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Date Posted: 19:03:21 01/12/04 Mon
Author: Madison
Subject: part 5
In reply to:
Madison
's message, "Newish Story" on 14:23:50 01/10/04 Sat
My arm had been x-rayed before James and Madeline arrived to assess the situation. I was sitting on a gunnery with my arm propped up on a tray. I was so pumped full of painkillers I couldn’t feel a thing (I doubted that if I had suddenly been sliced with a knife I would have felt the coldness of the metal blade), but I was lucid enough to see the worry etched on James’s face. Michael stood at attention (he did not say a word after explaining what had happened) while the doctors fixed me. I was attempting to garner a reaction out of him by making ridiculous faces, all guaranteed to win any pre-adolescent staring contest. I got nuthin’ outta Mikey.
“What happened?” James demanded, the second he was in hearing distance.
“I, ugh…” I searched for the words to explain my infinitely embarrassing predicament. “I was going to Systems on an errand for Madeline in lethal and highly dangerous shoes….” I began.
“You weren’t looking where you were going, were you?” James cut in.
“You try getting to Systems in a minute and a half from Madeline’s office in four inch stilettos!” I vehemently protested. “You probably couldn’t walk three steps without…” I stopped before I said something I knew I would regret. “Anyway, I turned a corner and um, ranina’im,” I spat out quickly, indicating Michael with my head.
“You ran into Michael?” James asked.
“Right,” I said. I felt my face flame with embarrassment. I always turned beet red when I was embarrassed, the kids in elementary school used to make it a sport to see how red they could make me turn. To this day, the words “she’s blushing!” makes my face resemble a tomato.
“Erika, you certainly have a way…” James suddenly looked like he was going to burst into laughter. My face flamed hotter.
“Well, Erika, I do hope you’re feeling OK,” Madeline interjected.
“Yeah, painkillers can do wonderful things,” I said cheerfully. “Hooray for modern medicine!”
The doctor came in at that moment, and plastered my x-ray films on one of those light-up boards. “Erika, it appears the left bone in your wrist has sustained a small fracture. But the prognosis is good, after six weeks in a cast it should be as good as new. You’re lucky you’re so young, with your medical history. I’ll be back in a moment to fix you up.”
“Don’t I get to pick the color of the cast? I asked hopefully, I was fancying a magenta one.
“No, we only have white,” the doctor said, almost sadly. I wondered if he remembered when he could offer colored casts to injured children.
“Thank you, doctor,” Madeline said in way of dismissal. “I hardly think this is new to you, Erika,” she continued.
“No. I think this is number six,” I said.
“Number six of what?” James asked.
“Did you not read that part of my profile?” I asked; I was dumbfounded James didn’t know. “I’ve broken my arm five, well, now six, times, and my collarbone and my finger. It’s kind of a bad habit.” I said matter-of-factly. “I have a cast collection.”
“Like the doctor said, you’re lucky you’re young and heal easily,” James said.
At that moment, the tall blonde woman I’d last seen walking with Michael sprinted into the room, looking more than distressed. “Michael! They told me I could find you here. Are you all right?” She looked worried, was more like it, about Michael.
“I’m fine, Nikita. I was just escorting Erika to Medlab. Was there something you wanted?” Michael said, calmly. But something flew between them, and it looked like something similar to what flew between James and me, only hundreds of times more intense. Michael looked like he knew exactly what Nikita was going to do, and wasn’t surprised at all when she did.
Relief briefly flooded Nikita’s expression, but a mask soon replaced any emotion. “Yes. I wanted to discuss the Simm we ran yesterday, regarding the mission,” she said, suddenly business-like.
“My office,” Michael said. “Erika, I hope you feel better.”
“Thanks, I will,” I replied.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Erika,” Nikita said.
“Same here,” I said.
“Thank you for taking care of her, Michael,” James said.
“It was no problem.” And with that, Michael and Nikita left Medlab, deep in another hushed conversation.
Madeline seemed to be deeply disturbed by what had just happened, and I thought it was about Michael and Nikita. I silently prayed that I would never be the cause of one of those looks, it was frightening. She looked like one of her meticulously planned profiles had been thwarted, and I knew that it drove her nuts when I merely profiled a fake mission incorrectly. I could tell there was something going on with Michael and Nikita, if the whispers I pretended not to hear from Walter and Birkoff, along with Nikita’s performance, were any indication, Madeline was not too happy about it.
The doctor soon came back and applied a surprisingly light, and starkly white, fiberglass cast to my arm. I was then allowed to return to my room to sleep off the painkillers I had been given. My room was no longer the minimalist nightmare it was when I arrived. Walter had helped me out a bit, but I had scads of posters of brightly colored famous artwork on my walls, my favorite being “Starry Night” by Van Gogh. James had given me a stereo to listen to music, as a reward for good behavior (I’m not really sure what of my behavior was considered good, but I wasn’t going to protest). I begged CDs off anyone who would listen, and had procured a small but diverse collection of music to listen to. Madeline, despite her disapproval of fiction, indulged me with the occasional novel. I was still accumulating the classics, but I was thinking of requesting a Harry Potter book next for fun. I picked up where I had left off in “A Tale of Two Cities” and curled up on the hard mattress, but soon fell into a deep sleep.
I was awoken hours later; I did not notice the time, by the beeping that usually indicated that someone wanted my permission to enter. I hauled myself out of bed, and drowsily punched in the access code, one I knew almost everyone but me had the override sequence to. The door slid open, and I looked up to see who would come in.
“Hello, Erika,” Nikita said brightly, letting herself into my quarters. “I like what you’ve done with the place. Colorful, but intelligent.”
“Thanks,” I said. I was awed by Nikita when she was up-close. She was bright and blonde beauty where I was dark and dishwater. She had an air about her, like she was still optimistic despite the harsh realities of Section. “Was there anything in particular you wanted?” I asked, trying not to sound as cold as the question inherently was.
“Yes. I want to apologize for what happened in Medlab. You seemed embarrassed.”
“Yeah, it was a whole load of ‘let’s humiliate Erika’ fun,” I remarked. “But it’s cool. Just the whole situation was, well, a disaster.”
“How did that happen?” Nikita indicated my arm.
“You don’t know!” I let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank heavens, that’s the worst part! But I kinda ran into Michael.”
“You ran into Michael?” Nikita burst out into fits of giggles.
“It’s not funny!” I protested. But I could not deny its laughablity; I dissolved into hysterics myself. I broke my arm by running into someone. That was funny.
“Michael didn’t scare you too much, did he?” Nikita asked, after out laughter had died down. “He can be intimidating, and pretty intense, sometimes.”
“Michael? No, except for the ‘you will do as I say’ tone. I have a feeling not too many people ignore that.”
“No. He’s a pretty respectable bloke in here. But I’d trust him with my life,” Nikita said. “Michael made me.”
“Like James is going to make me?” I commented. “Into a guilt-free killer?”
“That’s one way to look at it,” Nikita said. “I saw it that way for a long time. But then I got smart; James just wants you to survive.” She sighed. “I never thought Section would sink so low as to recruit another innocent, without even framing her for murder first.”
I heard the catch in her voice. “It happened to you, didn’t it?” I said. “Section framed you for murder so they could recruit you.”
“Never said I had proof. It conveniently disappeared. But I should go, I’m supposed to be a brain-washed Section robot now.”
“OK. See you later, Nikita.”
“Yes,” Nikita’s Section-like mask fell back into place. “Walter was right about you. You’re a real five percenter.”
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I'm going to make a few general comments real fast. -- Shanola, 20:51:02 01/16/04 Fri
First, let me say that you've got some nice wording here and there. I feel as though I'm watching a butterfly flapping his wings to build strength. I think you have the tools you need to grow into a good writer.
But I have serious reservations about the main character in this particluar piece. Why would Section kidnap an innocent 15 year old? She's six feet tall, so it couldn't be because they thought she'd be able to blend into a crowd.
Yes, we've seen in canon that Birkoff was in Section from a baby and Greg Hillenger was brought into Section as a teenager. But Birkoff wasn't living on the outside and Greg brought his ultimate recruitment upon himself. If you recall the ep featuring Greg, Section didn't ask for his help lightly, not in the beginning. At first, they were against it. He was a last choice.
So, yeah, I'm having serious reservations about why on earth Section would recruit a teenager.
And you've got her down as a 15 year old but honestly, I haven't ever met a 15 year old as mature as Erika. Not in America anyway. Maybe in Europe. But in America, or even Canada, I think teenagers are allowed to be children for a long, long time. I know I was. I had no idea about the world as a larger place, not when I was 15. That came later, during college. I'm not saying someone who lived on the streets or was raised on welfare or had a really tough life wouldn't be mature at fifteen. I think many of them are. Many girls are raising babies at fifteen or making money for themselves, however they can.
But your character feels as though she was raised upper middle class and I just can't buy her maturity.
I keep wondering which Horatio Hornblower you want her trainer to look like. I have the feeling you mean Ian Guffold from the A&E versions but there were some Horatio Hornblower movies made back in the fifties and the character in the book is even more different then the old movie version. My advice? Avoid comparing your characters to movie stars. I think it complicates things.
Hmm....though that's not to say you can't make *any* comparasion to movie stars. Something like, "His eyes reminded her of Paul Newman's baby blues" works somewhat (okay, yeah, I know, I made that up on the spur of them moment and it aint a great sentence but go with me here!LOL)...um, yeah. Anyway, that sort of comparision works better for me than saying, "He looked just like Paul Newman." Because I remember Paul Newman as youngish, then older, and now older still. Which look were you going for? See what I mean?
But I see a lot of good in your writing. I see *potential*, which is very cool.
I'm going to try to find time (and I have to go *look* for it, because it keep running out on me, damnit!) to go through and beta each piece you've posted. Give me a few days, though, okay? I've got a busy, busy schedule for the next few days.
Thanks for posting here, too, btw. I don't feel comfortable posting critiques on the storyboards but I think it's terrific when people really want to improve their writing. =P
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Can I mention.... -- Madison, 07:03:34 01/17/04 Sat
Thanks very much for responding, but there are a few things I'd like to briefly argue....
1) What teenager doesn't have a celeberty crush? It was a small detail I put in to characterize her as a teenager, and I did mean the Horatio from the A&E versions.
2)I was very tall in high school, and I'm trying hard not to make Erika a mimi-me, and kids who are tall (sometimes, but not always) are expected by socitety to act their height, not their age. And kids who are teased (which I've briefly alluded to, but might make more clear in the future)have to handle much more in a more mature way... hence Erika's seeming over-maturity. And I'll admit mature 15-year-olds are very rare in the US, they're not non-existant.
But really, thanks heaps for responding, I really, really
appreciete it. Madison
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Hmm... -- Shanola, 18:22:15 01/17/04 Sat
I wasn't trying to imply that teenagers don't have celebrity crushes. You are writing from Erika's POV, and that's fine. But you as the author should also keep in mind the larger audience who may not know who Horatio Hornblower is. I love HH. I own the DVD's. I own the books and have read them several times. One of the outstanding characterists of HH in the books is his paunchy belly, which he absolutely hates but can't do anything about. He's also started to lose his hair, which he also hates. And he is completely tone deaf. When I think of HH, I think of those facts first. When Erika said he looked like HH, I immediately thought Balding and Paunchy belly, can't dance because he can't hear music....and I do not think that's what you are going for. Too late for me, though, because now James is balding with a paunchy belly and he'll never, ever dance because he is comepletely tone deaf.
See?
What I would suggest instead is to have Erika note his physical description, on the off chance someone hasen't ever seen the HH movies, and then have her conclude he looks a little like HH in the movies.
Example:
A man walked in the door. He had brown hair that leaned towards curls, brown eyes and sharp features. I imediately thought of the actor who played Horatio Hornblower in the televised movies.
Do you see how that gives the reader a reference to go with even though the reader may not have any idea who HH is?
As for point two...I've known young people who are very tall for their age. They *still* act like annoying teenagers from time to time.
Erika says she is very tall and somewhat clumsy, but I don't see her act self-conscious about that at all. In fact, I don't see any self-consciousness about her at all. She stands brazenly up to Madeline. "Tell me why you think I'm pretty. And be truthful."? I can't believe any fifteen year old would say that. They'd be more likely to say, "Really? You think I'm pretty? Why?"
I guess it's the word choices you've made for Erika. They don't reference to any teenaged tempo I've ever read. I love Young Adult books. I think Vivian Vande Velde is a goddess and everyone should read her works, teenager or not. I think great literature is written in the genre. And yet, even the most mature teenaged characters in those books are not as mature as Erika.
In order for Erika to avoid being a Mary Sue, I need to see her vulnerabilities. I need to see her as a complicated human who is struggling to find her way, wether she knows it or not. There is a fine line to being mature, and many adults still have a hard time walking it. Teenagers are still trying to learn how and sometimes swing wildly one way then the other, much like the balance bar a tightrope walker carries. I need to see her learn to control her emotions.
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Re: Hmm... -- Madison, 09:56:33 01/18/04 Sun
I see your point... and I'm tryng to make Erika act her age, u say, and walk that fine line without being Mary Sue.
And about HH- um, when I started the re-write of this story, I had just seen the reruns of the movies on A&E, and it's been ages since I read the books, so I will clairfy that... and I'm sorry you now have a less than flattering image of James because that was NOT my intention. (honestly!!!)
look for a repost and I'd love to know what you think
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