A. First of all, I suck.
You suck. We all suck.
If we didn’t suck, you might not be sterilizing stuff all day and I might not be raging over the doubling of my health care premium. (Thanks, Justice Roberts, you back-stabbing DICK.)
But there are varying depths of suck, and we can climb out of them.
You suck. We all suck.
If we didn’t suck, you might not be sterilizing stuff all day and I might not be raging over the doubling of my health care premium. (Thanks, Justice Roberts, you back-stabbing DICK.)
But there are varying depths of suck, and we can climb out of them.
B. I see good stuff in this. It’s hobbled by (in my opinion)
two things:
1., Conventional wording, and
2., Working too hard to explain scenery (as opposed to generating imagery) and explain character motivation.
When we work too hard to build a scene, it is for the reader like watching a slave toil in the field. (Or like being a slave, toiling in your field of wordage.)
Stephen King: Let the reader’s own imagination do the work.
Socrates: Character drives action. (I think it was Socrates.)
1., Conventional wording, and
2., Working too hard to explain scenery (as opposed to generating imagery) and explain character motivation.
When we work too hard to build a scene, it is for the reader like watching a slave toil in the field. (Or like being a slave, toiling in your field of wordage.)
Stephen King: Let the reader’s own imagination do the work.
Socrates: Character drives action. (I think it was Socrates.)
So you were drunk, big deal, I’m gonna dissect a few
paragraphs anyway.
I’m depressed over this damn election and my bowels are acting up and I’m in south fucking Mississippi, lol.
“Annie clutched her copy of Misery's Return to her ample chest as she walked into the bar.”
Get rid of “ample”, and that’s an ok starting sentence.
Is it important here to stress her boobage?
You might have a “dirty birdie” later notice it/mention it/leer at it.
Beware “as”. “As” has a wishy-washy side. “When” is firmer. A tiny thing but makes a difference.
“Bar”: Maybe give it a name right there? Like “Smiley’s”, or something.
“She didn't enjoy bars so much,…”
Why not “She hated bars”, or “bars disgusted her”?
Stop pussyfooting!
(Hehheh… “pussyfooting”… good times…)
Now, why would she hate bars? Something to build on character-wise.
“… but she came here not of her own volition, so she was stuck for a while.”
What are you, a lawyer?
We’re WRITERS!
“She hated bars, but she had no choice. She was stuck here a while.”
I’m depressed over this damn election and my bowels are acting up and I’m in south fucking Mississippi, lol.
“Annie clutched her copy of Misery's Return to her ample chest as she walked into the bar.”
Get rid of “ample”, and that’s an ok starting sentence.
Is it important here to stress her boobage?
You might have a “dirty birdie” later notice it/mention it/leer at it.
Beware “as”. “As” has a wishy-washy side. “When” is firmer. A tiny thing but makes a difference.
“Bar”: Maybe give it a name right there? Like “Smiley’s”, or something.
“She didn't enjoy bars so much,…”
Why not “She hated bars”, or “bars disgusted her”?
Stop pussyfooting!
(Hehheh… “pussyfooting”… good times…)
Now, why would she hate bars? Something to build on character-wise.
“… but she came here not of her own volition, so she was stuck for a while.”
What are you, a lawyer?
We’re WRITERS!
“She hated bars, but she had no choice. She was stuck here a while.”
“At least she'd have Misery to keep her company instead of
these dirty birdies.”
Good!—but what “dirty birdies”? Only “one person” there, as we find later.
Good!—but what “dirty birdies”? Only “one person” there, as we find later.
“She paused for a moment in the doorway and surveyed the
scene.”
I’d just say “paused in the doorway”.
“Scene”: Too abstract, unless there really is or has been a scene, like the aftermath of a brawl or a drunken party.
I’d just “survey the room.”
We could throw in informative imagery:
“…and scanned the mostly empty tables. The empty stools along the bar were just that.”
(Is “empty” redundant-sounding in this version? Works here for me.)
“There was only one person at a table set away from the bar.”
"Person"?... ohhhh, BOREing!
“At a table on the other side of the room sat a man. There was no one else.”
Does he notice Annie? Is his back to the door?
(Hey—he’s a ”dirty birdie”!)
“Maybe it would be quiet after all.”
A perfectly normal sentence.
Too normal, something a dopey suburban housewife might say aloud.
“Annie relaxed a bit. It was a slow night. Maybe it would stay that way.”
“As Annie climbed the chair,…”
Beware minutia and “stage directions”.
Just DO EET! Git ‘er done! :
“She picked the last stool at the end of the bar, one that faced the door.”
(Hmm… can a stool “face” a direction? Hmm...)
“…a man appeared behind the counter and said in a voice as smooth and wooden as the bar itself, "Dom Perignon, ma'am?"
OK, you know bars and bartenders better than me. Do bartenders do that?
Anyway—I’d let the bartender just be a bartender (at first). Like an actor in a “silent bit”.
Oh, OK, I see now. He’s Lloyd.
Good ol’ Lloyd!
Careful, some authors have lawyers who go after derivative works, no matter how trivial or tangential. Anne Rice, for one.
Also, borrowing actual characters from established writers can signal unoriginality.
(Wait, scratch that: It WILL signal unoriginality.)
We also risk handicapping ourselves. If we can’t create our own original characters and must borrow, then we might as well throw in the towel.
(It can be done, and successfully. But why shortcut across that minefield at all?)
Now, nothing wrong with emulating the styles of successful authors. King even recommends it.
“…in a voice as smooth and wooden as the bar itself…”
Overwrought and unnecessary.
“Annie huffed a little and began to tell the bartender off for assuming things when he interrupted her.”
Arrgh! More stage direction !
Don’t tell me Annie began to tell someone something.
Don’t tell me Annie told someone something.
In fact, I’d get rid of all that.
Just make Annie SAY IT! :
“’Dom Perignon’? Really?”
At any rate, seems Annie’s getting some Dom Perignon whether or not she wants any.
Now, that’s actually interesting, whether you intended that or not.
Then I’d have Lloyd say, “Yes. Really.” Coolly but creepily unflappable.
(Perhaps the rules regarding supply-and-demand for Dom Perignon is different in Annie’s world.)
“With her brow furrowed and a stormy look on her face…”
Oh, BARF! That isn’t even stage direction. It’s coloring by-the-numbers.
“…Annie turned her attention to a very subtle sound coming from one of the dark, polished tables in the middle of the bar room / … / His sweaty face was vacant and his eyes were glazed above their dark circles.”:
I’d just say “paused in the doorway”.
“Scene”: Too abstract, unless there really is or has been a scene, like the aftermath of a brawl or a drunken party.
I’d just “survey the room.”
We could throw in informative imagery:
“…and scanned the mostly empty tables. The empty stools along the bar were just that.”
(Is “empty” redundant-sounding in this version? Works here for me.)
“There was only one person at a table set away from the bar.”
"Person"?... ohhhh, BOREing!
“At a table on the other side of the room sat a man. There was no one else.”
Does he notice Annie? Is his back to the door?
(Hey—he’s a ”dirty birdie”!)
“Maybe it would be quiet after all.”
A perfectly normal sentence.
Too normal, something a dopey suburban housewife might say aloud.
“Annie relaxed a bit. It was a slow night. Maybe it would stay that way.”
“As Annie climbed the chair,…”
Beware minutia and “stage directions”.
Just DO EET! Git ‘er done! :
“She picked the last stool at the end of the bar, one that faced the door.”
(Hmm… can a stool “face” a direction? Hmm...)
“…a man appeared behind the counter and said in a voice as smooth and wooden as the bar itself, "Dom Perignon, ma'am?"
OK, you know bars and bartenders better than me. Do bartenders do that?
Anyway—I’d let the bartender just be a bartender (at first). Like an actor in a “silent bit”.
Oh, OK, I see now. He’s Lloyd.
Good ol’ Lloyd!
Careful, some authors have lawyers who go after derivative works, no matter how trivial or tangential. Anne Rice, for one.
Also, borrowing actual characters from established writers can signal unoriginality.
(Wait, scratch that: It WILL signal unoriginality.)
We also risk handicapping ourselves. If we can’t create our own original characters and must borrow, then we might as well throw in the towel.
(It can be done, and successfully. But why shortcut across that minefield at all?)
Now, nothing wrong with emulating the styles of successful authors. King even recommends it.
“…in a voice as smooth and wooden as the bar itself…”
Overwrought and unnecessary.
“Annie huffed a little and began to tell the bartender off for assuming things when he interrupted her.”
Arrgh! More stage direction !
Don’t tell me Annie began to tell someone something.
Don’t tell me Annie told someone something.
In fact, I’d get rid of all that.
Just make Annie SAY IT! :
“’Dom Perignon’? Really?”
At any rate, seems Annie’s getting some Dom Perignon whether or not she wants any.
Now, that’s actually interesting, whether you intended that or not.
Then I’d have Lloyd say, “Yes. Really.” Coolly but creepily unflappable.
(Perhaps the rules regarding supply-and-demand for Dom Perignon is different in Annie’s world.)
“With her brow furrowed and a stormy look on her face…”
Oh, BARF! That isn’t even stage direction. It’s coloring by-the-numbers.
“…Annie turned her attention to a very subtle sound coming from one of the dark, polished tables in the middle of the bar room / … / His sweaty face was vacant and his eyes were glazed above their dark circles.”:
“A pale speck of a man…”: I like that!
Now think about that: It’s all the reader needs. We don’t need to say more about him, not at this point anyway. Your reader already has grown a mental image of the man at the table.
He’s a pale speck. We’ve met men like him before.
But much of the rest of this passage feels like you’re working too hard.
Again, I remind myself you were drunk. But let’s pretend you weren’t:
“A very subtle sound.” Yes---ripping. Stop hem-hawing. And “subtle” really doesn’t work here.
“Dark, polished.” Unnecessary detail.
“She had noticed earlier.” Redundant.
“In the middle of the bar room.” Unnecessary detail?
“Surrounded by piles of strips.” [I’m assuming newspaper.] What, like all around his chair?
Big mounds on the table? Or little here-and-there clumps?
“Seemed to placate him”: Like the word “as”, we must beware “seem”, “seems” and “seemed”. They’re weasel-words.
I mean, is he placated or isn’t he?
Placated from what previous agitated state?
How does he look placated?
“Riiiiiiiiiiiiiippp”.: I see what you did there. Exactly what King would write, though it’d be italicized, a font unavailable here. I’d just use one R and one P, and cut down the i’s a little.
Is my re-write of this passage, which follows here, better? I don’t know. (Despite the baggage, something about your paragraph still kinda works.)
Annie couldn’t help but notice the man with his newspaper at the table. A pale speck
of a man who never noticed her. Annie was not used to not being noticed, but that wasn’t
the strangest thing.
The speck wasn’t even reading his paper. He was ripping it into strips. As if it was the
most important thing in the world, as important as breathing. But still just as mindless.
Riiiiiiiip! His eyes had a glaze of vacancy. Sweat glistened his forehead.
Annie shot Lloyd a sideways look.
“That’s Craig,” Lloyd said, “it placates him.”
Placates Craig from what, Annie wondered.
Now think about that: It’s all the reader needs. We don’t need to say more about him, not at this point anyway. Your reader already has grown a mental image of the man at the table.
He’s a pale speck. We’ve met men like him before.
But much of the rest of this passage feels like you’re working too hard.
Again, I remind myself you were drunk. But let’s pretend you weren’t:
“A very subtle sound.” Yes---ripping. Stop hem-hawing. And “subtle” really doesn’t work here.
“Dark, polished.” Unnecessary detail.
“She had noticed earlier.” Redundant.
“In the middle of the bar room.” Unnecessary detail?
“Surrounded by piles of strips.” [I’m assuming newspaper.] What, like all around his chair?
Big mounds on the table? Or little here-and-there clumps?
“Seemed to placate him”: Like the word “as”, we must beware “seem”, “seems” and “seemed”. They’re weasel-words.
I mean, is he placated or isn’t he?
Placated from what previous agitated state?
How does he look placated?
“Riiiiiiiiiiiiiippp”.: I see what you did there. Exactly what King would write, though it’d be italicized, a font unavailable here. I’d just use one R and one P, and cut down the i’s a little.
Is my re-write of this passage, which follows here, better? I don’t know. (Despite the baggage, something about your paragraph still kinda works.)
Annie couldn’t help but notice the man with his newspaper at the table. A pale speck
of a man who never noticed her. Annie was not used to not being noticed, but that wasn’t
the strangest thing.
The speck wasn’t even reading his paper. He was ripping it into strips. As if it was the
most important thing in the world, as important as breathing. But still just as mindless.
Riiiiiiiip! His eyes had a glaze of vacancy. Sweat glistened his forehead.
Annie shot Lloyd a sideways look.
“That’s Craig,” Lloyd said, “it placates him.”
Placates Craig from what, Annie wondered.
Well, you get the point.
