So… I’ve been writing. It’s been about 10 years since I last wrote creatively — proper fiction that is, rather than the telling of stories, which I’ve always done, and will continue to do.
This is my first attempt, and it took about 2 hours to do. I’m under no illusions here; it’s probably not amazing, but hopefully it’s at least ‘good’. Read it, and then read it again. Then, when you’re done, and you’ve thought about it a little, tell me what you think. I am aware that the formatting isn’t ideal, but I’ve tried my best for now (and it will be better next time). I should probably provide a downloadable PDF! Next time; next chapter! Also, if you are reading this in an RSS reader, you probably want to view it on my blog instead.
This is the beginning of a short story — though it could be the middle of a slightly-longer story, but committing to anything more than a short story would probably be unwise, given just how rusty I am!
The beggar flinched as a man sprinted past him and burst out of the backstreet. He raised his hand to make a rude gesture and say something weakly scathing when a second man ran by, clipping the beggar’s outstretched arm, unbalancing him enough to send him careening into a wall.
‘Shit’ the beggar said, his anger quickly deflating. Moments ago he’d been all worked up to insult the first man’s mother, and now… now, a well-dressed stranger was picking himself up off the floor, shaking out the tail of his jacket.
‘What…?’ the man mumbled, nonplussed and exhausted. Picking at a few pieces of stubborn refuse, he turned around to face the beggar. ‘Sorry about that. I was just chasing after him… and now I seem to be covered in…’ he lifted his jacket to his nose to noisily sniff ‘coffee? Why do I smell of coffee?’
‘You knocked over my cup,’ the beggar informed him. ‘But it was cold; don’t worry about it.’
‘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 the coffee had created. It also smelt a little alcoholic — 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!’
Slowly straightening himself, Anthony began walking down the cold, cobbled street, fighting back 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 friend to set off on another reckless flight of fancy.
‘Perhaps ‘friend’ is too strong a term,’ he muttered remorsefully to himself as he stumbled across the cheap plastic flooring and slumped into the chair opposite Gabriel.
Catching the eye of the only waitress – the owner – Gabriel quickly another coffee.
‘You know I don’t like coffee, Gabe.’ Anthony sighed; they’d done this dance before. It felt like they’d done this very same dance in every damn 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, ultimately, to this dingy, Formica-tabled café. Anthony nodded a thank you at the old, wrinkled owner of the café as she retreated back behind the counter and lifted the cup of coffee.
‘You know, I won’t enjoy this,’ Anthony said wryly, the slightest trace of a grin forming at the corner of his lips. He couldn’t help it – there was something about Gabriel, of that much he was certain; he just didn’t know what. They’d done this dance before, and every time Anthony had ended up grinning like a fool and drinking the damn coffee. He lifted the cup to his lips and sipped it quietly. ‘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; grinning like some kind self-righteous imp.
‘Don’t call me Ant, you know I hate it almost as much as I hate this coffee,’ he stated hotly, before gulping the rest of it down with a grimace. ‘You said this time things would be different. You always say that though; I shouldn’t be surprised…’
‘Look, Ant. Anthony. 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. Same shit, different town – and the same coffee.
‘We didn’t even go back to check on the kid…’Anthony gently reminded him as he looked 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 Gabriel’s face only a handful of times since they were kids. Gabriel gently put down his coffee cup and reached into the pocket of his leather jacket for some money. He was already grinning again, by the time Anthony looked up, but not quite so broadly.
‘I’ll pay for both of us,’ Gabe said eagerly, 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 what had happened less than an hour ago 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 quietly, 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 interjected, quickly rising to his feet and striding over to the door, his enthusiasm fully restored. Gabe opened the door and a siren could be heard in the distance; he grinned. ‘We should get going, Ant’
‘Is that a fire engine?’ Anthony asked, alarmed. Fragments of the last hour were bubbling up from the groggy depths of his memory, ready to be freshly analysed. Slowly he pieced them together to form a complete vision; a vision that he immediately regretted seeing. He gaped at Gabriel, aghast at what his friend had set in motion.
‘I told you, we should get going.’
pinkjellybaby
Apr 3, 2009
I’m not sure about the first paragraph, it feels a bit forced and messy… it gets better as it goes on though.
You also mentioned doing ‘the dance’ twice and it felt a bit wrong reading it a second time.
Too much criticism? Um… It’s good. I don’t like Gabe (which is good writing)
sebastian
Apr 3, 2009
Hehe, the dance bit I couldn’t get out of my head last night, as I was trying to sleep. I was trying to get a concept across, but I didn’t do it correctly — I knew it would come across as just weak repetition. It was meant to be more of a… continuation of the previous dancing bit (you can tell I’m new to this).
It does get better, correct!
And I like Gabe…
pinkjellybaby
Apr 3, 2009
I look forward to reading the second part though!
cowisland
Apr 3, 2009
Hmmm, short stories are the most difficult thing to tackle. Like a piece of music it needs rhythm and that’s what I can’t feel so far. Honest opinion….if you’re willing to give it a go, strip it back to the bare essential elements and then build it back up, then do it again….and again
sebastian
Apr 3, 2009
Thanks for the info; are you an author?
Eric
Apr 3, 2009
Oh, wrong move, Seb. Bringing a short story to a gunfight.
It’s overwritten. You can clear your prose up quite a bit by doing a few simple things:
Cut action words that surround dialogue. “‘We didn’t even go back to check on the kid…’ Anthony gently reminded him” is redundant. If you write dialogue correctly, you don’t need markers like these to tell the reader how the line is delivered. We know given the situation Anthony wouldn’t be yelling this. It’s the same in most of these cases. Interjected, asked (especially, a question mark says this and you are literally doubling it by saying asked), stated hotly… etc. You’re just repeating yourself and the reader starts to want to hack away at the overgrowth.
Cut names. Go talk to a friend–assuming you have any– and see how often you address them by their first name in the span of a conversation. If you’re normal, you don’t. If, say, you’re calling out to someone in a crowd, or someone you can’t see, then yes, say the name. If they’re very angry, say the name. Otherwise whenever a person addresses someone they’re familiar with directly, it’s endearments, it’s “babe” or “bud,” or they aren’t directly addressed at all. What’s more, why are they saying their names so often after just doing…whatever it is they did? Unless… they’re trying to confuse the enemy!
Those two things will seriously lighten the piece. You’ve cut a lot of extraneous material right there.
Since this thing is action-oriented, it seems (and not genre-ly, I mean literally, running, knocking into things, and whatever happens before we join them) you’re in Anthony’s head too deep. While it seems like he’s looking around at things, we’re never given that much of a cementing in place. We know we’re in backwoods England, but you state that. Is it foggy? Dark? The one detail you give us is no streetlights–which paints a picture, it does, and I’ve got one in my head. But I still feel like I’m floating, and for all the writing you’ve done, it seems like little has really been said. You’ve got a good command of the language, good vocab–jetsam and slurry– so use it. You’re being lighthanded about everything, maybe to build suspense, but it’s not working. At the beginning of a story we need solid details. Also something to go on plotwise. There’s not much here.
sebastian
Apr 3, 2009
It doesn’t all have to be a gunfight, Eric… We can be gentlemen about it; put our guns away and have a spot of tea, before the afternoon’s festivities commence!
Cut names — check. Interesting points on dialogue. I was aware that it might’ve been too flowery, but I also wanted to keep the amount said down to a minimum — I was more trying to pad out the relationship between the two, rather than just fill it with dialogue. I’m trying to provide enough background information to throw you straight into the story.
I think it’s fairly obvious that it’s almost told from Anthony’s perspective, which is why I haven’t fleshed out the actual surroundings yet — he’s running, and he hasn’t really had a chance to take it all in. The fleshing-out of the environment was going to come next. You’re meant to be floating for now, uncertain of what’s going on — only that it’s dark, and something nasty is happening not very far away.
Thanks a lot for the advice, though it proves my review of your excerpt won’t be as intelligent as your help here
Eric
Apr 3, 2009
Less is more with the relationship. I’ve got a good handle on it, and cutting names and dialogue won’t hurt that a bit. I can understand being mum–I do the same about some things in my book– but you probably need to give us a little something. My opinion (rather than expert judgment) is that there’s not enough right now. Play up that injury he’s got, that’s intriguing. Make it known right off that they’re running away. At first I thought Anthony was chasing Gabe to hurt him, then I thought it was just a game, or they were running for fun. You’ll up the suspense if you hint at something darker right off. It’s a good hook.
And I don’t drink tea. It’s whiskey for breakfast here in ‘Murika.
sebastian
Apr 3, 2009
Yea, I think you can tell that I started off quite weakly, and fleshed out the story as I went along. Looking back, I should probably hook the wound he has into the first little chase sequence (though the first chase is meant to be ambiguous, and is why it starts with the beggar, and not from Anthony’s perspective). Hopefully, the reader is a bit confused, and trying to grasp at bits of information as it’s presented?
(I am trying to distill 10 years of reading –without writing! — into something… readable. It’s interesting how I have it all in my head, but getting it down on paper is something else entirely!)
I’ll re-write the first paragraph I think.
Sounds like the beggar might be American…
Hezabelle
Apr 3, 2009
Overall, I really liked it. Very mysterious…
“Gabriel quickly another coffee.” Should probably be “ordered another coffee,” right?
I agree the first paragraph might need some work. I had to read the sentence “He raised his hand to make a rude gesture and say something weakly scathing when a second man ran by, clipping the beggar’s outstretched arm, unbalancing him enough to send him careening into a wall.” a few times before I understood it. I think it might be a little too vague. And too long.
When do we get to know what happens next?
Eric
Apr 3, 2009
Are you trying to say something about America? I’ll put a boot up your ass. These colors don’t run!
sebastian
Apr 3, 2009
Yea, I re-worked that first paragraph more than once — it’s not even clear to me! At least we have a consensus on that then! *makes a note*
I actually fixed that ‘order coffee’ sentence in the original document, but seems the one I put on here is slightly older — oops
Good catch!
Of course not, Eric… And let’s not go down the physical route again. We’ve already decided, with that diminutive frame of yours, that you’re best-suited to the war of words
sebastian
Apr 3, 2009
Oh, that was rude of me not to answer the other question — I will try to write some more later today/over the weekend, but I doubt I will publish more than a bit each week, as I don’t want to bore anyone!
I am also trying to write a guest article for a girly blog…
Abi
Apr 3, 2009
I liked it but I think it needs to be stripped back. The story and concept were intriguing to the point where a lot of the prose (or rather the explanative aspects ) seemed to slow it down. Although I do think a problem that the short story concept has in general is that it is just that, short. As a writer you are frequently left needing to expand upon the dialogue, not only as a device to set the scene but to give the story and its characters a sense of place that would otherwise be built over several chapters. It is so easy to feel (when writing) that you are perhaps being TOO economical with information so paring it down can be easier said than done so see what you can get away with.
On reading it for a second time it feels like the pace of the first paragraph is good, but a bit cluttered with (allbeit well written) description. The description of the rude gesture is too bulky and it slows the hurried pace that introduces your characters to the reader. I did however, like the shift in focus from what I would assume is a secondary character to more of a protagonist figure- it was a nice lead into the story. Economy of description would serve you well in the opening part as it echoes the speed of movement as the men run along. The longer, more elaborate writing would perhaps be better saved in the intimate setting of the two men in the cafe- providing an interesting contrast of pace as well as drawing the reader in to learn further details.
I hope this makes sense. Ive had a long day and I can barely string two words together. I like your writing
Eric
Apr 3, 2009
I’ll cut you down like a tree. Grr, and etc.
sebastian
Apr 3, 2009
Just grab your sling, Eric. Grab the sling.
Thanks for the great tips, Abi
I’m almost done re-hashing this bit, which I will post in a new entry. Before I do that, I also want to fix the formatting, so it looks good.
Maddie
Apr 3, 2009
i was going to comment on the short story, but then i got distracted by the convo between you and eric…
Maddie
Apr 3, 2009
also-why does eric’s monster avatar thing have eyelashes and a unicorn thingy? i want a unicorn thingy! i want it now!!!!=)
sebastian
Apr 3, 2009
You can have a unicorn thingee if you comment… I promise!