Comments sought on a short story opening

[Phyrebrat]

Hello Chronners and lurkers.

Reading Coragem and I, Brian's recent postings here and in GD, I decided to bite the bullet and make something I've written open to criticism. Or for critique. Whichever. With only a small amount of postings, I hope I am not taking liberties. However, I accept I could be producing self-indulgent error-riddled dross so it's better to have any weaknesses pointed out now rather than later. I keep up with these forums religiously and hope what I have learnt has found it's way into what I produce.

This is the opening to a supernatural (of course. ) short tale about a scarecrow. First person. So far I have written approximately 2.3K so here's a sample of that.

Some questions:

1) does 'un-undeletable' jar?

2) When recounting the past, is it tidier to use 'was' rather than 'had been' ? Example Line:- although my mind had been preoccupied with the red tin Santa Fe train I had desperately hoped - that way there are not two 'had's so close together.

3) Research. Can anyone identify any factual errors regarding Iowa/American-ness, please?

4) Stream or creek? (re Pa's fly fishing line)

5) Pa/daddy. As the narrator (who is in his nineties) progresses, he refers to his dad as 'daddy' more and more in preference to 'pa'. In this passage it only happens once, but do you think it will confuse a reader?

6) All the grammatical no-nos, please. I know I am overly keen on semi-colons and have recently learnt about comma splices, so would be grateful for any more input (I've left 'languidly' in as an adverb regarding the lounge swing.).

Thank you for any help


pH


Boney Tom.

I have thrown away many things in life, some of them return, some don’t. Of all the things I have tossed, the hardest ones to dispose of are memories. So, whilst a myriad of childhood school books and clothes have been denuded into some unrecognisable and un-undeletable lump by time sitting in the trash bin of my life, one thing stands obstinately proud, refusing to erode.

It happened late summer, or early fall – fall most likely, now that I think about it; abused clouds scudding the battered twilight sky, and possibly a very early sniff of Thanksgiving in the air. I was no more than nine years old, and although my mind had been preoccupied with the red tin Santa Fe train I had desperately hoped I would get for Christmas, when I look back now, I think I also knew something was up that evening. If I hadn’t, then chances are I would never have been stood on my parents’ bed staring out over the endless fields of maize cornstalks.

Downstairs, on the veranda that circumscribed three quarters of our farm homestead, my sister Becky swung languidly on the lounger - screee, screee - as she pushed her foot against the banister to make it rock. We weren’t allowed to put cushions on it after mid-August as my mother said that was when the bugs laid their eggs. Besides, she was worried about unseasonal rain, despite Iowa’s summers which seemed endless to a nine year old boy. But there Becky was, swinging by herself, her singing accompanied only by the screee of un-oiled chains and the twisting wood, and probably staring over the expanse of fields behind the house, herself. Since the Great War our summers had been secure and relaxed; owning as much farmland as we did, the shortage of things deemed necessary for a comfortable life was not something our family of four suffered. So she sat, and sang, and swung.

Along the horizon, a million miles away, a sliver of yellow was set amongst the diminishing heat haze, looking like the golden band of Pa’s fly line on the stream. The sun was below the horizon and the light leaked from the day inevitably, but in no hurry whatsoever; eternal Iowa days.

A louder squeak from below me: Becky had left the lounger, and peeking over the window ledge, I could see it appear and retreat from my view like a slowing metronome, mesmeric until the screen door slammed shut on the new springs Daddy had just that week screwed in; It’s gonna get windy, soon Peggy, you know how I can’t sleep with that screen door banging all night.

 

[Ursa major]

Re the hads....

Given that the narrative is in the past tense, the initial mentions of what happened all those years ago should use the pluperfect (aka the Past Perfect tense, i.e. the one with all the hads). However, you shouldn't do this for too long. For one thing, the narrative will become so full of hads that they may start calling attention to themselves; for another, you need some way of describing events that came before the events being recalled and there's one pluperfect tense.

One technique is to introduce the recalled event in the pluperfect, but quickly and unobtrusively return the narrative to the normal past. When the telling of the recalled episode is coming to an end, slip back into the pluperfect, so the transition back to the narrator's time is more clearly signalled (but is done in a way that feels natural to the reader).

 

[Vertigo]

I’m very much the amateur on critiquing so please bear that in mind when reading my comments!

Despite what seems like loads of comments, I did really like it. It gave me a strong feeling for the place and the atmosphere of it in particular, though I’m not so sure about the comparison of a sliver of light with a fly fishing line.

I have thrown away many things in life, some of them return, some don’t. Of all the things I have tossed, the hardest ones[I’d drop ones] to dispose of are memories. So, whilst a myriad of childhood school books and clothes have been denuded into some unrecognisable and un-undeletable [yes it does jar with me I’m afraid, I’m not sure what are you trying to say; that it is deletable (strangely even that shows as a spelling error in my Word), in which case why not say so or that it isn’t in which case why the double un] lump by time sitting in the trash bin of my life, one thing [would ‘episode’ be better here, with ‘thing’ I’m expecting the thing to appear at the end of the sentence?] stands obstinately proud, refusing to erode.

It happened late summer, or early fall – fall most likely, now that I think about it; abused clouds scudding the battered twilight sky, and possibly a very early sniff of Thanksgiving in the air. I was no more than nine years old, and although my mind had been preoccupied with the red tin Santa Fe train I had desperately hoped I would get for Christmas, when I look back now, I think I also knew [I think you have slipped tenses here; the next sentence begins with 'If I hadn't (known), then...". Assuming the whole story is recounting the past I think it’s normal to start with had and then switch over to was, however I would stick with had until the next paragraph]something was up that evening. If I hadn’t, then chances are I would never have been stood on my parents’ bed staring out over the endless fields of maize cornstalks. [I like that last phrase!]

Downstairs, on the veranda that circumscribed[circumscribed feels a bit formal to me, maybe surrounded – but then it doesn’t actually – or maybe bounded] three quarters of our farm homestead, my sister Becky swung languidly on the lounger - screee, screee [not sure about scree, sounds more like a bird call]- as she pushed her foot against the banister[is banister the right word? I’m not very familiar with verandas] to make it rock. We weren’t allowed to put cushions on it after mid-August as my mother said that was when the bugs laid their eggs. Besides, she was worried about unseasonal rain, despite Iowa’s summers which seemed endless to a nine year old boy[you made the point about it being fall not summer earlier, is this sentence actually necessary, I think I’d drop it. You could always put in the endless Iowa summers at the start of the previous para “after an endless Iowa…”]. But there Becky was, swinging by herself, her singing accompanied only by the screee of un-oiled chains and the twisting wood, and [I’d drop the and or even start a new sentence] probably staring over the expanse of fields behind the house,[no comma here] herself. Since the Great War our summers had been secure and relaxed; owning as much farmland as we did, the shortage of things deemed necessary [‘the necessities’ maybe] for a comfortable life was not something our family of four suffered.[Actually this whole sentence felt a little clumsy. I would drop the semicolon and maybe turn it around to ‘With such a large farm, our family of four suffered no shortage of the necessities for a comfortable life’] So she sat, and sang, and swung.[I liked that sentence though I’m not sure about the ‘so’]

Along the horizon, a million miles away, a sliver of yellow was set amongst the diminishing [fading maybe, again diminishing feels to formal] heat haze, looking like the golden band of Pa’s fly line on the stream. The sun was below the horizon and the [I’d cut ‘the’] light leaked from the day inevitably [not necessary and reads wrong to me – because it is inevitable you don’t need to say so, but if you want to keep it I’d put it after leaked], but in no hurry whatsoever; eternal Iowa days.[again I’m not happy with the semicolon and I think ending the paragraph with a fragment sentence would work quite well here and give impact]

A louder squeak[I think I’d have used squeak all through] from below me: Becky had left the lounger, and peeking over the window ledge, I could see it appear[advance, to match the retreat (which I like!)] and retreat from my view like a slowing metronome, mesmeric until the screen door slammed shut on the new springs Daddy had just that week screwed in; It’s gonna get windy, soon Peggy, you know how I can’t sleep with that screen door banging all night.[this last paragraph jarred with me. It’s all one sentence and I don’t think it should be. This would be my take though I’m not really happy with it and I’d need to work it some more: “A louder squeak rose from below. Becky had quit the lounger and, peeking over the window ledge, I watched it advance and retreat hypnotically like a slowing metronome. The spell broken by the screen door slamming on Daddy’s newly fitted springs – it’s gonna get windy soon, Peggy. You know how I can’t sleep with that door banging all night.]

On your questions:
1. See above.
2. Ursa posted in greater detail whilst I was typing this and I seem to be in broad agreement with him on the had’s (phew!)
3 and 4. Not being American I can’t help here!
5. I didn’t like the switch from Pa to Daddy. Maybe later on in the story but even then I’m not sure unless you have a real reason for it. As it is it makes it feel like someone else’s voice coming in.
6. I’ve commented on a couple of the semicolons (and I’m a semicolon addict as well!). I was completely happy with the languidly.

Nice one Phyrebrat. As I said above I particularly like the atmosphere, or maybe ambience would be a better word, that you have created. Also as I said I am a ‘just-learning’ critique and writer. So do please bear that in mind!

 

[Tecdavid]

Hi there, Phyrebrat. Don't worry about asking for critiques now ~ I asked for my first comments as soon as I hit the 30 post requirment! And don't worry about the quality of your work; hiccups and errors are what we're all here to amend.

First, your questions:
1) does 'un-undeletable' jar? I think it does, a little, mainly because I wasn't sure what you meant by it in your passage.

2) When recounting the past, is it tidier to use 'was' rather than 'had been' ? Example Line:- although my mind had been preoccupied with the red tin Santa Fe train I had desperately hoped - that way there are not two 'had's so close together. 'had been' works better in this context, I personally think, as it's a scene in retrospect.

3) Research. Can anyone identify any factual errors regarding Iowa/American-ness, please? I'm afraid I wouldn't know. :/

4) Stream or creek? (re Pa's fly fishing line) Creek is more of an American dialect, whereas Stream is more universal, I believe. Although I think creek usually describes smaller flows.

5) Pa/daddy. As the narrator (who is in his nineties) progresses, he refers to his dad as 'daddy' more and more in preference to 'pa'. In this passage it only happens once, but do you think it will confuse a reader? No, I shouldn't think so.

6) All the grammatical no-nos, please. I know I am overly keen on semi-colons and have recently learnt about comma splices, so would be grateful for any more input (I've left 'languidly' in as an adverb regarding the lounge swing.). I'll be honest with you here, I'm a little unsure about semi-colon placement myself. Which isn't good, as I wind up using them in my own work, anyway!

I have thrown away many things in life, some of them return, some don’t. Of all the things I have tossed, the hardest ones to dispose of are memories. So, whilst a myriad of childhood school books and clothes have been denuded into some unrecognisable and un-undeletable lump by time sitting in the trash bin of my life, one thing stands obstinately proud, refusing to erode.

It happened late summer, or early fall – fall most likely, now that I think about it; abused clouds scudding the battered twilight sky, and possibly a very early sniff of Thanksgiving in the air. I like this passage - there's a very nostalgic air to it. Although I wonder whether 'battered' is a confusing word to describe a sky, I was no more than nine years old, and although my mind had been preoccupied with the red tin Santa Fe train I had desperately hoped I would get for Christmas, when I look back now, I think I also knew something was up that evening. If I hadn’t, then chances are I would never have been stood on my parents’ bed staring out over the endless fields of maize cornstalks. This is a purely personal perference, but I think I'd say instead: "if I hadn't, I don't think I would have been standing on my parents' bed..."

Downstairs, on the veranda that circumscribed Perhaps a simpler word, such as confined? Again, just my take, three quarters of our farm homestead, my sister Becky swung languidly This and 'circumscribed' seem to me as words not everyone would understand. I hope it's just me, though, as it sucks when there's a good word you want to put in, but might not work! on the lounger - screee, screee - as she pushed her foot against the banister to make it rock. We weren’t allowed to put cushions on it after mid-August as my mother said that was when the bugs laid their eggs. Besides, she was worried about unseasonal rain, despite Iowa’s summers which seemed endless to a nine year old boy. But there Becky was, swinging by herself, her singing accompanied only by the screee of un-oiled chains and the twisting wood, and probably staring over the expanse of fields behind the house, herself. I like this. It paints a sombre, ponderous picture, Since the Great War our summers had been secure and relaxed; owning as much farmland as we did, the shortage of things deemed necessary for a comfortable life was not something our family of four suffered. So she sat, and sang, and swung.

Along the horizon, a million miles away, a sliver of yellow was set amongst the diminishing heat haze, looking like the golden band of Pa’s fly line on the stream. The sun was below the horizon and the light leaked from the day inevitably, but in no hurry whatsoever; eternal Iowa days. Again, I like how nostalgic the whole scene reads. You can truly tell it's written from your character's viewpoint..

A louder squeak from below me: Becky had left the lounger, and peeking over the window ledge, I could see it appear and retreat from my view like a slowing metronome, mesmeric until the screen door slammed shut on the new springs Daddy had just that week screwed in; It’s gonna get windy, soon If I'm reading right, the comma should be after 'soon', instead of 'windy', Peggy, you know how I can’t sleep with that screen door banging all night.

I think this is good work. In scenes written in past tense, I think it's important to get inside the reminiscing character's head, and I'd say you have. We can deduce just how memorable and vivid this memory is to them.

 

[Bowler1]

Boney Tom.

I have thrown away many things in life, some of them return, some don’t. Of all the things I have tossed, the hardest ones to dispose of are memories. So, whilst a myriad of childhood school books and clothes have been denuded (this is a long line, and feels over described to me) into some unrecognisable and un-undeletable lump by time sitting in the trash bin of my life, one thing stands obstinately proud, refusing to erode.
There is one very long sentence, so long the opening loses impact for me.

It happened late summer, or early fall – fall most likely, now that I think about it; (full stop, I don’t see a ; link between the two lines?) abused clouds scudding the battered twilight sky, and possibly a very early sniff of Thanksgiving in the air – from abused, does this add value, I’m not sure. I was no more than nine years old, and although my mind had been preoccupied with the red tin Santa Fe train I had desperately hoped I would get for Christmas, when I look back now, I think I also knew something was up that evening. If I hadn’t, then chances are I would never have been stood flow was difficult for me just here on my parents’ bed staring out over the endless fields of maize cornstalks.
I think this needs to be more concise for impact.

Downstairs, on the veranda that circumscribed three quarters of our farm homestead, my sister Becky swung languidly on the lounger - screee, screee - as she pushed her foot against the banister to make it rock. We weren’t allowed to put cushions on it after mid-August as my mother said that was when the bugs laid their eggs. Besides, she was worried about unseasonal rain, despite Iowa’s summers which seemed endless to a nine year old boy. To here, this section was nice for me. From here its repeating and telling, no POV. But there Becky was, swinging by herself, her singing accompanied only by the screee of un-oiled chains and the twisting wood, (I would have used a full stop here) and probably staring over the expanse of fields behind the house, herself (From probably, the line is weak, mostly because it started with probably). Since the Great War our summers had been secure and relaxed; owning as much farmland as we did, the shortage of things deemed necessary for a comfortable life was not something our family of four suffered (this is really telling and because there is no hook for me the reader, no interest to/for me). So she sat, and sang, and swung.

Along the horizon, a million miles away, a sliver of yellow was set amongst the diminishing heat haze, looking like the golden band of Pa’s fly line on the stream. The sun was below the horizon and the light leaked from the day inevitably, but in no hurry whatsoever; eternal Iowa days.
This is the second description of the sky, where is the plot? What season is this, I’m a little confused.

A louder squeak from below me: Becky had left the lounger, and peeking over the window ledge, I could see it (what it?) appear and retreat from my view like a slowing metronome, mesmeric until the screen door slammed shut on the new springs Daddy had just that week screwed in; It’s gonna get windy, soon Peggy, you know how I can’t sleep with that screen door banging all night. I liked the internal thoughts. This is the third rocking chair appearance!

From what I can see nothing happened, which makes comment very difficult for me. I think you can focus on the background and settings after some element of plot has been developed, even a hint. Without this plot development you’ve not given me any motivation to read on. I felt a lot of the descriptions were repeated, two sky’s and two/three rocking girls, this added no value for me. Some good descriptions and I can see what other members liked, but it was all descriptions and little else from what I could see. I’m sorry if I seem to be the only one raining on your parade, but this is what I think.
Q1 – Sadly I have problems with the whole line. For me it was too long and rambling.
Q2 – I have no opinion.
Q3 – I’m Irish, so I’m no help again!
Q4 – Creek, but see above.
Q5 – No, but I recommend you stay consistent, pick one.
Q6 – Shorter sentences. I’d better not say anything about the ‘comma splice’, I was king of them for some time! Might still be....

 

[mosaix]

Hi, Phyrebrat. You must excuse me because I'm not going to answer any of your questions, instead I'm going to address myself directly to an important issue that relates to the title of your thread.

"Short Story Opening" - before thinking about any other problems with the piece I think you need to think about opening your short story. For me it needs to grab the reader - straight away. I was disappointed with the piece because nothing actually happens - it's all scene setting. For me, there's a place for scene setting - it just isn't in the opening.

I had hopes for the second paragraph - 'It happened late summer' - but you don't tell us what happened.

'It happened late summer' would be a great opening sentence, it immediately sets up a question in the readers mind and a desire to read on.

I've mention Lawrence Block's book Telling Lies for Fun and Profit on Chrons before. It's about the art of writing fiction. He's mainly concerned with crime fiction but some of the stuff is good general advice. He says that most new writers set the scene in the first chapter then commit the murder in the second. His advice is to swap these two chapters around before submitting to a publisher. Grab the reader straight away with the murder, or whatever it is that happened late summer - then set the scene.

 

[Phyrebrat]

Agh! I just wrote a huge reply and it has disappeared because of my Mac's fancymouse interpreting some gesture as 'please go back a page and wipe the cache'

I will reply (going to use Word and then copy paste) at length. I just wanted to say how super helpful all this is and how nice it is to have some corrections and writing faults identified, so that I can nail them down.

Particularly funny/fortuitous is Mosaix's post as I had just read a chapter in my book about the exact same thing. I read it last night and made a mental 'doh!' so to read it today from Mosaix is either an omen or triangulation.

Anyway, all your comments have motivated me to get on top of this and I am really very appreciative (Bowler, it's not my parade I'm grateful for what you said! ). Thanks Ursa, Tecdavid and Vertigo, too for taking the time to read my intro, the feedback you've given is truly motivating

pH

 

[Dozmonic]

I have thrown away many things in life, some of them return, some don’t. Of all the things I have tossed, the hardest ones[delete] to dispose of are memories. So, whilst a myriad of childhood school books and clothes have been denuded[needed to google meaning, doesn't mean don't use it though because I could infer from context easily enough] into some unrecognisable and un-undeletable[this hurts my brain's logic circuits] lump by time sitting in the trash bin of my life, one thing stands obstinately proud, refusing to erode.

It happened late summer, or early fall – fall most likely, now that I think about it;[full stop] abused[abused seems odd here to my ear] clouds scudding the battered twilight sky, and possibly a very early sniff of Thanksgiving in the air. I was no more than nine years old,[remove comma] and although my mind had been preoccupied with the red tin Santa Fe train I had desperately hoped I would get for Christmas, when I look back now, I think I also knew something was up that evening. If I hadn’t, then chances are I would never have been stood on my parents’ bed staring out over the endless fields of maize cornstalks.

Downstairs, on the veranda that circumscribed[I read first person colloquially and I'd never use circumscribed outside of a maths class, so this jars to my ear] three quarters of our farm homestead, my sister Becky swung languidly on the lounger - screee, screee - as she pushed her foot against the banister to make it rock. We weren’t allowed to put cushions on it after mid-August as my mother said that was when the bugs laid their eggs. Besides, she was worried about unseasonal rain, despite Iowa’s summers which seemed endless to a nine year old boy. But there Becky was, swinging by herself, her singing accompanied only by the screee of un-oiled chains and the twisting wood, and probably staring over the expanse of fields behind the house, herself[sentence unnecessarily long, contains herself twice, I'd rewrite as two sentences]. Since the Great War our summers had been secure and relaxed; owning as much farmland as we did, the shortage of things deemed necessary for a comfortable life was not something our family of four suffered. So she sat, and sang, and swung.[great rhythmic use of commas to control tempo]

Along the horizon, a million miles away, a sliver of yellow was set amongst the diminishing heat haze, looking like the golden band of Pa’s fly line on the stream. The sun was below the horizon and the light leaked from the day inevitably, but in no hurry whatsoever; eternal Iowa days.

A louder squeak from below me: Becky had left the lounger, and[full stop, remove and] peeking over the window ledge, I could see it appear and retreat from my view like a slowing metronome, mesmeric[comma] until the screen door slammed shut on the new springs Daddy had just that week screwed in[everything after shut up to here is irrelevant, simple is beautiful]; It’s gonna get windy,[comma after soon, not here] soon Peggy, you know how I can’t sleep with that screen door banging all night.

1) does 'un-undeletable' jar?
To me, yes.

2) When recounting the past, is it tidier to use 'was' rather than 'had been' ? Example Line:- although my mind had been preoccupied with the red tin Santa Fe train I had desperately hoped - that way there are not two 'had's so close together.
For shorter journeys into the past this is fine, the double had isn't jarring. Read it aloud, if it sounds fine then it generally is.

3) Research. Can anyone identify any factual errors regarding Iowa/American-ness, please?
* looks out to dark south western English car park *... no

4) Stream or creek? (re Pa's fly fishing line)
Stream is more international. I think of a creek harbouring crocs and Steve Irwin.

5) Pa/daddy. As the narrator (who is in his nineties) progresses, he refers to his dad as 'daddy' more and more in preference to 'pa'. In this passage it only happens once, but do you think it will confuse a reader?
It won't confuse, because the reader knows both terms. Pa would fit the character more, perhaps, because few people this side of the pond would called their father that. At the same time, reading something that's colloquial to a certain culture can be very jarring. I can't read "mom" without cringing
6) All the grammatical no-nos, please. I know I am overly keen on semi-colons and have recently learnt about comma splices, so would be grateful for any more input (I've left 'languidly' in as an adverb regarding the lounge swing.).
Simplicity is beauty. Having some adverbs is fine, as are some adjectives. Taking a hundred words to describe something where only ten are needed is the thing to avoid. That siad, everyone has their own style. Compare Tolkien's sentences to James Patterson's...


Other than the odd word and a couple of overly long sentences, the passage reads very well. I normally hate reading first person (especially first person present, GRRR SUZANNE COLLINS) but the voice of the character comes across very well and hasn't made me groan or sigh. My suggestion would be to try a redraft (drafting is king), removing a lot of the commas and semi-colons. What you come up with you may not like, but you have the contrast of the longer, flowing sentence with the shorter, simpler one. It's doing this without compromising your voice that is a challenge. If I were to rewrite it, it'd change feel entirely because I don't write as lyrically as you do (and that's neither good nor bad, just different).

 

[TheDustyZebra]

Some questions:

1) does 'un-undeletable' jar?

Yes.

2) When recounting the past, is it tidier to use 'was' rather than 'had been' ? Example Line:- although my mind had been preoccupied with the red tin Santa Fe train I had desperately hoped - that way there are not two 'had's so close together.

Said well above; the "had's" work well at the start and finish, sliding into "was's" in the middle.

3) Research. Can anyone identify any factual errors regarding Iowa/American-ness, please?

Iowa I can't say -- I'll leave that one for Parson. American-ness or lack thereof pointed out below.

4) Stream or creek? (re Pa's fly fishing line)

Either; stream is nice here.

5) Pa/daddy. As the narrator (who is in his nineties) progresses, he refers to his dad as 'daddy' more and more in preference to 'pa'. In this passage it only happens once, but do you think it will confuse a reader?

I didn't notice, even though I was supposed to be looking for it.

6) All the grammatical no-nos, please. I know I am overly keen on semi-colons and have recently learnt about comma splices, so would be grateful for any more input (I've left 'languidly' in as an adverb regarding the lounge swing.).

Just a few comma splices. Anything else is just dialect, to me.


Boney Tom.

I have thrown away many things in life, dreaded comma splice, try semi-colon some of them return, some don’t. Of all the things I have tossed, the hardest ones to dispose of are memories. So, whilst not an American word, generally a myriad of childhood school books and clothes have been denuded not sure this is the word you want; diminished? degraded? perhaps the "eroded" here instead of at the end of the sentence? into some unrecognisable and un-undeletable definitely not the word you want lump by time sitting in the trash bin of my life sounds like the time is sitting in the trash bin, not the lump, one thing stands obstinately proud, refusing to erode.

It happened I would say "in" late summer, or early fall – fall most likely, now that I think about it; abused clouds scudding the battered twilight sky, and possibly a very early sniff of Thanksgiving in the air. I was no more than nine years old, and although my mind had been preoccupied with the red tin Santa Fe train I had I would leave off this "had" desperately hoped I would get for Christmas, when I look back now, I think I also knew something was up that evening. If I hadn’t, then chances are I would never have been "been stood" is not an American construction -- either just "been on my..." or "been standing on..." stood on my parents’ bed staring out over the endless fields of maize maize is corn, so I would just use "cornstalks", or perhaps "golden cornstalks" or "rustling cornstalks"; I know maize is also a color, but it jars to me cornstalks.

Downstairs, on the veranda that circumscribed overlooked? three quarters of our farm homestead, my sister Becky swung languidly on the lounger porch swing? - screee, screee - as she pushed her foot against the banister rail? to make it rock. We weren’t allowed to put cushions on it after mid-August as my mother said that was when the bugs laid their eggs. Besides, she was worried about unseasonal rain, despite Iowa’s summers which seemed endless to a nine year old boy except we've established that it's fall now. But there Becky was was Becky?, swinging by herself, her singing accompanied only by the screee of un-oiled rusty? chains and the twisting wood what is the twisting wood doing?, and probably staring over the expanse of fields behind the house, herself this is a bit awkward to me -- there's a "herself" earlier in the sentence, and "probably" seems odd. Since the Great War our summers had been secure and relaxed; owning as much farmland as we did, the shortage of things deemed necessary for a comfortable life was not something our family of four suffered kids don't usually have an awareness of family monetary circumstances, and less of any reason it should be other than it is; also, if he's nine, he's lived his whole life in that gap between Great War and Great Depression which hasn't started yet. So she sat, and sang, and swung.

Along the horizon, a million miles away, a sliver of yellow was set amongst "was set" and "amongst" are not American -- "visible through?" "slid down through?" "shimmered in?" the diminishing heat haze, looking like the golden band of Pa’s fly line on the stream stream is fine to me, beautiful imagery. The sun was it wasn't quite, last sentence below the horizon and the light leaked from the day inevitably, but in no hurry whatsoever; eternal Iowa days.

A louder squeak from below me: Becky had left the lounger, and peeking over the window ledge, I could see it appear and retreat from my view like a slowing metronome, mesmeric until the screen door slammed shut on the new springs Daddy had just that week screwed in; It’s gonna get windy, no comma soon comma Peggy,comma splice you know how I can’t sleep with that screen door banging all night.

I like this piece, though it is, as pointed out above, nothing but description and a bit of foreshadowing; you could probably find a way to get a slice of the "thing" at the start and go back to this. It's very ominous.

 

[Broamalia]

Hello Chronners and lurkers.

Reading Coragem and I, Brian's recent postings here and in GD, I decided to bite the bullet and make something I've written open to criticism. Or for critique. Whichever. With only a small amount of postings, I hope I am not taking liberties. However, I accept I could be producing self-indulgent error-riddled dross so it's better to have any weaknesses pointed out now rather than later. I keep up with these forums religiously and hope what I have learnt has found it's way into what I produce.

This is the opening to a supernatural (of course. ) short tale about a scarecrow. First person. So far I have written approximately 2.3K so here's a sample of that.

Some questions:

1) does 'un-undeletable' jar? i think so. Im not sure what it means, and i stop to ponder the word, so it interrupts the flow

2) When recounting the past, is it tidier to use 'was' rather than 'had been' ? Example Line:- although my mind had been preoccupied with the red tin Santa Fe train I had desperately hoped - that way there are not two 'had's so close together.

3) Research. Can anyone identify any factual errors regarding Iowa/American-ness, please? im no expert, but i thought the feeling and tone of a rural mid-west setting was done very well

4) Stream or creek? (re Pa's fly fishing line)

5) Pa/daddy. As the narrator (who is in his nineties) progresses, he refers to his dad as 'daddy' more and more in preference to 'pa'. In this passage it only happens once, but do you think it will confuse a reader? whats the reason for the transition? I notice that people seem to settle on one and stick with it in the course of real life, except for curcumstantial differences, ie. Public vs private, plaintive vs chiding vs beseeching, etc. Is it daddy in private, pa in public? Either way, i think it shouldnt jump around too much, and not without reason that feels natural to the reader...pronoun consistency is more important than dynamic variety it often seems

6) All the grammatical no-nos, please. I know I am overly keen on semi-colons and have recently learnt about comma splices, so would be grateful for any more input (I've left 'languidly' in as an adverb regarding the lounge swing.).

Thank you for any help


pH


Boney Tom.

I have thrown away many things in life, some of them return, some don’t. Of all the things I have tossed, the hardest ones to dispose of are memories. So, whilst a myriad of childhood school books and clothes have been denuded into some unrecognisable and un-undeljketable lump by time sitting in the trash bin of my life, one thing stands obstinately proud, refusing to erode. i feel like this first paragrapg isnt contributing much, and may be blunting your hook... Possibly cut altogether?

It happened late summer, or early fall – fall most likely, now that I think about it; abused clouds scudding the battered twilight sky, and possibly a very early sniff of Thanksgiving in the air. this is a much more interesting opening sentence to me, but needs to be re worked, there are too many clauses... I would do something like "It happened in late summer or early fall. Fall, more likely; the clouds were striated and bruised on the twilight sky, and a whiff of Thanksgiving tinged the airI was no more than nine years old, and although my mind had been preoccupied with the red tin Santa Fe train I had desperately hoped I would get for Christmas, when I look back now, I think I also knew something was up that evening. very general; the alluded-to event is the hook here, but i need a touch of info by now... Was someting grave and terrible up? Something new and wonderful? I think that might help, anywayIf I hadn’t, then chances are I would never have been stoodnever would have been standing on my parents’ bed staring out over the endless fields of maize cornstalks.

Downstairs, on the veranda that circumscribed maybe skirted, or bound... Something wit less syllables. I have a hard time with this too, wanting a beautiful word here or there, but if it halts the readers flow and takes them out, then its working against you no matter how beautiful it does depend on your intended audience though, some peoples tolerance is higher, and they might breeze right over words that others may stop dead on... I guess just make sure it doesnt make the sentence feel clunkythree quarters of our farm homestead, my sister Becky swung languidly on the lounger - screee, screee - languidly and lounger is a distracting alliteration, and i like the sfx, but feel it might go better at the end of the sentence? Or somewhere else maybe im not sureas she pushed her foot against the banister to make it rock. We weren’t allowed to put cushions on it after mid-August as my mother said that was when the bugs laid their eggs. Besides, she was worried about unseasonal rain, despite Iowa’s summers which seemed endless to a nine year old boy. But there Becky was, swinging by herself, her singing accompanied only by the screee instead of repeating the sfx maybe just name the sound, a whine or creak, maybe? of un-oiled chains and the twisting wood, and probably staring over the expanse of fields behind the house, herself.sentence is clumsy, esp. The 'herself' at the end Since the Great War our summers had been secure and relaxed; owning as much farmland as we did, the shortage of things deemed necessary for a comfortable life was not something our family of four suffered. So she sat, and sang, and swung. i like the final two sentences here

Along the horizon, a million miles away, a sliver of yellow was set amongst the diminishing heat haze, looking like the golden band of Pa’s fly line on the stream.i love this simile, it sooo descriptive and beautiful [/SIZE] The sun was below the horizon and the light leaked from the day inevitably, but in no hurry whatsoever; eternal Iowa days.

A louder squeak from below me: Becky had left the lounger, and peeking over the window ledge, I could see it appear and retreat from my view like a slowing metronome, mesmeric until the screen door slammed shut on the new springs Daddy had just that week screwed in; another run-on sentence that has too many subjects... and the description of the swinging lounger (porch swing?) is a little confusingIt’s gonna get windy, soon Peggy, you know how I can’t sleep with that screen door banging all night.

i think this start has a lot of potential, just needs some refinement. I really like a lot of your establishment of setting, it feels like a lazy, hot/humid cornbelt sort of evening. I would like to see a bit more to get a sense of where it diverges with normalcy and where the initially mentioned event is elaborated on. Also im still curious about the character, though i wouldnt have expected too much character development so quickly or it might feel forced. cheers, and good luck with it.

 

[Kylara]

I am a huge fan of the desolation of the pluperfect when combined with descriptive sections, so I am already hardwired to like this, and after enjoying the slow lazy subtly sad rhythm I went back and re-read in critique mode...not much that hasn't been said before, so I won't repeat...there were a couple of times where I jarred (un-undeletable, I get exactly what you mean...as long as you mean that it's not that it IS deletable it's that you can't UNdelete it...if that makes sense...) and remembered it was text not life, but overall I enjoyed it, even though it's not my sort of style...

I know what you mean Dozmonic about the "mom", whenever I read it it appears in my head in italics and with a funny voice, making fun of itself...

I agree that nothing happens, but as a lover of Tolkein, I can enjoy the crafted description, without getting bored or impatient...if it gets a bit too long (think different types of grass for 8 pages like Ms Auel does in her Earth's Children, interesting the first time, but grating the 15th) and too frequent and too similar, then I tend to sigh, and speed up my reading, losing the gorgeous languid rhythmns...

Some tightening up and some issues mentioned by others, but I do like it and would happily read more of your piece.

 

[JoanDrake]

Very well written and ominous. Tighten it up a bit as has been mentioned and it should be perfect. However, in your next few paragraphs get into your story, unless you want a novella

I didn't notice un-deletable until you pointed it out.

I thought maize WAS corn, not a type of corn, and wiki sort of agrees.

Your first para mentions Thanksgiving and Christmas which, to ME as a 9 year old would place it clearly after the first of the Big Three holidays, Halloween. But then you mention heat haze, long days and cornstalks still in the field, which places it in late summer, and we know it's after August, because of the egg laying bugs (ewww) but how can it be September with none of the horror of back to school in the air?

 

[HareBrain]

I thought maize WAS corn, not a type of corn, and wiki sort of agrees.

In British English, "corn" traditionally means cereal crops in general (and usually wheat), not necessarily maize. But "maize cornstalks" does sound bit awkward.

 

[Phyrebrat]

Hello Critters and Chronners,

Please accept my appologies... been unable to get on here to reply till today. Shameful bearing in mind the immense effort that so many of you have made in critiquing this.

It (the comments) started quite uniformly, and I had a clear idea of what to change (For example, un-undeletable is being ditched, I will stick to Daddy OR Pa - and now following corngate, I will change to either maize OR corn), most of which will be my grammatical minefield re commas, semis and stop-starting my sentences.

However since I have come back and re-read the old, and seen the new posts, my brain is breaking. I realise so much of this is to do with personal preference. So I suppose I have to pick and chose a nice balance between what you have said, and remaining true to my initial concept.

One thing that has really slapped me in the face and caused me to berate myself is the lack of a punchy opening to draw the reader in. It's a no-brainer that I missed so thanks for that. It actually had an immediate impact on my challenges which I re-wrote.

I am planning to rewrite using your suggestions as a guide and re-post in this thread if that is the done thing.

Kylara, JoanDrake and HB, Broamalia and TDZ:- thank you for your kind words and input. Kylara, you are on the money with un-undeletable but <sniff> it is clumsy, and has to go. I am pleased that a few people have said 'ominous'. The sniff of Thanksgiving in the air is perhaps too personal. Often I sense a smell in the air of change coming looooong before it is due. This is not important enough to the story for me to keep it so I'm going to slice it!

Generally I feel quite positive in that the feedback that has been provided has pointed out weaknesses that I can fix, as opposed to 'what a boring load of old toss!'

Thanks again

pH

Edit: Dozmonic. I forgot to include you in my thankathon.

 

[Denise Tanaka]

I guess I'm a little late in jumping into this thread, so I won't repeat comments you've already received. My advice, try not to be overwhelmed by the abundance and variety of remarks. Look for some common themes in the feedback, such as you've already picked up on increasing a sense of ominous suspense in the earlier paragraphs. But it's a delicate balance not to lose your grip on the story you wish to tell. I agree with Mosaix, that before you get into the finer details of punctuation and word choice, you should forge ahead and finish the piece first. When you have your characters and plot all worked out, then go back and red-line your rough draft (with thesaurus in hand).

One thing, the narrator's voice sometimes sounded too sophisticated for an Iowa farmer, saying “whilst” and “amongst” instead of while and among. Also, a couple of British-sounding words creep in, such as trash bin instead of trash can or garbage can. As others have said, just say cornstalks instead of maize cornstalks. In the USA, the word “corn” means only one thing.

When I write about a location or time period that is foreign to me, one of my techniques is to find literature contemporary to the place/time. I know as SF/F writers, we gravitate to the classics of the genre, but as the old saying goes, “A rock is a rock and a tree is a tree.” I go to any and all sources that will help give me the illusion of realism. For example, I recently did a piece set in the Caribbean isle of Martinique, so I got my hands on books with folklore tales by Caribbean authors to pick up a flavor for how they talk. Or in another piece, when writing about a young man's first experience of a battle in my original fantasy world/universe, I re-read the classic American novel, “Red Badge of Courage.” I have never hiked in snowy mountains, but I've read first-person nonfiction accounts of people who did. For your rural Iowa setting, that looks to be in the 1920s or 1930s, I would recommend the novels of Willa Cather to start.

 

[Phyrebrat]

Denise, thank you.

That is really helpful. I will eliminate the whilsts and amongsts and so forth. You're right.

I had in mind the kind of old man that was telling the tale, but I had not thought deeply enough about the demographic effect on him, regardless of their wealth.

I promise to try and not hassle you for more US insights, and will definitely look into Willa Cather. It (your comments on history/location) reminds me of a favourite short story by Dan Simmons called Iverson's Pits which really brought a post-Civil War era to life for me - my only experience being Gone with the Wind.

Trash bin I should have known, so shame on me.

The story was 3/4's complete when I posted the opening and I'm comfortable with where/how it concludes. Now, however, I will balance it with what has been said here and hopefully have a much tighter first draft.

I will get back to the opening after the 300 word completes as I have been working on an entry.

Thank you, again.

pH

 

[Denise Tanaka]

Feel free to "hassle" for US insights anytime, as someday you may be called upon to return the favor - for those of us who don't watch enough BBC.

 

[JoanDrake]

For what it's worth to everybody

An emphatic warning I've had from a bestselling author who runs a group in SL is to NEVER revise or rewrite until you are done the whole story. If you're afraid you may forget make a note to go back over it but keep writing until you are done, don't go back and correct your work over and over. It will not only break your momentum (which, believe me, is very hard to regain) but is useless, as you may have to rewrite it again or even throw it out entirely after you are done