(If you don’t like reading, feel free to skip this entry. Pretty photos tomorrow, I promise!)
It’s the beginning of the weekend, and the blogosphere slowly empties. People are driving home to their loved ones, or getting out the secret supplies of chocolate and putting on a film.
Meanwhile, I’m here, rehashing the beginning of my awesome short story. I took your tips to heart (because, really, who am I to argue? I have almost no prose-writing experience), and I’ve churned out… a new beginning! It’s not wildly different, though hopefully it reads more easily. The start is clearer, and more interesting (I hope).
Oh, and I’ve fixed the formatting (though, again, if you’re viewing it in an RSS reader, it probably won’t be perfect).
So, with less obfuscatory, clunky adjectives:
The beggar awoke, startled by a man sprinting past him. He started to say something rude but his voice failed him. Frowning, he stretched his legs, shut his eyes and tried to sleep.
‘Get out of the way!’
Another man quickly swam into focus and tripped over the beggar’s legs, careening into the wall and hitting his head. With his legs giving way from underneath him, he collapsed into a heap.
‘Shit’ the beggar said, crawling over to check the stranger, his irritation at the first man quickly dissipating. A well-dressed stranger was prone before him; how fortunate.
‘Mate?’ the beggar said, quietly, trying not to stir him, his eyes drawn to something shiny protruding from the stranger’s jacket pocket. Reaching out, his fingers gripped the object; slippery, smooth, but too heavy to move. The man stirred and groaned, causing the beggar to release his grip and quickly shuffle backwards.
‘What…?’ the man mumbled, nonplussed and exhausted. He picked himself up off the floor, shaking out the tail of his jacket. ‘Sorry about that. I was chasing after him… and now I seem to be covered in…’ he lifted his jacket to his nose ‘coffee? Why do I smell of coffee?’ He picked at a few stubborn pieces of refuse before rubbing down his jacket.
‘You knocked over my cup,’ the beggar said, shuffling a little further away. ‘But it was cold, don’t worry.’
‘I’ll fetch you another; it’s the least I can do.’ He smiled apologetically down at the beggar, already forgetting the damage done to his expensive jacket.
Reaching down to right the spilled cup, he noticed the dog ends of some cigarettes and other assorted jetsam in the cold, light-brown slurry of coffee. It smelt a little alcoholic too — interesting, he thought, that a beggar could afford such luxuries. Shrugging, he stepped out of the alley and looked around for his friend.
‘Gabe?’ he shouted, waiting for a response. When none came, he bent over to catch his breath. With his head between his legs he could see that the beggar was gone.
‘Anthony!’ Gabriel called from the doorway of a café further up the street, ‘Over here!’ With the low cloud occluding his vision, he could only just make out Gabriel’s silhouetted form.
Slowly straightening himself, Anthony began to walk. Placing one foot in front of another, down the cold, cobbled street, he fought the cramps and the exhaustion. In those 100 yards to the café, Anthony wondered how he’d ended up here, in the middle of a deserted street. A deserted street in a small English town; a town seemingly so far removed from civilisation that it didn’t even have street lamps.
He stopped at the bright entrance to the café, smiling wearily at Gabe who was sitting down at a table, already nursing a hot cup of coffee, his favourite. Smiling, after everything they’d been through. It was that infectious enthusiasm – that ready, cheeky grin – that had dragged him, kicking and screaming, along for the ride. Yet again he had been reeled in by his enigmatic fervor to set off on another reckless flight of fancy.
‘Perhaps ‘friend’ is too strong a term,’ he muttered to himself as he stumbled across the plastic flooring and slumped into the chair opposite Gabriel.
Catching the eye of the only other person there, the owner, Gabriel quickly ordered another coffee.
‘You know I don’t like coffee.’ Anthony sighed; they’d done this dance before. It felt like they’d done this very same dance in every café in England. ‘Tea. I like tea. Well brewed tea, with a little milk. Tea.’
‘I’ll convert you eventually, trust me,’ Gabriel said with a grin; that same grin that Anthony had seen all too often. Through America, Ireland and now England it had been that grin, accompanied by his unerring, unswerving confidence that had secured the information they had so desperately sought and fought for. It was the same information that had led them, at great cost, to this dingy café. Anthony nodded a thank you at the wrinkled owner of the café as she retreated back behind the counter.
‘You know, I won’t enjoy this,’ Anthony said, lifting the cup of coffee, the slightest trace of a grin forming at the corner of his lips. He couldn’t help but mirror Gabe’s grin. There was something about him, something which made arguing a thoroughly fruitless exercise. He sipped it quietly. ‘You know, it might taste like shit, but, right now – and don’t quote me on this – it’s just what I need.’
‘It couldn’t be helped, Ant. Sometimes it’s unavoidable.’
‘It’s always avoidable! And Gabe?’
‘Yeah?’ He was still grinning.
‘Don’t call me Ant. You know I hate it almost as much as I hate this coffee,’ he said, gulping the rest of it down with a grimace. ‘You said this time things would be different.’ He paused, thinking. ‘Mind you, you always say that; I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but…’
‘Look, we got what we needed! Surely, in the grand scale of things, that’s all that matters.’ It was a statement, not a question. Anthony had been here before; he’d heard it all before. Different town, the same nonchalance – and the same, damn coffee.
‘We didn’t even go back to check on the kid…’Anthony was staring down into the dregs of his coffee, unable to look at his friend. Through the corner of his vision he saw Gabriel’s grin quickly fade and his brow furrow. He was actually sad; an emotion Anthony had seen in his face only a handful of times since they were kids. Gabriel gently put down his cup and reached into the pocket of his leather jacket for some money. By the time Anthony looked up he was grinning again, though some of the impishness was gone.
‘I’ll pay for both of us,’ Gabe said, as if that would somehow make up for the atrocity that Anthony and Gabriel had just perpetrated. Anthony nodded; he was still too numb from the recent events to argue. He reached into his jacket and touched his fingers gently to the wound; it was warm and sticky. The bleeding had started again.
‘I must’ve torn the stitches back in the alley,’ Anthony said, wincing as his fingers continued their exploration. ‘Why did you have to run? Running draws attention; that beggar –’
‘Because we had to get away quickly. Trust me,’ Gabriel blurted, quickly rising to his feet and striding over to the door, his enthusiasm fully restored. He opened the door and a siren could be heard in the distance; his grin turned into a full-blown smile. ‘We should get going.’
‘Is that a fire engine?’ Fragments of the last hour were bubbling up from the groggy depths of his memory, begging to be freshly analysed. Slowly he pieced them together to form a complete vision. He flinched and gaped at Gabriel, aghast at what his friend had set in motion.
‘I told you, we should get going.’
pinkjellybaby
Apr 3, 2009
ohhh hurrah and applauds…much better
sebastian
Apr 3, 2009
Be nice, young lady.
pinkjellybaby
Apr 3, 2009
I AM!! Really, it’s much better than the first one. I enjoyed reading it.
sebastian
Apr 3, 2009
Well how about that! Purging half the adjectives actually worked.
I guess I better write some more…!
Eric
Apr 3, 2009
What’s with the semicolons? Is that an British thing?
It’s still overwrought. Not that I was expecting perfection right off the bat. But I went a lot quicker for me, and I didn’t trip nearly as much. If I read a story and it goes so fast I’m not able to pick it apart, that’s a good thing. You’re on your way. I’ll go over this again in a bit.
sebastian
Apr 3, 2009
Not sure about the semicolons. I use them a lot in my normal writing, but they don’t seem to slot in quite so well in the story format. Might be a British thing! I use them more than most, though. Sometimes it felt like I had to restructure an awful lot to get rid of the few semicolons in the story.
It felt a lot smoother for me too. I’ll keep picking and picking until it’s like… butter!
Eleni
Apr 3, 2009
Much better. The beginning hands the perspective from the beggar to Anthony much more smoothly than before. Still, one wonders why the story starts so briefly from the beggar’s perspective, then leaves him…
Some specific comments:
“…in the middle of a deserted street. A deserted street in a small English town; a town seemingly so far removed from civilisation that it didn’t even have street lamps.” I’m kind of annoyed here by the wording–wording that has so much repetition. So much repetition that it seems kind of forced. But maybe it’s just me. Also, does it only seemingly not have street lamps (but there really are street lamps)? Or does it only seem to be removed from civilization, and this illusion causes the lack of street lamps? Or does it seem to be removed from civilization because there are no street lamps? The last option seems to make the most sense, but it is not what seems to be stated in the story, which seems to imply the second, seemingly nonsensical option.
It’s a little odd the second time that you start talking about “that grin”. You give different details about what “that grin” has done the second time you mention it, but it still feels like we’ve been there before. We already know Anthony has seen this grin many times. Also, your use of the phrase “that same grin” and “that same information” so close together seems odd.
I think you are perhaps too subtle in your implication that the waitress has brought the cup of coffee, merely saying that Anthony thanks her, then in the next paragraph have him sipping it. Would it hurt to say that she set it on the table or something? I thought maybe Anthony was nodding to the owner as she retreated behind the counter to get a coffee for him, essentially giving her permission to fetch him coffee even though he just stated he didn’t like it.
Lastly, are we in Anthony’s head or aren’t we? “Slowly he pieced them together to form a complete vision.” It seems odd at this point, after all the stuff leading up to it, that he would be doing something slow and deliberate in his head without it actually being described to the reader. At least flashes of it. For instance: “Fragments of the last hour were bubbling up from the groggy depths of his memory, begging to be freshly analysed. The pink bicycle. The rolls of duct tape. The dancing monkey. Slowly he pieced them together… etc.” These could even act as little teasers for the reader.
Can I give you punctuation notes? I fear that would make me seem too anal…
Anyway, I like the story. I want to know what those two were up to! Very nice.
sebastian
Apr 3, 2009
Because the beggar might… JUST MAYBE… return later (you notice how he disappeared, right?)
I’m aware of the grinning bit. It reads like I wrote one paragraph, went away for a bit, and came back, unaware that I’d written about the grin before. It’ll be gone for the next revision, I think…
Hehe, the coffee cup’s a fun one. The previous version had him picking the coffee cup up sooner, which made it more obvious that she had just brought it. I’m just experimenting with how much information has to be said, and how much implied
Not sure on your last point, re: Anthony’s head. I think it will be mainly from Anthony’s head. I’m not very good at keeping in the same tense, or point of view… I assume that comes with writing more, and more, and more.
I want to find out what happens next too, but I have to WRITE it!
I imagine this is a normal trap for writers… getting stuck, re-writing something over and over. I think I should probably crack on
You can email me punctuation notes… but remember, STYLISTIC LICENSE!
Daniel Cassidy
Apr 3, 2009
There are a lot of suggestions I could make here, but really I advise you to just crack on and edit obsessively later.
sebastian
Apr 3, 2009
Well, a single suggestion wouldn’t go amiss!
The Polka Dotted Owl
Apr 3, 2009
i loved it. i could not stop reading it. which is probably the reason why i did not write down any comments. i will say one thing you are very old school: lewis, twain, c.s. forester, hemingway, conan doyle, and etc. i like that. there are too many modern mumbo jumbo high as a sky authors out there. they lose the the true meaning of the craft, but you have it. your talent is raw, but you should be encouraged.
i hope that was encouraging. i do not know you may actually want to be the furthest thing from old school. in that case, my bad.
sebastian
Apr 3, 2009
Thanks!
I have no idea what I want to be. I like talking, and I like writing… so a story kind of made sense!
How better to tell your deepest, most sentimental feelings about people, and the world, than through a story?!
You are too kind; and now I’m blushing.
Eleni
Apr 3, 2009
Yes, I caught on that the beggar would be returning later. I was concerned it might be too obvious. There are a bunch of things thrown in about him–the smell of alcohol, then the fact that he disappears, which is brought up later in their conversation as well–*and* we get a couple paragraphs from his point of view. I think this version is better, since before the transition between points of view was clunkier and made it seem more contrived that we were getting to know this beggar.
What I mean regarding Anthony’s head: If we are in Anthony’s head, why is he keeping secrets from us? If he is slowly figuring something out, it seems odd to be just *telling* us that he’s deliberately thinking it through and coming to a realization–we should get some small glimpse of what it is that he’s piecing together. In other places, he’s thinking vague thoughts (like “It was the same information that had led them, at great cost, to this dingy café”), but it’s okay because sometimes people think of things quickly and vaguely. But if he’s thinking of something slowly and piecing things together, then when all you give us is that he’s just thinking, it seems like you’re forcing the mystery. I may lose this one; maybe you’re going for forced mysteries.
sebastian
Apr 3, 2009
I have no idea what I’m going for! I’ve read a few short stories, and I know their basic format.
I also know that they don’t really come to a suitable, full conclusion until right near the end! I’m going for a forced mystery, but it won’t be a mystery for LONG… this is only 2 pages don’t forget!
I’ll have a think about the narration, and Anthony’s thoughts
Ambles
Apr 4, 2009
Good, interresting… but I still feel a little removed from the characters.
I really, really liked your “How Sebastian walked off inot the sunset with a giant American in his arms” (is that right? I couldn’t remember exactly?) I think if you wrote it with the mind that “you are Anthony” it would help (This is where your background in RP would come in, no?) Not saying to do it in 1st person format, just…. I don’t know, as if you were there.
Anyway, good luck! I have never been able to get one of my stories off the ground, so good for you! Have fun!
sebastian
Apr 4, 2009
I will certainly try to integrate my story-telling techniques I’ve used and learnt elsewhere into this little short story — after all, it is the story telling of my adventures around the world which have inspired me to write some fiction!
You should write more. I think skills only improve by writing, and writing, and writing… until, finally, it comes easily, and naturally.
Hannah
Apr 4, 2009
hi. so I like your story
I would say that I noticed is that it feels very directive (if that’s a real word)…it’s almost like your writing a screenplay and are directing the actors on what precisely they’re supposed to do…but that’s a style thing and I kinda like it. I feel like for the most part I can picture it as I read it which is nice.
oh and I have lots of questions, largely ones like “what happens next”. So I think that means you’re doing something right!
good job!
Abi
Apr 4, 2009
I like the amendments to the first part. It scans much better in terms of pace. Although the repetition others have touched upon here may seem laboured I can see where you are going with the deliberate repetition so i dont think it needs to go completely.
The structure makes for a better reveal too. This is much more readable than draft one.
I was going to say more but however I word things it sounds patronising and I dont intend to at all. But I am keen to see where this goes.
sebastian
Apr 4, 2009
I think it’s directive (if that is a real word — of course it is!) because I didn’t want to start with an ‘storyish’ short-story. I also wanted a chance to write some dialogue, and a lot of short stories tend to be mere descriptions of someone’s actions (at least in the ones I’ve read).
I’ve written another page or two, so hopefully you will find out what happens next!
The repetition is leaking in from my normal writing style, Abi. I’ll probably keep at it, and if it doesn’t read well, I’ll remove it at a later date. Don’t worry about sounding patronising (though it would be matronising, as you’re a GIRL), I’m well aware that most people are more experienced at this than I!
(If anything didn’t make sense, it’s because I haven’t eaten yet — now I’m going to eat, and hopefully take some PHOTOS!)