Flogging the Quill

Edit: what would you do? -- Part 4

Here are two more  critiques of the sample from Mike's novel posted in  Part 1. If you haven't read it, the following isn't going to work for you, and reading Parts 2 & 3 will enhance the experience. Scroll down for the long sample being discussed. There will be a Part 5 that gets into my take on the work.

In a general kind of critique, Pat writes:

With all due respect, to the writer of this piece, and without any bloodletting, I feel that this opening chapter of the novel contains too much narrative and far too much description, in particular. I think the writer has a gift where description is concerned, but it needs to be kept under control. In my humble opinion, description should give the reader enough information without overwhelming him, which *some* of this description does. We don't need to know all of the detail he uses in the beginning. We want to know what the story is about and no matter how wonderfully he describes the chill morning and the people in it, it's too much.

The same thing is true when he switches to first person. Again, tightening up all the little details would help immensely. Yes, it's true that some details can provide insight into the character, but I'm afraid he's gone way overboard here. I would also challenge him to choose the best adjective he can and discard all others; he's using too many.

I think there is a wonderful story here and that the writer has some fine storytelling skills. At present, though, the chapter needs to be honed down and sharpened in its focus because the beauty of this tale is being lost in too much verbiage.

As always, my opinion, and it's up to the writer to decide what stays and what goes.

Pat was right to close on a positive note (although opening with one is better), and it's clear that the intent is to help the writer produce a strong story. I also think Pat nails my concerns about this narrative.

Bill responded with an overview and some particulars:

The first question that I hope the rest of the story answers is: why am I reading this? This applies to two sections in particular: the discovery of the body, and the long sequence of the boy's day leading up to grandma's meeting with the man. In both sections, there are long stretches of description and background information, both of which bring the momentum to a halt and lead me to wonder if they're needed. Do we need a long description of how the body was discovered, if we suddenly jump ahead five years to a new scene involving the boy? Do we really need to know the boy's backstory about being passed around, about his siblings, how he finds them later, or can that be disclosed later, bit by bit? Since I don't know where the story is going, I can't answer that. But the author should.

Bill, you are absolutely right to raise the questions about the inclusion of much of the material. And that it should be clear at some point as to why you are reading a particular part of the narrative. I don't think the author has to reveal all the purposes of the novel right up front -- some stories evolve from specific to wider concerns -- but the story-of-the-moment should give a reader the feeling of being involved in a narrative that goes somewhere, even if only for the short term. See my post called "Story as river" about the need for a character's desire and frustrated efforts to achieve it to power and focus a story.

In the meantime, here is a list of notes, keyed to phrases from the story:

1. "as nature sought to balance hot and cold" -- a decent description of the weather with specific details ending in a clause about a vague detail ("nature") that sounds awkward.

2. "green, rusted-metal Dumpster" -- the presence of rust implies that it's made of metal. By the way, points for noting that Dumpster is a trademarked item so it must be capitalized, taken away because the author reverted to lower-case usage.

Agree on both points. A "rusty green Dumpster" would have done the job nicely.

3. "placing the time of his final heartbeat at around 3:00 A.M. on Sunday, February 3rd, 1973." -- from my reading of how coroners work, I believe that no coroner would ever give so specific a time of death, especially when they will have to serve as the only arbiter of the time of death.

Others have mentioned this. Since it is not a coroner making this statement, I think it is within the purview of an omniscient point of view to say such a thing. I'd give this one to the writer.

4. "to scatter like cockroaches as they bolted for the cover of buildings." -- observe that in three paragraphs, the author has moved from a wide-screen view (the weather) to a close-up (the body) and back to the wide-screen view. The narration is jumping around like a housefly.

Good point.

5. "exiled from smoking inside" -- In 1973?

You're the second person to catch this -- an excellent example of the kinds of nuance an editor needs to work at seeing.

6. "They waved to the familiar faces of the workers" -- only to the faces?

Good catch. The meaning is just off-key enough to cause a stumble.

7. "Holy shit, Custer! Look here!" -- An Indian (or is it Native American? I see both used) working with Custer. Do they get jokes about it, I wonder?

I found naming these characters "Custer" for the white guy and "Bull" for the Native American a little cute for my sense of the tone the story seems to be aiming for.

8. "Jesus Christ! A man can't even find his damn breakfast without being disturbed? Why the hell do I hang out with a damn renegade, anyway?" -- Cliché. I can say this because this is what I would write at first as well. But think about it: if your partner suddenly sounds panicky about something, would you react with annoyance? Or curiosity? Or concern? Why annoyance?

I wouldn't call this a cliché, as in an old, time-worn phrase -- but Bill has a point about how "real" this reaction is. Another thing an editor has to keep an eye on -- character actions that are well motivated.

9. "Grabbing the cold edge of the green box, his dirty, calloused fingers protruding from fingerless gloves," -- By this time, the story's beginning to move and the reader wants to know what's happening next. This description stops what little momentum there is. Is this description so unique, so indicative of character that it has to stay? If so, move it higher with the rest of the description.

10. "He began to chant, "Naked you came from Earth the Mother . . ." but, he couldn't remember the rest of the prayer he'd learned as a child on the reservation." -- It's possible that the author knows Native American prayers and rituals, but since we have been told nothing about Bull except his race, there's no authority present to reassure us. If you read a page or two of Tony Hillerman, you can pick up from the details that he knows a lot about the Navaho people, details that are not found here.

11. "At just over a year old, I had no idea how my father's murder would forever alter my life. Hell, I never knew the man." Awkward phrasing. Plus, why start at 1 year old here and jump to 5 years below?

You raise, as others have, the question of where this story starts. It is something Mike is going to have to deal with.

12. "The green station wagon, with all the windows down, rolled slowly to a stop in front of the house." Wasn't he in the back yard? How did he see this?

Good catch of a staging error. To avoid this kind of slip, "walk through" a scene (a fight, a chase, love-making, or any action) with the character to make sure that what you've described is possible. Sometimes the writer stages action to make sure that what he needs to happen happens, but forgets a reality check. And nothing throws a reader off more quickly than nonsensical action.

13. "Sledge had run off several door-to-door salesmen; the grapevine warning others of his dislike for their profession." Did they have salesmen like this in 1978? Would they really have a "grapevine?"

Who knows? I'd give the author this one.

14. "Grandma let him in and offered him a seat. I moved as far back in my chair as I could." How did Grandma react to his presence? Did they talk to the boy? Why did they ignore him? Either way, it should be mentioned.

15. "I didn't yet have a template for judging people, but the warning flags of fear were fully deployed in my mind." Awkward phrase.

My thanks to all of the critiquers who have chipped in. I'm sure it will help the author, and it has surely helped me.

Next post I'll lay out my thoughts on the narrative -- concerns, qualities, and opportunities. Stay tuned.

RR

Free edit in exchange for posting permission. You send a sample that you have questions about and of which you'd like an edit. I won't post it without your permission.

Tip Jar: visitors have asked for a way to lay a dime or two on me and, I'll confess, it would be helpful. So if you want to chip in, click here. And many thanks.

(c) 2005 Ray Rhamey

Edit: what would you do?--Part 3

A writer named Chris sent a thoughtful critique of the sample from Mike's novel posted in  Parts 1 & 2. If you haven't read them, the following isn't going to work for you. Scroll down for the long sample being discussed. There will be a Part 4 with another set of critique inputs (thanks to all, no need to send any more), and Part 5 will get into my take on the work.

Once more you'll see the subjective ways in which a reader perceives a narrative. Chris writes:

There's real potential here. I like the opening vignette; Metro buses are a nice touch (as opposed to Muni (SF) or Tri-Met (Portland)), some street names or landmarks would also add character to the city. The flashback is very visually oriented, a plus in that I have a good sense of seeing things, but insofar as I can't smell or feel or hear much, I'm distanced from the events.

There are a number of dropped words here and there that can be caught by reading the story aloud (better yet, having someone else read the story aloud). They need to be fixed, but I haven't called attention to them below.

A synopsis of back-cover blurb would let me know where the story's going. My observations below overlook the fact I'm reading blind (akin to blind dating). It wouldn't hurt to get to some juicy action sooner, but not knowing entirely where the story's headed I've limited my comments in this area.

Ah, Chris, you have touched upon what I think is likely a terminal flaw in the way this narrative opens. But I'll get to that in Part 5.

Bear in mind that a critical eye is not necessarily a reader's eye. When you look for problems you tend to find them, when you look to enjoy something it's easier to achieve that outcome. Average/casual readers probably won't be bothered by a lot of the following:

* * * * * * * * * *
Tighten up the metaphor in the first sentence. Right now it shifts from a knife to a whitewater river to a thief. Any would work, but all three ... too much. The reference to thermal equilibrium at the end of the sentence breaks the mood of the poetic metaphor in the opening. The paragraph can be cut altogether to start with a juicy moment.

The mixed metaphors bothered me, too.

3 Feb 1973 was a Saturday. Yes, I looked it up. I'm petty that way. The year at the end of the sentence feels awkward, tacked on. Consider conveying information that took place at the end of Jan '73 to fill in the year (Infoplease.com lists Supreme Court rules on Roe v. Wade (Jan. 22) and Vietnam War ends with signing of peace pacts (Jan. 27); both strong possibilites; don't mention RvW being on the cover of Woman's Day unless it actually was). A Watergate timeline might also have some good details.

This is a good notion on how to make an otherwise sterile date meaningful.

"...the downtown stirred with the reluctance of a Monday morning." This sounds metaphorical, but turns out not to be. Intentional?

"...black clouds of diesel soot that were hammered to the pavement by the rain." A nice image except that it neglects the presence of the wind. The two, rain and wind, need to work together, slashing at the clouds, for instance, to continue your opening knife metaphor.

"...bumper-to-bumper like a circus train..." A whimsical metaphor; is the whimsy intentional? Consider "freight train."

"vomiting cockroaches"?! A jarring metaphor, although if I had swallowed a roach I'd vomit, too.

Bull's moist eyes are potentially stereotyped (insofar as they evoke the "crying Indian" of PSA fame), not entirely a problem given his name, but can their moistness be appreciated in the driving rain?

Bull's nose is "alert" when he opens the lid of the dumpster. Are bacterial processes halted by the cold for approximately 36 hours? I'm asking; I don't know. But by calling attention to his sense of smell, it seems odd that his eyes carry the message that something's wrong here rather than his nose.

Good point. And, no, things would have been pretty ripe, I suspect, when the Dumpster was opened.

If the victim's eyes are open, why does Custer think he's asleep?

Another excellent catch of a staging problem.

"It was a soft, pleasant face..." I'd start with "Hers" or "Grandma's"; "It" is too distant from both the narrator and his grandmother.

"Apparently" is used several times ("I apparently lived with my aunt..." and "My mother died when, apparently drunk..."). Unless appearances are deceiving, you can leave the word out.

"...watching the milk [backflow] into the depression[s] in the gruel." "Gruel" sounds like it's being used so the word "oatmeal" won't be used a third time in the paragraph. Unless the narrator has issues with oatmeal and wants it to bear the negative connotations of gruel, simply end the sentence with "depressions."

When the man gets out of the station wagon he's described with brown pants, brown shoes, and a plaid shirt. Is the plaid shades of brown or blue? Color coordination says one thing about the man, mismatched colors say something else (consider black shoes to accentuate the mismatch, although a maroon belt would be overboard).

"I wanted to run away, although I didn't know from what, or [where to]." Parallel structure/good grammar here deadens the panic; ending the sentence with a preposition sounds more natural.

The flashback is too long. The opening paragraph suggests that what follows all has to do with Darren McAllister's death. If whatever follows has nothing to do (beyond chronology) with McAllister's death, consider: "I was a year old when my father died. I have no memory of him." The origins of Sledge's name, what happened to the narrator's siblings, details of his final breakfast and lunch, etc., are nicely described, but delay the arrival of the station wagon and whatever follows. If Sledge or the narrator's sibs show up later, add the backstory there.

* * * * * * * * * *

As I said, there's good stuff here too, so don't take the criticisms as anything more than things to think about to make the story stronger.

Keep at it!

Thanks, Chris. I'm seeing a consistency in the comments that Mike, the author, should be able to use to tune up his writing. There is care needed with descriptions and staging (i.e. Chris's mention of open eyes contradicting an impression of sleeping). Chris suggests reading aloud to avoid dropped words, but it can also help a writer break through his blindfold and perceive such flaws.

Next post includes two shorter critiques, and then I'll follow with a fairly thorough examination of my own.

Thanks, Chris and all, for your participation. I don't know about you, but I continue to learn from this.

RR

Free edit in exchange for posting permission. You send a sample that you have questions about and of which you'd like an edit. I won't post it without your permission.

Tip Jar: visitors have asked for a way to lay a dime or two on me and, I'll confess, it would be helpful. So if you want to chip in, click here. And many thanks.

(c) 2005 Ray Rhamey