. Quite a sight to see.
>
>It really is.
I've taken a photo of it every time I go there, and every one of them turns out blurry. I think there's some kind of Cajun/Irish spell on it. *G*
>
>>One is enough to put most people under the
>>table.
>
>I had one and a half and hated myself for two
>days.
You have a better head than I, my friend. Just smelling one had me a bit intoxicated!
>
>>Oh, and the character of Mike? Yeah. Ever heard the
>>saying, "Don't make me mad or I'll write you into my
>>next book and kill you off?" Mike's not his real
>>name, but he made me mad. *G*
>
>Boy howdy, do I know those people.
Heh. I love being an author. Heh.
>
>>
>>Excerpt from working title Royal Orleans
>>©2010 by Juli Page Morgan
>>Posted for purposes of critique only and does not
>>constitute publication
>>
>>Sherry dropped the orange slice back into the remains
>>of her Hurricane and fished out the cherry. “Maybe
>>not, but if you get drunk I’m outta here.” She popped
>>the cherry into her mouth, holding the stem between
>>her thumb and forefinger. With a complete lack of
>>calculation, she raised her eyes to Geoff’s as she
>>sucked on the cherry.
>
>That's dangerous territory, there.
Yeah, when I wrote this, I could see her fishing the cherry out of the glass, but I got no sense of "Ooh, I'm going to suck on this cherry and get Geoff's motor revving" kind of thought. I think I'm going to have to rework it.
>
>>He drew his breath in with a hiss, and smiled. “Well,
>>we don’t want that, do we?” A fresh Skylab was placed
>>before him on the table, and he lifted his gaze to the
>>waitress who was looking at him with adoration.
>>“Thanks, love. We’re also going to need a pot of
>>black coffee. Think you could fetch that for us?”
>>
>>“Sure thing. Anything you want.” The waitress
>>balanced her tray on one shoulder and smiled down at
>>Geoff. “Anything at all.” With a bat of eyelashes
>>and a toss of over-processed bleached hair, she turned
>>and sashayed off, hips swinging like a screen door in
>>a high wind.
>>
>>Geoff watched the display with evident admiration
>>before turning back to Sherry. “There now. I won’t
>>get sloppy drunk. All better?”
>>
>>Sherry shrugged. “Not completely. You also have to
>>promise to lose the Neal Preston wannabe.”
>>
>>Geoff threw his head back and laughed, causing every
>>female on the patio to sigh with delight. “You really
>>don’t like Mike, do you?”
>>
>>“He’s a trouser stain,” Sherry replied. “If you’re
>>really wanting to make things up to me, he’s gotta
>go.”
>
>That may be my new favorite derogatory term.
>Ever.
Why, thank you! Thank you very much. *blushes*
>
>>As if to contradict this assertion, Mike chose that
>>moment to return, sliding into his chair with a sigh.
>>“I’d forgotten what a bloody tourist attraction this
>>place is. I came here last year with Steven Tyler and
>>Joe Perry, and I think it’s only gotten worse.”
>>
>>“Clean up in aisle three,” Sherry muttered under her
>>breath.
>>
>>Mike favored her with a patronizing stare. “And
>>what’s that supposed to mean?”
>>
>>“You’ve been dropping so many names tonight I’m afraid
>>someone’s going to trip over them and hurt themselves,
>>that’s what.”
>
>And besides, all his REAL friends call him
>Stevie.
Bwahahaha!
>
>>As she watched Mike’s face twist into a
>>scowl, she had the passing thought that his slanted
>>eyebrows, sharp cheekbones and slightly manic eyes
>>made him look like a demented leprechaun. She
>>couldn’t resist the resultant smile. “Ooh, touched a
>>nerve, did I, Mikey?”
>>
>>Without deigning to reply, Mike turned to Geoff.
>>“Between all the fat, sweaty tourists and the bitchy
>>American girl, this place has lost all interest. What
>>about finding another place to drink?”
>>
>>“Be my guest.” Geoff shrugged. “You’re the one who
>>invited yourself along. I don’t mind if you split.”
>>
>>“Are you having me on?” The increased volume of
>>Mike’s voice caused several people on the patio to
>>turn their attention to Geoff’s table.
>>
>>“I am not.” Geoff glared at Mike. “What’s your
>>problem, mate? I’m here with the lady, not you.”
>>
>>The thought that Mike looked like a demented
>>leprechaun had made Sherry smile, but the fact that
>>Geoff looked like a tiger about to pounce made her
>>shake as adrenaline rushed through her bloodstream.
>>His eyes had become almost golden, and the dangerous,
>>flat glare he directed at Mike looked like something
>>out of an old Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom
>>episode.
>
>I don't get that reference, but I see where you're
>going.
Thinking about Geoff's eyes lightening in anger and turning gold made me hear Marlin Perkins' voice: "The lion is crouched low, watching the unsuspecting antelope herd," along with a close up shot of the lion's unblinking stare. Dear God, am I that old??
>
>>“Um, guys?” Hoping to diffuse the tension, she leaned
>>forward and waved a hand between the two men. “We
>>were getting enough attention before, but this is
>>getting ridiculous, know what I mean?”
>>
>
>
>And the rest is great.
>
>So why does he put up with Mike if he's such an
>asshat?
Ego stroking. Mike thinks the sun shines out of Geoff's ass, and taking Geoff's pictures gives Mike that aura of being bigger, better and more successful than he really is. They feed off each other.
>
>Lovely as always, hon. I do wonder why your boys are
>always on the brink of either collapsing into a
>quivering, sex-fueled humpfest or poised to rip out
>their friend's throats. BUT I CAN'T STOP READING
>ABOUT THEM! You have a definite, recognizable style,
>and me likey that. Whoo!
Thankee, ma'am. Geoff's not as lusty as Jay (darn it all), but he likes people to think he is! *G*
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[> [>
This is awesome! -- Debi, 06:42:00 03/23/10 Tue
>I don't know how much action there is with this
>dialogue, but it takes place in public. Do I get
>half-credit? *G*
I think you did a fine job showing what they were doing within the dialogue.
>
>Oh, and the character of Mike? Yeah. Ever heard the
>saying, "Don't make me mad or I'll write you into my
>next book and kill you off?" Mike's not his real
>name, but he made me mad. *G*
I better stay on your good side then, eh? ;-)
>~~~~~~~~~
>
>Excerpt from working title Royal Orleans
>©2010 by Juli Page Morgan
>Posted for purposes of critique only and does not
>constitute publication
>
>“Mike. Is he straight?”
>
>“I suppose. Why?”
>
>“He acts like your jealous girlfriend, that’s why.”
*snerk* I've met people like this. Or ones that think they're your mother, and not in a nurturing, supportive kind of way.
>Sherry dropped the orange slice back into the remains
>of her Hurricane and fished out the cherry. “Maybe
>not, but if you get drunk I’m outta here.” She popped
>the cherry into her mouth, holding the stem between
>her thumb and forefinger. With a complete lack of
>calculation, she raised her eyes to Geoff’s as she
>sucked on the cherry.
Oh girl, you are a bold one, aren't you? *VBEG*
>
With a bat of eyelashes
>and a toss of over-processed bleached hair, she turned
>and sashayed off, hips swinging like a screen door in
>a high wind. Brilliant.
>
>Geoff watched the display with evident admiration
>before turning back to Sherry. “There now. I won’t
>get sloppy drunk. All better?”
And I love that he's watching the show. Hey a man's gotta take the opportunity if it's right there. But if he does one more tiny thing about it, I think he's in deep $^*!
>Sherry shrugged. “Not completely. You also have to
>promise to lose the Neal Preston wannabe.”
>Not sure who Neal Preston is, but I get her drift.
>“Clean up in aisle three,” Sherry muttered under her
>breath.
>
>Mike favored her with a patronizing stare. “And
>what’s that supposed to mean?”
>
>“You’ve been dropping so many names tonight I’m afraid
>someone’s going to trip over them and hurt themselves,
>that’s what.” As she watched Mike’s face twist into a
>scowl, she had the passing thought that his slanted
>eyebrows, sharp cheekbones and slightly manic eyes
>made him look like a demented leprechaun. She
>couldn’t resist the resultant smile. “Ooh, touched a
>nerve, did I, Mikey?”
Have I told you how much I love Sherry? I really do.
>Without deigning to reply, Mike turned to Geoff.
>“Between all the fat, sweaty tourists and the bitchy
>American girl, this place has lost all interest. What
>about finding another place to drink?”
>
>“Be my guest.” Geoff shrugged. “You’re the one who
>invited yourself along. I don’t mind if you split.”
And Geoff is so smooth. Good man, that> ,
but the fact that
>Geoff looked like a tiger about to pounce made her
>shake as adrenaline rushed through her bloodstream.
>His eyes had become almost golden, and the dangerous,
>flat glare he directed at Mike looked like something
>out of an old Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom
>episode.
Any episode where a large feline predator is stalking his prey. From his description I'd say a lion.
>
The dust hadn’t settled when the waitress returned with
>the coffee Geoff had asked for.
>
>Sherry glared at the woman’s back as she leaned over
>the table to place the tray in front of Geoff, all but
>pressing her breasts in his face. Forgetting her new
>position as public spectacle, Sherry snapped her
>fingers in the direction of the waitress.
>
>“Hey! Bambi, or whatever your name is.” She narrowed
>her eyes as the woman turned toward her. “We ordered
>coffee, not a peep show. Get lost.”
Have I mentioned how much I love this woman? LOL..."Bambi or whatever..."
“Damn it. Don’t they have anything else to do besides stare at us?”
>
>“Don’t let it bother you.” Geoff grinned. “Who cares
>what they think?”
>
>“I do.” Sherry looked up at him, frowning. “I have
>to.”
I never thought about it, but Sherry is so right. Good girl for tell Goeff to cool it.
>“Why should you?” Sherry took a sip of coffee.
>“After all, it’s not your job on the line.”
>
>He looked up and smiled. “And neither is yours.
>We’ll just sit here being circumspect and drinking
>coffee, and talk about things like heavy literature.”
>
>Sherry laughed, relieved he seemed to understand. “I
>didn’t say we had to be boring. But no scenes in the
>French Quarter, okay? I need my job.”
>
>“Done.” Geoff clinked his cup against hers.
I can't wait for more of this. Have I made myself clear? ;-) Each voice is so distinct, you know who is talking and the action was meshed right in seamlessly. Love it!
Hugs, Debi
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[> [> [>
So are you! >>> -- Page, 21:29:58 03/23/10 Tue
>>I don't know how much action there is with this
>>dialogue, but it takes place in public. Do I get
>>half-credit? *G*
>I think you did a fine job showing what they were
>doing within the dialogue.
Yea! A full credit! Now my parents won't dock my allowance. *G*
>>
>>Oh, and the character of Mike? Yeah. Ever heard the
>>saying, "Don't make me mad or I'll write you into my
>>next book and kill you off?" Mike's not his real
>>name, but he made me mad. *G*
>I better stay on your good side then, eh? ;-)
I've discovered this is one of the perks of being a writer. Even if he never knows about it. Heh heh.
>>~~~~~~~~~
>>
>>Excerpt from working title Royal Orleans
>>©2010 by Juli Page Morgan
>>Posted for purposes of critique only and does not
>>constitute publication
>>
>>“Mike. Is he straight?”
>>
>>“I suppose. Why?”
>>
>>“He acts like your jealous girlfriend, that’s why.”
>*snerk* I've met people like this. Or ones that
>think they're your mother, and not in a nurturing,
>supportive kind of way.
Yes, the man Mike is based on tends to do both - act like a jealous girlfriend AND like an over-protective mother. One of these days I'm going to have to smack him. *G*
>
>>Sherry dropped the orange slice back into the remains
>>of her Hurricane and fished out the cherry. “Maybe
>>not, but if you get drunk I’m outta here.” She popped
>>the cherry into her mouth, holding the stem between
>>her thumb and forefinger. With a complete lack of
>>calculation, she raised her eyes to Geoff’s as she
>>sucked on the cherry.
>Oh girl, you are a bold one, aren't you? *VBEG*
Yes, but she didn't mean to be. She was just enjoying the cherry. (Get your mind right out of that gutter, Debi.)
>>
> With a bat of eyelashes
>>and a toss of over-processed bleached hair, she turned
>>and sashayed off, hips swinging like a screen door in
>>a high wind. Brilliant.
TY!
>>
>>Geoff watched the display with evident admiration
>>before turning back to Sherry. “There now. I won’t
>>get sloppy drunk. All better?”
> And I love that he's watching the show. Hey a
>man's gotta take the opportunity if it's right there.
>But if he does one more tiny thing about it, I think
>he's in deep $^*!
Yeah, his watching it isn't a big deal. After all, the waitress went to a lot of trouble to wiggle her booty that way, and it would be a shame for it to go unregarded. And you're right; if he reached out to give it a pat, then he would have had to get that cherry surgically removed.
>>Sherry shrugged. “Not completely. You also have to
>>promise to lose the Neal Preston wannabe.”
>>Not sure who Neal Preston is, but I get her
>drift.
I'm having trouble with this bit. I could use a photographer with a recognized name, but none of them took photos like Mike's, or Neal Preston's, or Robert Knight's. They're all rock photographers, but apparently only I've heard of them. *G*
>
>>“Clean up in aisle three,” Sherry muttered under her
>>breath.
>>
>>Mike favored her with a patronizing stare. “And
>>what’s that supposed to mean?”
>>
>>“You’ve been dropping so many names tonight I’m afraid
>>someone’s going to trip over them and hurt themselves,
>>that’s what.” As she watched Mike’s face twist into a
>>scowl, she had the passing thought that his slanted
>>eyebrows, sharp cheekbones and slightly manic eyes
>>made him look like a demented leprechaun. She
>>couldn’t resist the resultant smile. “Ooh, touched a
>>nerve, did I, Mikey?”
>Have I told you how much I love Sherry? I really
>do.
Thank you! I'm glad!
>
>>Without deigning to reply, Mike turned to Geoff.
>>“Between all the fat, sweaty tourists and the bitchy
>>American girl, this place has lost all interest. What
>>about finding another place to drink?”
>>
>>“Be my guest.” Geoff shrugged. “You’re the one who
>>invited yourself along. I don’t mind if you split.”
>And Geoff is so smooth. Good man, that ,
He's starting to become intrigued by this woman sitting across from him. He was interested before, but he's realizing there's more to her than meets the eye, and he doesn't mind a bit if Mike makes himself scarce.
>
>but the fact that
>>Geoff looked like a tiger about to pounce made her
>>shake as adrenaline rushed through her bloodstream.
>>His eyes had become almost golden, and the dangerous,
>>flat glare he directed at Mike looked like something
>>out of an old Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom
>>episode.
> Any episode where a large feline predator is
>stalking his prey. From his description I'd say a
>lion.
I agree, lion is better than tiger. Whew! I thought I was the only one who remembered good old Marlin Perkins and poor, always-in-danger Jim.
>>
>
>The dust hadn’t settled when the waitress returned with
>>the coffee Geoff had asked for.
>>
>>Sherry glared at the woman’s back as she leaned over
>>the table to place the tray in front of Geoff, all but
>>pressing her breasts in his face. Forgetting her new
>>position as public spectacle, Sherry snapped her
>>fingers in the direction of the waitress.
>>
>>“Hey! Bambi, or whatever your name is.” She narrowed
>>her eyes as the woman turned toward her. “We ordered
>>coffee, not a peep show. Get lost.”
>Have I mentioned how much I love this woman?
>LOL..."Bambi or whatever..."
My apologies to anyone named Bambi, but to me it's always been the International Hoochie-Mama Name.
>
>“Damn it. Don’t they have anything else to do besides
>stare at us?”
>>
>>“Don’t let it bother you.” Geoff grinned. “Who cares
>>what they think?”
>>
>>“I do.” Sherry looked up at him, frowning. “I have
>>to.”
> I never thought about it, but Sherry is so right.
>Good girl for tell Goeff to cool it.
Believe me, it's in every employee handbook of every radio/television station in America. Do what you want, just don't let anyone see you and don't get caught!
>>“Why should you?” Sherry took a sip of coffee.
>>“After all, it’s not your job on the line.”
>>
>>He looked up and smiled. “And neither is yours.
>>We’ll just sit here being circumspect and drinking
>>coffee, and talk about things like heavy literature.”
>>
>>Sherry laughed, relieved he seemed to understand. “I
>>didn’t say we had to be boring. But no scenes in the
>>French Quarter, okay? I need my job.”
>>
>>“Done.” Geoff clinked his cup against hers.
>I can't wait for more of this. Have I made myself
>clear? ;-) Each voice is so distinct, you know who is
>talking and the action was meshed right in seamlessly.
>Love it!
>Hugs, Debi
Thank you! I think with a little tweaking, this one's going to be a keeper!
Hugs back,
Page
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[> [>
Re: Public spectacles >>>>> -- Alex, 10:16:42 03/23/10 Tue
>I don't know how much action there is with this
>dialogue, but it takes place in public. Do I get
>half-credit? *G*
>
>This scene is set at Pat O'Brien's, a French Quarter
>bar. For those of you who aren't familiar with it,
>the patio area has a fountain that's set on fire every
>evening. Quite a sight to see. The bar's signature
>drink is The Hurricane, a fruity concoction that's
>mostly all rum. Following The Hurricane in popularity
>is The Skylab. It's the prettiest shade of blue when
>it comes to the table, but it's the strongest drink
>they have. One is enough to put most people under the
>table.
>
>Oh, and the character of Mike? Yeah. Ever heard the
>saying, "Don't make me mad or I'll write you into my
>next book and kill you off?" Mike's not his real
>name, but he made me mad. *G*
>~~~~~~~~~
>
>Excerpt from working title Royal Orleans
>©2010 by Juli Page Morgan
>Posted for purposes of critique only and does not
>constitute publication
>
>Using every bit of willpower she possessed, Sherry
>refrained from throwing her Hurricane after Mike as he
>strutted past the flaming fountain. It was too much
>to hope he’d fall in and be consumed by fiery water,
>but the thought was nice. She looked back at Geoff in
>exasperation. “Why the hell do you keep him around?”
>
>Geoff shrugged. “He’s a good photographer.”
>
>“Oh, come on, Geoff. The man can’t light a candle.”
>Sherry sipped her drink and was glad she hadn’t wasted
>it on Mike. The icy concoction quenched her anger
>somewhat, and she took a bigger gulp, hoping the four
>ounces of rum would obliterate it completely.
I'm missing the reference here. Light a candle?
>
>Geoff’s lips quirked with amusement. “Alright, then,
>he’s a decent photographer.”
>
>“Meaning he does whatever you want the way you want
>it?”
>
>“Exactly,” Geoff laughed.
>
>“Okay. Just so we have that straight.” Sherry
>plucked the orange slice out of the tall glass and
>sucked the juice from it. “Is he?”
Her question seems like a prompt for the dialog following. Just hanging out there. Maybe add more? Or a gesture to illustrate? Wiggles her brows? Flops a wrist over?
>
>“Is who what?” Geoff frowned in confusion.
>
>“Mike. Is he straight?”
>
>“I suppose. Why?”
>
>“He acts like your jealous girlfriend, that’s why.”
>
>Geoff snorted and swallowed the last of the murky blue
>liquid in his glass. “That’s his problem, not mine.”
>He waved the empty glass in the direction of a
>waitress.
>
>Sherry narrowed her eyes. “Are you having another one
>of those?”
>
>“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”
>
>“There’s enough vodka in those things to knock an
>elephant on its ass, is all.”
>
>“Good thing I’m not an elephant.”
>
>Sherry dropped the orange slice back into the remains
>of her Hurricane and fished out the cherry. “Maybe
>not, but if you get drunk I’m outta here.” She popped
>the cherry into her mouth, holding the stem between
>her thumb and forefinger. [With a complete lack of
>calculation], she raised her eyes to Geoff’s as she
>sucked on the cherry.
I'm banging the drum today. *boom boom boom* Telling! Right here. *s* Better to have her suck on the cherry and let the look in Geoff's eye and his reaction illustrate what she's doing, and trust the reader understands she's not being calculating. ;0)
>
>He drew his breath in with a hiss, and smiled. “Well,
>we don’t want that, do we?” A fresh Skylab was placed
>before him on the table, and he lifted his gaze to the
>waitress who was looking at him with adoration.
>“Thanks, love. We’re also going to need a pot of
>black coffee. Think you could fetch that for us?”
>
>“Sure thing. Anything you want.” The waitress
>balanced her tray on one shoulder and smiled down at
>Geoff. “Anything at all.” With a bat of eyelashes
>and a toss of over-processed bleached hair, she turned
>and sashayed off, hips swinging like a screen door in
>a high wind.
>
>Geoff watched the display with evident admiration
>before turning back to Sherry. “There now. I won’t
>get sloppy drunk. All better?”
>
>Sherry shrugged. “Not completely. You also have to
>promise to lose the Neal Preston wannabe.”
??? Does Neal Preston = Mike?
>
>Geoff threw his head back and laughed, causing every
>female on the patio to sigh with delight. “You really
>don’t like Mike, do you?”
>
>“He’s a trouser stain,” Sherry replied. “If you’re
>really wanting to make things up to me, he’s gotta go.”
I second Larn. Great derogatory description.
>
>As if to contradict this assertion, Mike chose that
>moment to return, sliding into his chair with a sigh.
>“I’d forgotten what a bloody tourist attraction this
>place is. I came here last year with Steven Tyler and
>Joe Perry, and I think it’s only gotten worse.”
>
>“Clean up in aisle three,” Sherry muttered under her
>breath.
>
>Mike favored her with a patronizing stare. “And
>what’s that supposed to mean?”
>
>“You’ve been dropping so many names tonight I’m afraid
>someone’s going to trip over them and hurt themselves,
>that’s what.” As she watched Mike’s face twist into a
>scowl, she had the passing thought that his slanted
>eyebrows, sharp cheekbones and slightly manic eyes
>made him look like a demented leprechaun. She
>couldn’t resist the resultant smile. “Ooh, touched a
>nerve, did I, Mikey?”
>
>Without deigning to reply, Mike turned to Geoff.
>“Between all the fat, sweaty tourists and the bitchy
>American girl, this place has lost all interest. What
>about finding another place to drink?”
>
>“Be my guest.” Geoff shrugged. “You’re the one who
>invited yourself along. I don’t mind if you split.”
>
>“Are you having me on?” The increased volume of
>Mike’s voice caused several people on the patio to
>turn their attention to Geoff’s table.
>
>“I am not.” Geoff glared at Mike. “What’s your
>problem, mate? I’m here with the lady, not you.”
>
>The thought that Mike looked like a demented
>leprechaun had made Sherry smile, but the fact that
>Geoff looked like a tiger about to pounce made her
>shake as adrenaline rushed through her bloodstream.
>His eyes had become almost golden, and the dangerous,
>flat glare he directed at Mike looked like something
>out of an old Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom
>episode.
Why the repeat of the leprechaun description? Seems unnecessary and slows down the flow. Maybe add the swift change to Geoff's gaze to the preceding para and start this one with her adrenaline rush?
>
>“Um, guys?” Hoping to diffuse the tension, she leaned
>forward and waved a hand between the two men. “We
>were getting enough attention before, but this is
>getting ridiculous, know what I mean?”
>
>Geoff glanced at her and then seemed to relax, leaning
>back in his chair. “Right.” He threw back the rest
>of his drink, and leaned his head toward Mike. “Isn’t
>it time you were leaving this tourist trap? You know
>what they say about three being a crowd.”
>
>Mike opened his mouth to reply, but obviously thought
>better of it as Geoff turned that predatory gaze his
>way again. Without a word, Mike rose from his chair
>and left, his grand, stamping exit attracting the
>attention of the rest of Pat O’Brien’s customers. The
>dust hadn’t settled when the waitress returned with
>the coffee Geoff had asked for.
>
>Sherry glared at the woman’s back as she leaned over
>the table to place the tray in front of Geoff, all but
>pressing her breasts in his face. Forgetting her new
>position as public spectacle, Sherry snapped her
>fingers in the direction of the waitress.
>
>“Hey! Bambi, or whatever your name is.” She narrowed
>her eyes as the woman turned toward her. “We ordered
>coffee, not a peep show. Get lost.”
>
>As the waitress flounced off in a huff, Sherry caught
>the interested looks being thrown their way. With a
>groan, she lowered her head. “Damn it. Don’t they
>have anything else to do besides stare at us?”
>
>“Don’t let it bother you.” Geoff grinned. “Who cares
>what they think?”
>
>“I do.” Sherry looked up at him, frowning. “I have
>to.”
>
>Geoff looked puzzled. “Why the hell does it matter?”
>
>With a sigh, Sherry picked up the coffee decanter and
>began filling two cups. “Look, it’s fine if you’re
>out making a scene every night. It just adds to your
>rock and roll mystique, right?” She kept her eyes on
>the stream of coffee filling the cups. “But people
>know who I am, too. My face is on billboards,
>plastered on the sides of busses, on placards in the
>trolley cars; all I need is for one of these people to
>tell an advertiser I was involved in an altercation in
>a French Quarter bar, and I’m in a lot of trouble.”
>
>“Didn’t stop you the other night, did it?”
>
>The amusement she heard in Geoff’s voice made her
>temper rise, but she fought it down with
>determination. “That was a private party, okay? Our
>listeners expect us to be out partying. But they
>don’t pay to listen to the radio, do they? No, our
>money comes from advertisers, and if they don’t think
>we’re professional enough to handle ourselves or
>represent their businesses on air, then they don’t buy
>from us. And if they don’t buy from us, we don’t make
>money. And if a deejay causes a station to lose ad
>revenue, then he or she is out the door.”
>
>Geoff’s silence made her glance up to find him
>regarding his cup of coffee with a thoughtful frown.
>After a moment, he sighed. “I never thought of it
>that way.”
>
>“Why should you?” Sherry took a sip of coffee.
>“After all, it’s not your job on the line.”
>
>He looked up and smiled. “And neither is yours.
>We’ll just sit here being circumspect and drinking
>coffee, and talk about things like heavy literature.”
>
>Sherry laughed, [relieved he seemed to understand]. “I
>didn’t say we had to be boring. But no scenes in the
>French Quarter, okay? I need my job.”
Brackets are unnecessary telling. His dialog and change in demeanor is beautifully done, illustrating how much he does care and understands.
>
>“Done.” Geoff clinked his cup against hers.
Too short! Too short! I'd love to read the scene before this, getting a good dose of how annoying Mike is. *s* Always a pleasure to visit with your characters and I hope the suggestions are helpful.
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Totally helpful, Alex! >>> -- Page, 21:52:33 03/23/10 Tue
>>
>>“Oh, come on, Geoff. The man can’t light a candle.”
>>Sherry sipped her drink and was glad she hadn’t wasted
>>it on Mike. The icy concoction quenched her anger
>>somewhat, and she took a bigger gulp, hoping the four
>>ounces of rum would obliterate it completely.
>
>I'm missing the reference here. Light a candle?
The Mike character is a rock photographer. He takes live pictures of concerts, but also does a lot of portraits and shots for magazine covers where he does his own lighting. Sherry isn't impressed with the way he lights his subjects. I've not written a lot of what proceeds this bit, just a rough draft, but I'll explain that bit when Sherry first meets Mike. Thanks for pointing it out!
>
>>
>>“Okay. Just so we have that straight.” Sherry
>>plucked the orange slice out of the tall glass and
>>sucked the juice from it. “Is he?”
>
>Her question seems like a prompt for the dialog
>following. Just hanging out there. Maybe add more? Or
>a gesture to illustrate? Wiggles her brows? Flops a
>wrist over?
I agree, her question is a little abrupt. I'll work on this.
>
>>
>>Sherry dropped the orange slice back into the remains
>>of her Hurricane and fished out the cherry. “Maybe
>>not, but if you get drunk I’m outta here.” She popped
>>the cherry into her mouth, holding the stem between
>>her thumb and forefinger. [With a complete lack of
>>calculation], she raised her eyes to Geoff’s as she
>>sucked on the cherry.
>
>I'm banging the drum today. *boom boom boom*
>Telling! Right here. *s* Better to have her suck on
>the cherry and let the look in Geoff's eye and his
>reaction illustrate what she's doing, and trust
>the reader understands she's not being calculating.
>;0)
Yeah, I'm going to have to change this around. When I wrote it I could see her fishing the cherry out of her glass like she did the orange slice. I didn't get any sense from her that she was doing it to, er, entice Geoff. So I added the "without calculation" bit. Gonna work on that now.
>
>>
>>Sherry shrugged. “Not completely. You also have to
>>promise to lose the Neal Preston wannabe.”
>
>??? Does Neal Preston = Mike?
Another part I'm going to have to change. Neal Preston was the major rock photographer of the 1970s, along with a man called Robert Knight. This books is set in the early 1980s, but anyone like Mike who makes a living in rock photography would want to attain the success Neal Preston had. Unfortunately, Neal isn't a household name. I thought of using someone like Ansel Adams, but his pictures couldn't be more different from the ones Mike takes.
>>“He’s a trouser stain,” Sherry replied. “If you’re
>>really wanting to make things up to me, he’s gotta
>go.”
>
>I second Larn. Great derogatory
>description.
Thank you!
>
>>The thought that Mike looked like a demented
>>leprechaun had made Sherry smile, but the fact that
>>Geoff looked like a tiger about to pounce made her
>>shake as adrenaline rushed through her bloodstream.
>>His eyes had become almost golden, and the dangerous,
>>flat glare he directed at Mike looked like something
>>out of an old Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom
>>episode.
>
>Why the repeat of the leprechaun description? Seems
>unnecessary and slows down the flow. Maybe add the
>swift change to Geoff's gaze to the preceding para and
>start this one with her adrenaline rush?
You're right, it does slow it down. I need to work on this.
>>Sherry laughed, [relieved he seemed to understand].
>“I
>>didn’t say we had to be boring. But no scenes in the
>>French Quarter, okay? I need my job.”
>
>Brackets are unnecessary telling. His dialog and
>change in demeanor is beautifully done, illustrating
>how much he does care and understands.
Thank you! The part in brackets is outta here.
>
>>
>>“Done.” Geoff clinked his cup against hers.
>
>Too short! Too short! I'd love to read the scene
>before this, getting a good dose of how annoying Mike
>is. *s* Always a pleasure to visit with your
>characters and I hope the suggestions are helpful.
The suggestions are very helpful! I've only got a rough draft of the scene before, where Sherry meets Mike for the first time, but I can assure you they do not get on. *G* Thanks again! I truly appreciate the help!
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Re: Totally helpful, Alex! >>> -- Alex, 09:42:54 03/24/10 Wed
>Another part I'm going to have to change. Neal
>Preston was the major rock photographer of the
>1970s, along with a man called Robert Knight. This
>books is set in the early 1980s, but anyone like Mike
>who makes a living in rock photography would want to
>attain the success Neal Preston had. Unfortunately,
>Neal isn't a household name. I thought of using
>someone like Ansel Adams, but his pictures couldn't be
>more different from the ones Mike takes.
Annie Leibovitz?
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Re: Public spectacles >>>>> -- susiej, 12:31:54 03/23/10 Tue
I think that will get rid of the bold. I had a hard time following what others had said but I agree with Alex about Neil Preston- sorry, don't know him, but I think you must mean someone along the lines of Mick Jagger?
I didn't really get the candle line either- but I used context.
I also agree on dropping the "without calculation" line because it seems sort of calculated, but I guess were suppose to think she's just that suggestive naturally?
And one more- "passing thought" of leprechaun. Just say he looked like a leprechaun- don't have to tell us its a thought- if were in her POV, we know that it's her thought. Right?
Otherwise, I really enjoyed it. And second Larn on how well you write hot guys- pant, pant.
Was just in Pat OBrien's in Oct. My husband drank so many Hurricanes he woke up in the night and drank a half filled water glass which, unfortunately held my contacts as I'd forgotten my case. Good thing I always pack a spare pair!
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A couple of explanations >>> -- Page, 21:59:37 03/23/10 Tue
>
>
>I think that will get rid of the bold. I had a hard
>time following what others had said but I agree with
>Alex about Neil Preston- sorry, don't know him, but I
>think you must mean someone along the lines of Mick
>Jagger?
>
>I didn't really get the candle line either- but I used
>context.
It's meant to convey that Sherry isn't impressed with the way Mike lights his subjects when he takes photos. After Alex pointed it out, I realized I can bring that out when Sherry and Mike first meet, and she realizes who he is. Then, hopefully, by the time we get to this point it'll make sense.
>
>I also agree on dropping the "without calculation"
>line because it seems sort of calculated, but I guess
>were suppose to think she's just that suggestive
>naturally?
Actually, she just wasn't thinking about it being suggestive. She'd already done it with her orange slice, and I just saw her doing the same with the cherry. That's why I added the "without calculation," but y'all are right. It tends to make it, well, calculated, like you said. I'm going to work on this bit.
>
>And one more- "passing thought" of leprechaun. Just
>say he looked like a leprechaun- don't have to tell us
>its a thought- if were in her POV, we know that it's
>her thought. Right?
You're right. Another case of overwriting on my part. Ah, I just love words! *G*
>
>Otherwise, I really enjoyed it. And second Larn on how
>well you write hot guys- pant, pant.
Thank you! I do love my hot guys. *G*
>
>Was just in Pat OBrien's in Oct. My husband drank so
>many Hurricanes he woke up in the night and drank a
>half filled water glass which, unfortunately held my
>contacts as I'd forgotten my case. Good thing I always
>pack a spare pair!
Bwahahaha! OMG, that's too funny. I'll bet it didn't help his queasiness a bit to find out he'd swallowed a couple of Acu-Vue! Bless his heart!
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yea, he blamed my contacts for the reason he threw up in the morning, but I say that wasn't the real reason. -- susiej, 22:08:16 03/23/10 Tue
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You just have to love a woman who speaks her mind! >>> -- Esther, 12:23:09 03/29/10 Mon
Sherry certainly is her own character isn't she? *G* Heck, I'd keep reading this one just to hear some more of her expressions. Trouser stain. LMAO And the way she's so straightforward. Speaking of straight, is he? Loved it. And the way she snapped her fingers called the waitress Bambi, or whatever her name was, and told her to get lost cause they hadn't ordered a peep show...well...I just about choked on my coffee. Oh! And just for the record, I have to say that there is no evidence that drinking coffee will prevent you from getting drunk. I'll just make a drunk wide awake. *G*
I really like this character, and that Geoff with his predatory gaze, well...I wouldn't mind seeing a bit more of him either. So post more soon!
Hugs
Esther
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Yeah, it was a bit wordy... -- Larn, 14:26:41 03/23/10 Tue
>... a few spots where I thought the dialog got a
>little wordy
No, I hear you. Mike tends to wax poetic, if I want him to or not. He likes to talk, and I need to get a handle on it.
As for publishing well, I should probably finish it first, eh? Sigh.
Thanks for the words of encouragement!
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Larn>>> -- susiej, 12:44:58 03/23/10 Tue
I remember another post from this but not the cliffhanger post- woo ee! I'd have been spitting mad at you!
And I liked the other post- it was the beginning, I think.
Anyway, its nice to see the whole piece. Good work.
My only comment seconds Alex, somewhat- but it wasn't the dialogue that got wordy to me ('cept that one long paragraph about points). It was all the talk of rein lenghts and horse muscles and such. I had a horse. I love horse talk, but it was a little much for me. Maybe because I could imagine what was going on without it? I just know I wanted the action/results faster. But I am greedy that way.
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But it's so much fun to have readers salivating! -- Larn, 14:31:31 03/23/10 Tue
>It was all the talk of rein
>lenghts and horse muscles and such. I had a horse. I
>love horse talk, but it was a little much for me.
>Maybe because I could imagine what was going on
>without it?
I suppose it should have dawned on me when I kept having to think of synonyms for everything that I was getting a little too loquacious. Spot on, the both of you. Time to edit!
>I just know I wanted the action/results
>faster. But I am greedy that way.
No, I get you. And I think that's what I've been worrying over the scene for. It just needs to get out and get over with.
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Re: Hi, everybody! Whoo! -- debikm, 21:07:45 03/26/10 Fri
For a split second, nothing happened, then I felt his haunches sink and gather up behind him. Padlock's neck came up, tossing his white and brown mane into my face, front legs kicking out like a leaping merry-go-round pony. He seemed to crow-hop on his hind legs, then all at once, he flung himself forward into a wild gallop. We flew down the ridge, bounding like a crazed deer over rock and patches of grass. I grabbed a hunk of mane, set my knees hard against the saddle, and leaned over his neck, praying he didn’t take a misstep. I’m pretty sure I swore profusely. Love this description! I've been in similar situations on a horse before and it's hard to claw your heart out of your throat and back down where it belongs!
After a few terrorizing seconds, we reached the end of the breakneck slope and came onto a gentle rise, just behind Thursday. The herd before us was now a full gallop, so I reined Padlock in, not wanting to charge past the boss like a runaway. Mike looked back, saw my white face, and I would drop this 'and' myself;-) laughed and oh boy, that really got my goat.
Without looking away, I loosed my grip on Padlock’s mane and reached out for the long end of my reins. Grasping the two feet of I think you could leave the "two feet" part out. Might make the sentance tighter without it. extra leather, I swung it around and popped it on my stirrup, making a sound like a whip crack. Padlock darted forward, and in three strides was next to the chestnut. Damn, it felt good to be on a horse again.
As we galloped on, I turned to stare at the boss, surprise crossing his face as our horses matched stride for stride. He looked me straight in the eye as Padlock began to slowly pull ahead, and I held his glare, willing him to catch up. When I was even with Thursday’s bridal bridle, unless someone's getting married., I turned around to glance forward, then swore yet again. The ridge was about to split, and I was charging straight for the gorge.
This is where the first bit posted ended. I know, I'm such a little shit.
My heart fell down into my stomach. I leaned back and hauled on the reins, trying to slow the horse. But Padlock had the bit in his teeth and wasn’t in the mood to listen. I threw my left leg into him, trying to turn him. He fought furiously, his head pulled almost to my foot, but he kept on running straight. How do they do that? I've seen so many horses damn near run sideways out of pure stubbornness. In ten strides we would be at the lip of the canyon.
Sitting as deep in the saddle as I could, I screamed and pulled Paddy’s head up with all the strength in my body. The horse sank back onto his haunches. I clung to him with my knees, my fingers tangling in his mane. We came to a scrambling, sliding stop about two feet from the edge.
Paddy struggled backwards, turned to rear away from the edge, leaving us facing back the way we had come. He stood quietly then, sides heaving. The world suddenly seemed too still. Except for my hands. They were shaking, still gripped in the brown and white mane.
The boss and his horse were standing a few feet away. His mouth was parted in surprise.
“Hot damn, you stuck like glue.”
I think I imagined it. There was no way he would sound impressed after something like that.
“What?”
“You take the left ridge. Work your way along the fence. Like I said, don’t push ‘em too hard.” Nice! A smartass compliment, then work instructions, like she hadn't nearly died just then.
He started along the right side of the canyon, smacking his lasso on his hip to get the horses staring at us from a few yards away moving. The end of this sentance made me go back and read it. Two different actions of the horses could maybe use a little distance between them, just to clarify.
I relaxed my grip, swallowing back all of the profanity threatening to slide out. With a deep breath, I tugged gently on Paddy’s rein to turn him and gave him a nudge with my calves. The horse laid back his ears. I grabbed up the long end of the reins once more and this time popped him on his right flank. He jumped as if startled. Then with another, less gentle nudge from my heels, we started off along the fence, pushing the horses back towards the barn.
He only farted once on the way back in.
It was another twenty minutes before I met up with the others at the pasture gate, pushing a few remaining horses through into the south run which led to the big corral. Mike had the good graces to look the other way when I rode up, but the other two seemed impressed. At least I think they were. Clint took one look at me, smiled a tight little smile, then clucked up his horse to go down the run. Andy tipped his hat back and grinned.
“Honey, I ain’t seen a stick on like that for quite some time. He usually has people off after the first jump.”
“You mean you guys knew he was going to pull that stunt?”
Andy had the good graces to look slightly abashed. You used 'good graces' twice close together.
I whirled on Mike.
“You’re kidding me. I could have broken my neck out there!”
Mike shrugged.
“Had to know if you were gonna cut it or not.”
“Did you even read my resume? I know how to ride.”
“That’s just paper. Don’t mean much.”
“So you put me on a suicidal horse.”
“Paddy’s not suicidal, just pig headed.”
I spurred up the horse in question, cutting in front of Thursday and forcing the horse to come to a stop.
“Don’t you ever put me at risk like that again.”
He glanced up at Andy’s receding back, then spoke quietly.
“It was a test. After that stunt you pulled with the game rep-”
“That wasn’t a stunt and it was hardly my idea. Margie asked me to do it. And I thought I could handle it.”
“And you were wrong. So maybe I was seeing if you could handle being a wrangler.”
“I know horses. I signed up to work with horses not guns. But you’d know that if you had actually read my resume. Or can you read?”
“There’s no need to be a bitch about it. I get enough of that from Mandy.”
Boy, did that shut me up. Mike continued.
“Matter of fact, I did read your resume, and it was pretty impressive. Only the two job references you put down had nothing to do with horses, so I had to check. And if you hadn’t told the truth and couldn’t ride, well, you wouldn’t have gotten Paddy out of the corral, much less stuck on him like that. But you did. So there’s nothing for it.”
“I could have gotten killed,” I said, unwilling to drop the matter.
“But you weren’t.”
“What kind of person puts someone in guaranteed jeopardy?”
Mike took a long breath.
“Wrangling here isn’t a cake walk. The job is dangerous. Every time I put you on a horse and send you out on a ride, I’ll putting you and the dudes in jeopardy, as you call it. No matter how easy the trail, people can get hurt. Now, I’m sorry if you don’t like it, but my biggest responsibility is for the guests, so forgive me if I put you through the ringer wringer before trusting their lives to you.”
He reined Thursday around Paddy, the matter closed. I counted to ten, then followed.
In his eagerness to get back to the corral, Paddy soon pulled even with Thursday once more. Further up ahead, Clint and Andy were closing the gate on the big corral, so for a few moments, it was just the two of us. I had been strictly informed by Mandy that there was to be nothing but walking in the runs,This part seems a little awkward to me. It makes sense, but it still made me pause. And an alternative suggestion is eluding me at the moment. ranch rule, else I’d have sunk my heels into Paddy and left Mike in the settling dust. As it was, I was forced to sit straight in my saddle and fume silently beside him. But soon, my anger turned into something akin to shame.
I couldn’t blame him for checking me out, even if his methods were somewhat sadistic. It was obvious he took his job seriously and maybe even was fair about it. This man, at least, was worth paying attention to. Maybe even apologizing to.
I had just yelled at my boss. On my second day. Great start, Emma.
“Look, Mike? We kinda got off on the wrong foot.”
“No shit,” he said. “But I guess you just like yelling at folks.”
“You mean Mandy?”
He was silent.
“Well, she deserved it.”
“Don’t matter. She’s your boss. She deserves respect.”
“She called me a liar,” I said. Mike turned to look at me, a little surprised. “She grabbed me on the arm an and accused me of some heavy stuff, for no reason. So forgive me if I don’t give her any respect. Not until she earns it.”
“Well, she’s earned it with me.”
“And you put me on a homicidal horse.”
Mike pulled his horse to a stop, so I reined in Paddy.
“How’s about we start things fresh? Reset everything to zero, ok?”
“Fine with me.”
“So let’s do some math. I’m the boss. I’ve been put in charge of a lot of staff and have a lot of horses in my care. I’ve done it for a while now, so maybe that earns me five points. Mandy’s been doing her job for a while now, too, and is pretty good at it, so five for her. But she is a bit of a bitch, so maybe we take off a few points. You just stuck on a horse that’s knocked off half the staff, so you get five points, too. Course it was me that put you on it, as you say, so I get two points off. Yet you yelled at both your bosses. Even if you had a good reason, it was still disrespectful. So we take a point off for each time. So now you’re at three and I’m at three and Mandy’s got three points, too. So we’re even. What do you think about that?”
“I think that’s...actually...kind of lame,” I said, snickering. “What am I, four years old?”LOL! I like his method, it works.
Mike smiled a little.
“Well, it’s the only thing I could come up with on the spot.”
“No wait, please, can we put up a poster in the saddle barn and put gold stars up? Or maybe golden horseshoes.”
“Ok, so it wasn’t that brilliant,” he said, laughing.
“And if we’re bad, we get manure-shaped stickers. Oh, and we get candy at the end of the week if we get all horseshoes.” And it keeps getting better.
“You’re supposed to be apologetic right now.”
“That’s no fun.”
Mike laughed and started his horse back towards the corral. Paddy followed.
“I like this idea,” I said. “I wonder if they even make manure stickers.”
“Course they do,” said Mike. “They’re scratch and sniff.”
Brilliant work Larn! I always enjoy your scenes from the ranch with Emma. You paint a vivid picture of the people and the places and I love it. More please!
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Glad to see you back >>> -- Esther, 12:03:57 03/29/10 Mon
And it's good to be back at the ranch. Missed this story
Yup, a lot of action happening here, but your descriptions were so vivid, even I, as someone who knows nothing about horses, had no problem following. I got the sinking sensation at the start, the indignation when she was being tested and I just loved the exchange between her and her boss. Scratch and sniff! *G* All in all, this is a keeper in my books.
Hugs
Esther
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debikm, 21:53:28 03/26/10 Fri
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Re: Jumping in with my contribution>>> -- debikm, 21:14:05 04/01/10 Thu
>Taking a big gulp and jumping with an extract from my
>historical novel. A thorough critique would be
>welcome, but also I'd like to get overall impressions:
>does the dialogue/action mix work? Does the dialogue
>sound natural? Most importantly, would you want to
>read more?
>
>-------
>
>From Claddagh [working title]
>by F.H. Hurley
>Copyright March 2010
>For critique only
>
>Galway, Ireland. 1663.
>
>Sunlight streamed thinly through the window,
>illuminating silver threads in the man's dark curls. Nice image, but "Thin sunlight" sounds more direct, stronger, if you will, to me.
>
>“You're Kate Flaherty's son?” Mr. Joyce asked, placing
>his quill tip-down into a jar on the desk. He wore an
>indoor gown of rich brocade, and there were ink dots
>on his white cravat. Nice imagery. I can 'see' Mr. Joyce very easily!
>
>“I am,” said the boy, breathing in the oak-and-paper
>dust. His knees felt knocky, his empty stomach
>gurgled, and he wondered again why his Ma had sent him
>to this rich man's place. “Richard Mahon is my name.
>Son of Kate Flaherty and Joseph Mahon.”
>
>“How old are you, boy?”
>
>“I'm ten, sir.”
>
>Mr. Joyce fingered the embroidered fringe of the
>handkerchief that Richard had given him. The man's
>nails were trim trimmed? and his hands smooth; he'd obviously
>never worked on a fishing boat. But there was
>something oddly familiar about the shape of his face
>and the quizzical look in his blue eyes. A little intrigue, nice!
>
>“And when will you be eleven?”
>
>“Next March, sir.”
>
>“By Jesus, of course you will.”
>
>Richard was puzzled. “Mr. Joyce?”
>
>“Did your mother have any other message for me?”
>
>“Just that you'd know her and do right by her.” He
>frowned. He wasn't sure what that meant either. It
>sounded like begging, which his Ma would normally
>forbid him to do on pain of sore ears or arse. Yet
>when he'd queried her on the message, she'd sighed and
>said he'd understand later. And there was another part
>of the message that made even less sense. “She said
>also that you'd remember the bluebells.”
>
>“The bluebells. Of course.”
>
>The man looked again at the handkerchief, and Richard
>wondered what was so special about it. It might have
>been white once, but plenty of snot had been washed
>out of it over the years and it was now a faded
>buttermilk colour.
>
>“Your father?” Mr. Joyce asked. “John, did you say?”
>
>“Joe.”
>
>“He's a fisherman?”
>
>“He was. He's.... his boat went down.”
>
>You were supposed to say “God rest him” when someone
>mentioned a dead person, but this man just kept
>staring from Richard's face to the handkerchief and
>back again. It was just a bit unclear on my first reading that Mr. Joyce hadn't said this, then when I gave it a second look, it was clear. Might just be me and my too-quick reading.
>
>“God rest him,” Richard added.
>
>“Of course, God rest him. And your mother, she's well?”
>
>“She is. Misses Da, of course.”
>
>“Surely she does.”
>
>“Mr. Joyce,” Richard cleared his throat. “How do you
>know my Ma?”
>
>The man sighed, a frown mark creasing the bridge of
>his nose.
>
>“From before you were born, during the time of
>Cromwell.”
>
>Richard spit reflexively on the floor at hearing the
>hated name, and Mr. Joyce smiled. Very nice. I don't know enough about that aspect of Cromwell's 'reign'. I didn't know the Irish were so adversely affected by him. You're making me learn, good job!
>
>“Those were hard times, I'm sure you've heard, and
>made strange allies.”
>
>“My Ma says Cromwell is roaring in Hell now.”
>
>“I'm sure he is. Are you keeping well, boy?”
>
>Richard shrugged. “I am.” Apart from the scratch of
>hunger in his stomach.
>
>“It can't be easy, with your father gone, God rest
>him.”
>
>“We're not the worst off. My uncle Jack is good to
>us.” After he's fed all his own children.
>
>“You have brothers? Sisters?”
>
>“Two younger sisters, Nora and Eily.”
>
> The man kept nodding and staring. Richard, in an
>attempt to escape from the gaze, looked at the
>leather-bound books lining the shelf on the wall.
>
>“Can you read?” Mr. Joyce asked.
>
>What a silly question! “I can't, sir. My Da was a
>fisherman.”
>
>“Of course, of course.”
You've painted a very clear and intriguing picture of these two people. Generating curiosity in your readers is a gift and you have it in spades! I'm anxious to find out more about these two. Well done!
Debi
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Re: Jumping in with my contribution>>> -- Fi, 07:25:51 04/08/10 Thu
Thanks to both of you for your critiques. I've changed the first few paragraphs a little:
>
>Thin sunlight streamed through the window,
>illuminating silver threads in the man's dark curls.
>
>“You're Kate Flaherty's son?” Mr. Joyce asked, placing
>his quill tip-down into a jar on the desk. He wore an
>indoor gown of rich brocade, and there were ink dots
>on his white cravat.
>
>“I am,” said Richard, breathing in the oak-and-paper
>dust. “Richard Mahon is my name.
>Son of Kate Flaherty and Joseph Mahon.” His knees felt knocky, his empty stomach
>gurgled, and he wondered again why his Ma had sent him
>to this rich man's place.
>
Will post more soon - watch this space :)
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