quote:
“I’ve had enough,” Pa mumbled, probably to Mamma. “Good for nothin’ wench.” He stumbled out the door of the hut, and grabbed at me for balance, not even acknowledging my presence with a look or a goodbye. He just stared out into the white and then walked on.I watched his back disappear into a flurry of snow. I wanted to scream good riddance, but the howling wind filled my ears, making it seem as if it carried my voice without me speaking a word.
Drunk bastard. Never was any good. If he’d only left years ago, before the bruises he’d pounded onto my skin had sunk into my heart.
[This message has been edited by pixydust (edited December 11, 2006).]
I'm not clear on who's the good-for-nothing: momma, or someone else.
I am clear on what's happening now, but not hooked. I think what would hook me is if in addition to being disgusted with him, MC was scared of what would happen now that he's gone.
(That is, if he's actually leaving for good, rather than just stepping out of the house for a moment.)
There are a lot of things that could be interesting enough to hook me at this point, but something needs to be interesting: the reason he left, or something that happens because he's leaving, or his mode of leaving (e.g., walking out into a snowstorm without a jacket, too drunk or suicidal to care about the snow).
I'd turn the page to see what was next, but it might be even better if you can give me a taste of the interesting thing in the first 13 lines. I only count twelve here in my standard Word format, and you could probably cut a word or two to make room for a hint of what's to come. Maybe. Depends on what that is, and how you'd want to say it.
quote:
“I’ve had enough,” Pa mumbled to Becca and Mamma, their thin, pale faces watching him as he grabbed the last of the money off the table. “Good for nothin’ wenchs. Hell can have you.”
He’d killed the last of our chickens last night in a drunken rage. Tore them to pieces. What would we eat now? The rest of the grain was in his sack, thrown over his shoulder. The sack that said he wouldn’t be back for many months. And by then we’d all be dead.“Won’t be back to see your bones,” he said, laughter reverberating his chest.
He stumbled out the door of the hut, and grabbed at me for balance, not even acknowledging my presence with a look or a goodbye. He just stared out into the white and then walked on.
Those reasons are generally applicable to a lot of stories. In the particular case of this opening they add up to a complete unwillingness to engage the narrative further. That's worse than sprinkles with monosodium glutamate.
Caveats:
* She sounds angry, but not worried. Maybe she should be on the verge of pleading "don't go!" although repulsed by it. Although it's unclear how he'd help.
* I don't believe in Pa yet. A man who abandons his own wife and children when it's clear they'll probably die of it is fortunately rare. Even murder-suicides are more common. So why's this one different? You can make anything believeable, I think, but I just want to get a feel for him.
Here's with the first person tweak. I may have just cheesed it up a bit, let me know, cause I hate cheese. And I do realize I didn't exactly fix it, but I think it helps.
quote:
I can still smell his pungent stench. Pa and his anger. Pa and his drink. Pa and his fists. Until one day he was just gone. Like a vulture finished with its corpse.“I’ve had enough,” he mumbled to Becca and Mamma, their sorrowful faces watching him as he grabbed the last of the money off the table. “Good for nothin’ wenches. Hell can have you.”
He’d killed the last of our chickens the night before in a drunken rage. Tore them to pieces. What would we eat now? The rest of the grain was in his sack, thrown over his shoulder. The sack that said he wouldn’t be back for many months. By then we’d all be dead.
“Won’t be back to see your bones,” he said, laughter reverberating his chest.
I added your suggestion, Will, in the next line as she's watching him walk away.
The second thing you mentioned is interesting. You know, I modeled this man after my grandfather. Of course he's not this extreme (God help us) but he was/is the most selfish person I've ever known. And a drunk man is no sane man. In my mind he dies soon after leaving, but of course Rose doesn't know that. Still, he never planned on returning. And if you think him abandoning them is bad you'll really not like what he sends after he leaves. I hope it's not too unrealistic. I needed to show two extremes.
Okay, now I'm just babbling and none of you care about all that...
[This message has been edited by pixydust (edited December 12, 2006).]
[This message has been edited by Kathleen Dalton Woodbury (edited December 12, 2006).]
You say that Pa is a selfish mean drunk SOB. Show me that. It seems to me that you are starting in the wrong place.
Why not show me the night before when he kills the chickens? Then the MC can be named and I can hate him and empathize with her. Why not have him complaining in this scene that there's no food and he'll be damned if he'll starve on top of the mountain with them?
The problem I am having is that this is an emotional scene and a turning point for Rose but I have no connection to anyone in it. The scene where he leaves should probably be the end of Chapter 1 not the beginning. By starting here you are telling me things I'd rather see. Or don't show me his leaving and start the story after he's out of the house. Anyway, that's my thoughts on it.
Back to what you wrote:
quote:
I can still smell his pungent stench.
What does it smell like? Sweat and whiskey? Dried sweat and horse? Chicken $#^% and blood? What? Tell me because I don't know and each one gives me a difference sense of the man.
quote:
Pa and his anger. Pa and his drink. Pa and his fists.
I'd prefer a line or two of what he was like rather than a laundry list.
quote:
Until one day he was just gone.
Seems inconsistent with the rest. He didn't vanish. He left. Does she feel freed by him like a mouse when the cat lets it go after toying with it for hours? What does she feel other than some generalize concern about what to eat? I know she survived because this is a first person narrative so the concerns about eating aren't compelling to me.
quote:
Like a vulture finished with its corpse.
Other than it's a sentance fragment, I really liked this image.
I'm not sure you need the next paragraph of dialog. She's telling us what he did, so just tell us. Ex - "He took the last of the money and grain as he went. The grain would have fed us through the winter. He wasn't planning on coming back anytime soon."
The point of this section is he left them without anything to survive and presumably the story moves on to how Rose does. Either give Pa page space or cut him down to a few lines and move into the story.
Why not give a short summary of his leaving and then jump to whatever he sends back? The idea that he'd send something back even something horrible was interest.
Rose is going to be able to show us Pa's extreme by how she reacts to the later kindness. Her reactions can show us rather than having us live the scene.
You are going to have to give her a name within the first 13 too.
Hmm...
I had a different beginning before, more of a summary of the dad, but it wasn't enough. I kept getting comments like "We need to see Rose and the dad, not just hear about it."
I hope this story isn't crying out to be a novel, cause it's just too exhausting of a tale.
Thanks for the thoughts. Lots more to think about.
Is the narrator unhappy because Pa is leaving?
[This message has been edited by wbriggs (edited December 14, 2006).]
Thanks again for the awesome critique, Will!
I figured out just now why I didn't like "Hell can have you." It is the "h" in "have." When you are cursing someone, you don't use smooth consonants like H, (Hell the obvious exception, but usually the expression is "The Devil take you" or some such, in a personal curse, probably for this reason) you use aspirated and stop plosive ones like F, B, K, Sh, etc. I bet this is why Hell is the weakest swear word, and F### is the strongest, because Hell slides out, and F### explodes. But I am rambling untried language theory now, so I will shut up.